Konner and Camalyn shared a long look. They both turned back to Ronson, and Konner said in a low voice, “There is one thing you can do to help us.”
Camalyn again activated her magic. She pulled a cloth out of one pocket and a bottle out of the other. In a moment, the lid was off, and she poured the liquid liberally onto the cloth. She handed the cloth to Ronson.
Tears filled Camalyn’s eyes as she said, “Mola, I want you to hold that cloth up to your mouth and nose. Breathe deeply into it.” A moment later, she gave further instructions. “Cover your mouth and nose better—that’s very good. Deep breaths, as if you’re smelling a flower. Very good, Mola. I know you’re sleepy. Don’t fight it. You deserve a nice rest. Very good.”
On his way out, Konner told a servant, “Camalyn will be staying with Councillor Ronson for a bit. They desire privacy.” The servant nodded. Camalyn would ensure Ronson stayed asleep, and the servant would ensure they were not disturbed.
Konner instructed his carriage driver to make one stop before going home. He spent a quarter hour at that destination before he was again on his way. Once he arrived at his estate, the nighttime hours dragged by. At last, the clock struck two, and he exited out the back door into the black night.
Ronson’s house was only a mile from Konner’s. He made it there on foot in under twenty minutes, arriving at the back yard through an alley gate that Camalyn, Sava bless her, had unlocked.
Councillor Remina Birge was waiting for him. Konner smiled and nodded. Her responding smile was uncomfortable, but determined. They made their way into the house through the unlocked kitchen door.
Camalyn had been invited to dine with Birge a few days earlier, and she had brought Konner with her to the dinner. Neither had been surprised when Birge, whose hearing gift allowed her to detect lies, had accused Camalyn of not being a true Karite. (Konner had, however, been surprised when this confrontation had happened after the soup course, before the main course had even been served. It was rather crass.) Camalyn had admitted to the deception.
Birge’s gift would be invaluable to the Grays, and after dinner, Konner and Camalyn had spoken with the woman about their plans. She had not hesitated, insisting she wanted to be part of it. Lying was a universal trait, Birge said. And she had long believed magical resistance to be pointless. Despite being prevented from using their gifts improperly, councillors continued to be self-absorbed and power-hungry. If magic was freed of its restrictions, she said, at least people would be less hypocritical.
And Birge was a pragmatist. She had no problem with ending the life of someone who was dying anyway. However, when Konner had stopped at her house three days later and told her of Mola Ronson’s refusal to be part of their vision, he had been nervous. Would Birge refuse to take Mola’s last breath? But she had proven herself to be made of tougher stock than Konner had guessed. Did she want to take the life of her fellow councillor? No. But did she see the need to ensure that Ronson did not share what he knew about the Grays? Unequivocally yes.
Konner and Birge crept through Mola Ronson’s dark house. Camalyn was waiting in the study, sitting next to Ronson, whose head still lolled in sleep. Konner sniffed the air and lit his pipe with the strongest-smelling tobacco he could find in Ronson’s cabinet, hoping to cover the ether odor with a more pleasant scent. The open window would help too.
Birge’s task only took a few minutes. Her whole body shook as she pinched Ronson’s nose and took his final breath. She then pressed her hand on his mouth and waited. Despite the trembling, she held her position until they were sure the man was gone.
Camalyn had sprinkled lijani powder all around Ronson, also dipping his fingers in it. When he was dead, Camalyn put the powder on his nose, using her fingers to coat his nostrils with it.
Remina Birge gasped, pressing both hands against her chest. Moments later, gray light traveled to her head, and she moved her hands there, closing her eyes against the pain. “It will be worth it,” Konner said.
When Birge’s gray awakening had abated, she and Konner left. Camalyn would depart soon thereafter, making enough noise to wake a servant. She would tell them that Ronson was enjoying “a little powder.” When someone found the man dead in the morning, everyone would agree it had only been a matter of time before his addiction got the better of him.
In the alley, Birge turned to Konner. “I didn’t ask. How many of us are there?”
