Facing the Fire

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Tavi didn’t care anymore about the sacred silence of the courtyard. “My sister is a monk here!” she yelled.

  The peephole opened again, and this time, a single brown eye, bordered by wrinkled skin, appeared in the aperture. “Which one of you said that?” the woman asked.

  “Me,” Tavi said, holding her hand up like a schoolgirl, hope thick in her voice.

  “Oh,” the woman said. “I’m sorry, but monks don’t have siblings. When we make our vows, the other monks become our family. You’re a pilgrim, same as everyone else here.”

  “Wait!” Tavi cried, but the woman’s face drew back, and the peephole closed again.

  “My turn,” Narre whispered. Then she shouted, “I’m touch-blessed, and I can break this door as easily as I’m speaking these words. I’m guessing the door is old, and I don’t want to break it. But you must let us in. It’s important.”

  The woman opened the peephole, and her eye appeared again. “Activate your magic,” she said. “Whoever just threatened me, let me see it.”

  Narre’s eyes widened, but she held her hands up, and a moment later, they glowed golden.

  “Oh, good,” the woman said. “Just wanted to see the color. Little miss, no one’s ever been able to use magic against the monastery. Sava won’t allow it. You can try all you’d like. Resistance will stop you.”

  The peephole closed, and Tavi found herself admiring the tiny door’s well-oiled, well-used hinges.

  Narre dropped her hands and released her magic.

  Tavi turned to her. “What are you waiting for?”

  “She’s right; it’s pointless,” Narre said. “I can’t imagine Sava likes to see his religious sites vandalized.”

  “I imagine he likes seeing innocents killed even less,” Tavi said. “And that’s what we’re here to stop. If you were Sava, would you care more about an old door or the lives of the Meadow Dwellers?”

  Hope entered Narre’s eyes, and she lifted her hands, activating her magic again. She placed one palm flat on the door, and a moment later, there was a loud pop.

  The peephole opened so forcefully that Tavi found herself taking a quick step back from the door. “What was that noise?” the woman asked, her face now pressed against the opening.

  Narre held up a piece of wood in the shape of a perfect letter S. “I broke this off your door.”

  “An S?” the woman asked.

  Narre gave a sheepish, hesitant smile. “It stands for Sorry. I’m sorry I had to break your door, but we need to get in and speak to Tavi’s sister. I’ll repair the door once you let us in. Or I can break the whole thing down, but I honestly don’t want to. It’s such a lovely old door.”

  The brown eye blinked once. Twice. A third time. Then the woman again pulled away, and in one motion the peephole closed and the door opened.

  Relieved laughter fought its way out of Tavi’s chest, but she repressed it, settling for a gleeful smile instead.

  They entered the monastery. Narre paused to repair the damaged door before following the others in.

  Tavi had never taken the time to imagine what the inside of a monastery should look like. But clearly she’d had some sort of expectation, because the room they sat in looked as out of place as a field of corn in winter.

  The walls were painted a cheerful white, brightened by light streaming in through large windows. Roses were hand-painted along the borders of every wall and around the windows and doors. Asceticism held no reign here; the seats of their chairs were covered in soft fabric and filled with stuffing, with throw pillows scattered here and there. Two fireplaces were alive with glorious blazes. After so many days freezing in the autumn air, Tavi almost wanted to die, just to ensure she’d end her life content.

  It was a large room; the eight Golds each had seats, with plenty of space left over. The old woman who’d let them in took a seat too. She had short, curly, gray hair. The wrinkles Tavi had seen around her eyes extended along her entire face and neck and covered her hands too. Presumably the rest of her, swathed in a bright-red robe, was just as crinkled.

  “My name is Bea,” the woman said. “I’d ask your names, but I’d just forget them. Why are you here?”

  Everyone looked at Tavi, and she felt her pulse quicken. She hadn’t planned this out; she’d held out hope that Tess would greet them at the door and let them in. After licking her lips and swallowing, she ventured, “As I said, my sister is a monk here.”

