Facing the Gray

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “I want you to hear what I’m about to tell you,” Narre said.

  Tavi put on her other sock. “Well, what is it?”

  “I’m waiting until I’m sure I have your full attention.”

  Narre should become a teacher. But Tavi complied, putting her hands on her narrow hips and staring at her cousin. “I’m listening.”

  Narre spoke deliberately, as if she’d been practicing the statement for months. “Reba did not kill Misty.”

  Tavi blinked. “I didn’t say she did.”

  “Actually, you did. When she came to Oren, you said it over and over. And it’s clear from how you’re treating her that you believe it.”

  “She brought those men to Oren!”

  “Do you know why?”

  “Of course I know why. It was to capture me.”

  “Konner told them to capture you,” Narre said, “but Reba hoped that wouldn’t be necessary. She wanted to convince you to come.”

  “Convince me? She thought I would go willingly? That’s ludicrous!”

  Narre gave Tavi a sad smile. “I think we all believe ludicrous things when we’re desperate.”

  Tavi blinked. “Desperate for what?”

  “For a friend.”

  “Narre, what are you talking about?”

  Narre sighed. “Can we sit down?” They did. “Reba and I have had a few talks since she moved here,” Narre said. “She never fit in with the Grays. None of them respected her, because her magic wasn’t strong enough.”

  “She made her own choices. I couldn’t care less if it was a bad experience for her.”

  “She was lonely,” Narre said. “And I don’t mean the kind of lonely you feel when you have to spend an afternoon by yourself. I mean the kind of lonely you feel when you have no friends or family at all. When they asked her to go with the team to Oren, she hoped you’d come back with her and be her friend.”

  Tavi couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Are you making this up?”

  “This is crazy; you think I could make it up?”

  “You think it’s crazy too?”

  “Of course! And can you imagine how miserable she must have been to get so delusional?”

  “You know what’s even crazier than that?” Tavi pointed at her friend. “You, defending a murderer.”

  “I’m not defending anything she did.”

  “Well, good, because she killed someone to get gray magic.”

  Narre nodded slowly. “I know.”

  “Then why in Sava’s name is she here?” Tavi cried.

  A voice spoke from the doorway. “I didn’t want to kill him.”

  Tavi turned to see Reba, standing in her pajamas, her hair wet and eyes haunted.

  “Come in, Reba,” Narre said.

  Reba sat in one of the other desk chairs, across the room from Narre and Tavi. “I wanted gray magic, but I didn’t want to kill him.”

  “But you did,” Tavi said.

  Reba nodded and looked away, wiping her eyes. “His name was Eklan,” she said. “Sella told me he was almost eighty years old and had been sick for months. She also said he’d been begging for someone to put him out of his misery. I believed her, but . . .” Reba halted and took a deep breath, blowing it out loudly. “I don’t know if it was true. I know he was sick. But I don’t know if he wanted to die.”

  “You could have asked him,” Tavi said.

  “He was sleeping.”

  “You could have woken him.”

  “I know!” The words came out as a wail, and Reba began to sob. “I wish—I wish—I hadn’t—hadn’t—done it.”

  “Why did you do it?” Narre asked, once Reba’s crying slowed.

  “Remember the conversations we had with Ash and Aldin?” Reba asked Narre. “Every day, they told us how wonderful gray magic was, and how we would change the world for the better. I just wanted something more. I was so tired of feeling weak, and everything they said sounded so good. And strong. When the time came to . . . to take his breath, I almost backed out. But by then I really believed the Grays would make things better. And Sella told me I was doing the man a favor. So I did it.” She started crying again. “I did it.”

  As Tavi watched Reba cry, an inkling of compassion came into her heart. She examined it, trying to decide if she wanted it there or not. Then Misty’s face filled Tavi’s mind, and she stood, arms crossed and breaths coming fast. “You brought those people to Oren,” she said. “You brought them!”

  Reba’s cries grew louder, and she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them and burying her face in them.

