Three dozen chairs were set up in two concentric circles on the ballroom floor. Over half were already occupied. Camalyn sat in a chair in the inner circle, and she and the others chatted as more people arrived.
Within the next half hour, four extra chairs were added. Forty people, their largest gathering yet. Camalyn smiled behind her veil. Things were going even better than she and Konner had planned.
“Good afternoon.” At the sound of Camalyn’s voice, the room quieted. “Blessed be the First Midwife,” she said.
“Blessed be the First Midwife,” the group echoed.
“If you have brought a guest, we would like to meet them,” Camalyn said.
Several men and women introduced their guests. A sense of excitement filled the room; in just six weeks, the size of their group had doubled.
Camalyn relaxed her face into a smile large enough to be visible in her eyes, over her veil. “We are grateful for this gathering and the truth-seekers who have joined it. At this time, I invite you to share your recent experiences as a Karite in Savala. Remember, in this space there are no wrong words, as long as they are true.”
A man stood. “My father invited me to dinner this week,” he said. “First, he insisted on pouring wine for me. I declined to drink it. He spent the entire meal trying to convince me to drink wine and leave the faith. I know persecution is part of being a Karite, but I admit—”
The man stopped, and even from across the circle, Camalyn could see the tension in his eyes. “This place is safe,” Camalyn said. “You need not feel ashamed of your emotion.”
The man nodded, and a moment later, he continued. “I fear I will lose my family because I’m a Karite. I admit that in moments of weakness, I ask myself if it’s worth it.” He sat, his head bowed.
In a Karite temple service, the man would have been shamed over his fear of losing his family. The elders would have told him he was “trapped by the trappings” of life. But in this small community Camalyn had built, things were different. She walked across the circle to the man and knelt on the hard floor in front of him. “Take my hand,” she said, holding it out. He took her gloved fingers in his own.
Camalyn pressed her lips together, inviting gray magic into her mouth. She had trained herself not to react to the pain; if she winced, it might show in her eyes. When the piercing heat flooded her mouth, she said, loudly enough for the whole group to hear, “Kari’s father left, and her mother died. By age fifteen, she had no parents. She grieved the loss of her family. She would never ask us to sit stoically while our families reject us. Kari would want us to show sadness and even anger at the injustice of it all.”
Camalyn focused on the pain of her magic, and tears entered her eyes. She’d become better at displaying emotion on command, and it added additional credence to her magically assisted speech. “In this place of safety, you may grieve. And we will grieve with you. May you be blessed, and blessed be the First Midwife.”
As everyone in the room echoed the refrain, Camalyn released her magic. She looked around the group, satisfied to see emotion in many eyes. Her speech gift made her persuasive, and it worked especially well in a group such as this one, full of people who already wanted to follow her. Once she was back in her seat, she said, “I would like to hear more stories.”
Over the next hour, others shared their experiences. Some, like the first man, told of the persecution they experienced due to their Karite faith. Others rejoiced in their religious victories, such as bringing new people into the sect or avoiding the world’s temptations. These were stories they couldn’t share in temple services, at least not with genuine emotion. Karite elders told their supplicants to handle hardship with stoicism and to avoid displays of religious pride. Camalyn’s growing group of followers found great relief in the freedom she gave them to share their stories and support each other.
When the last anecdote had been shared, Camalyn stood. She activated her magic, then said, “Kari has spoken to me again.”
A low murmur went through the room, and Camalyn held up her hands, silencing them. Several people perched on the edges of their seats. Despite the pain of her magic, Camalyn smiled. “Last night, I had just gone to sleep when the room became so bright that I woke. Standing before my bed was Kari, bathed in white light. When she has visited me in the past, she has never shone with such a light.
“I asked her, ‘Why do you shine so?’
“She told me, ‘It is so you will know and remember the importance of the message I bring you.’
“I asked Kari, ‘May I write this down?’
Perhaps I was too bold in asking such a thing, but she smiled at me with love and grace, and she said, ‘Yes.’
“I sat at my desk, needing no light but the one shining from Kari herself. Her words were few. I have them here.” Camalyn reached into her pocket and retrieved a sheet of paper. She read,
Crown shall sit upon the man;
Man shall sit upon the throne;
And gold shall kneel to gray.
Veils shall be dropped,
Faces open to the light
Of Sava and his king.
Make ready the faithful,
For the day and place are near.
Camalyn said, “This prophecy—for that is surely what it is—came from Sava, delivered to us by Kari, and we thank her for it. Blessed be the First Midwife.”
“Blessed be the First Midwife.” The response rang through the room, and then the people were again silent.
“After delivering these words, Kari placed her hand on my head,” Camalyn said. “She spoke no further, but peace filled my mind and heart through the touch of her hand.
“If you will indulge me, I wish to return to the last two lines of this prophecy. ‘Make ready the faithful, for the day and place are near.’ My friends, we are the faithful. And we must make ourselves ready, for this prophecy will be fulfilled soon. We must invite more Karites to join us, those who seek truth as we do.”
Camalyn nodded at a woman who was raising her black-gloved hand. “I’m simple and not much for poetry or prophecy,” the woman said. “I want to be one of the faithful—but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be ready for.”