  “And as I said, she’s not your sister.” Bea’s tone was firm, though not unkind.

  “Right. You said that. Well, I used to have a sister.” Tavi gave Bea a questioning look, and the old monk nodded her head. “She’s a monk here, and her name is Tess.” Bea didn’t react to the name. Tavi pressed on. “I was really hoping we could speak with her.”

  “You can speak with me,” Bea said.

  Ash interjected, “Or maybe we can talk to the, uh, the monk in charge?”

  “That’s me.”

  “You’re the one in charge, and you were stuck on door duty?” Reba blurted.

  “We all take our turns at the tasks we don’t like,” Bea said with a slight smile.

  “All right,” Tavi said. “Then we’ll speak to you.” She leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees, and was surprised to find a lump in her throat. She spoke around it. “I’d like to tell you a story about a place called the Meadow.”

  Over the next half hour Tavi, with the help of the other Golds, updated Bea on recent events. After that, they traveled further back in time, telling her the truth of gray magic and its source. As they spoke, Bea’s wrinkled face turned grave, and her eyes welled with tears more than once.

  “I’m—” Bea stopped, swallowing hard. “This is horrifying. I’m glad you came to tell us. But I still don’t know why you’re here.”

  Tavi looked down at her clasped hands, hoping someone else would speak. Several seconds passed. Apparently it’s all up to me. She locked eyes with Bea. The monk had been straightforward with them, and Tavi wanted to return the favor. “We want to stop the reign of the king and queen. And this monastery is the best place for us to plan our resistance.”

  Bea’s brow compressed itself like a sheet of wadded-up paper, her permanent wrinkles folding in on themselves. “Why?”

  “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you this,” Tavi said, “but the Grays are looking for us. We think we’ll be safe here. But we don’t want to hide forever. We’re going to fight the Grays, but to do it in the right way, we need details on what’s happening all over Cormina. The pilgrims who come here can give us the information we need.”

  Bea looked troubled. “Pilgrims come here to seek Sava, to know him and hear his voice. Not to act as spies.”

  “Bea,” Tullen said. Bea turned to him, and he smiled at her. “I know what we’re asking is unconventional, to say the least.” Bea nodded, and Tullen continued, “I’m from the Meadow. I understand what it’s like to live in a place that values its independence and privacy.”

  “Then you also understand why you cannot stay here. Or you can, but under the same terms as all the pilgrims. You may stay in the cottages outside the monastery for a maximum of three weeks unless weather requires you to extend your stay.”

  “We might need longer than three weeks!” Narre exclaimed.

  “And we need to stay inside the monastery,” Sall said. “The cottages won’t offer appropriate security.”

  “Unacceptable,” Bea said.

  Tullen leaned forward. “I know it’s difficult. And yet, the Meadow opened its doors to all of us, though only two of us were from there.”

  “Why?” Bea asked.

  “Just like monks, Meadow Dwellers care deeply about what’s right. They recognize that the Grays are threatening the goodness that has been at the heart of Cormina for generations. If the Grays aren’t stopped, they will take over every facet of our society. Even our religion. We know you care about the welfare of all followers of Sava. By protecting us, you’ll be doing you
r part to protect Cormina.”

  “Not just followers of Sava,” Bea said. Tullen raised questioning eyebrows, and she explained, “We don’t just care about followers of Sava. We care about everyone.”

  Tullen looked around at the other Golds. “So do we.”

  Bea spent a long time looking at the Golds, shifting her gaze between them until Tavi was convinced the woman had seen each of their souls. She spent an equally long time staring down at her hands. Then she stood, exited the room, and closed the door, all without a word.

  Everyone else looked just as confused as Tavi felt. They talked among themselves while they waited.

  After several minutes, Wrey said, “Maybe when she left, she expected us to leave, too.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving until they kick us out,” Tavi declared.

