Facing the Fire

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Facing the Fire Page 25

by Carol Beth Anderson


  Then he did something she hadn’t thought to expect. He screamed. So she shoved her hand, hard, onto his mouth.

  He bit her.

  This wasn’t going like she’d planned; now she was the one who screamed. A single curse word. (This was followed by a whole string of the words, all spoken internally, chiding herself for being loud, what with nosy neighbors all over the place.)

  She’d lifted her hand when he’d bit it, and now he squinted at her and asked, “Rayel? What are you doing?”

  The question was so normal, at such a strange time, and somehow her addled brain came up with an answer. “Just kiss me, Vasta, and I’ll let you go.”

  “What?”

  “Kiss me.” She didn’t give him time to think about it, bringing her soft, young lips down to his old, wrinkled ones. It was the most awful thing she’d ever done, pinning this old man down and kissing until she was sure he was breathing into her mouth. Even then, she didn’t move, not yet. She pinched his nose closed with one hand, then pulled her lips away as she slammed his chin upward with the other hand, forcing his teeth closed with a clack. Keeping her thumb on his chin, she used her palm to cover his mouth, as tight as she could.

  The next minutes were terrible, much worse than she’d thought they would be. He tried to squirm away, but he was even weaker than she’d thought. He didn’t stop looking at her face, and his eyes asked her, Why? Why? Why? She could hear the plea like he was screaming it, over and over. Then all movement stopped, and his eyes weren’t looking at her anymore, weren’t looking at anything.

  It was done. But she stayed there, refusing to rise, until she was sure it was too late for him to start breathing again, for his heart to restart itself. Then she got up and realized she had no idea what to do next.

  Her heartbeat and breath were coming at such a speed, it was like she was making up for Vasta’s lack of both. She began to pace, holding up her hands, which hadn’t changed a bit. She was about to test her magic, see if it had turned gray, when her pacing took her past the doorway between the back room and the front. It was still open, and a woman was opening the front door.

  A customer. Why hadn’t she thought about the possibility of a customer coming in? Why hadn’t she closed the door between the two rooms? Maybe the customer wouldn’t see—

  The woman looked straight at Rayel. Rayel turned, and after far too long fumbling with shaking fingers, she unlocked the back door, threw it open, and ran.

  She reached the end of the alley and entered the street, still running, though something told her she shouldn’t be. But she couldn’t not run; she’d just killed her boss, and someone had seen her.

  Her chest burned from the running, and all at once discomfort turned into terrible pain, right where her heart sat. The feeling shot down both her arms, and then it was like her hands, which so often steamed with a heat she loved, were well and truly on fire. She held them up, and painful, gray, smoldering light shone from them.

  She was still running when a bizarre thought came to her mind: At least the snow shovelers made it to this street. But with her hands held up in front of her, she didn’t see a cobblestone that stuck up farther than the others. Her toe caught on the stone, and she slammed to the ground, the hip, knee, and elbow on her right side taking the brunt of the fall.

  “Are you all right?”

  She was suddenly aware of all the people on the street with her, most of them watching her, including a young man right above her. He reached out to help her up. She saw the moment he noticed her gray, glowing hands, because he drew his own hand back, and his eyes widened in horror.

  She stood to run again, but someone tackled her as she’d done to Vasta, pinning her to the street. Only she’d been on Vasta’s front, and this person was on her back. She heard him yell something about being a safety officer, and that just scared her more. She had one hand free, and she reached up, grabbing something, maybe a leg. It was clothed, so she sent as much magic through her hand as she could. She’d always been good at regulating her magic.

  In the past, if she’d tried something like this, resistance would have prevented it. But now, her hand burned right through the fabric. The moment her fingers connected with skin, the man on top of her screamed, and he jumped off her.

  She tried to stand again, and she made it to her hands and knees before she saw something swinging at her at a speed so great, she couldn’t defend herself. Her miraculous gray awakening was cut short by a boot to her temple.

