At Konner’s house, he and Ash discussed the result of the test. It was impossible not to feel discouraged. They now knew those who were ungifted could not bestow gray awakenings at all, even if the attempted recipient was sun-blessed. They could not risk exposure by killing any more of Meri’s patients who were not blessed.
The next night, Ash again had a midnight meeting with Meri. Tears in his eyes, he explained that while he was gratified to have relieved the old man’s suffering, the act had left him far more troubled than he had expected. “I fear that if I do this regularly, I may go mad,” he confessed. Ash then continued the story from two nights before, telling Meri of his grandfather’s hearing-blessed ears. Could she lead him specifically to gifted patients whose suffering he could relieve in honor of his grandfather?
The young healer appeared surprised by the sudden change, but she agreed to it.
Meri only encountered sun-blessed patients on the edge of death occasionally. Weeks later when she finally brought news of one, Ash allowed Konner to perform the act of mercy. Konner remained unchanged afterward, and both men again felt their hopes dashed. Ungifted people could not receive gray awakenings, even from the sun-blessed.
Five weeks later, on a cold winter night, Ash struggled to contain his elation when Meri approached him with the story of a suffering, sun-blessed man. Sella’s patience had been waning, and Ash was not sure what his potential protégé would do if she were not given a gray awakening soon. After the three previous tests, all failures, Ash harbored a deep fear that even this test, replicating his experience with Riami closely, would fail. Yet anticipation overpowered his nerves, and he made the arrangements with both Meri and Sella.
Sella’s actions the next night were just as quick and competent as they had been the first time. She and Ash exited through the alley behind the residence, and as they walked, her eyes remained unchanged—except that they narrowed in a furious glare. “I don’t know what you’re up to, but I will not continue killing for you,” she said in a low voice.
“I don’t know what could be wrong!” Ash insisted as they exited the alley and walked down the street. “The only thing that was different was that I was angry when I received my gray awakening—perhaps that’s it. Perhaps you have to be angry, or you have to love the person. I don’t know.”
Sella stared at him, the muscles in her jaw tensing. “Or perhaps you lied about this whole thing, and you’re just a freak who was born with different magic than the rest of us. Perhaps you get off on watching people die, but you’re too cowardly to kill them yourself.” She stopped, and Ash did as well. “I’m leaving,” she said. “Don’t follow me.” She raised her hand in an obscene gesture, then pivoted and walked the other direction. Ash watched her, but he did not follow.
After she had taken several steps, Sella stopped, standing stock-still in the middle of the road. Ash strode to her, coming around to face her.
Sella gazed at Ash, her eyes surrounded by a mask of thunderclouds, shining with the lightning of magic. Her brow was knit—that was the pain, he knew. But she was smiling. He guided her to the shadows between two homes. She directed her attention to a shuttered window in the building across from them.
In a low voice, strained with pain, Sella said, “There is an open box of jewelry in that room, and no one is there. The window is not latched. We could steal every bit of it if we wished.” Ash knew Sella felt the terrible burn of gray magic, yet she released a quiet laugh of delight.
Ash activated his own gray magic and held out a glowing hand to the woman in front of him. She shook it firmly, and he smiled through his own pain.
“Welcome to the Grays,” Ash said.
Chapter Twelve
As you requested, I will tell you of the day my magic made itself known. However, it is a terribly unimpressive tale. I stepped on a thorn, pulled it out, and grasped the small wound with my right hand. My hand began to glow, and my foot healed.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 2
That winter was much colder than the last had been. Tullen only came twice, during short, warm spans. Tavi missed her friend, but she delighted at all the days school was cancelled. As often as possible on snow days, she, Narre, and Sall trudged through the cold streets toward each other’s homes. When they found each other, they made their way to one of the girls’ houses to huddle in front of the fire or play in the snow.
They often talked about the time they had spent together the previous winter. They all missed Reba. She had further distanced herself from all of them, even Narre. Still, they enjoyed the season, and when the bitter cold departed, they resignedly adjusted back to their normal schedules, uninterrupted by snow days.