  The door opened, and Bea entered. “I’m glad to hear that,” she said, staring straight at Tavi. Tavi blushed, the warmth in her cheeks growing when Bea’s gaze stayed on her. “Since you’re staying here,” Bea said, “you might as well meet another of our monks.”

  Bea gestured through the open doorway, and a monk entered. She was young, with black hair and eyes that had once been somber. But at this moment, those same eyes were full of joy, and a wide smile had overtaken her mouth.

  “Tess!” Tavi cried, before running into her older sister’s open arms.

  Chapter Sixteen

  You dare send me a letter complaining of how difficult it is to produce hand cannons in the quantities required by your king and queen? I assure you, it will be even more difficult if your hands are cut off. Do what you’ve been ordered.

  - Lord Shevril to Mr. Prill, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom

  Konner stood at the back of the temporary throne room, watching the king and queen as they met with various nobles and a few lucky commoners. He often took just as big a role in these conversations as the monarchs did, but today he stood back, giving Relin and Camalyn a chance to appear to be the ones in charge. Not participating was more difficult than he’d expected.

  The king and queen were speaking with a lady of the court about her difficulty procuring fabrics of a certain color. Konner had stopped listening almost as soon as the conversation started. This was one of the few topics Camalyn could handle better than he could.

  He watched as the queen asked and answered questions. She somehow avoided looking bored. Camalyn was still lovely, though pregnancy had given her face a little more roundness than was fashionable. The roundness of her face was echoed in the roundness of her belly. She wasn’t even to the halfway point, but her slender frame had already become visibly swollen.

  Konner had always found the physical evidence of pregnancy distasteful. There was something bizarre and unnatural about one tiny human inhabiting another, about the bulge that proved the strength of the parasite within.

  One of his biggest fears was that one day a woman would claim he was the father of her child. He’d tried to avoid such an inconvenience, and he was quite sure he’d been successful. But still, the possibility gave him nightmares. He’d never understood other men’s preoccupation with siring sons and daughters. Offspring so frequently overshadowed their parents, just as he had done. Why would anyone choose to create a being who would eventually supersede them?

  Yet a king and queen needed an heir, and despite the unpleasantness of it, Relin and Camalyn’s ability to reproduce quickly gave Konner an odd sense of pride. He smiled as he watched them on their thrones. He’d chosen well.

  The indignant lady wrapped up her complaints and exited the room. The secretary poked his head in and asked, “Would you like a quarter-hour break?”

  “Yes,” Konner answered, though the secretary hadn’t directed the question at him. The door closed. Konner approached Relin and Camalyn and instructed a guard to place a chair on the platform, next to the thrones. Once he was seated, he said, “Let’s talk about the army.”

  Relin responded with a simple nod while Camalyn leaned forward with an intense expression on her face. As usual, she understood the gravity of the situation in a way her husband didn’t.

  “You heard the messenger,” Camalyn said. “How much more black powder can we send to them?”

  “We’ll send a small shipment next week,” Konner said. “But remember, we’re also arming guards and safety officers throughout Cormina. They need black powder for their training sessions. Powder production is slower than anticipated.”

  “Weapon production is, too,” Camalyn pointed out. “Lord Shevril can’t keep the blacksmiths in line.”

  “Shevril is doing fine,” Konner said. He’d personally placed the man over the city’s blacksmiths.

  “Back to the army,” Camalyn said. “There’s no reason they should be running low on powder. The messenger also said they would have been low on food if they hadn’t moved into the Meadow.”

  “I’ll send one of my guards along with the next supply wagon,” Konner said. “I think the delivery drivers are stealing the goods.”

  “That’s terrible!” Relin said.

  But Camalyn shook her head. “It’s not the drivers, Konner. These issues didn’t start until you sent General Talger out there.”

  Konner had to focus to unclench his jaw. “General Talger is highly qualified, far more than Stemming ever was.”

