Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Another explosion rocked the council building. Tavi jerked her head to one side, then the other. She jumped up, trying to see over those around her, and glimpsed a head of glossy, black curls in the midst of the veiled Karites. It was Jenevy, and she was rushing toward the council building, getting further away by the second. Tavi pushed through the crowds, running after her.

  Over the frightened voices all around, Tavi heard Jenevy’s voice shouting one word, over and over: “Pala! Pala!”

  Tavi ran faster.

  The sound of a detonation rendered Ash breathless.

  “What was that?” Narre asked.

  Ash blinked and reminded himself to inhale. “An explosion,” he said.

  In a moment, Narre was in front of Ash, her ridiculously masked face inches away. “But we took the bombs!”

  “I know, but . . . oh, Sava. Oh Sava, Konner must’ve had another one.” Ash’s heart pounded, and his head felt lighter than it should. “But when would he have . . . the fuses.” He turned toward Wrey. “The fuses! He sent me back to his house for them last night, and he must’ve made another bomb when I left. Maybe more than one.”

  As if on cue, another explosion sounded.

  “You were already planting six bombs,” Wrey said, her voice shrill and panicked. “Why would he need more?”

  “He wouldn’t.” Ash shook his head hard, trying to dislodge his common sense, which was trapped in a haze of confusion.

  Sall ran to the street, where his vision wasn’t blocked by the nearby buildings. Then he sprinted back, breathless despite the short distance. “It’s the council building,” he said. “I see smoke near the top of it.”

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Ash said, his mind still hopelessly muddled. “If my bombs had gone off when they were supposed to, everyone would’ve evacuated the council building. There would’ve been no reason to plant more bombs to go off later. Unless . . .” He tried to stand and cried out in frustration when Narre’s bonds kept him in place. Leaning forward, he asked Narre and Sall, “Where did you put the bombs from the planters?”

  “They’re in the bushes over there.” Sall pointed toward the side of the building.

  “Go get one.”

  Sall ran and returned seconds later with a simple canvas bag.

  “Take it out,” Ash said. “Unscrew the lid.”

  Sall removed the bomb from the bag, but hesitated. “Will it go off?”

  “Not without a spark or fire,” Ash said. “Just unscrew it. Hurry.”

  The lid was tight, but Sall got it off with Narre’s help.

  “Let me smell it,” Ash said.

  Sall didn’t argue, holding the bomb under Ash’s face. Ash inhaled sharply, then let out a humorless, angry, “Ha!”

  “What?” Narre and Wrey both asked.

  “It’s soil, not black powder.” The situation was clarifying in Ash’s mind. “I’m sure Konner brought fuses with him last night. When I left, they must have put fuses in the real bombs and planted them wherever Konner wanted them. Then they made these as decoys. When I got back with the rest of the fuses, Konner took them. He didn’t let me finish assembling the bombs; he said he wanted to do it himself. If I’d worked on them before the lids were on, I would’ve smelled the soil.”

  “Why would he make fake bombs?” Wrey asked.

  “He hasn’t trusted me for months.” Ash’s voice was low, hopeless. “I don’t know if he ever trusted me. He just wants me to be king so he can use me. Maybe he has some strategy he didn’t want to tell me about, and he wanted to string me along, make me feel like I was part of things. Or maybe he didn’t think I’d follow through with planting the bombs last night, and he wanted to test me.”

  “Can’t we do something?” Wrey asked. Ash glanced her way and saw tears spilling out of her eyes, dampening her mask.

  “Camalyn,” Ash blurted. “She’s there. I have to talk to her.”

  “Why?” Sall asked.

  “She’s been helping me work against Konner. She can help us.” His voice took on a pleading note. “Think about it. Konner knew the bombs I planted wouldn’t go off, so as far as he knows, everything’s going according to plan. He won’t even know his king is gone until he tries to meet me and I’m not there.”

  Sall interrupted, “What time are you supposed to meet him?”

  “I don’t know. He told me to go to a meeting spot down the street after I lit my fuses. He said it might be hours before he showed up, but then it would be time to introduce me to the people as their king. He wouldn’t tell me more than that. If we find Camalyn, she can tell Konner I’ve been captured. Once he knows I’m gone, maybe he won’t cause any more damage.”