“You and Camalyn are the first two councillors,” Konner said, “And there are three others.”
Birge’s expression grew cold. “Tell me there will be more than five of us.”
“We’re working on it.” Konner’s voice was firm. “We will bring on more councillors. And I have a team who is traveling as we speak. We have high hopes for the talent we may discover in rural areas. There will be more Grays, Remina. Very soon.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The students I train treat me with such respect. They seem unaware of how little I know about magic, even after all this time.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 2
Tavi yanked the kitchen door open. “What do you need?” she demanded. When the visitors on the porch gave no reply, she snapped, “I don’t know why you had to bang on the door like that.”
Sall said, “You didn’t answer when we knocked politely.”
“Where’s your family, anyway?” Narre asked.
“They left to spend the afternoon with the Terelsons,” Tavi explained. “I didn’t want to go.”
“We’re coming in,” Narre said, pushing past Tavi into the kitchen. Sall followed her, and they sat at the table. With a sigh, Tavi pulled out a chair and joined them.
“So, he’s gone,” Narre said, her voice gentler than it had been before. Tavi wasn’t surprised they knew. That morning had been the monthly gathering at the parish house, and Tavi hadn’t attended. Her family must have told Narre why. “How are you doing?” Narre asked.
“I’m fine.”
That response earned her skeptical looks from both her friends. Sall pointed at his head. “May I?”
Tavi didn’t have the energy to argue, so she shrugged and said, “Sure.”
After a deep breath, Sall’s magic activated, and his scalp began to shine, creating a golden halo around his head. He kept his eyes on Tavi for a moment before releasing his magic. “I’m sorry,” he said with a sad smile.
“Me too,” Narre agreed. Tavi was surprised to see tears in her cousin’s eyes.
“I suppose there’s no use pretending I’m all right,” Tavi sighed. She looked between Sall and Narre. “Why do I keep driving away the people I care about the most?”
Sall didn’t appear surprised at the question; he already knew every one of Tavi’s varied emotions, including her stinging sense of rejection. But Narre’s eyes widened. “You haven’t driven anyone away!” she insisted.
“First Reba, and then my father, and now Tullen.” Tavi felt tears enter her eyes, but she held them at bay. “I’m surprised the two of you are still here.”
“Reba stopped being friends with all of us,” Sall pointed out. “You didn’t cause that. As for your father, he chose not to accept your decision about the mayor. Again, it’s not your fault.”
“And Tullen?” Tavi wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer, but now the question was out there.
“The Meadow is his home,” Narre said.
Tavi remembered saying that very thing to Tullen the day before. But after a night of little sleep, it didn’t feel like a good enough explanation anymore.
“You’re not just sad—you’re angry, too,” Sall pointed out.
Tavi slammed both hands on the table. “Of course I’m angry! He was my best friend, and he left! I can’t believe he would do that to me! I want to break something!” She slammed her hands down again, causing her palms to sting.
Narre’s lips tilted up in a small grin. “I have an idea,” she said. “Tavi, put on your shoes, and leave a note for your parents. We’re go
ing to my house.”
Narre held up a small board, grasping it tightly in both hands. They were standing in front of the workshop her father kept in his back yard. “Hit it, Tavi,” she instructed.
“I’ll hurt my hand!” Tavi protested.
“You won’t. I promise. Just hit it.”
Tavi noted the glow that had filled Narre’s hands, and she nodded in understanding. She pulled her fist back and slammed it into the wood.
As promised, it didn’t hurt. Narre’s touch gift broke the board as soon as Tavi’s knuckles hit it. The resulting snap was highly satisfying, and while Tavi still felt simmering anger in her chest, her mouth insisted on smiling. “Again,” she said.
This time, Narre propped a larger piece of lumber in between two sawhorses. She kept her hands on it, and when Tavi’s fist connected with it, the wood shattered into thousands of tiny pieces. A small chuckle escaped Tavi’s throat.
