Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “Black powder? What are you planning?”

  Konner had huffed and said, “Nothing violent. This is about information, which is more powerful than any explosive. When we next recruit a councillor, we’ll show them proof of what their very government has been hiding. Which side will they choose—the side that’s lying to them or the side that’s exposing the truth?”

  After further discussion, Ash had still been uncomfortable with the thought, but he couldn’t argue with Konner’s reasoning. He’d begun the tunnel, working alone, entering and exiting the building under the cover of night. Without the help of his fellow Grays, the cramped tunnel had taken just as long to dig as the longer, wider one between Konner’s house and the Gray House.

  But he’d at last arrived under the powder storage room, dug a vertical shaft, and pried up a section of the building’s wooden floor. The metal barrels were covered with loose lids, and it had taken Ash just minutes to fill his canteen with black powder, leave the room, and replace the floor.

  So here he was, walking the gas-lit streets of Savala carrying contraband wrapped in a towel, as if it were a loaf of bread. As he often did since his gray awakening, he reflected on the strangeness of his life.

  Ash walked to the Gray House and approached the tunnel entrance behind the house. With a groan, he again activated the gray light in his hands. He usually brought a lantern, but he wouldn’t risk being near a flame while carrying black powder. He lowered himself into the tunnel, and a few minutes later, he found Konner in his kitchen. Ash knew Konner was excited about their prize when he didn’t comment on the dirt his guest shed on the fine floors.

  Konner’s eyes were glued to the bundle Ash carried. “You were successful?”

  In answer, Ash handed him the towel-wrapped canteen. They walked to Konner’s study. Konner placed the bundle on his desk, unwrapped it, and unscrewed the cap. He sniffed it and smiled, then took a small pinch of the substance within, approached the fire, and tossed the powder onto the flames.

  The resultant bang made both men jump.

  “It’s the real thing,” Konner said. For the first time since Ash’s arrival, he gave the younger man a close look. “Go home,” he said. “Take a bath, and get some sleep. Tomorrow, I have something to show you.”

  The next morning, Ash woke late. He dressed, and when he saw his new face in the mirror, it jarred him, as it always did. He went downstairs.

  Konner was waiting for him in the front hall. “The carriage is out front, and the driver has been waiting for half an hour. Let’s go.”

  As Ash and Konner walked to the front door, Aldin appeared. “Can I help with anything?” Lately, he’d complained of boredom, and Ash didn’t blame him. Aldin rarely left the Gray House. He seemed to spend most of his time walking on walls and cooking.

  Konner raised an eyebrow. “We’ll let you know.” He led Ash out the door.

  In Konner’s carriage, they traveled west through Savala’s streets, then exited the city. The road got bumpier the further they traveled. A few miles outside Savala, the carriage turned on a narrow road that wound through a wooded area. Ash grunted as they hit rocks and depressions in the dirt, but he didn’t complain or ask questions about their destination, knowing he wouldn’t get any answers. Konner was uncommonly cheerful.

  They stopped at a wide place in the road. “We’ll get out here and walk the rest of the way,” Konner said.

  Ash stepped out of the carriage, wishing he’d worn more comfortable shoes. When Konner emerged several seconds later, he was carrying the metal canteen from the night before.

  “Why do you have the black powder?” Ash asked.

  Konner’s only answer was a smile. He put the strap of the canteen over his shoulder, instructed the driver to wait, and led the way down a path barely wide enough for them to walk single-file. Thick trees lined both sides, their errant branches occasionally scratching the men. They walked for a quarter hour then turned into a large clearing. Konner led Ash to a small shed.

  Konner unlocked the shed but didn’t open it. “Welcome to my newest property,” he said.

  “It’s . . . remote.”

  “That’s by design.” Konner leaned back against the shed door, folded his arms, and smiled. “Do you know what my recent hobby has been?”

  “I’ve been too busy digging a tunnel to track your hobbies.”

  “Your work is appreciated. It’s closely connected to mine.”

  “Just tell me what’s going on.”

  Konner’s smile didn’t waver. “I’ve been reading. Old books. About weapons.”