  Narre and Sall held a brief, whispered conference, and then Narre used her glowing hands to release the bonds on Wrey’s clothes. “Link your arm with Ash’s,” Narre said. Wrey sat next to Ash and did as she’d been told. Narre bonded Wrey’s sleeve to Ash’s before releasing the bonds she’d created earlier on his clothes. “Don’t try to get away,” she said. “I don’t want to have to get too creative with my gift. Let’s go.”

  Tavi’s slim shoulders and hips allowed her to squeeze in between people in the crowds. But she was shorter than most of the Karites. She quickly lost sight of Jenevy’s dark curls.

  In between panting breaths, Tavi updated Tullen. “Jenevy’s running to the Chamber. She wants to save Pala. I’m trying to catch up to her.”

  She hoped he was listening, but she didn’t dare aim her own hearing gift toward him. Her glowing ears had one purpose, tracking Jenevy. The young woman continued to repeat “Pala” every few seconds, her voice breathy and frightened.

  Tavi knew Jenevy had grown close to Pala. She’s desperate, Tavi thought, and that’s dangerous. The realization gave her pause. Jenevy was willing to risk her life for Pala, who most likely could not be saved. Am I willing to risk my life to stop her?

  Yes. The answer was clear and firm. It caught Tavi off-guard. She would attempt to protect the Meadow Dweller she’d tried to dislike and somehow grown fond of instead. Yes. Tavi kept running.

  The crowd’s movements became more tumultuous as Tavi and Jenevy neared the council building. People still streamed down the stairs, fleeing the building. Others stood in the street like statues. Their eyes were locked on the smoke emanating from the top floor of their city’s finest public building.

  Jenevy moaned, “Oh no, oh no, I need to get in.”

  Tavi followed the voice and caught sight of Jenevy. She was trying to get to the stairs, but there were too many people. Good, I can catch up with her. Tavi turned toward Jenevy.

  But Jenevy ran away from Tavi and the crowded stairs. Tavi kept following, but her burning lungs screamed for oxygen. She had a stitch in her side that made her want to fall to her knees. Her mask was wet with sweat. It took all her self-control not to rip it off and drop it in the street.

  Jenevy turned. “She’s going—around—to the back,” Tavi gasped. She begged her exhausted legs to give her additional speed. They churned a little faster. Jenevy was running along the side of the building, beneath where the first bomb had detonated. No one was there, and despite Tavi’s protesting lungs and muscles, she gloried in the open space around her.

  Jenevy wasn’t more than fifty feet ahead. “Jenevy!” Tavi called.

  Still running, Jenevy turned her blue-masked face toward Tavi’s voice. When she saw Tavi, she put on an extra burst of speed. “Pala!” she gasped.

  “You can’t!” Tavi cried. She wanted to say more, but her breath wouldn’t allow it. Jenevy turned the corner. Tavi continued to run, following her around to the back of the building.

  Jenevy pulled at the handle of the nearest door. It was locked. When she saw Tavi, her eyes widened. She pulled harder.

  The door opened, and Jenevy stumbled but didn’t fall. A woman rushed out, and Jenevy ran inside. Tavi caught up, grabbing the door before it could close again. She entered the hallway at the back of the building.

 
The stairwell to Tavi’s right was filled with smoke. Jenevy was down the hall to the left, doubtless in search of a second set of stairs. Tavi followed.

  Persistent, loud pounding caught Tavi’s attention. It took a moment to realize she was hearing more than running feet and her own thundering heart. Tavi pursued Jenevy around the corner. Shouting voices accompanied the crescendo of pounding. Tavi determined it was coming from a single door in the hallway. The door into the Chamber.

  People are trapped in there. Should she stop? But the silent cry of a friend in danger was louder than the knocking of strangers’ fists. She passed the door, a needle of guilt stabbing her. Jenevy was so close; surely Tavi could catch her in this empty building. Then she could try to help the others.

  A sound filled the air, like the earth itself exploding. The floor under Tavi trembled violently. Plaster from the ceiling above her tumbled down, and a piece of it connected with Tavi’s shoulder. Screams reached her ears from behind the walls of the locked room.

