“I don’t know,” I said. “I don’t know.”
One question filled my mind: Who is this child?
-From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana
Chapter One
The autumn festival in Oren is the most popular festival of the year. We midwives host it, and we work for months, arranging the details of the feast, the games, and the children’s music.
Yet I think we could skip all this, and the town would still gather. For at its heart the autumn festival is not about food, games, or songs. It is an exuberant, joyful celebration of magic. And I love it.
-From Small-Town Cormina: A Midwife’s Reflections by Ellea Kariana
The woman’s voice rose in a haunting melody, her wordless music captivating the crowd. Though the singer’s mouth shone with a golden glow, no one watched her face. Instead, every eye was focused on a small, green plant, peeking above the top of a large pot at the singer’s feet.
As the song swelled, the sprout began to vibrate, a movement barely visible to those watching. A leaf emerged from the sprout. The plant continued to flourish, moving in harmony with the exquisite notes of the song. The stalk grew wider as it rose higher, and more leaves pushed themselves into the air, reaching toward the light of the autumn sun.
In time, the end of the thick vine wound itself around the waist of the singer, then up her back. As her song’s last refrain saturated the air, the vine stopped growing above the woman’s shoulder, and a large flower of vibrant pink and orange sprouted there.
The crowd broke their silence. Their cheers filled the street, and the singer laughed in delight, her mouth still glowing. The ovation continued, and the woman bowed as well as she could, considering the vine that still embraced her.
At last, the applause diminished. A dozen more notes left the singer’s mouth, these dissonant and harsh. At the jarring tones, the vine dried up so completely that the woman easily snapped the portion around her waist. She stepped away, and once again, the crowd cheered.
Tavi Malin’s palms stung from her enthusiastic clapping, but she continued to applaud until she was interrupted by a hand tugging at her arm. Her best friend Reba Minnalen guided her down the street.
Once they were away from the loud applause, Reba spoke. “I’ve heard that woman charges farmers such a high price, she only has to work a few weeks a year! She can cause an entire season’s worth of growth in a single day. She’s one of the wealthiest people in Tinawe.”
“I believe it,” Tavi responded. “Not many speech-blessed people can make plants grow. My mother would give anything for her to come to our garden! And her voice—it’s beautiful!” She looked to the side of the road. “Let’s stop here,” she said. “I love Nem’s smoke stories.”
Unlike the singer, who was visiting from a large city, Nem was local to the town of Oren. He was touch-blessed, and his magic allowed him to mold smoke into whatever shape he wished. It wasn’t a practical gift, but that didn’t seem to bother Nem. Whenever he had the chance, he entertained anyone who would watch. He had built a fire at the edge of the street, and now he stood above it, telling a story while forming the smoke into airy, animated illustrations.
Tavi and Reba had missed the beginning of Nem’s story, but they knew it well. It was the tale of Savala’s life. It was appropriate, as the day’s autumn festival was held in honor of Savala’s birthday.
Because Savala had been the first to tame magic—with the help of his mother Kari, who had given him a breath of blessing at birth—his annual festival was a celebration of all things magical. On this day, many of the town’s Blessed loved to show off their gifts, which were usually used for more mundane tasks (or, in Nem’s case, not used much at all.)
As Nem told the story of Savala’s awakening, Tavi watched it play out. Savala, created out of gray smoke, used one of his gifted hands to heal his foot, which had been pricked by a thorn.
Again, Tavi felt a pull on her arm. “This is for children,” Reba said.
“There are adults here too!” Tavi protested.
“They’re all parents.”
Tavi looked around and saw that Reba was right. With a small sigh, she walked away with her friend. At twelve years old, perhaps she was meant to have outgrown her love of stories.
Reba pointed down the street. “Let’s go watch Zagada!” she said, pulling her friend with her.