They continued to experiment with various types of wood. Tavi reveled in the feeling of smashing things to pieces and in the gratifying sound of the wood cracking.
Each time, Narre surprised Tavi with the method she used to break the wood. One board was transformed into hundreds of tiny cubes when Tavi hit it. Another broke into small chips, with the exception of a large “T” that thudded onto the ground. Narre picked it up and handed it to Tavi. “That can stand for ‘Tavi’ or ‘Tullen,’ whichever makes you happier,” she said. That time, she was rewarded with a genuine laugh from Tavi and a tight hug.
Narre said, “I don’t think I can use any more wood. Later on I’ll need to bind some pieces together so my father can use them.” When Sall leaned over and whispered something to her, she smiled and said, “Let’s try it!”
Narre ran off, and when she returned a minute later, she was struggling to carry a large rock. She placed it on the ground in front of Tavi. Her glowing hand resting on its side, she said, “Kick it.”
Tavi raised her eyebrows but said, “All right.” She backed up a dozen steps then took a running start, kicking at the rock with all her might.
When the toe of Tavi’s boot hit the rock, it exploded. Fine dust shot away backwards, Narre having diverted the debris so it didn’t slam into them.
Tavi couldn’t stop laughing. “You just . . . made a rock . . . explode!” she gasped. When she caught her breath, she turned to Narre. “Let’s do that again!”
After several more pulverized rocks, they decided they’d had enough for one day. They moved to the back porch where they drank water and enjoyed the summer sun.
Sall turned to Tavi. “Better?” he asked.
She nodded, absentmindedly tracing the wooden T with one hand. “That’s exactly what I needed.” She smiled, but as the thrill of kicking and hitting wore off, she felt the sadness returning. She sat quietly, sipping her drink. Finally, she broke the silence. “I miss him.”
Narre reached over and took Tavi’s hand. “I know.”
The next afternoon, Tavi walked to the midwife house with Narre and Sall for their afternoon training. Their schedule would start with an hour in the practicum room. Upstairs, they checked a list posted in the hall to see what skills they were required to practice.
“Blindfolded again?” Sall groaned. For the past several practicum sessions, he had been instructed to put on a blindfold before attempting to discern someone’s emotions. Sall entered the room to seek students who would allow him to practice on them.
Narre checked the list and grinned. “Metal and rock!” she exclaimed. Having gained a fair amount of competence in binding fabric to wood, she was at last moving on to binding smooth metal to rough rock. She had been looking forward to this.
Tavi’s eyebrows furrowed when she checked the list. Next to her name, it simply read, “See Ellea.” She glanced in the room and saw the midwife waiting for her in the back.
Tavi approached Ellea nervously. It had been over half a year since their conversation about Tavi’s healing ability. While she was glad she had told Ellea the truth, she had felt a wall between them ever since.
When she approached and saw the warm smile on Ellea’s face, Tavi’s anxiety was tempered with relief. “It’s been some time since I’ve observed you in practicum,” the midwife said. “Will you please activate one of your gifts for me? Your choice.”
Tavi closed her eyes, about to dream up the juiciest pickle she could, but she was suddenly hesitant. Her eyes opened, and she asked, “How do you want me to activate it? Your way or . . . mine?” She had almost said, “Your way or Tullen’s?” and was glad she had caught herself.
“Whichever you prefer,” Ellea said.
Tavi nodded, again closing her eyes. Ears—pickle. It was that simple. At the same moment her mouth watered with the desire for a pickle, her ears filled with warmth.
Ellea was still smiling. “Very good. You can release it now.”
Tavi let her magic go. She looked directly at Ellea and said, “I did that by thinking of pickles.” Ellea only nodded, so Tavi continued. “I’ve tried over and over to activate my gifts by breathing and relaxing. It works every once in a while, but I usually just find myself getting frustrated. Ellea, my gifts are tied to desire. I don’t think there’s any way to change that. Plus, I’ve been learning to trust my magical instincts, and I’m feeling more confident. I can activate my gifts faster than ever before, even one at a time. I know I’m not always doing it in the way you want—”
Tavi realized Ellea’s hand was up, and she wondered how long the midwife had been trying to halt her monologue. She pressed her lips together, feeling her cheeks burning even warmer than her ears had.