With the arrival of spring, Tullen hunted in the area frequently again, staying with Tavi’s family for two or three nights at a time. Tavi often hopped on his back so they could run through the forest, hunting or exploring. Occasionally on a weekend day, Sall and Narre came, and the four of them spent hours exploring and laughing. Those days were close to perfect.
Spring stepped aside gracefully, and Tavi welcomed the warmth of summer. Again, her birthday fell during the week-long midsummer break from school. Tullen, Sall, and Narre had planned a surprise party for her, complete with a decorated cake, and it was so delightful that Tavi barely thought about the fact that, at fourteen, her body still refused to welcome her to womanhood.
Summer was winding to a close, the afternoon heat letting up, when Tavi awoke one morning, visited the outhouse in the back yard, and immediately returned to the house to find Misty. Her sister listened to Tavi’s whispered words, and then Tavi had to cover Misty’s mouth to keep her from announcing the secret to the whole house.
Misty and Mey helped Tavi gather the supplies she needed and insisted on educating her with information that Tavi had known for years. Tavi then walked to Narre’s house to share the good news with her cousin, whose response was an enthusiastic, “Finally!”
After school, Tavi was walking home when she heard running footsteps behind her. It was Sall and Narre. “Ellea let us go half an hour early today,” Sall explained. When Tavi saw Narre’s conspiratorial smile, she knew her cousin must have followed through on the plan they’d formed at lunch. Narre had agreed to have a short conversation with Ellea, explaining Tavi’s situation and pleading with the midwife to end her training at the same time school ended so the friends could spend the whole afternoon together.
Tavi tried to sound surprised when she responded, “That’s great!” There was a pause that felt too long, and she said, “Tullen came in yesterday; we can go find him.”
At Tavi’s house, they took the snacks offered by Mey before heading into the trees. Tullen soon found and joined the trio. In unspoken agreement, they headed toward their favorite clearing. Narre and Tavi lingered behind the boys, and Narre leaned toward her friend and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
Tavi replied quietly, “I feel normal. Is that normal?”
Narre laughed softly. “I think so! It took me a few months to feel any pain, and mine is usually mild, anyway.”
Sall looked back at the girls with a questioning expression.
At the clearing, they sat in the grass and laid out the snacks Tavi’s mother had provided. As they ate, Sall turned to Tullen and spoke to him, too softly for the girls to understand.
“Is that so?” Tullen asked loudly.
Tavi and Narre immediately responded. “What are you saying?” “Is what so?”
Tullen laughed. “Sall was just telling me about all the whispering you girls have been doing today.”
Tavi’s eyes widened. Narre smiled and said, “Sometimes young women need to talk privately.” Tavi looked at her friend in warning, but Narre continued, “It has been a big day for Tavi, and I simply wanted to make sure she is handling it well.”
Tavi felt her face burn in embarrassment. Even her ears were on fire. But it wasn’t over.
“Did you finally start your cycle, Tavi?” Tu
llen asked.
Silence filled the clearing; it was as if even the birds were shocked.
Tavi felt her mouth drop open, and she turned to Narre in horror. She would literally die of mortification, right here in this beautiful clearing, and her gifts were not even going to awaken in time for her to enjoy them! When no one said anything, she covered her face with her hands, begging Sava to send a distraction like a bear or a lightning strike—straight onto Tullen or Narre.
“I can’t believe you said that!” Narre admonished Tullen.
All right, so Sava wasn't going to answer Tavi’s prayer. She peeked through her fingers at Narre’s wide eyes and at Sall’s face, which was just as bright red as her own. Tullen, on the other hand, was sitting casually, a look of mild confusion on his face.
“Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Tullen asked.
“This is so humiliating,” Tavi moaned, and then she realized she had said it out loud, which just increased her consternation.
