Facing the Fire

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “I’ll make a plate for you,” his mother said. Soon she placed a full plate in front of Evitt. She gestured to the envelope next to him. “I almost forgot, the man who brought you that letter came back. He waited for a bit, but then he said he had to leave. He was meeting someone for dinner.” She turned back to the countertop, where she was bundling herbs to dry them.

  The chicken, potato, and bread in front of Evitt lost all their allure. He took several shallow breaths, staring in horror at his mother. At last he managed to ask, “He left?”

  “About an hour ago,” his mother confirmed. “He said he’ll catch you in six weeks or so when he returns to Savala.” She turned and looked at Evitt, then stepped toward him, a bundle of rosemary in one hand and a length of twine in the other. “What’s wrong, Evitt?”

  “Nothing. I . . . I’m sorry, Mother, I feel sick. I ate food from a street vendor for lunch. It’s not agreeing with me.” Evitt stood and rushed to his room, his mother’s solicitous questions following him. He closed the door.

  He didn’t have a way to contact Shon, the Meadow Dweller. The man could have rented a room in any of dozens of inns, hotels, or pubs. Why didn’t I ask where he was staying, for Sava’s sake? If he couldn’t get a message to Tavi, the army might find the Golds and arrest or kill them all.

  Plans and possibilities filled Evitt’s mind. He had a general idea of what direction the Meadow was in, but he didn’t know how to get there. In fact, the only time he’d ever traveled anywhere was when his mother had moved him from his hometown to Savala.

  Despite these discouraging facts, he pulled a canvas drawstring bag out from under his bed and filled it. Pants, socks, underclothing, shirts, gloves, a hat. And money, all the money he’d saved from both his jobs.

  Then he put the bag under his bed. He wrote a note to his mother, and he waited. Hours later, when he was certain his mother, stepfather, and brother were all asleep, Evitt opened his bedroom door as quietly as he could. He gathered food from the kitchen, and then he was on the street, bag slung over his shoulder, walking west through the dark streets of Savala.

  Chapter Eight

  Your students will rarely believe that negative consequences (whether doled out by you or by life) are just. At times, that is true, for neither midwives nor life are unfailingly fair. But magical students must learn to accept the ramifications of their actions, for Sava has entrusted them with his gifts. They must learn that despite their best intentions, their use of magic will at times have painful consequences.

  -From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana

  Tavi, Jenevy, Wrey, and Reba were eating a dinner of spicy rabbit stew in the Meadow meeting hall when a young boy ran up to their table.

  “Come with me,” he said.

  Tavi exchanged confused glances with her tablemates.

  “What do you need?” Jenevy asked.

  The boy stood straighter, puffing out his chest, which was still rising and falling rapidly from his run. “I’m the elders’ new messenger. They told me to suh—to sunnom you.”

  “Summon us?” Jenevy corrected.

  The boy nodded.

  “Why?” Reba asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. But they said to come now.”

  On their way out of the large room, they stopped at a small table, where Ash sat alone. The boy gave him the same message, and they all walked toward the building next door.

  It was small and plain, nothing like Cormina’s former council building. Tavi wondered how the elders could hold meetings in such a place. There didn’t seem to be room for spectators, and she knew most of the sessions were open to the public.

  When they walked in, Tavi’s mouth dropped open. The door led them directly into the elders’ meeting space, which took up the whole of the tiny building. The back of the room, however, was open to the outside. Tavi saw hinges at one corner and realized the whole wall was made of a large door which had been opened outward. In the yard beyond, a few dozen chairs were set up, most of them filled by Meadow Dwellers.

  The elders sat behind a long table. They weren’t the only occupants of the room. Eight chairs were set facing the elders, and Tullen, Sall, and Narre sat in three of them. They’d all been working that evening: Narre at a tailor shop, Sall in the Meadow library, and Tullen at the butcher shop helping process a large deer he’d killed that afternoon. Tavi wondered what was so urgent that the elders had felt it necessary to pull the Golds away from their jobs and, worse, dinner.