  “I want to hear what you have to say about that,” Tavi said. “I’ll wait.” She stood over Reba. At last, the girl’s wet hair stopped shaking, and two puffy eyes rose and found Tavi’s.

  “I would’ve never taken them if I’d known,” she said. “Tavi, please believe me. I would’ve stayed in my boring, little bedroom at the Gray House for the rest of my life instead of bringing that man to Oren, if I’d known what he would do.”

  Angry tears spilled out both of Tavi’s eyes, traveling down her cheeks. “But you did bring him. And he killed Misty.”

  One more sob exited Reba’s mouth, but she didn’t turn away from Tavi’s fury. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  Tavi watched Reba, and this time her old friend’s misery didn’t stir any sympathy in her. She turned her back and walked to the bathroom. When she returned, she headed straight for her bed and lay down, her back to her roommates.

  Tavi shifted and felt something under her hip. She pulled out her journal. Holding it to her heart, she ignored the sound of Narre comforting Reba, put all thoughts out of her mind, and went to sleep.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  When sun-blessed youth experience their awakenings, we must accept their reactions to such a momentous change. I remember one young man who danced in the streets for hours after his awakening until he collapsed, still smiling. And I know a woman whose newly awakened gift made her so nervous that for several months she walked around as rigid as a suit of armor.

  -From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana

  “Is your cycle irregular or too heavy?” Sall murmured. “Does it cause you pain? The Holliner Street Midwife House is here to help. Send us a message. We’ll come to you!”

  Tavi joined the others in a burst of laughter. Sall looked up from the paper he was holding, and his face turned bright pink. “I didn’t realize I was proofreading aloud.”

  Tullen clapped him on the back. “I think it’s wonderful that a young man from Oren feels comfortable discussing such things in mixed company.” Sall’s blush deepened in response.

  “Back to work,” Pala said. “We have many more of these to write.”

  The Golds were at the dining room table, implementing their strategy to get Jenevy into the Gray House. The original plan was simple. Jenevy and other apprentice midwives would begin a door-to-door campaign in the area, providing printed literature and practical support to women who had difficulties with their cycles. Pala said many women were ashamed to talk about such health issues, but she hoped they would accept help when it was offered.

  In the three weeks since Reba’s arrival at the midwife house, Pala had consulted with other midwives around the city, trying to put her plan into action. But she hadn’t gotten the support she’d expected. Everyone thought it was a good idea until they pointed out the logistical difficulties. Would apprentices have time to canvas neighborhoods in between studying and practicum? Should they form a committee of midwives to oversee the effort? And the most frequent question, would it be too expensive?

  Finally, Pala had gotten permission to start a pilot program with their newest apprentice, Jenevy. They had no budget, so the Golds were hand-writing flyers, rather than having them printed. Each of them stopped occasionally to shake or massage their sore hands, and then they picked up their pens and kept writing, copying the same text over and over.

  Jenevy would visit many homes in the
area before venturing onto the street where the Gray House stood. They needed to set a pattern so it wouldn’t be obvious that her true desire was to get into one particular home. It was a lot of work without any guarantee of success. But no one could think of a more practical way to fight the Grays. And so they wrote.

  Within half an hour, they were so accustomed to writing the text that they could chat while they wrote.

  “Has Tullen ever told you about when his gifts awakened?” Jenevy asked. Tavi’s ears perked up.

  “No, and I think you should remedy that oversight,” Narre replied.

  Tullen didn’t look up from the flyer he was writing. “It’s not that great of a story. We should focus on the task at hand.”

  “He’s avoiding the topic. Now we have to hear the details,” Sall said.

  Tullen groaned, and that seemed to make Jenevy even more enthusiastic. “It was lunchtime, and Tullen was playing Catch the Pig with several of his friends.”

  “Catch the Pig?” Reba asked.

  “It’s a form of tag,” Tullen replied.

  Tavi glanced up. “So who was the pig?”

