Her words were quiet, and the only tokens of her sorrow were a few tears that slid down her cheeks, hinting at what was unsaid. Halfway through the story, the practicum class went inside. They must have sensed the seriousness of the conversation on the bench; none of them said anything to Tavi. The midwife even didn’t ask her to come in.
When she stopped talking, the autumn sun hung just over the furthest trees, slowly slipping closer to the western horizon. “I don’t know why I told you all that.”
At first, Evitt didn’t respond. He’d listened to the whole thing without a word, and Tavi didn’t think he’d taken his eyes off her the whole time. At last, he said, “It’s a story that needs to be told.”
She nodded. Maybe it was. It was a story of injustice. The injustice of the Grays, and the injustice of magic. Of Sava.
“I couldn’t stop the people who’ve conquered resistance. And the reason I couldn’t stop them was . . . resistance.” Tavi gave a tired, humorless laugh. “I don’t know how we’re supposed to win this thing.”
“I don’t know, either. But I believe in you.”
“You hardly know me.”
His gaze pierced her. “I know enough.”
Chapter Twenty-One
RELLIUS: You demanded my loyalty because I’m your brother.
RELIN: That was never the case. I expected you to be loyal, not because you are my brother, but because I thought you were my friend.
-From Relin: A Play in Three Acts by Hestina Arlo
Tavi climbed down her bunk bed’s ladder. When she reached the ground, she stretched her back and arms. After hunching on her bed doing schoolwork for two hours, her muscles were stiff, and she was hungry. A walk down to the kitchen would solve both problems.
She entered the hallway, her woolen socks silent on the smooth floor. She was about to descend the stairs when she heard a voice coming from Tullen and Sall’s bedroom. The voice was low, and she couldn’t pick out most of the words, but she thought she’d heard her name.
Tavi inched toward the doorway and stood next to it, her back flush against the wall. She knew she was being rude, but she couldn’t stop herself. More accurately, she didn’t want to stop herself. If her friends had the nerve to talk behind her back, she had every right to listen.
“She hasn’t talked to me about it at all lately. She hasn’t talked to me about much of anything.” That was Narre’s voice.
Tullen responded, “If she hasn’t talked to you about it, I doubt she’s talked to any of the rest of us.” After a pause, he said, “I’m afraid she isn’t dealing with it at all.”
Narre spoke again. “Sall, have you used your gift on her recently?”
“Not on purpose,” Sall replied. “I accidentally activated it a couple of days ago for a few seconds, but I didn’t sense much from her at all. I think she’s numb.”
Tavi heard Jenevy’s earnest voice next. “I wish there was something I could do for her.”
In the hallway, Tavi shook her head in exasperation. She didn’t want Jenevy’s sympathy.
“I don’t understand it,” Narre said. “If one of my siblings died—”
“Don’t,” Sall interrupted.
“What?”
“Don’t predict what you would do if you were her. The fact is, none of us has been through this. She might be handling it better than any of us would.”
Finally, someone’s being rational.
The room was silent for several seconds. Then Narre said, “I couldn’t believe she didn’t join us for the Autumn Festival.”
Tavi smirked. They hadn’t been allowed to go out in public for the festival, so Tullen had invited the Golds into the back yard to celebrate with half a pie left over from the previous night’s dinner. Pathetic. Tavi had stayed in her room.
“I just miss her,” Narre said.
“We all do.” Tullen’s voice was barely loud enough for Tavi to hear.
Sall spoke again. “I was hoping her magic would have returned by now. I can’t imagine what it feels like to lose so much all at once. Ellea says she needs to find some healing before her magic will come back, but I don’t understand that. Surely magic would help her heal.”
How dare they discuss me as if I’m their pet project? Before she could talk herself out of it, Tavi spun around and stormed into the room.
“As much as I appreciate the interest you’re all showing in my well-being,” she said, biting off each word, “I’m perfectly fine. I’m sure you all have better things to do with your time than sitting around discussing my life. In fact, three out of the four of you have magical skills you could put to good use against the Grays. Maybe if you use more of your energy fighting them instead of analyzing me, we’ll actually make some progress toward our goals.”
All four members of her audience stared at her. She could see Tullen’s jaw muscles working, and she knew he was clenching his teeth in anger. It was a look she didn’t see often on his face. Jenevy’s wide eyes were full of compassion. Narre was biting her bottom lip, and her tears threatened to spill over at any moment. And Sall looked sheepish, his head glowing like a self-lighting lantern. Seeing that, Tavi fled the room.
After running down the stairs, she bypassed the kitchen and went into the back yard, breathing hard. A laboring mother was walking the paths, but Tavi ignored her.
She was so tired of this place. They hardly left the grounds of the midwife house, and when they did venture onto the streets, they bundled themselves up so they wouldn’t be recognized. The autumn weather was unseasonably warm, and she couldn’t go out the front door without a scarf wrapped around her head and face, causing her to stink with sweat.
Why had they even come here? They were making no progress in combatting the Grays. Tavi missed her parents and Ellea. Most of all, she missed her oldest sister. She wanted to be where Misty was, and that wasn’t possible. Or at least it wasn’t possible while Tavi still struggled her way through this physical world. And she had serious doubts about what would happen after that.