  “Tell me, Konner,” Camalyn said. “Tell me how surprised you are that someone actually used the information Remina Birge put out there for all the city to read.”

  Konner stood at the front door of Camalyn and Relin’s house. The night before, they’d gone home instead of sleeping in the dreadful temporary palace, and once again, Konner Burrell had interrupted their little sliver of peace. At least this time, he’d waited until morning.

  “We aren’t discussing this here,” Konner said. “Get to the palace. Both of you. Now.”

  He left, and Camalyn slammed the door.

  “What happened?” Relin asked, walking up behind her.

  “Someone went and got their own gray awakening.”

  “Oh.”

  “We need to go.”

  “But I just sat down to eat.”

  She placed her hand on her belly, nausea filling it again. “There’s food at the palace.”

  “You haven’t eaten either. You don’t even like those pastries there.”

  “I don’t like anything right now. Let’s go.”

  The carriage ride to the temporary palace was quiet. Relin dozed in the corner, and Camalyn stewed over recent events.

  Until this morning, things had been going well, despite Remina Birge’s stunt. Blessed registration had only been set up for two days, but Konner had already received lists of those who’d registered the first day. He’d told Camalyn and Relin he was compiling his own list of those with the most useful gifts.

  Konner had refused to tell his king and queen what he meant to do with those names. But reading between the lines, Camalyn thought she understood. When he was ready to bring on more Grays for the army or the safety offices or whatever other plans he had up his sleeve, Konner would know exactly who to recruit. She had to respect his ability to look so far forward.

  She wondered if he’d make a separate list of people with useless gifts, people who could be sacrificed to give gray awakenings to the strong. Such a thought made her shudder. That probably meant Konner had already considered it.

  After Birge’s flyer had gone out, Camalyn had known frustrated Blessed would kill for their gray awakenings. When that hadn’t happened immediately, she’d begun to hope she was wrong. Perhaps most people weren’t capable of murder without being manipulated by someone like Konner Burrell. After hearing about this morning’s event, however, Camalyn was even more nauseated than usual. She dreaded what might happen next in their city.

  They arrived at the palace, and Camalyn and Relin walked into the throne room. Sava, how she hated this room. She was tired of sitting in her chair. Tired of staring at that stupid door as one fawning person after another came to beg for favors. Tired of watching Relin get pastry crumbs on his so-called throne, and tired of servants who pretended that cleaning up the crumbs was the most wonderful thing they could be asked to do.

  And Konner. She was so tired of Konner. He was waiting for them, of course, standing in the center of the room, hands clasped behind his back.

  Relin settled himself in his seat, and Camalyn paced along the side of the room. The baby was active, and that always made her feel like she needed to be active too. Plus, sometimes movement distracted her from the nausea. Sometimes.

  A few seconds of silence passed, and Camalyn took a deep breath to rein in her impatience. “Tell us the details, Konner,” she said.

  Konner ignored the demand. “Are we protected this morning?”

  “Yes, he’s sleeping here now, remember? He sets
the guard at sunrise every day.”

  “Good.” Konner relaxed marginally. “Sit down, please. You’re making me nervous.”

  Camalyn didn’t have the energy to argue. She stepped onto the throne platform and took her seat. She had to admit, she, too, was grateful for their new protection. Not the guards, who stood in the throne room, bored, all day. This type of protection was even more powerful.

  After Birge’s message went out, Camalyn and Konner had both panicked. Even Relin, who didn’t know the meaning of anxiety, had seemed mildly concerned. If people they didn’t trust began running around with gray magic, how would that magic be used? Freed of resistance, would people use their magic to attack the palace?

  But one of the guards had told them about a friend who could use his gifted hands to prevent magic from being used in a particular location. The man had been hired to protect the palace, at a price high enough to ensure no one else would steal him away. Early every morning, he walked around its perimeter, hands glowing, running his palms along every wall, window, and door. He had to keep his magic active all day for the protection to remain, but he had incredible tolerance and didn’t need to rest until hours past sundown. Camalyn didn’t like being unable to use her speech gift, which had often come in handy when speaking with belligerent visitors, but she knew it was worth it.