  Ash’s jaw dropped. “Where did you get them? And why?”

  “The ‘why’ is simple. We’re crowning you as king. Some people may not like that.”

  “So we’ll solve that by killing them?”

  Konner uncrossed his arms and stepped toward Ash. “We must have the means to defend ourselves against those who refuse to see the truth.”

  Ash took a deep breath and released it. “Where in Sava’s name have you found old books about weapons? Highly illegal old books, I should add.”

  “I have a source who finds the traditional book business insufficient to fund his desired lifestyle.”

  Ash shook his head, unwilling to press the man further. “Why are we here, Konner?”

  Konner’s smile spread, and a laugh rumbled from his chest. “You’ve read the epics. Remember the stories of armies using cannons to decimate their enemies?”

  “You have a cannon?” Ash’s voice was suddenly high and loud. He looked around, but of course there was no one to overhear.

  Konner laughed harder as he opened the shed. He walked in and came out a moment later with a carved wooden pole that looked much like a long, horizontal chair leg. On one end was an iron device shaped like a miniature cannon. It was strapped to the top of the wood with sturdy leather, its hollow, flared end jutting out beyond the end of the pole. “This,” Konner said, “is a hand cannon.” He held it out to Ash, who didn’t take it.

  “A hand cannon,” Ash repeated.

  “Yes.” Konner pulled the weapon back, running his fingers along the smooth wood and letting out another laugh. Ash didn’t think he’d ever seen Konner so enthusiastic. “It’s just what it sounds like. A handheld cannon. Allow me to demonstrate.”

  Konner went back into the shed and pulled out a tiny table. An iron rod sat on it, along with a wooden box filled with small iron balls and a metal matchbox. He held the weapon with the metal end pointing upward, pulled the canteen off his shoulder, and poured black powder into the open end of the cannon. Next he dropped a ball in and followed that with a few taps of the metal rod, packing down the ball and powder.

  He lowered the metal end of the device so it was pointing toward the trees across the clearing, using the wooden pole as a handle. Then he tapped a small amount of powder into a hole at the top of the cannon’s body. “Light a match for me,” he instructed Ash.

  Ash’s curiosity overcame his reluctance. Without getting too close to Konner, he retrieved the matchbox and struck a match. He extended his arm, offering the match to Konner.

  Using one hand to hold the weapon still, Konner reached out his other hand and retrieved the lit match. He touched it to the small hole in the body of the cannon.

  The weapon uttered a great bang and jerked backward, belching smoke. Ash jumped, and Konner laughed. He turned the hand cannon upside down and shook it, but nothing came out of the open, metal end.

  “It worked!” Konner said, still laughing. “Let’s go see where that ball went.”

  Ash coughed from the smoke in the air and grimaced at its sulfurous odor. He followed Konner, shaking his head. He hadn’t seen the ball go anywhere; could it really have flown so quickly as to be rendered invisible?

  They walked to the trees and examined them for a few minutes but found no sign of the ball Konner had shot.

  “We need a target,” Konner said. “I should’ve thought of that before.” They went back t
o the shed. Konner retrieved two wide boards that matched the shed’s siding. He set them up in the middle of the clearing, leaning them together in an upside-down V. The broad side of one of the boards faced them.

  It took three tries for Konner to hit the board, but when he did, even Ash was impressed. Both boards toppled to the ground, and upon examination they found that the ball had gone through the front board, splitting it nearly in half, and had passed through the second board as well, causing it less damage.

  “Show me an arrow that can do that,” Konner said. He held out the hand cannon. “I know you want to try it, Ash.”

  Ash pushed it away. “No, I want answers. Where did you get this?”

  Konner lay the weapon on the table and crossed his arms. “As I mentioned, I’ve been reading ancient books. Hand cannons were used for a brief time in the last days before the world found peace. I attained a book with descriptions and diagrams—at great risk and cost, mind you—and found a smith whom I trust to be discreet. He cast it for me, along with the pellets.”