The smile on Ellea’s face was gentle. It was the smile Tavi had always loved receiving. “You’re not in trouble,” Ellea said.
“I’m not?” Tavi whispered.
“No,” Ellea said. “I didn’t realize our previous conversation had bothered you so deeply. I’m sorry it took this long for me to follow up with you.”
“It’s all right.”
“I burned my finger on the kettle today,” Ellea said. “Do you think you could heal it for me?” She held out a finger that sported a small section of shiny, red skin. It hadn’t even blistered.
“I haven’t healed a burn yet, but I think I could do it,” Tavi replied. She closed her eyes, and in several seconds, her magic was in her hands. She took hold of Ellea’s fingertip, her gift detecting which skin was healthy and which was burned. Just for some variety, Tavi thought about ulora root candy instead of pickles. Her diagnostic gift was joined by healing magic, and she could feel the skin of Ellea’s finger changing. She wasn’t sure how to heal a burn, and she hoped her gift knew what to do. A few seconds later, she removed her fingers.
“Perfect,” Ellea said, holding up the finger, which held no trace of the burn. “You may release your magic if you’d like.” When Tavi had done so, Ellea looked in her eyes. “I’m proud of you.”
“You are?”
“I am.” Ellea sighed. “When you told me you were learning magic from another teacher, I was frightened. But I’ve had months to think about that and to wonder why that was my reaction. I’m still frightened, Tavi. But you said it yourself, you are different. Perhaps you need training I can’t give you. I’m glad you have Tullen to help you, and I’m hoping you’ll teach me some of what he’s taught you—if you can be patient with an old woman who is set in her ways.”
“I don’t have Tullen to help me anymore,” Tavi said.
“Why not?”
“The elders at the Meadow told him he has to stay there now.”
Ellea shook her head and snapped, “I’m not a bit surprised. I’ve always thought they were—” Then her eyes caught Tavi’s, and she stopped. She beckoned her student toward the door. Tavi followed, and once they were in the hallway, Ellea opened her arms. As soon as Tavi stepped into the embrace, she surrendered to the tears she had been avoiding since Tullen’s departure.
Tavi felt a wave of peace enter her through Elle
a’s touch-blessed hands. The midwife murmured, “It will be all right.”
And Tavi believed her.
Chapter Thirty
I need your counsel, and I beg you to reply quickly. Sava has brought me here, yet my heart calls me home. What is to be done? I fear the one I love will not wait any longer. Please advise me, my friend. I cannot find the answer, no matter how I try.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 1
Tullen woke, and it took a moment to figure out where he was. He had been dreaming of Oren, and first he thought he’d woken in Tavi’s house. But, no—instead of cotton bedding, he lay on animal skins, a perk of being one of the Meadow’s hunters. And on the bed across the room slept his brother Tona. Yes, he was home.
Home. The word wasn’t as inviting as it had once been. But Tullen didn’t want to think of that right now. He had made his choice.
Tullen walked into the small sitting room. His mother was gone; she liked to start her weaving early in the summer. But his father Kley was there, spreading fresh butter on a slice of bread. Meals were served in the Meadow’s large meeting hall, but some families preferred to eat light fare at home for breakfast. “Morning,” Kley said, offering the bread to Tullen.
“It’s all right, I’ll get my own.”
“Don’t be silly. I can cut another.” His father pushed the bread into Tullen’s hand.
“Thanks.”
Kley smiled. “It’s always good to have you home.”
Tullen ate, considering the two previous days, which had been his weekly leisure days. On the first, Tullen had run to Oren to say goodbye to Tavi, and on the second, he had stayed home, ruminating. He was ready to get back to hunting. He needed to return to his routines and work toward a goal. And if his mind insisted on thinking about what he had lost, he would share those thoughts with only the trees and animals.
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