With a smile, Camalyn nodded. “I, too, have questions about this prophecy. However, we are not meant to understand it perfectly now. Our responsibility is to know Kari’s words, to know them so deeply that when they are fulfilled, we will be sure of it.
“Let us learn the words of Kari. Will you repeat after me?” The attendees nodded, and Camalyn’s voice rang out. “Crown shall sit upon the man.”
“Crown shall sit upon the man,” they repeated.
“Man shall sit upon the throne.”
“Man shall sit upon the throne.”
“And gold shall kneel to gray.”
“And gold shall kneel to gray.”
“Veils shall be dropped.”
“Veils shall be dropped.”
“Faces open to the light of Sava and his king.”
“Faces open to the light of Sava and his king.”
“Make ready the faithful.”
“Make ready the faithful.”
“For the day and place are near.”
“For the day and place are near.”
As Camalyn listened to the passionate voices repeating the prophecy, her heart swelled within her. It was as if the words, so painstakingly written by her and Konner, had actually come from a mystic source.
A woman in the center ring of seats stood and stepped to the middle of the circle. Camalyn watched her, ready to resist with magical words if the woman spoke against the prophecy.
But the woman said only four words, in a loud voice that filled the room. “Veils shall be dropped!” she cried. And she unwrapped her scarf, uncovering her mouth, before pulling the long strip of cloth off her head.
The room was still and silent for several seconds. Then a man repeated both her gestures and her words, ending by standing next to her, his head and face
uncovered.
Within a minute, thirty-nine Karites stood with their veils dropped. Some wore expressions of joy; others gazed around curiously, examining their friends’ faces for the first time. A few looked nervous, as if Sava would strike them down, but when nothing frightening happened, they seemed to relax.
Camalyn was the only exception. Her magic was still active; it had been so effective during this meeting that she hesitated to let it go. Her veil hid her glowing mouth. But as she looked around the room, seeing the passion and freedom there, the truth struck her: I don’t need magic. These people will follow me anywhere.
She released her gray magic with a sigh of relief, and then she spoke loud enough to be heard over the other voices in the room. “Veils shall be dropped!” Camalyn unwrapped her veil and pulled it off. Every eye found her, and when they saw her perfect smile, her loveliness that surely rivaled Kari’s, she could feel their devotion.
Camalyn gave them five minutes to enjoy their lack of veils before gathering them back to their seats. “We must continue to live as faithful Karites,” she said, replacing her own veil. As she waited for the others to do the same, she activated her magic with a press of her lips.
“Today’s events must remain secret for now,” Camalyn said. “Our veils, too, must remain, until ‘Crown shall sit upon the man’ and ‘Man shall sit upon the throne.’ Use this sweet taste of our future freedom as motivation to bring others to our gatherings. Others who desire liberation. Others who desire truth. Bring them in. We are the faithful, and we must make ourselves ready.”
At that, Camalyn stood and closed her eyes. She recited the prophecy from memory, again giving them time to repeat each line. When done, she dismissed them. But no one wanted to leave, and Camalyn stayed, blessing each of them with a touch of her gloved hands and a few words from her glowing, veiled mouth.
Chapter Ten
The day I turned fifteen, I begged my mother to allow me to go to Tinawe to apprentice as a midwife. At first she refused, saying I was too young. She was right. But when I told her I’d send half my earnings back to the family, she let me go. And again, she was right. I was too young, but life was cruel to us, and I could make it less so.
-From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana
Tavi pumped her legs, pushing herself higher. She hadn’t been on a swing in years, and she didn’t remember it ever thrilling her this much.
“Don’t fall off!” Narre called. Tavi’s only response was a smile.
Tavi’s aunt Jilla, Narre’s mother, had invited Tavi for dinner. After eating, Narre had suggested to Tavi that they try out the new swing in their back yard. It belonged to Narre’s younger brother Gillun, and he wasn’t happy that Narre and Tavi had gotten to it before he did.
The swing was simply a board attached to a sturdy tree branch with two ropes. But the tree branch was at least fifteen feet from the ground, and Tavi was testing the limits of how high she could go. At the top of her arc, she felt weightless for a moment. It reminded her of the thrill of flying she’d experienced during runs with Tullen.
After several minutes, Tavi stopped pumping her legs. She gripped the ropes, leaning back and closing her eyes as she slowed. When she was low enough, she jumped off. “All yours.”
Narre got settled, and Tavi gave her a few good pushes to get her started. Then she stepped to the side, watching her cousin pick up speed and height.
During the previous three weeks, Tavi had kept her promise to Tullen. She’d responded to Narre’s friendly overtures, seeing her often. Even when all Tavi wanted was to hide in her bedroom and never come out. And even when Narre’s attempts to console went awry.
Each time Narre said, “We’ll see Misty again in Senniet someday,” or, “Sava brings good out of grief,” Tavi was liable to explode. She had no patience for platitudes and had lost count of how many times over the previous two weeks she and Narre had both ended up in frustrated tears due to Narre’s misguided attempts to help and Tavi’s subsequent hurt feelings.