  “I was!” Tullen said. “It’s an honored position.”

  Everyone laughed, and Jenevy continued, “His hearing gift awakened, but he didn’t realize it. He heard voices and thought people must be hiding nearby. Then his stride gift awakened. He started running so fast, there was no way his friends could catch him.”

  “Pigs are pretty speedy,” Narre said.

  “Well, I was standing outside with a few friends, and Tullen came around the corner, running faster than I’d ever seen someone travel, his ears glowing like they were on fire. He skidded to a stop right in front of us, and he grabbed my shoulders.” Jenevy demonstrated by grasping Narre’s shoulders. “He said, ‘Jenevy, I think there’s a plague in the Meadow! Everyone else is running so slowly! They’re all sick! I think they’re dying! It’s a plague, Jenevy! It’s a plague!’ ”

  Everyone at the table was roaring with laughter except Tullen, who raised his voice over the cacophony. “That’s not what I said! That wasn’t it at all!”

  When everyone finally quieted, Tullen grinned. “Jenevy put quite a bit of embellishment into that story.”

  “So you didn’t really think everyone was slow because they were sick?” Tavi asked.

  Tullen cleared his throat. “Actually, I did think that. But I didn’t say it quite like—”

  Laughter drowned out the rest of his statement.

  “All right, all right,” Pala finally said. “Let’s get back on task. Our pace has slowed to a crawl.”

  “Probably because we all have the plague,” Tavi said.

  That was it. Giggles turned into guffaws, and even Pala could barely hold back her laughter. “Half-hour break in the back yard!” she declared. “Run off your excess energy, and be ready to focus when you return.” As everyone rose, Pala caught Tavi’s eye and said quietly, “I’d like to speak to you.”

  Tavi nodded warily and sat back down.

  When the others were gone, Pala said, “Things seem a bit better for you lately.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve noticed you spending more time with your friends. You seemed distant when you arrived in Savala, but something has changed.”

  Tavi shrugged. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Care to tell me about it?”

  “I don’t know.” Tavi looked down at her hands, weaving her fingers together, then pulling them apart. She looked up. “I didn’t want to put them in danger by spending too much time around them. I’m the one the Grays want most, and I didn’t want anyone else to be hurt because they happened to be with me.”

  Pala didn’t reply, but after several seconds, she gave a small nod. Tavi didn’t know if the midwife was agreeing with her or encouraging her to continue.

  “Then Konner took Tullen,” Tavi said. “And I realized Tullen was in even more danger because I wasn’t with him. If I’d been there that night, Konner would’ve taken me instead of Tullen. Tullen almost got killed that night, and I could’ve prevented it by being there.”

  “And that changed things?”

  “It changed everything. I want to be there for my friends now. I want to keep what happened to Tullen from happening again. We cut it way too close last time.”

  “I should say so. You yourself were nearly shot.”

  “But I wasn’t.” Tavi smiled. “Now that my magic is back, I can actually do something to help my friends.”

  Pala’s brow knitted as she examined Tavi. At last, she said, “I’m glad you’ve realized your friends need you.”

  “Me too.”

  Pala leaned forward, continuing her stare. “I wonder when you’ll admit you need them too.”

  Tavi snapped, “I can take care of myself!” Seeing Pala’s raised eyebrows, she took a deep breath, reining in her temper. “Sava’s given me these gifts. I don’t know why, but I know he expects me to use them to help myself and my friends. I don’t want anyone to risk themselves for me. I never wanted that.” A picture of Misty, bleeding on the forest floor, filled Tavi’s imagination. She pushed it away.

  Pala pressed her lips together, never taking her eyes off Tavi. “The Grays may win,” she said. “But I don’t believe that conclusion is foregone, because the Golds have something the Grays can’t hope to have. Do you know what that is?”

  “No.”