Zagada was touch-blessed, just as Nem was. Zagada’s gift, however, was more practical. Exceptional strength filled his hands. He earned his living through construction, but he seemed to enjoy these street shows more than anything. He lifted a massive boulder over his head, pretending to struggle with it for the sake of the children in the audience.
Tavi watched Zagada’s act every year, but she still gasped and jumped when he pretended he was about to throw the boulder into the crowd. Embarrassed, Tavi looked around. She was relieved to see that most of the other spectators had been startled too.
As she scanned the crowd, Tavi found a pair of eyes on her. She shifted her gaze away and whispered to Reba, “Mayor Nolin is standing over there.” When Reba’s head turned to find him, Tavi said, “Don’t look at him! He’s already staring at me; I don’t want any more of his attention.”
Reba frowned. “Why don’t you like him?”
“He’s the one who arranged for our house to get indoor plumbing—for free,” Tavi said. “Remember?”
“And you don’t like him because he gave your family a gift?”
“That’s not it. I just don’t trust him. I don’t see why he would have done that for us. Misty says politicians never give anything away without wanting something in return.” Seeing Reba’s shrug, Tavi added, “Besides, his teeth are too straight and too white.”
Laughing, Reba said, “I think his teeth are perfect!”
“I heard,” Tavi said, “that there’s a touch-blessed woman in Tinawe who uses her gift to straighten teeth and whiten them. I heard he visited her, and it was very painful, and very expensive.”
Reba’s eyes grew wide. “I didn’t even know that was possible!” She ran her tongue over the front of her teeth.
“Don’t even think about it!” Tavi said. “Your smile is perfect. Even if it weren’t, you don’t see me planning to move these down.” She pointed at her top canines, which had both come in higher on her gums than they should have, crowded out by other teeth. “I think he looks like he’s trying too hard to be handsome.”
“Well,” Reba said dreamily, her eyes finding the mayor, “it’s working.”
When Zagada’s act ended, the crowd applauded. Mayor Briggun Nolin rushed to Zagada and put his arm around the young man. “Excuse me,” the mayor called in a polished voice. “If I could have your attention for a few moments, please?”
The mayor’s voice was audible over the crowd’s murmurs, thanks to a touch-blessed woman who held her hand on his back. She had the gift of voice amplification, and she often accompanied the mayor at public events. If he wanted, he could whisper and still be heard by everyone. But it wasn’t in Mayor Nolin’s nature to whisper.
The crowd quieted, and the mayor continued, “What talent we have in Oren! Let’s give Zagada another round of applause.” He allowed them to clap for several seconds before holding out his hands to stop them. “I am also honored that one of our young Blessed is here today. I know we are all waiting for the awakening of our very own all-blessed resident, Tavina Malin!”
He gestured to Tavi, and every person in the crowd turned toward her. Then they began to clap. Tavi felt her stomach twist with dread and her face fill with the heat of a thousand suns. She tried to escape, but every direction was already filled by smiling faces and clapping hands. Faces looking at her, and hands clapping for her.
The crowd had Tavi hemmed in, but they shifted for Mayor Nolin. He made his way through them toward Tavi. She hadn’t thought this moment could get any worse, but it did. The mayor approached her, put his hand on her shoulder, and steered her toward the makeshift perf
ormance area.
Walking with the mayor was the last thing Tavi desired, but she found herself doing it anyway. Her mortification grew with every step. Then they were both in front of the crowd—the mayor smiling, his white teeth glistening, his hand waving; and Tavi, her lips pressed together, eyes wide, arms folded, trying to hold back embarrassed tears.
Mayor Nolin was talking, but Tavi absorbed little of it. Something about the bright future of Oren and Tavi’s place in it. She might have heard more if she hadn’t been silently begging him to stop. Please, please, let go of my shoulder and let me get away from here. Let me do something more enjoyable, like be with my friends or eat a snack or pluck feathers off chicken carcasses—anything but this.
Her silent pleas went unheeded. At last the mayor’s speech ended, and the crowd dispersed. Tavi escaped without another word.