Narre was ready to defend her cousin. “Tullen!” she admonished. “It is highly inappropriate for a boy to ask a girl about such things.”
Tullen’s voice was matter-of-fact as he replied, “It’s entirely appropriate in the Meadow. Sometimes I wonder what is wrong with the rest of Cormina!” Tavi took her hands off her face, and Tullen’s eyes shifted to her. “You’re really distressed, aren’t you, Tavi?” he asked, clearly dismayed.
She nodded, and Narre continued to speak for her. “Of course she is!”
Sall chimed in, “This is very awkward.” Tavi nodded again, in flustered agreement.
Tullen was still watching Tavi, and he looked upset—as he should, Tavi reflected. “I don’t quite understand what’s happening here, but please accept my apology,” Tullen said. Tavi nodded, and he took that as permission to keep talking. “As we have discussed, I have over fifty sisters. We all live close, and we don’t keep many secrets. When a Meadow girl starts her cycle, we celebrate! She is entering adulthood, or at least the first part of it. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
Narre’s eyes narrowed in thought. “That makes a lot of sense,” she said. “But it’s still odd and not entirely natural.”
Tavi nodded, and then her eyes met Sall’s. He was looking at her with such compassion, and—oh, no, his head was gently glowing. Tavi widened her eyes in disbelief, and he responded with a rueful smile. “Sometimes I still can’t help it,” Sall said. “Are you all right?”
Tavi knew he could sense every emotion she was feeling, but she still appreciated the question. “I’m all right,” she said. “Really.”
“Good,” Narre said. “Let’s eat already.” The tension was broken, and as they ate, their talk turned to mundane topics.
Tavi joined in the light conversation, broken by frequent laughter. She sighed happily, wishing she could trap her contentment in a jar, drinking from it whenever she wanted. Suddenly, she felt a familiar warmth all through her body. Tullen noticed first, winking and mouthing, “glow bug.” She smiled and basked in the peace of her gift.
Tavi sniffed. What was that odor? She thought it was the sweet, musty smell of plants decomposing on the forest floor, but perhaps it was the raisins in the bread Mey had sent with them . . . or the sap on the surrounding trees . . . or was it smoke from her family’s stove, way beyond the trees? Or was it all of those things? Yes, she thought it was.
The confusion of that conclusion—that her small nose was detecting all those odors at once—was suddenly overwhelmed by a dozen, a hundred, a thousand more sensations.
Tavi heard her mother and Misty talking about the dinner they were preparing. It sounded as if they were just around a bend in the trail, but she knew they were back home, half a mile away. Tavi’s breaths were coming more quickly, and she drew her knees up to her chest, but when her feet flattened on the dirt, she felt a vibration through her shoes, and she somehow knew it was the movement of water flowing deep underground.
Tavi looked in panic at her friends, and her eyes caught a strange distortion in the air around Narre’s head; she blinked and saw the same distortion around many areas of her friend’s body—her armpits, the insides of her elbows, and her feet. Tavi shook her head hard, and when she looked at Tullen and Sall, she saw the same phenomenon around them.
Tearing her eyes from her friends, Tavi looked at the basket they had used to carry their food, and with just a glance, her mind was full of diagrams of how the basket was made, the process of weaving every piece of straw in and out, up and down, to make an intricate pattern.
Tavi was too stunned and overwhelmed to cry or even speak. Every thought, every nerve, was full to bursting. She was overpowered by it all—the smells, multiplying by the moment; the sounds of her family talking—not just her mother and Misty now, but her siblings too; the vibration of water rushing deep under her feet; the sight of strange, twisting air around her friends; the diagrams in her mind of the woven basket and Narre’s shoe and the buttons on Tullen’s shirt.
A small part of her mind realized all conversation had stopped, and her friends were staring at her with concern. Tavi reached out to Narre and grabbed her cousin’s hand—but instead of the comfort of a friend’s grip, her palm filled with even more sensations. She could feel the blood running through Narre’s vessels, how it was pumping faster than perhaps was normal, but one finger was getting less circulation thanks to the tight ring on it.