  “You have friendships, formed over your entire lives. You, Sall, and Narre. Even Reba. Oh, I see you flinching, and I understand why, but you’ve known her since you were a baby. Then there are Tullen and Jenevy; they grew up together too. The Golds share trust, formed through years of friendship. If we win, that will be our greatest weapon.”

  Feeling a response was required, Tavi murmured, “Maybe so.”

  “Then why don’t you trust your friends?”

  “I do!” The words were louder than Tavi had intended, but she continued in the same manner. “I trust them with everything in me. Not Reba, of course, and I don’t know Jenevy very well yet, but I trust my other friends!”

  “If you trusted them,” Pala said, “you would let them protect you, just as you protect them.”

  Tavi opened her mouth to argue, but her mind wouldn’t provide the words. She swallowed and asked, “Can I go outside now?”

  “Of course.”

  In the back yard, Narre ran up to Tavi. “Jenevy and Tullen taught us how to play Catch the Pig,” she gasped. “Now we’re teaching them Stompers.” Stompers was a game Narre, Sall, Reba, and Tavi had created when they were children. It involved kicking a ball, tagging each other, and no stomping at all. (No one seemed to remember where the name had come from.)

  Tavi joined in and was running toward the ball when her foot slipped on a patch of ice, and she fell hard on her hind end. She stood, rubbing the area. Narre and Jenevy were nearby, and they rushed over, but Tavi insisted she was fine. Turning, she saw Evitt standing on the porch, watching the game.

  “Aren’t you supposed to fall when I do?” Tavi asked.

  He laughed. “That’s only if you’re wearing skates!”

  Tavi joined him on the porch.

  “You can heal that, right?” he asked.

  “Only if I touch it directly.” She looked pointedly at her one-piece dress.

  “Ah.” He laughed.

  “I’ll take care of it later,” Tavi said. “I think I’ll sit the rest of this out.” She lowered herself gingerly to the bench, then gestured next to her. “Join me?”

  Evitt sat, and Tavi found herself confiding in him about her conversation with Pala. When she finished, he nodded but didn’t say anything. “What do you think?” Tavi asked.

  “I think Pala is a smart woman,” Evitt hedged.

  “But?”

  “But nothing.”

  “There was a definite unspoken ‘but’ there.” Tavi laughed when Evitt glanced down at her sore rear end. “No, not that one,” she said. “That
one is speaking up loud and clear, and it hurts.”

  Evitt laughed too, then said, “Pala is a smart woman, but you seem to do a pretty good job taking care of yourself. I don’t think you need anyone to protect you.”

  Tavi grinned. “Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me. It’s the truth.”

  Tavi heard the back door open. She looked over her shoulder and saw Pala. “Let’s get back to work!” the midwife called.

  Tavi and Evitt stood. “I’d better see if the midwives need me to carry any messages,” he said. He waved and entered the house.

  Tavi was about to follow him, when she heard Narre calling her name. She waited on the porch for her friend to catch up.

  Narre ran up to Tavi. In a low voice, she asked, “What did Pala want?”

  “Nothing,” Tavi said. “She just wanted to chat.”

  Narre raised her eyebrows but didn’t press.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  RELIN: I’m ready for this war to end. I want nothing more than to sit with my wife, look at the stars, and talk about the mundane events of the day. I mean no offense to those of you sitting with me now, but you simply are not her. We must finish this thing so I can go home. So we all can.

  -From Relin: A Play in Three Acts by Hestina Arlo

  Tavi sat at a table outside a café with Tullen, asking herself the question she’d been mulling over for three days: Is being alone with him nice or awkward? She hadn’t reached a conclusion when he spoke.

  “She got turned away by another bachelor.”

  Tavi half-laughed, half-groaned. “Poor Jenevy.”

  She and Tullen were monitoring Jenevy as she canvassed a neighborhood with the flyers they’d made. They both wore knit caps, pulled down over their ears, and they took turns activating their hearing gifts. One of them was always listening. Their faces were half-covered too, with scarves. They drank tea, cooled by the winter weather, through gaps in their scarves.