Tavi soothed her humiliation by getting four cookies from the dessert table. As she ate them, Reba tried to console her.
“He was just trying to honor you,” Reba said. “Just think—maybe a year from now you and I will be performing at the autumn festival.” She sounded excited at the prospect.
Tavi shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to. And who knows if our gifts will have awakened by then?”
Reba looked down at her figure, which had shifted in the previous year, the hard lines of childhood softening and swelling into a more womanly shape. “I don’t think it will be too much longer for me.” She glanced at Tavi’s small form. “It’ll take longer for you. But just imagine it! People will crowd around us like they did for Zagada, and we can share our magic with the world.”
“We don’t even know if we’ll have anything worth sharing,” Tavi said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Reba said. “Of course everyone will want to see you show off your gifts. And I have high hopes for my sight gift too. Maybe I’ll be able to tame wild animals just by looking at them. I heard a story about a sight-blessed woman who could do that. Can you imagine? I could own stables full of horses I tamed!” She laughed.
Tavi’s vision of the future wasn’t so optimistic. Yes, they would both see their gifts awaken, but would they be powerful? Reba was sight-blessed, the most common gifting. There was a reason most sight-blessed individuals did not demonstrate their magic at the autumn festival. The gifts usually weren’t all that impressive.
And what about me? Tavi thought. Maybe she would be different. Everyone seemed to think so. But no one, least of all Tavi, even knew what all-blessed meant. Perhaps she would have magic so diluted throughout her body that it was useless. Or possibly she would have unprecedented gifting, and everyone would expect her to do amazing things for them. Tavi wasn’t sure which extreme scared her the most.
Tavi felt Reba’s eyes on her, but didn’t know how to respond. Misty approached them. Relieved, Tavi told her older sister, “I’m ready to go home.”
“I’ll walk with you,” Misty said. She and Tavi said goodbye to Reba before beginning their walk home.
They strolled along the dirt streets of Oren and soon exited the town proper. The sisters had the road to themselves, and Tavi silently reflected on the mayor’s actions and Reba’s words. After a few minutes, Misty said, “I heard what happened.”
“Word spreads quickly.”
Misty touched a hand to her sister’s tight shoulder. “You must have been embarrassed. Can you talk to me about it?”
Tavi told her sister about the scene the mayor had made. “Every person in that crowd was staring at me, like everyone always does,” Tavi said. “I’m so sick of strangers wondering when my gifts will awaken. I think they’re convinced that if they look at me long enough, I’ll suddenly sprout breasts and shoot fire out of my eyes.”
Misty laughed. “I’m sure that’s not what they’re thinking.”
“Reba tried to help, but she didn’t understand,” Tavi said, telling Misty of Reba’s hopes for their future magical development. “Everyone expects my gifts to be so impressive, but they have no way of knowing that.”
Misty threw a sidelong glance her way. “Is everything all right with you and Reba?”
Tavi sighed. “She’s . . . changing.”
Misty raised her eyebrows. “Changing?”
“She’s so much taller than me now, and she’s getting curves.” With her hands, Tavi outlined an impossible hourglass figure in the air—a shape that didn’t in the least resemble her friend. “She talks about our gifts awakening all the time. She’s not as fun as she was. She’s . . . leaving me behind.”
“You and Reba only have a few years to be children, and the rest of your lives to be old and responsible. You should both enjoy this while you can.”
“Easy for you to say. By the time you were my age, I bet you already looked like a woman.”
“A lot of good it did me.” Misty ruefully looked at her full figure, then at her wrist. She was twenty-four and did not yet wear a wedding bracelet. “You will grow up. And Reba is right about one thing—with your gifts, you’ll be able to do anything you want.”
“You can’t know that!” Tavi’s voice was shrill. “I might end up with less impressive magic than anyone who’s ever lived! I’ll be filled to the brim with weak magic, in a body that looks like it belongs to a nine-year-old boy!”
