Konner let out a long sigh and turned away from the carving. He buttoned his coat, put on his hat, and exited the council building into the clean, peaceful streets of Savala.
Chapter Six
My travels go well, or as well as might be expected. I know Sava has called me to travel and share the gift he’s given me with the world. But every day I wish you were with me, my dear. The road is longer when I walk it alone.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 1
Tavi stepped out of the schoolhouse, carrying her lunch bag. Her steps took her to the edge of the schoolyard where she began a brisk circuit around the grounds. She pulled an apple from her lunch and took a bite. It was sweet, but it settled like a rock in her knotted stomach.
Tavi’s eyes found Reba, who now ate lunch with a group of older, sun-blessed friends. Tavi felt she barely knew Reba now. Her childhood best friend continued to grow into a strikingly beautiful young woman. Reba trained daily at the midwife house but still struggled to control her sight gift. She could not consistently activate it upon command, and when she did, it was weak, and she tired quickly. Despite her unremarkable ability, she mentioned her gifting at every turn.
Reba’s father catered to her demands, yet appeared ignorant of the effect his indulgent parenting had on his only child. In Tavi’s large family, there was little tolerance for self-centeredness, and Tavi’s patience with Reba had waned, especially since her birthday. The occasional conversations they had were awkward, and they had stopped seeking each other out.
Watching Reba, Tavi’s throat tightened, making it impossible to swallow the bread she was chewing. Over the years, she and Reba had made so many plans—to marry brothers, live next door to each other, and name their daughters after each other. Tavi knew those plans had been idealistic, but she didn’t understand how Reba could leave their friendship behind with no regret.
On most days, Tavi told herself it didn’t matter. But occasionally she admitted the truth—losing her best friend had left her adrift. Tavi kicked hard at the dry leaves at her feet, trying to distract herself from such thoughts.
She looked for Narre and Sall. They were sitting under a tree, eating their lunches. Tavi could not bring herself to eat with them. She was no more comfortable with Sall’s gift now than she had been on the day he revealed it. His magic was strong, but he struggled to control it, and his gift activated far more often than he wished.
Tavi still felt great affection for her smart, witty friend, but she wanted to protect her emotions from his inadvertent magical eavesdropping. She would have sat with Narre, were it not for Sall’s presence. At least she still saw her cousin outside of school when their families spent time together.
Tavi had heard Narre’s training was going well. Besides her ability to break, she had discovered an ability to bind. Narre could bind fragments of the same substance, such as two pieces of wood, and she was working on binding disparate substances together, which required a great deal more strength and concentration.
Tavi wanted to talk to Narre about her cousin’s impressive gifting, but she feared if they talked about magic, Narre would see her as an outsider, just as Reba did. Instead, Tavi heard updates from others. While she felt pride in her cousin, the envy she felt was greater, and it sat between them, unspoken.
So Tavi avoided her friends at lunchtime, choosing these solitary walks instead. She worked hard to keep a confident, content expression on her face, as if daily lunches alone were exactly what she wanted. In reality, she counted the minutes until class would start again.
Years later, Tavi would remember these walks, and she would grieve for that lonely, thirteen-year-old girl. Now, however, she didn’t shed a tear. She didn’t even talk to Misty about it. To talk about it would have been to face the question that simmered in her mind. Was something wrong with her that was driving her friends away? Tavi told herself this was the cost of being different. She told herself she was all right.
Relief filled Tavi when the bell rang again. She watched the gifted, awakened students streaming toward the school gates. They would spend the afternoon training at the midwife house. A hot ache filled Tavi’s chest as she continued to her classroom.
After school, Tavi again walked alone. Her brother Seph and sister Ista, being older, stayed at school for an extra half hour of mathematics each day, and she didn’t want to wait for them. Tavi arrived at home, greeted her mother and Misty, and walked to her room to put her bag down. The wooden flute Reba had given her caught her eye from its spot on top of her chest of drawers. Tavi hadn’t played it in months. She picked it up and ran her fingers along its smooth sides. Instead of placing it back where it had been, she buried it under old dresses in a drawer.
Tavi left her bedroom and called, “Mama, I’m going to walk in the forest.” When her mother acknowledged her, she exited and meandered through the trees behind their property.
These forest wanderings had become Tavi’s after-school routine. She didn’t feel as lonely among the trees; it was a place meant for solitude. Every day she made small discoveries: bird nests, colorful lichen, and clearings where she could sit and rest. The peace of the forest often led to her body lighting up with warm magic, and she loved those moments, though they made her yearn even more for her awakening.
A stream bubbled nearby, and Tavi followed the sound. She knelt to take a drink.
“Last time I drank from that stream, I was sick for three days.”
The voice startled Tavi, and she snatched her cupped hand out of the water, splashing her skirt. She stood and spun around in one movement, seeking the source of the words. Her eyes found a boy who appeared a few years older than her. He had spoken in a strange way, his vowels subdued and his phrases bearing a slight singsong rhythm.
“Is that so?” was all Tavi could think to say. She continued to study the boy. He was tall and lanky, with a tanned face and a few days’ worth of stubble around his mouth.