  Once Camalyn was seated, Konner told her and Relin what he knew. That morning, officers had knocked out and arrested a woman they’d found running along the roads, hands glowing like gray thunderclouds. Once they’d gotten back to the office of safety and locked her unconscious body in a cell, another officer had come in with a distraught woman who’d found her tailor dead at his shop. It didn’t take long for the officers to figure out what had happened.

  “The only good thing is that now we have two people in custody who can assist with gray awakenings,” Konner said. “This woman and Birge.”

  Camalyn didn’t hide her disgust at that comment. It was true, but it was crass.

  Konner didn’t even acknowledge her sneer. Instead, his eyebrows shot up.

  “It’s time to change our laws,” Konner said.

  Camalyn released a humorless laugh. “I told you that the day Birge’s flyers went out.” He’d said he didn’t want to create a panic by acknowledging Birge’s message; Camalyn thought he simply couldn’t stand to think he’d lost some control.

  Konner continued to speak, not acknowledging her words. “The punishment for unapproved gray awakenings is death. No trial; the evidence is clear in each case. I’ll write up the statute and get the word out.”

  He spun around and left the room.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Watch what you say to expectant mothers, to their families, and to your magical students. Words are the most powerful magic.

  -From Midwifery: A Manual for Practical and Karian Midwives by Ellea Kariana

  “What do you make of this, Tavi?”

  Tavi set her pencil on her bedroom desk and looked up.

  “I’m sorry, am I interrupting anything?” Benisa asked.

  “I’m ready for an interruption.” Tavi smiled. “I’m making a chart of the practical ways our Gold apprentices might help, but I’m stuck. What did you want to show me?”

  Benisa held out an envelope with her own name on it and the address of the midwife house. Tavi took it and pulled out the enclosed letter. She scanned it, and when she reached the end, her hand flew to her mouth. “Ellea!” she breathed.

  “I thought you must know her,” Benisa said.

  “She was our head midwife, and she led the magical training program.” Tavi wiped away a tear. “She gave me my blessing breath.” Taking a deep, calming breath, Tavi held up the letter. “But I had no idea—when did she write a book?”

  “I don’t know.” Benisa pulled up a chair and sat. “But I’m looking forward to hearing what she has to say.”

  Tavi read the letter again, more slowly this time. Ellea said she’d published a book, a manual on midwifery. She was traveling around Cormina, training midwives and apprentices. Best of all, she’d soon be in Savala.

  “Ellea was the best teacher I could have hoped for,” Tavi said. “And she’s a very well-respected midwife. People say she’s saved the lives of many women and babies who might not have made it otherwise.” She bit her lip, looking out the window. “It’s odd, though, don’t you think?” She turned back to Benisa. “Traveling in the winter like this?”

  “Very odd. She said she’s traveling with others. At least she’s not alone on the snowy roads.”

  Tavi looked back at the letter and grinned. “If the weather cooperates, she may be here by the end of the week.” She gave Benisa an impulsive hug and ran downstairs to find the other Golds.

  The week passed without Ellea arriving. Early the following week, the Golds were in the second-floor common room, waiting for the Gold apprentices to join them. Benisa entered.

  “I just received a message,” she said. “Ellea has arrived at one of the city’s western entrances, and the guards want someone to come vouch for her before she enters Savala.”

  “They’ve gotten that strict?” Sall asked.

  “Apparently so,” Benisa said. “I’ll see you in a little while, hopefully with Ellea in tow.”

  Tavi stood. “I’m coming too. If there are any issues, I can do something about it.”

  Ven said softly, “Not without drawing attention to yourself. And your magic.”

  Everyone stared at him; any time he spoke, they were surprised. He looked down.

  “He’s right, Tavi,” Reba said.

  Tavi released a frustrated sigh. She sat, then stood again. “Go, Benisa. Hurry! The rest of us will cook a feast to welcome Ellea.”