  “Is that what they’re called? Pellets? It sounds so harmless.” Ash paused, staring at Konner. “What’s your real plan?”

  “You know my plan.” Konner’s voice was low, but Ash could hear the anger in it. “You’re the biggest part of it.”

  “We never talked about contraband weapons.”

  “Gray magic only goes so far!” Konner bellowed. “How precisely do you expect us to gain true power without having a way to defend ourselves from those who don’t see things the way we do?”

  Ash took a deep breath, keeping his voice level. “If our message is attractive enough, the people will make me king. We won’t have to fight to get there.”

  “For a man who caught his wife cheating and then killed her, your naïveté astounds me!”

  “What exactly do you mean by that?” Ash’s breath was coming faster, and blood rushed to his face, leaving his hands tingling.

  “With enough inspiring words, we may convince the public to give you a crown. But then we’ll have to convince them to give us power. That’s different. Most people don’t want change. And why would they? They have food, clothing, homes. They have a council they generally trust. Their children are educated. Why would they want you to be king?”

  “If everyone is already happy, what are we doing?” Ash cried. “What are we fighting for?”

  “We’re fighting for a better society! We’re fighting for what people don’t know they need! We’ve talked about this, Ash, from the first day we met!”

  “And in your mind, a ‘better society’ includes hand cannons? And Sava knows what else? With an entire store of black powder, the sky’s the limit, right? Everything you’re saying sounds worse than what we have now!”

  Konner picked up the weapon. “It may have to get worse before it gets better. Think of Relin the Fierce. He protected Cormina from those who wanted to conquer it. He grew our nation by taking the neighboring lands. He gave people the better lives they didn’t know they wanted. But he didn’t do it by being kind. He did it by building armies.”

  As Ash listened to Konner, he felt patently stupid. Why was any of this a surprise to him? From the first day they’d met, Konner had deified the heroes of old, heroes who’d gained power through war. Ash had been inspired by those stories too.

  But as time had passed and their group had grown, Ash had seen the reality of violence. Every member of the Grays was a killer, and while some handled that better than others, it left none of them untouched. Ash was the first example of that; as time went on, his nightmares got worse rather than subsiding. The incident on the beach several weeks earlier had left him even more tortured.

  When he’d met Konner, Ash had gotten caught up in the man’s passion, convinced that violence was part of true humanity. Reality had changed his views on that. But Konner’s desires remained the same.

  Ash turned to Konner, who was still holding the hand cannon. “Promise me one thing,” Ash said. “Promise me violence will be the last resort, not the first.”

  “Of course I can promise you that,” Konner said. “And I want your promise that you will trust me as we go forward.”

  “Yes,” Ash said. “I do trust you. To the end.”

  Konner reached out a hand, and Ash shook it firmly. How friendly two men can be, Ash thought, when they’re lying to one another.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When I first arrived, I adored the variety of foods, clothing, and people in the city. I even managed to mostly ignore the scents produced by so many people living close together. Soon, I found myself thinking differently of my friends and family back home. They seemed terribly simple compared to the cosmopolitan residents of Tinawe.

  -From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana

  “It’s right through here,” Evitt whispered.

  He removed three wooden fence pickets that Tavi hadn’t even noticed were detached from the rails. Holding up a cautionary hand, he walked into the hedges on the other side of the fence, peeked into the yard, and beckoned Tavi to follow.

  She went through the gap in the fence, replaced the pickets, and pushed her way through the hedges. She and Evitt crouched and ran to some thick shrubs along the side fence, hiding behind them. It was early morning, and dawn hadn’t yet arrived. The late-autumn chill cut through Tavi’s clothes, and for once, she was glad to have a scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth.

  Tavi’s friends had told her their plan to explore Konner’s old shed once they’d all completed their initial reconnaissance of the property. She was offended they’d discussed it without her. However, she agreed with them—if their careful spying didn’t give them any useful information, they would have to take bigger risks.

  She’d told Evitt the plan, urging him to take her and Jenevy to see the property soon. He’d agreed, but he’d had to cancel their planned excursion three times when it rained or his mother needed him at home. Finally, all the details had lined up. Tavi couldn’t resist a grin as she crouched in Konner Burrell’s garden, just as she’d done a year before.