“It’s true, I swear it.” The boy smiled, which made him look younger.
Meeting this boy who leaned against a tree in his homespun wool shirt and patched pants, Tavi felt she could leave behind her parents’ lessons on polite small talk. “Who are you?” she asked.
He made no move to shake her hand, keeping his position against the tree. “I’m Tullen,” he replied.
“What’s your last name?
“I don’t have one.”
After staring in confusion for a few awkward seconds, Tavi asked, “Where did you come from?”
“I’m Tullen of the Meadow.”
Tavi’s eyes widened. She had heard many stories about Meadow Dwellers but knew most of them couldn’t be true. The basics, however, were agreed upon: A community dwelled in a spacious, isolated meadow in the forest. They schooled their own children and grew, raised, and hunted their own food. Their interactions with people in nearby towns were minimal. But why would a Meadow Dweller be here? “That’s twenty miles away!” Tavi blurted.
“More like thirty.” Tullen smiled. “I run pretty fast.”
Tavi narrowed her eyes at that statement. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Tullen stopped leaning against the tree and took a step toward Tavi. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”
Tavi had no idea what this Tullen of the Meadow intended, but she supposed if he wanted to hurt her, withholding her name wouldn’t prevent that. “I’m Tavi . . . of the Town.” Then she felt stupid, and her voice insisted on continuing at a higher pitch and a faster pace. “Well, we are part of the town of Oren, but our house is on the outskirts. In fact, if I was loud enough right now, my mother could probably hear me.” There. Now if he had bad intentions, maybe he’d think twice.
Tullen dropped his chin in what struck Tavi as more of a small bow than a nod. “Well met, Tavi of the Town.”
He said it with an amused smile, and she wondered if he was making fun of her. At least he didn’t seem to want to attack her. “What ar
e you doing here?” Tavi asked.
Tullen gestured to the tree where a bow was resting. “I was trying to hunt,” Tullen said. Ah—now Tavi saw the arrow fletching peeking over his shoulder. He continued, “But lately every time I come to this part of the forest in the afternoon, my hunting is interrupted by the loudest steps I’ve ever heard! All the game gets frightened away. I thought it must be a giant stomping through the forest, so I tracked that giant. And instead I found you! After seeing you here for the last couple of weeks, I thought I should introduce myself and ask why you don’t want me to catch any food for my community. Are you so determined that we should starve to death?”
Tavi felt her face grow warm. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” she said in horror. “If I’d had any idea—” and then Tullen’s big grin registered with her, and she was even more embarrassed. “You know,” she said, “you could have picked another part of the forest to hunt in. And perhaps I wasn’t quiet; I wasn’t even trying to be. But a giant? Really?”
“Huge, thumping steps!” Tullen insisted, demonstrating by lifting his knee high in the air and bringing his foot crashing into the dry leaves.
Tavi couldn’t help a small laugh though she wanted to slap herself for it. Then something else Tullen had said came back to her. “Wait, did you say you’ve seen me here for the last couple of weeks? Were you watching me?”
That sheepish smile returned. “I’ve only glimpsed you a couple of times. I was going to leave you to your wanderings, and then I saw you trying to drink that water, which, as I mentioned, is not a good idea.” Tullen held his hand to his stomach and grimaced.
“Well, thank you for that.” Tavi narrowed her eyes. “But let’s talk about you being thirty miles from home. Why? And how did you get here?”
“I like to explore different areas of the forest,” Tullen said. “It keeps me interested. And I told you, I run fast.”
A suspicion was growing in Tavi. “How long does it take you to run here?” she asked.
“On a good day, about one and a half hours.” Tullen spoke matter-of-factly, but Tavi could see amusement tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I usually stay for a couple of days to make the trip worth it.”
“You’re stride-blessed.”
Tullen nodded. “Yes. My feet are quick and quiet. But in the Meadow, we don’t call it ‘stride-blessed.’ ”
“What do you call it?” Tavi asked.
Now Tullen was more than sheepish; he looked downright embarrassed. “They say I have feet of gold.” A laugh burst out of Tavi. But Tullen wasn’t done. “And . . .” He paused. “Ears of gold too.”
Tavi’s amusement was smothered in surprise. “Ears of gold? You’re hearing-blessed too?”
“I am,” Tullen said.
All Tavi could manage was, “That’s impressive.” It was rare to meet someone who was twice-blessed. After a moment, she said, “I can see why you’re a hunter. It’s the perfect combination.”
“I keep my people well fed.”
Tavi didn’t know what else to say, but she wanted to talk to this strange boy more, to hear about life in the Meadow. It was nice to meet someone who wasn’t waiting for her to awaken. Without thinking, she blurted, “I bet you’re hungry; would you like to come have a snack?” As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she wanted to take them back. What would he think, being asked to her house just after she’d met him?
But Tullen beamed. “I would!”
“Oh!” Tavi said, surprised. She gathered her wits and gestured south. “It’s this way.”
They entered through the kitchen door. Mey and Misty were working on dinner. Tavi introduced Tullen and told her sister and mother he was from the Meadow.