  Relin turned to Camalyn. “He’s right, you know. You saw General Talger demonstrate her magic. That’s the type of person we need leading our army.”

  Camalyn threw her hands in the air. “Do you hear yourselves? Magic doesn’t make someone a good leader!”

  Konner thought her eyes flicked to Relin when she said that, but he wasn’t sure.

  “I have great confidence in Talger,” Konner said, “but to be fair, she’s only been there a few weeks. Let’s give her some time.”

  A knock sounded at the door. Konner stood and stepped off the stage, and a guard removed his chair. Camalyn called out, “Enter.”

  The secretary came in and bowed low. “King Relin and Queen Camalyn, I present to you three representatives from a community known as The Meadow.”

  From next to the platform, Konner heard Relin whisper, “I thought the army took over that place.” Camalyn didn’t answer.

  Two women and one man entered. They stood straight, facing their king and queen. Every guard in the room stared.

  “You might want to bow,” Konner said.

  The Meadow representatives responded by bowing briefly at the waist before returning to their rigid stances.

  “You can come forward,” Relin said. “Introduce yourselves and tell us why you’re here.”

  The three gave their names, which Konner promptly forgot. He studied them. He would have expected residents of a closed community to look more exotic, but these Meadow Dwellers were disappointingly normal. They were all middle-aged, dressed in plain traveling clothes. The only thing that set them apart from other commoners who visited the throne room was that they didn’t look nervous.

  “We’ve come because we want to move back into our home,” the taller of the two women said.

  Relin glanced at Camalyn, then replied, “You’re not aware of what happened, are you?”

  His question generated a strong response from all three of them. The short, squat woman stood slack-jawed, like she couldn’t believe he’d asked the question. The man next to her narrowed his eyes and clenched his teeth and fists. It was a surprising level of aggression, coming from a pacifist. Konner glanced at the corner of the throne platform, relieved to see an alert guard, ready to stop the Meadow Dweller if necessary.

  The tall woman was the only one to speak. Her response was measured and quiet, but there was a restrained fury underneath it that made Konner more nervous than he would have admitted. “We are well aware of what happened in the Meadow,” she said. “Your soldiers entered our community and killed every person they found there. Men, women, and children. It was a massacre, and the only reason it wasn’t worse was
because the rest of our residents went into hiding.”

  Relin seemed to be the only one in the room who wasn’t tense. He smiled. “I heard about that! No one can find your people! Where are they, anyway? It must be an amazing hiding place.”

  All three Meadow Dwellers responded with glares sharp enough to slice through glass.

  Konner looked at Camalyn and was horrified to see a look of pity on her face. Wonderful. The king just wanted to solve the mystery of the hidden townspeople, and the queen quite possibly wanted to rescue them. Situations such as these caused Konner to stay in the throne room nearly every day, making sure his monarchs did nothing stupid.

  “When you refused to pay your taxes,” Konner said, “we had no choice but to send soldiers. If people were killed, it was because they resisted.”

  The tall woman replied, “We have a writ from the Cormina Council stating that we do not, and will not ever, owe taxes. We use no government services and therefore do not contribute to the treasury.”

  “And our people were not resisting,” the man added.

  Konner ignored the man’s statement, responding to the woman instead. “There is no Cormina Council. Thanks to your king and queen, we are growing a powerful nation that will benefit all of us, even your people. That doesn’t happen without taxes, which we all pay. There are no exceptions.”

  That wasn’t quite true; Konner himself didn’t pay taxes. But he contributed his time, which was far more valuable than any amount of money.

  The short woman finally opened her mouth. “We are willing to discuss a reasonable tax rate as soon as we have a guarantee that we will be safe in the home we have lived in peacefully for generations.”

  Again, Relin looked at Camalyn. “See? They don’t know.” He turned to the three Meadow Dwellers and said, “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you, but because your people left the Meadow, our army lives there now.”