Death. Life. Sava. Senniet. It was all a muddled mess in Tavi’s mind. She paced the gravel paths of the garden and wondered how so many people around her seemed to have it all figured out.
The room was silent until Tavi’s footsteps faded away. Tullen wondered if the others felt as guilty and angry as he did. He hadn’t wanted to hurt Tavi, but he was concerned. They all were. And she refused to let them help her.
Narre was the first to break the silence, and it was with a sob. She was sitting next to Sall on his bed, and he pulled her close, his mind magic lighting up the room. When she stopped crying and her breathing steadied, she pulled back, but Sall kept his arm around her shoulder.
“Tavi was right,” Tullen said. “We should use our energy to fight the Grays.”
“That’s not entirely fair,” Sall said. “You, Narre, and I have visited Konner’s house with Evitt, and we haven’t seen anything useful. I know we couldn’t use our gifts much there, except you, Tullen, and you said you didn’t pick up anything with your hearing gift. But we’re ready to act as soon as we can.”
“We could act now!” Narre protested. “I told you, when I was there, Ash went into that little shed, and he didn’t come back out. We waited for three hours. There’s got to be something important in there!”
“We’ve talked about that,” Sall said. “Evitt said it’s probably some sort of office. If it is, I doubt they’re keeping anything confidential there. We shouldn’t try to get in; it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s not very dangerous at all if I go at night,” Narre said. “I’ll break the lock using my gift, and I’ll bind it back together when I’m done. They’ll never know I was there.”
“I’m with Sall,” Tullen said. “It isn’t worth the risk. Evitt agrees.”
Jenevy spoke up. “Evitt’s opinion shouldn’t matter more than Narre’s. These people held her captive for weeks. I think she has more expertise on Konner Burrell than the man’s gardener does.”
<
br /> Narre turned to Jenevy. “Thank you.”
“What do you think, Tullen?” Sall asked.
“I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t want you to put yourself in danger, Narre. But I agree with you that it might be necessary, no matter what Evitt says. We don’t know much about him, and it seems we’re depending on him a lot.”
Smirking, Narre said, “You have your own reasons to dislike Evitt.”
Tullen stared at her in confusion. “What does that mean?”
After an awkward pause, Narre said, “I’ve just noticed Tavi spending a lot of time around him. Well, not a lot. She doesn’t spend a lot of time around anyone. But she seems to be talking to him more than to any of us lately.”
Tullen had noticed that too, but he’d tried to convince himself he was imagining things. Narre’s confirmation of his suspicions stung more than he would have expected.
“Back to the topic at hand,” Sall said. “Breaking into the shed is a possibility. But there’s a reason we adopted our current plan. Sitting behind shrubs and watching is fairly safe, and we may observe something important. Jenevy hasn’t gone yet, and neither has Tavi. Why don’t we let them go before we reevaluate our plan?”
Narre stood. “I want to go! I want to see what’s going on in that shed!”
“If we knew for sure something was happening there, it would be worth the risk,” Tullen said. “But it may just be a shed. Maybe he takes quiet naps in there! We’re observing Konner’s house, thanks to Evitt. Someone I have no personal issues with, by the way. Once we’re done with that, if we still haven’t picked up anything useful, getting into the shed should be our next step.”
Narre looked around. “Do you all agree with this?”
Sall and Jenevy nodded.
Narre’s shoulders dropped. “All right,” she said. “We’ll wait. But once Jenevy and Tavi have visited Konner’s house, we’re going to that shed.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Sall said. “Possibly even a good one.” He stood and crossed to his desk. “I need to get back to my schoolwork.”
“Me, too,” Narre said. “Dining room?”
“Sure.” They both left the room.
Tullen stood and walked toward the door. “I need to prep for tonight’s dinner.”
“I don’t go back on duty until this afternoon. Want help?” Jenevy asked.
“I’d love some.”
They walked downstairs to the kitchen. Tullen checked the bread dough, which wasn’t rising as quickly as he’d hoped. He shrugged; there was nothing he could do about it. A basket of fresh carrots sat on the countertop, delivered earlier by a grateful new father. “I’ll peel, you chop?” he asked.
“Works for me!”
They chatted as they worked, and before long, the basket was empty. Jenevy finished chopping the last carrot and scooped the pieces into a large, full bowl. Tullen chuckled. “This is going to be the carrotiest stew I’ve ever seen,” he said. “I had no intention of peeling and chopping all those. I got distracted.”
Jenevy laughed. “We’ll all have orange skin once dinner is through. What do we do next?”
“I can’t do anything else until the dough rises. Want some tea?”
Jenevy agreed, and Tullen filled the kettle and set it on the stove. While they waited for it to boil, they leaned against the countertops and talked about Narre’s desire to break into Konner’s shed, and how she could do it safely if it came to that.
“Thank you for treating me like I’m a Gold,” Jenevy said.
“You are a Gold! Why wouldn’t we treat you that way?”
“I’m not magical.”
“You know as well as I do that it doesn’t matter.”