  Aba said, “Have a seat.” She was the oldest of the seven elders. The elderiest, Tavi thought. Then she had to purse her lips to keep from laughing. Aba’s face was covered in lines that made her look distinguished and intelligent. From what Tullen had told Tavi, Aba was a writer, and she was deeply committed to the ideals of the Meadow.

  When they were all seated, Aba said, “Since most of you are new to our community, I’ll introduce the elders.” She went down the line, introducing each of the four other women and two men. Tavi recognized the stern woman who’d chided her for offering to bring a non-Meadow book to Shola. The elder’s name was Huvlid. Ugly name. It suits her, Tavi thought, again having to hold back nervous laughter. She also recognized Tullen’s Aunt Bellika, who gave the Golds a warm smile.

  “You probably know why we’ve summoned you,” Aba said.

  Tavi glanced down the line, seeing bewilderment on most of the Golds’ faces. However, Tullen was gazing at his hands, and he appeared ashamed, a look Tavi rarely saw on him. And Jenevy was nodding slowly, her lips pursed, as if awaiting something inevitable. But what?

  “Apparently you don’t all know,” Aba said. “Very well, we must state it for the record, anyway. She glanced at the man to her left, and Tavi realized he was taking notes. “Three days ago,” Aba said, “an uninvited visitor came to the Meadow.”

  Tavi closed her eyes briefly, and she felt warmth rush to her face. She was pretty sure she knew where this was going.

  Aba continued, “The visitor’s name was Rogile Gistler, and the new king and queen have recently named him a duke. He informed us Cormina’s monarchy is refusing to honor the Meadow’s agreement with the Corminian Council. He demanded a hefty tax burden from our people.

  “The guards responded as we’ve trained them to do, refusing to open the gate and making every effort to turn the man away peacefully. For in the Meadow, we know that if we are to continue to be given the independence, privacy, and freedom we so greatly value, the rest of Cormina must never doubt we are a peaceful people.”

  Aba stopped talking for five full seconds, using the break to give Tavi such a pointed glare, Tavi could almost feel it piercing her skin.

  When Aba spoke again, her voice was louder and firmer, with the tone of a barrister certain she is winning her case. “Do you remember,” she began, looking down the line at all the Golds, “how long you waited outside our gates before we gave you permission to enter?” After a short silence, she asked, “Well, do you?”

  “Eleven hours.” Sall’s voice was polite and humble.

  “That is correct,” Aba said. “We elders needed that much time to determine whether to allow you entrance. The vote was close, four to three.”

  Looking at the woman’s face, Tavi was certain Aba had been one of the three.

  Aba sat up even straighter and said, “Do you remember what our terms were for your temporary residence here?”

  This time, Narre answered. “We were to follow all the rules of the Meadow.”

  “I’m glad at least one of you recalls it!” Aba threw her hands in the air. “We made the requirement as simple as possible so there would be little chance of you forgetting it. And then we gave you a list of five rules. We instructed you to memorize them, and the following week, you all proved to us you had done so. Tavi”—and Aba swiveled her head to again glare at Tavi—“what was Rule Three?”

  Tavi swallowed, then said, “I will respect the elders and the authority system they have established.”


  “That’s right.” Aba didn’t take her eyes off Tavi. “Tavi Malin, when you used your feet of gold to shake the ground underneath Rogile Gistler, which of our elders had given you the authority to negotiate with Outsiders?”

  “None of them.” Tavi’s voice was quiet, but it filled the silent room.

  “None of them,” Aba repeated. “Of course we didn’t. Why would we give an Outsider authority to negotiate with another Outsider? That would be absurd.” She looked to her right and left at her fellow elders. “I’m afraid I’ve monopolized this meeting,” she said. “I’ll yield to any of you who wish to speak.”

  A male elder, whose name Tavi didn’t recall, spoke. “Because the Outsiders have displayed an inability to act as true Meadow Dwellers, I propose they be separated from the community for a full week.”

  “I agree,” a female elder said. “But they should have to do some sort of hard work, too.”