  Nightmarish images entered her mind. Panicked innocents, old and young. Choking smoke and hungry fire. The ceiling caving in.

  I have to go back.

  Groaning in frustration, Tavi returned to the locked door. Frenzied cries reached through the wood, filling the corridor. Tavi pushed down the handle, then pulled at the door with all her strength. The lock held. She stepped back and used a kick she’d learned from Officer Andisis, aiming at the lock. One more kick. Another. Pain raced up her leg, but the metal bolt was too strong.

  Perhaps if she shook the ground beneath her feet, the lock would break. Tavi activated her magic and sent it through her feet, into the floor. Deeper. She urged it to enter the bedrock’s cracks and crevices.

  Resistance swallowed her efforts. Of course it did; an earthquake underneath a crumbling building might kill everyone. Tavi begged Sava for another idea. She kicked the door again and cursed when it barely shook.

  I’m sorry. I tried. She didn’t speak the words aloud, but she meant them as surely as if she’d screamed them. She turned and ran again. At least she might save one.

  Tavi reached the lobby, but Jenevy was nowhere in sight. “Jenevy!” she cried. Her hearing gift didn’t pick up any response. Tavi ran across the lobby and turned down the other hallway. Relin the Fierce glowered at her from the wall carving as she sprinted by. “Jenevy!” she called. “Please!”

  Another bomb exploded.

  Sall jumped at the sound of another explosion, then jumped again when he heard his name being called.

  “Narre! Sall!”

  Sall turned to see Reba fighting her way through the crowd. She reached him, Narre, Ash, and Wrey where they stood looking for the best path to the Karites.

  “Tullen heard your conversation.” Reba gulped air and continued, “I know where Camalyn is. Follow me.”

  Reba led the way, and soon the Karites were in view. They looked just as confused and frightened as the others in the crowd, but they were staying together. Reba navigated to the front of the black-clad group, then pointed out Camalyn to Narre and Sall.

  Sall and Narre had agreed they didn’t trust Ash and Wrey to talk to Camalyn. Instead, Narre waited with the two Grays, close enough for Camalyn to see them, but far enough that they could be absorbed into the crowd again when the conversation was over, or sooner if necessary. Sall alone approached Camalyn, who was gesturing as she spoke to the Karites around her.

  “Pardon me,” Sall said when he reached her. But she didn’t appear to hear him above the noise of the crowd. “Camalyn!” he bellowed.

  Camalyn turned. When she saw Sall in his black crow mask, her brows rose in an unspoken question.

  Sall locked eyes with her. “Ash won’t be king, not today and not later. We caught him trying to light the fuses in the lobby bombs. We’re keeping him with us. He’s over there.” Sall pointed, and Camalyn looked toward Ash and Wrey. Narre was waving her hand above her head, and Sall could just glimpse the two Grays next to her. They had lifted their masks to make their faces visible. “You’ve got to stop Konner,” Sall continued. “Please talk to him before he kills any more people.”

  Camalyn leaned toward Sall and said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Ash told us you’ve been helping him,” Sall said. “But we have him now. Everything Konner is doing is useless.”

  “You don’t understand,” Camalyn replied. “I don’t know that man you pointed out. I don’t know anyone named Konner either.”

  Sall shrugged, suddenly calm. He gave the lovely Karite an unconcerned wave and walked away.

  Within a few steps, his head cleared, and he chided himself for being so weak as to allow Camalyn’s gift to affect him. On a hunch, he turned back toward her and invited his gift to activate. Her emotions flooded into his mind. Excitement. Anticipation. Smugness. And on the edges, guilt. But that last emotion wasn’t running the show; it was barely even a participant.

  Watching Camalyn, the woman who controlled and deceived without effort, sudden terror filled Sall. Without another word, he turned and fled back to Narre, Reba, and their gray captives.

  “Masks on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  “But Camalyn needs to—” Ash began.

  “Camalyn is a liar,” Sall interrupted. “We’re leaving. Now.”