“I appreciate that. And it’s true in the Meadow. But you know as well as I do that it does matter everywhere else. Especially when your enemies have magic too. I’m not even sure how I’ll be able to help, but I want to try.”
“You’re talented at seeing patterns, and you have a knack for strategy,” Tullen said. “That’s why you were a successful math teacher in the Meadow. You don’t need magic to help us plan.”
Jenevy stood straighter and turned toward Tullen. “That’s what you see in me?”
Tullen smiled. “How could I not see that in you? It’s who you are.”
“Thank you.” She paused, then said, “I haven’t wanted to intrude on what the rest of you are doing. I’ve never even met a Gray.”
Tullen stepped toward her. “If you have ideas, share them! We can only do this as a team.”
Jenevy nodded, but she bowed her head, and her black curls hid her face. Tullen nudged her chin with his finger. She looked up at him, and he saw she was crying. “Wait—what?” he said. “Did I say something?”
She wiped at her eyes, but she was smiling. “Nothing’s wrong. It feels good to be part of something. When I left the Meadow, I didn’t know if I’d find a place to belong.”
Tullen placed his hand on her shoulder. “You are part of this, Jen. You have been ever since we all got in that awful prison wagon together.”
Jenevy laughed, and Tullen did the only thing that felt natural at that moment. He pulled her close, and she lay her head on his shoulder, putting her arms around his waist. Tullen closed his eyes. It felt good to be close to someone he knew so well, someone he’d cared about for years.
In the silence, Tullen became aware of a sound—steam shooting through the spout of the kettle. “I forgot about the tea,” he murmured in Jenevy’s ear. They pulled away from each other, and as Tullen turned toward the stove, he glanced out the kitchen window.
His gaze caught another set of eyes—Tavi’s. She was standing in the back yard, and as soon as he saw her, she turned and rushed out of sight. He looked back to where Jenevy still stood. They’d been in the perfect position for Tavi to see their embrace. And based on the brief glimpse he’d gotten of her face, Tullen knew Tavi hadn’t liked what she’d seen.
His first reaction to this was guilt, but that transitioned quickly to annoyance. What right did Tavi have to be upset if he wanted to hug a friend? She’d ended things with him; he was trying to move on.
Is that what this is? Moving on? Truth be told, Tullen had loved the feel of Jenevy in his arms. She was kind, smart, and beautiful. And he knew where he stood with her. He’d seen it in her eyes when she’d visited him a year before in the Meadow guard tower, and he’d seen it dozens of times since. If he wanted to give his heart to Jenevy, he knew she would eagerly trade hers in return.
He wasn’t there yet. But he thought perhaps he could be. He continued to look out the window, but Tavi was gone.
“Tea?”
Tullen started at Jenevy’s voice, then turned and gave her a rueful smile. She held a teapot in one hand and two stacked teacups in the other. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She gave him a nod and a smile, her eyes flickering to the window and back to him. “I understand.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Their cannons quiet, quivers bare,
Still Relin’s men would not retreat.
Without a fear for how they’d fare,
They fought with naught but fists and feet.
-From Relin the Fierce, Author Unknown
Ash climbed the last few rungs of the ladder and pulled himself over the edge of the hole carved in the floor. Kneeling, he removed the metal canteen he’d slung over his shoulder and set it down. He raised himself to his full height, stretched his arms high, brushed himself off, and shook his head like a wet dog. Fine dirt puffed out of his hair and clouded the air. He sneezed.
“Never again will I dig a tunnel.” He continued to brush the dirt off his clothes and used a handkerchief to wipe his face. When he was as presentable as he would get without the assistance of a bath and a launderer, he carefully wrapped the canteen in a towel, tucked it under his arm and walked to the building’s front door. With a sigh of relief, he released his gray magic, which he’d been using as a light source, before exiting the
building, locking the door, and stepping into the dark street.
He turned right. The next building over was small and unassuming. It was too dark to see any of its features, but Ash knew from previous visits to the area that there was a small, brass sign next to the door reading, “Cormina Research Institute.” The sign amused him; there were no scholars in the building.
However, one person had done unsanctioned research there. Konner had sent Sella to look through the walls, and she’d returned with a fascinating report. The blue front door was metal and boasted several locks. Two guards stood just inside the door. There was no back door, and the windows had bars behind their cheerful, closed curtains.
In the very center of the building was a room, protected by another locked, metal door. Sandbags lined the room’s interior walls, and metal barrels sat on the wooden floor. Ash knew the room well, because he’d just been there, and he’d left carrying a bit of its treasure: black powder.
After Vellish Elling had told Konner where the Corminian government stored its black powder, Konner had tried to buy the small warehouse next door. At first, the owner wouldn’t sell, but Konner had worn him down, finally purchasing the building. Konner had then instructed Ash to build another tunnel. Ash had balked.
“This one will only be about forty feet long,” Konner had said.
“I’m an artist! And a future king! One tunnel was enough.”
But Konner hadn’t taken no for an answer. When he’d disclosed the reason, telling Ash the whole story of Vellish Elling and the black powder stores, Ash hadn’t responded well.
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