  Aba smiled, her thin lips stretching above and below two rows of straight, white teeth. The expression was more predatory than friendly. “Perhaps by serving in the laundry house,” Aba said, “they will ‘wash off’ any lingering bad habits they’ve brought into our community.”

  The small crowd behind Tavi tittered, and she flinched. They’d been so quiet, she’d forgotten they were there.

  “I have something to say!” Tavi said. “I understand you need to punish me. And for the record, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have butted into—uh, interfered with—Meadow affairs. But you don’t have to punish all the other Golds too!”

  “She’s right, you shouldn’t punish all of us,” Tullen said. “But I’m the one who deserves it. I told Tavi about the duke, and I suggested she use her magic to scare him off.”

  Tullen’s Aunt Bellika gave him a look of deep disappointment.

  “While I appreciate your honesty,” Aba said, looking at both Tavi and Tullen, “when your group arrived, we made it clear you would all be responsible if any of you broke the rules. And if we send one of you away from this community, we will send you all away.”

  “Which will likely happen if anything like this occurs again,” the man who’d spoken before added.

  From behind Tavi, a young voice cried out, “That’s not fair!”

  All the Golds turned their heads, and Tavi couldn’t repress a smile. Shola stood in the front row of spectators, her cheeks bright red.

  “We do not allow unsolicited public input in disciplinary hearings!” Aba said. “And those under the age of fourteen are never allowed to speak before the elders.”

  Tavi kept her eyes on Shola, who took several steps forward until she was standing inside the building. “Tavi is my friend!” Shola said. Her eyes shone with tears. “She has a good heart, and if she made a mistake, I know she’s sorry! She doesn’t deserve to be punished, and you can’t threaten to send her away!”

  Aba’s voice was firm. “Shola, you may sit in your seat and stay quiet, or you may continue speaking, in which case we will escort you out and ban you from elder meetings until you turn fourteen.”

  Shola opened her mouth and lifted her hand, her indignant index finger pointed toward the sky. But Tavi spoke before her young student could. “Shola, it’s fine,” she said. “Have a seat. We’ll be fine.”

  Finger still in the air, Shola gave Tavi a hesitant look.

  “Really, Shola.” Tavi swallowed, trying to hold back her own tears. She held her hand out toward the girl who’d welcomed her into the Meadow like few others had. “Thank you.”

  Shola reached out and squeezed Tavi’s hand before slowly returning to her seat. Tavi turned back to the elders.

  Aba didn’t look at Tavi as she said, “All who approve of one week of house arrest, with daily service at the laundry house, please hold your right hand forward.”

  All seven elders held their right arms straight out in front of them, their palms facing the ceiling.

  “Very well,” Aba said. “Please make your way to your homes. We’ll ensure that sufficient food for the week is delivered by tomorrow morning. Meeting end.”

  All seven elders stood. Tavi looked to Tullen.

  “That’s it?” she asked. “We don’t get to appeal our punishment?”

  Tullen shook his head and stood. “Not in the Meadow. Let’s go.”

  Just after dawn the next morning, Tavi, Narre, Reba, and Wrey left their cottage and walked to the laundry house. A woman stood outside the door, looking everywhere but in the Golds’ eyes. Tullen, Sall, Ash, and Jenevy soon arrived.

  At last, the woman looked at them and spoke. “Since there are eight of you, you’ll be in charge of the scrub room this week. Enjoy.”

  She unlocked the door, ignoring the groans coming from a few of the Golds, including Tavi. The woman then left without another word.

  Tavi figured anyone who didn’t react hadn’t experienced the glories of the scrub room yet. It was the worst room in the laundry house, the place where washboards scraped knuckles, and harsh soaps destroyed skin. If only they’d let us work in the rinse room. Or the wringer room. Or at the drying lines outside. She looked longingly toward the back of the building, behind which she could see wires strung between posts, awaiting their cargo of wet laundry. Even knowing how cool the autumn air was, she’d rather be out there.

  “At the end of the day, I can heal all our hands,” Tavi said. “Earlier if we need it.”

  “Heal them from what?” Reba asked.