Misty stopped walking, and Tavi followed suit. The dirt road was empty and quiet. “Tavi,” Misty said. She took her sister’s slender shoulders in her hands and looked into her eyes. “I do expect you to be someone very special when you awaken. But you are already very special now, and it has nothing to do with being all-blessed! You are one of the smartest people I know. Your heart is generous. And you didn’t slap the mayor, so you must have some self-control too.”
Tavi laughed and found herself enveloped in Misty’s soft, strong arms. She melted into them, finding comfort from the sister who was more like a second mother. When she felt the familiar warmth in her body, she pulled back.
Holding her sister’s hands, Tavi uttered a peaceful sigh as light shone from her skin, intensifying to a bright, golden glow, as if the sun itself lent her some of its brilliance. Her whole body shone as it had twelve years before when the midwife had first given her a breath of blessing. The glow held no power, not yet, but it was a delicious hint of what was waiting to awaken. Tavi looked at Misty, whose face held a familiar expression of awe and wistfulness.
Smiling, Tavi gazed down at the warm glow radiating even through her dress. Suddenly, her shoulders drooped, and the light shining from her whole body faded to nothingness.
“What’s wrong?” Misty asked.
“Oh. I lost my focus. I was feeling so content, and then . . .” She shrugged. Misty waited, and Tavi continued. “Well, I looked down at my glowing chest, and I thought how much nicer that light would look if it were shining from two hills instead of one flat plain.”
Misty burst into laughter, and she put her arm around her sister’s shoulder as they continued down the road.
Chapter Two
Anger can be a tool of justice
Or a weapon of vengeance.
Will you master your anger,
Or will it master you?
-From Proverbs of Savala
Jerash sat at the back of the store, on the floor, leaning against a table leg. The door rattled as someone attempted to open it. He was losing business, and he did not care.
He held a small piece of clay, and his hands shone with golden light as he molded and remolded it, making miniature pots and cups and bowls, his fingers moving so quickly that they blurred together. Then he moved on to sculptures—a chicken, an ant, his wife’s face.
Jerash looked at the face of clay in his palm. It looked so real; he had captured her perfect lips, and the way her eyes squinted when she smiled. He breathed her name. “Riami.”
And then he cried. He buried his face in his hands, smashing the clay against his cheek, where it soaked up his tears. “Riami.”
It had been four hours since he’d closed th
e store so he could go home and fetch a vase from the small workshop at the back of his house. A customer was buying its twin and wanted a matching set.
In minutes, Jerash had arrived at the workshop behind his house. He had been about to open the door when he’d seen movement in the window of their bedroom. Too much movement, and too much flesh.
His first inclination had been to look away; what he was seeing should be private. But that was his wife in there, and there should be nothing hidden between them, nothing at all. When had Riami started keeping secrets? And, oh Sava, who was she with?
Jerash later regretted not staying long enough to discern who the man was, but instead he had run, horrified, back to the street and all the way to the shop, where he had given his confused customer a convoluted lie about a broken vase. As soon as the customer had left, Jerash had locked the door, picked up a piece of clay, and sat on the rough floor, where he had been ever since.
He forced himself to stop weeping and to stop working the clay. He released his gift, and the glow in his hands faded. Jerash’s tolerance for magic was high; he could work for a long time without resting. But he had been using his touch gift for hours, and his body was feeling drained. He needed energy to walk home. It was almost closing time. He needed to go to Riami.
The clock tower struck six. Jerash stood up and exited the shop. His eyes were already sore from tears, and the cold wind stung them further. He blinked several times, locked the door, and began to walk.
“I came home this afternoon for a vase,” Jerash said. He had not planned this confrontation, and that was all he could think to say.
Riami was cutting potatoes, and her knife stopped as she looked up. “Oh?” she replied, and her voice was strained. “I didn’t see you.”
“I saw you,” Jerash said. “Both of you.”
Facing the Sun Page 2