But she and her cousin had reached an understanding. Tavi reminded herself that Narre’s intentions were good. And Narre was learning what Tavi needed: the simple presence of a trusted friend.
Tavi smiled when Narre, who was swinging almost as high as Tavi had, let out a shrill “Wheeee!”
That exclamation was interrupted by Gillun shouting, “It’s my turn, Narre!”
Narre slowed herself, got down, and handed over the swing to her brother. She and Tavi went inside to Narre’s bedroom, where they sat cross-legged on the bed.
“There’s something I want to show you,” Narre said. She pulled a folded paper out of her pocket. Tavi held her hand out, but Narre did not give it to her. “First, I have to explain how I got this,” she said, “and hopefully convince you I’m not a terrible person.”
“Now you’ve really got me curious! What could possibly be on there that makes you a terrible person?” Tavi tried to grab the paper.
“It’s not about what’s written on it,” Narre held it out of reach. “It’s . . . how I procured it. Remember I stopped by Ellea’s office yesterday before training started?” Tavi nodded. “Well,” Narre said, “I just happened to see a letter lying on the desk. Pala’s signature was on the bottom. Ellea saw me looking at it, and she turned it over. I figured there must be something important on it, maybe something about the Grays.”
“Are you about to tell me you stole a letter from Ellea’s desk?”
“Of course not! She would’ve noticed it missing. But . . . well, during her lecture I went to the bathroom. Only it wasn’t really the bathroom. I went into her office and copied part of the letter.”
“You didn’t!”
Narre responded by holding out the paper. Tavi took it and silently read the single sentence, written in Narre’s messy script.
Evitt has informed me that several Cormina councillors are now Grays.
Tavi’s mouth gaped. “Do you think this could be true?”
“Do you think Pala would have sent it if it weren’t? We know this ‘Evitt’ has been spying for her. And when we were there last year, they had one Gray on the council. I don’t see any reason to question this.”
“But there are only twenty-seven people on the council. It wouldn’t take that many Grays to be in the majority. Then they could do . . . well, pretty much anything they wanted to.” Tavi looked up at Narre, who shuddered, a look of disgust on her face. Her weeks of captivity had led her to distrust the Grays even more passionately than the rest of the Golds did. “The thought of that must be a nightmare for you,” Tavi said.
“It’s a nightmare for Cormina,” Narre said. She leaned forward and looked in Tavi’s eyes. “I think we should go there.”
Tavi didn’t realize she had pulled back until she bumped into Narre’s headboard. “Go to Savala? You want to go back?”
“For a while, I wasn’t sure. But, Tavi, I look at our classmates every day. Most of them are helpless. They don’t have magic. They aren’t training to fight like we are. They’d be helpless if the Grays took over. Our parents would be too, for that matter. And our siblings. Then I saw the letter and realized how dangerous it’s getting, and . . . yes. I want to go back. Someone has to stop this.”
“Someone doesn’t have to be you and me!”
“Well, we’d bring Sall and Tullen too, of course.”
A single laugh came out of Tavi’s mouth. “Sure, because spending days on the road with Tullen is exactly what I want right now. Maybe we can visit all the places I went with Misty, too, just to make it extra-torturous.”
Narre’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, Tavi. I thought you’d want to go.”
“Why would I?”
“Well, I know how hard it’s been, being at home, with Misty gone. Plus, with your magic not working—”
“Temporarily!”
“Of course, temporarily not working,” Narre amended. “The point is, I thought a change of scenery might be just what you need. It might
help you heal, and Ellea said that’s what you need for your magic to come back.”
Tavi didn’t answer. Tears threatened to spill onto her cheeks. It was all too much. Her magic and Misty, both gone, and Tullen too. The last one was her choice, but she’d done what needed to be done. So why hadn’t that made it any easier?
Narre’s voice arrested Tavi’s wandering thoughts. “Plus, I just want to stop them. If they could get away with kidnapping me when they’re normal citizens, imagine what they’ll do if they have influence over council decisions!” One tear had escaped down Tavi’s cheek, and Narre took her hand. “Oh, Tavi, I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s all right; we can stay here.”
Tavi blinked hard and took a calming breath. “I want my mother,” she said. “I don’t think I can be away from her right now. I need her, Narre.”
Narre nodded, still holding Tavi’s hand. What she didn’t say was, “I understand.” That statement had resulted in an argument the previous week, Tavi insisting that her friend, who had never lost a sibling, couldn’t understand.
“The letter didn’t say how many of them are Grays?” Tavi asked.
“She didn’t give any more information. The rest of the letter was Pala trying to convince Ellea to send the four of us to Savala.”
“Pala asked us to come?”
“That’s the only reason I thought our parents might allow it.”
“How long ago did she write the letter?”
Narre hesitated, then said softly, “It was dated the day Misty died.”
Tavi shrugged off the blow that hit her heart at those words. “That was four weeks ago! Ellea has probably had the letter for at least a week! Do you think she planned to tell us about it?”
“You know how protective she is,” Narre said. “I’m sure she didn’t want to upset you.”
Facing the Gray Page 7