  Tavi couldn’t help a little smile when she looked at Reba’s hands, which were always smooth and soft, thanks to Reba’s daily use of oils. “You’ll see,” Tavi said.

  The Golds got to work, starting fires in stoves and placing large kettles of water on the metal stovetops. Then they partially filled massive tubs with cold water from old-fashioned hand pumps. Once the kettles were boiling, they’d heat the water in the tubs by adding hot water to it. When that water cooled, they’d repeat the process. Over and over.

  Those who’d worked in the laundry house gave a brief training session to those who hadn’t. When they finished, the water on the stoves wasn’t even hot, much less boiling.

  “Let’s sit for a few minutes,” Tullen suggested. “Later on, we’ll regret it if we don’t take this time to rest.”

  They all agreed, finding spots on the cold, stone floor.

  “I’ve already spoken with my housemates,” Tavi said. “But I want to talk to Tullen, Sall, Jenevy, and Ash.” She hated to include Ash in anything, but it would’ve been awkward not to mention him. She took a deep breath. “I want you to all know how sorry I am. It was stupid of me to use my magic on the duke. It’s my fault we’ll be stuck in here all day, then stuck at home all afternoon and evening.”

  “I’m the one at fault, more than Tavi,” Tullen said. “I was the instigator. I’m very sorry.”

  To Tavi’s surprise, Ash responded with a laugh. “It wasn’t stupid, it was amazing! I only wish I’d been there to see it. Last time I saw you move the earth, I was too angry to fully appreciate it.” He grinned at Tavi.

  Narre added, “It was clearly against Meadow rules, but they hate Outsiders. In my mind, you did them a favor by getting rid of him. Even if they don’t realize it.”

  Tavi found herself smiling. “I appreciate that.”

  “Tavi,” Jenevy said. Then she paused as if trying to find the right words. “I was gone from this place for long enough to shift many of my Meadow viewpoints. And I was up half the night thinking about this. I think the problem is less with you and more with the Meadow.

  “This community claims to be all about freedom and peace. In some ways, it is. Sun-blessed people can explore their magic however they’d like. While we live here, we can wear what we want.” She looked at Tavi’s pant-clad legs and smiled.

  “But the freedom only goes so far. Meadow Dwellers aren’t just prohibited from disobeying the elders; they’re prohibited from speaking against the elders, even privately. And as you’ve all experienced, anything to do with Outsiders is
shunned. That means your freedom ends when you try to bring in Outsider influences of any sort.”

  “Like books on Corminian history,” Tavi said.

  “Exactly,” Jenevy agreed. “And I’ll go even further than that. If a Meadow Dweller had gotten rid of that duke, she might have gotten a slap on the wrist. But the elders would’ve secretly been proud of her for humiliating a powerful Outsider. I believe they’re angry at you because you’re an Outsider, Tavi, and you embarrassed them. The Meadow guards weren’t having any luck getting that duke to leave. You waltzed in and drove him away without hurting him one bit. You succeeded where Meadow Dwellers failed. And the elders can’t stand to see that happen.”

  Tavi’s eyes flicked between Jenevy and Tullen. “I understand more than ever why the two of you left.” Seeing the significant look Tullen gave her, she added, “And yes, I know we need to get out too. But it’s better to put up with their rules a little longer if it gives us a chance to prepare to fight the Grays.”

  “That merchant should return from Savala soon,” Sall said. “Perhaps he’ll bring information from Evitt.”

  “And if not, we should get out of here anyway,” Ash said. “We can travel to small towns, try to figure out what type of resistance might be building already.”

  “I agree,” Reba said. “Anything is better than staying here, pretending everything in Cormina is fine.”

  Tavi rose and walked to the stove. The water wasn’t close to boiling yet. She sighed. “I’m not pretending everything is fine. But for all we know, Konner has representatives looking for us even in small towns. We’ve got to have more information before our plans can firm up. Like Sall said, Evitt might contact us soon. We can fight when we know what we’re fighting against.” No one responded, and the silence became awkward. She forced a smile. “Tullen and Jenevy, tell me more about the elders. Are they always so strict and stiff?”