  The Golds spent the next hour and a half working on dinner. Tullen added extra vegetables, broth, and spices to the lamb stew he’d already had simmering. It was too late to make extra bread, so they made two pans of cornbread to supplement the dinner rolls. Narre opened and heated a few jars of Benisa’s famous applesauce, and Jenevy made two pear pies, which were still in the oven. Carrots and potatoes rounded out the meal. All they needed was Ellea.

  They’d hoped the Gold apprentices could join them for dinner, but it was getting too late. When Ash began lighting the hanging lanterns in the dining room, the young Savalans headed home, not wanting their parents to be concerned.

  A few minutes after the students left, the door to the dining room opened. It was Benisa, and she was alone.

  Tavi’s breath caught in her throat. “They wouldn’t let her in the city?”

  Benisa smiled. “Oh no, she’s here. I’m sorry to have startled you. But—Tavi, I think you should sit.”

  “Just me?”

  Benisa nodded, and Tavi sat. Why would she be the only one asked to sit? Was Ellea in trouble? But if that was the case, others would be upset too.

  Narre sat beside her and grabbed her hand. Her heart pounding and breaths shallow, Tavi stared at the door as Benisa exited.

  After seconds that felt like hours, Benisa returned. Ellea was behind her, and when Oren’s head midwife saw the Golds, her mouth widened into a huge smile and her hands came up to her cheeks. Despite Benisa’s advice, Tavi stood, anxious to greet her old friend and teacher.

  Then she saw the two companions Ellea had brought with her. Les Andisis, the Oren safety officer who’d taught the Golds to fight.

  And behind him, Tavi’s father.

  A strange sound exited Tavi’s throat, a sort of yelp. Her father’s jaw dropped low, and they both froze, staring at each other.

  “Tavi,” he breathed.

  Tavi and her father’s relationship didn’t involve a lot of touching; that had changed about the time Tavi had started school. But her father held out his arms, and Tavi let out another sound, this one a coughing sob, as she buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  After a minute, he pulled back and held her shoulders. His eyes locked on hers, a
nd he said, “Your mother is doing well, but she misses you terribly. So this is from her.” He hugged her again, and her tears multiplied.

  When Tavi could talk again and had disentangled herself from her father, she smiled and looked at him through blurry eyes. “Want some stew?” Her father laughed.

  The entire group settled at the table and found they had so much to discuss, they didn’t know where to start. Benisa solved that by saying, “Fill your plates and bowls, and start eating. There’s a lot of catching up to do, and if we talk first, the food will get cold.”

  A few minutes later, most of the mouths around the table were full of food, and Tavi’s father Jevva began the discussion. “Tavi, we’ve been so very concerned about you. Benisa sent us a letter after the coronation, telling us you were all safe. But we know so little of what you did after you left Oren, and we’ve heard nothing of what’s happened since then.”

  Tavi began the story, describing their trip to Savala the previous year. When she introduced Ash and Wrey, Jevva looked wary. Tavi didn’t blame him, but she kept going. Tullen and Jenevy took over the description when they reached the part about the Golds’ trip to the Meadow. Tavi picked up the narrative again when it was time to tell about the monastery, and when Jevva heard news of his daughter Tess, he beamed. Reba introduced Ven; Narre told of the pathway she’d made; and Sall described their time in Savala.

  The entire recounting took over two hours. By the time they were done, they’d finished dinner and consumed most of the pear pies.

  “You mentioned this new registration policy,” Officer Andisis said. “When we were entering the city, they asked if any of us were gifted. When we told them about Ellea’s touch gift and my hearing gift, they told us we should go to a safety office to register.”

  “Did you?” Sall asked.

  Officer Andisis shook his head. “They said we’d have to bring all our identification papers. We were afraid if they had a record of us being from Oren, they’d try to use us to find Tavi and the others. Now that we know you’re in town, I think it’s even more important that we avoid drawing attention to ourselves. We don’t want to lead the authorities straight to you.”

 

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