  The detonation threw Tavi to the ground. Her ears felt like they were plugged with cotton. She heard a sharp, shrill tone that seemed out of place after the cacophonous explosions. That one was right above me. She pulled herself up and ran again as sections of ceiling fell behind her.

  Her hearing gift had dissipated when she’d fallen, but she didn’t need it. Even through the ringing in her ears, she could hear Jenevy’s moans and grating coughs. The sounds were louder when she reached the stairs.

  Tavi braced herself to enter the smoky stairwell. For the first time that day, she was glad to be wearing her accursed mask. She adjusted it to cover her mouth and nose. She climbed up two steps, before she, too, began to cough.

  Then she saw it. Jenevy’s foot. Tavi didn’t think; she grabbed the foot with both hands and pulled. A second later, she cursed as she fell backward, tumbling down the two steps she’d climbed. She landed on the floor and got onto her hands and knees. She grasped Jenevy’s foot again.

  Another moan came out of Jenevy’s mouth, but she had no strength to resist. Tavi tugged once more, pulling Jenevy closer to the bottom of the steps. She then yanked at the young woman’s shin, followed by her thigh, her hips, her hand, her arm.

  Every tug was accompanied by the terrifying, incessant screaming and pounding of innocent citizens. Somehow the horror of their plight gave Tavi more energy for her task. Soon, Jenevy was on the floor with her, coughing incessantly.

  “We have to go!” Tavi cried. “Now!” She was relieved to see that Jenevy’s eyes were open, tears soaking into the felt of her mask.

  Jenevy tried to push herself up. Tavi stood and helped her to her feet. But Jenevy didn’t move toward the door; she took a stumbling step toward the stairs.

  Tavi still had Jenevy’s arm, and she tugged it so hard that Jenevy cried out. “We’re leaving!” Tavi yelled. Jenevy’s shoulders fell. Tavi grasped her hand, and Jenevy followed willingly.

  Jenevy was slow, too slow. Tavi pulled at her arm again. At last, they reached the back door. Tavi threw it open and took a deep breath of the fresh air. She stepped over the threshold, followed by Jenevy.

  The ground rocked with the fury of another explosion. It threw Tavi and Jenevy to their knees. The ringing in Tavi’s ears renewed itself. She pushed herself up, but something—instinct, Sava, something—shoved her back down. She flung herself on top of Jenevy, who’d fallen next to her.

  Brightness rivaling that of the sun invaded the air around her. The terrible, marvelous warmth of her magic filled Tavi like it had only done once before. She screamed.

  Her cry was drowned out by a louder noise, a great crack, like the side of a mountain breaking away. Tav
i looked up. The massive marble overhang, which had for so many years shaded the humble back door of the council building, fell. She screamed again, bowing her head and holding Jenevy tighter.

  With a thud, the marble landed. Several smaller cracks sounded, followed by the harsh sound of broken stone scraping on magic. The heavy stone was so close that Tavi could sense its weight above her, held back only by the shielding power of her all gift. Additional stones and bricks rained down. Tavi prayed that her gift would protect Jenevy too.

  At last, the storm of deadly debris ended. Heavy marble and bricks covered Tavi and Jenevy completely. Tavi could only turn her head slightly. When she did, she gasped to see part of the marble slab just inches from her eyes, resting on a layer of bright magic. They would have been in darkness were it not for the harsh, beautiful light emanating from every part of Tavi.

  Jenevy coughed, then spoke, her voice raspy. “I can’t open my eyes. It’s so bright.”

  “It’s all right,” Tavi said. “Just be still, as still as you can. Wait for help.”

  But as she spoke, her weariness made itself known. It settled into every muscle and bone and pore, invading her very soul. She didn’t know how long she could hold onto her magic. It was rapidly draining the limited energy she had left. Even as she thought this, the light around her dimmed slightly, and the largest slab of marble shifted a fraction of an inch, sending small bits of debris raining down all around the shield.

  I will not let go. With a burst of determination, Tavi flooded her mind with everything she desired. Her shield held, but she sobbed as she felt the toll it took on her strength. Even as she cried, she continued to focus desperately on her desires for Misty and pickles and Tullen. For justice and vengeance and peace.

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  Then vict’ry seemed a futile dream.

  Their foe’s great armies filled the night.