Tavi let go of her friend, and she lay on the ground, on her side, curled into a ball. Her voice rose in a loud groan, a sound unlike any she had ever heard from herself.
In an instant, Tavi’s friends were kneeling next to her, and they were all talking. The first words Tavi could understand were Sall’s: “Take a deep breath, Tavi. A deep, slow breath.” Tavi realized she was crying, but she did her best to do as Sall instructed, and her panic lessened.
Next, Narre’s voice rose above the others. “You’re all right, Tavi. We’re here, and you’re all right. Look at us.” Tavi gazed at each of her friends, and she saw worry in their faces, but love too. Still she cried, but she kept her eyes on them.
Tullen’s words broke through. “Tavi.” His voice was close to her ear as he leaned in. “One at a time. Move every bit of focus to your hands. Only your hands, Tavi.”
Tavi continued to watch her friends, kept taking deep breaths, but she took her mind off everything but her hands, which she found were being held by Narre and Sall. She was aware of blood urgently pulsing through her friends, under their warm skin, and she converged every thought on that feeling.
With her focus shifted to her hands, Tavi’s mind no longer fixated on how the things around her were constructed. Gradually, the other sensations went away as well. Her feet had already lost most of their awareness of the water when she had lain on her side; now she could not feel it at all. The voices of her family faded to nothing. The smells dissipated, and the air around her friends appeared ordinary.
Tavi gazed at her hands; they were still alive with a golden glow, but her arms were normal, and the rest of her body had lost the telltale warmth of magic. Tavi found that she was now comforted by the sensation of blood rushing through her friends’ hands, a pulse of life and love. Her eyes again on her friends’ faces, she continued to breathe deeply. Finally, even her hands released their magic. Her body filled with peace, along with a deep weariness.
“Let’s help you up.” Tavi wasn’t sure which of her friends said it, but she allowed them to assist her into a seated position. Then they were all close to her, hands on her shoulders, her back, her head, quietly offering words of comfort.
When Tavi smiled, they all became silent, their faces full of relief and hope.
“I’m all right,” Tavi whispered.
Narre cupped her friend’s cheeks with her hands. “Tavi,” she said, “I think you’ve awakened.”
Chapter Thirteen
I love small towns. People take care of each other in a way I have rarely seen in large cities. I enjoy b
eing able to walk anywhere I need to go, and I love the proximity of quiet areas where I can enjoy nature.
But there is one thing I miss about living in a large city, and I will disclose it even at the risk of sounding shallow. I miss the shops.
-From Small-Town Cormina: A Midwife’s Reflections by Ellea Kariana
“Sella,” Ash asked, “What do you see?”
Sella closed her eyes a split second longer than usual, and when they reopened, they were lit with a gray glow. She shivered, and a wild grin filled her face. Ash shook his head. It had been months since Sella’s gray awakening, and he still couldn’t understand why she thrilled in the pain of it.
Sella looked across the street. A moment later, she turned to the young man next to her and whispered, “The guard is patrolling the lobby! Go now!”
The third person in their party, Aldin Stannel, did not even take time to nod. Crouching low, he dashed across the cobblestone street, his shadow long in the dim light of the gas streetlamp. Once he reached the bank building, he crept along the side of it. He placed one foot on the gray brick and froze in place.
Though Ash couldn’t hear it, he knew Aldin was taking quick breaths from his mouth, a whispered “huh-hoo” repeated five times. Ash glanced at Sella, who was glaring at Aldin.
“That kid has got to figure out a quicker way to activate his gift,” Sella said.
Then Aldin’s other foot was on the brick, and he was running straight up the wall, still crouched, a two-footed spider. In seconds, he reached the third floor and entered an open window.
“Report what you see,” Ash instructed Sella.
“He’s walking around the office.”
“I thought he was going to grab the item and leave,” Ash said.
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