  As they waited for the sun to rise, Evitt asked in a whisper, “Will you tell me the story of when you escaped from Ash and Konner?”

  “I’ll have to start with the story of how they captured me,” Tavi said, her voice as quiet as his. She spent the next half hour telling Evitt of the events at the farmhouse outside Savala.

  When she finished, the sun had risen, and Evitt sat, entranced, his mouth slack. She laughed quietly at the sight.

  “You broke the earth open, and then you healed it?” he breathed. She nodded. “I knew your gifts were powerful, but that’s incredible.”

  Tavi’s smile faltered. “I suppose,” she said.

  Evitt grimaced. “I’m sorry. It must be hard to think about your gifts when you can’t use them.”

  Tavi sighed. “It’s fine. They’ll come back. Someday.”

  Evitt peeked around the shrubs to be sure they were still alone. He turned back to Tavi. “They’ll come back when you heal from the trauma of . . . what happened to your sister. Right?”

  “Supposedly. And I don’t think I have to be back to normal. Honestly, I can’t imagine ever feeling normal again. But I need to make some progress.”

  “How do you do that?”

  “If I knew, I’d be doing it.”

  It was quiet for a few minutes. Then Evitt whispered, “I think to heal from someone’s death, you have to live.”

  “Last I checked, I’m still living.”

  “I know.” He smiled, and it was a gentle expression. “But I mean really live. I didn’t know Misty, but I know she wouldn’t want you to be miserable. I wonder if you need to reconnect with life. The good parts.”

  Tavi shrugged. “Maybe. That sounds like a lot of work.”

  Evitt chuckled softly. “I’m talking about having fun, Tavi. Fun shouldn’t be work.”

  “Everything but sleep feels like work these days.”

  Evitt nodded
slowly, his eyes not leaving Tavi’s. And in that nod and that gaze, Tavi felt understood. She reached out and took Evitt’s hand in hers. They were both wearing gloves, but it still felt good, this small connection with a caring friend.

  Evitt’s eyes flitted down to their joined hands, and when he looked back up at Tavi, he was wearing a small smile. Then his expression tightened, and the smile disappeared. He put his finger to his lips, looked past the shrub again, and pulled his head back. He brought his mouth almost up to Tavi’s ear and whispered, “The groom just got here.”

  They sat for three more hours, and the groom’s arrival was the most interesting thing that happened. They didn’t see Konner, Ash, or any other Grays.

  When the groom went inside the house, Tavi and Evitt hurried to the hedge by the fence and exited into the alley.

  As they walked to the midwife house, Tavi said, “I don’t know how we’ll ever stop the Grays if we can’t get some information.”

  Evitt gave her a carefree smile. “We’ll figure something out; I know it.”

  Winter arrived with bitter cold, as if compensating for the mild autumn. Tavi’s routines didn’t change: schoolwork, training, and helping out around the midwife house. She usually spent spare time in bed, reading books or writing letters to her mother.

  When the weather allowed, she wandered through the paths behind the midwife house, sometimes with Evitt, who didn’t work much at Konner’s during the winter, or with Narre. Since Tavi had caught her friends talking about her, things had remained tense between them, but she felt more comfortable around Narre than any of the others.

  One weekend morning, a snowstorm came through. Afterward, everything was covered in soft, pure-white powder. From her bed where she was reading, Tavi heard the pounding of someone running up the stairs. Narre rushed in, bundled up for the cold. Her cheeks were rosy. “Come with me!” she said.

  “Why? I’m reading.”

  “Trust me, this is better.”

  Tavi was tired of lying in bed, so she climbed down the ladder and accompanied Narre down the stairs. Narre opened the back door, and Tavi saw Tullen, Jenevy, and Sall engaged in an all-out war, crumbly snowballs flying in every direction. Then Tullen caught Jenevy’s arm, pulled up her hair, and rubbed snow on the back of her neck. Her squeals could surely be heard as far away as Oren.