Mey accepted this information with raised eyebrows, but her only response was, “You must be starving. We’ll get you and Tavi a nice snack.”
Tavi smiled. She could have written this script; her mother believed any situation was improved with generous servings of food. Her mother placed bread, cheese, and fresh vegetables on the table. She and Misty sat down.
Tullen picked up one of the vegetables. “What’s this?”
“It’s a carrot,” Tavi said.
“It’s red!”
Mey laughed. “I like to experiment with hybrids; it’s a hobby of mine.”
Tavi said, “Don’t let her deceive you; it’s more than a little hobby. She sells produce from her garden, and everyone in town wants to buy her red carrots.”
As they ate, Misty peppered Tullen with questions, which he answered in his good-natured manner. When the conversation slowed, Mey turned to Tullen. “I hope you will stay with us when you visit this part of the woods,” she said. “The forest must get cold this time of year.”
“Be forewarned, though,” Tavi said with a smile. “My brother Jona snores so loudly, you’ll think you’re sharing the room with a hog.”
“What a generous offer.” He paused, looking between Tavi and Mey. “We do things differently in the Meadow. We do not have many interactions with outsiders. I appreciate the hospitality, but I must discuss your offer first with my parents, and possibly with the Meadow elders, before I can respond.”
Tavi’s eyes narrowed. “They allow you to spend days by yourself in the forest, but they don’t trust you to choose if you can stay with someone who opens their home to you?”
Tullen’s face was serious. “As I told you—things are different there.”
Mey placed a calming hand on Tavi’s shoulder and turned to Tullen. “We hope you can accept, but we understand if you cannot.”
“I’ll be going home this afternoon—in fact, I should get going,” Tullen said. “I will talk to my parents, and I’ll try to come back this way in a few days.”
They said goodbye, and as soon as the door closed, Misty turned to her sister with raised eyebrows. “I can’t believe you met a Meadow Dweller! He’s handsome!”
Tavi’s face twisted in distaste. “He’s old!”
Misty looked confused. “He’s just a boy.”
“I bet he’s sixteen years old! He’s nearly an adult!”
Misty smirked. “You’re right, he’s positively ancient. I hope he doesn’t drop dead before he can make it home.”
Tavi laughed. “It’s nice to make a new friend,” she said. And when she saw the soft smiles on the faces of her mother and her sister, she wondered if they had noticed her loneliness, despite her efforts to hide it.
Chapter Seven
My trainees often ask me why there are restrictions on magic. Why are they prevented from using their gifts in ways Sava deems unacceptable? Wouldn’t it be better for them to have full freedom and learn from the consequences of their choices?
I’ve asked Sava these questions many times. Not having discerned a response from him, it is difficult for me to answer my students. I wonder—is Sava protecting society from the Blessed or protecting the Blessed from themselves?
-From Training Sun-Blessed Students by Ellea Kariana
Konner exited his bank and took a deep breath of the cool autumn air. After telling his driver he would be walking home, he proceeded along back streets, avoiding crowds.
In an alleyway, Konner nodded at a smiling young man walking toward him. Their sleeves brushed each other as they passed in the narrow alley. Out of habit, Konner patted the pocket that held his coin purse.
It took less than two seconds for him to spin around, grab the back of the man’s dirty shirt, and throw him against the wall. Konner shoved his shoulder into the man’s back, and the man squirmed, reaching his hands behind him. Konner raised his knee to reach a knife strapped to his calf. He pulled it out of its sheath and held the cool metal to the side of the man’s throat. The man stopped struggling.
“Give me my money,” Konner growled.
“I don’t have it!”
A harsh laugh came out of Konner’s mouth. He’d spent much of his first two decades of life as a ruffian who loved to fight, and those skills hadn’t left him when he’d put on a
suit and become a banker. Keeping his knife at the young man’s throat, he used his other hand to grab one of the man’s arms, wrenching it back. The man’s other hand was free, and when he started to move it, Konner rotated the knife so its blade scraped the man’s neck, nearly breaking the skin. The man froze. Konner brought his face close enough that the would-be thief’s unkempt beard brushed Konner’s cheek.
“I know you don’t have the money.” Konner spoke quietly. “You returned it to my pocket, though you did it with swiftness so unnatural, your hands were a blur. You used magic to attempt to deceive me, and doubtless you used it to steal from me as well. You and I both know that’s impossible.” Konner bent the thief’s gloved hand backward at the wrist. When the man groaned, Konner spoke again.
“I’d like to offer you two options. The street just past these buildings is well-patrolled by safety officers each night.” Konner’s home was on that street, and he made large donations to the officers to ensure their presence. “Your first option is this: I will break both your arms, and then I will flag down an officer who will take you to jail. I will make arrangements for your stay to be a long one.”
The man shook and whimpered. He reeked of sweat and fear. Konner smiled. “If you prefer, I will release your arms and put away my knife. You will remove your gloves and fold your hands in front of you, keeping them free of magic. We will walk the streets of this city, and you will tell me precisely how you used magic to commit a crime. After that, I will reevaluate your future. What say you, friend? Which option do you prefer?”
Facing the Sun Page 5
