Tavi’s gifts settled in her feet. In addition to the underground stream, she sensed the lesser vibration of a swarm of organisms moving purposefully below her. Ants.
With all the other sensations gone, Tavi relished what she was experiencing through her feet. She observed a setting and society underground that was just as real as her world above. Tavi smiled in awe, and drawing on some deep instinct, she sent a message to her magic: More.
At once she felt another vibration, stronger than the water and ants, like the floor itself was moving. Tavi tried to sense what this new feeling was, but a sound broke into her consciousness: screams. Tavi opened her eyes to see a room full of panicked students, and she realized in horror that the floor was moving, undulating like waves, the wood already splintering in places.
Pictures fell off the wall and desks hopped and danced, their contents spilling onto the living, rolling floor. The window glass cracked, and with a great crash, the slate blackboard fell, narrowly missing the teacher’s feet.
Narre grabbed Tavi’s shoulders and cried, “Is this you?” Tavi was confused, frozen, but after several seconds the words were absorbed into her mind and she knew the answer. She could feel her magic being sent into the building and the ground beneath. She nodded.
“Lift your feet!” Narre shouted. “Lift your feet!” Tavi tried, but it was as if she had grown roots; her feet refused to be moved. Then Sall was there, bending down, grabbing Tavi’s ankles, and pulling. His action was ineffective; Tavi’s feet were still on the floor, seemingly attached there, and now the wall was cracking loudly. The building would come down soon, Tavi was certain. Her eyes filled with tears as she and Sall both pulled with all their might.
Then Narre’s eyes widened, and she raised her hands in front of her face. In an instant, they filled with an almost blinding light. “Move!” Narre cried, shoving Sall away. Her gifted hands grabbed her cousin’s ankles, and her magic broke Tavi’s connection to the ground. Tavi’s feet left the floor so quickly that Narre fell backward, sliding on wooden planks that were suddenly still.
Tavi’s gift released all at once as soon as Narre’s glowing hands gripped her feet. To Tavi it felt percussive, shocking, as if a clay jar of her magic had exploded, dispersing all its contents in an instant.
With the room still, the students’ screams transformed into panicked questions and relieved sobs. Miss Maybin took control of the class, guiding everyone toward the door. Her eyes locked on her newly awakened pupil. “You stay here,” she commanded. When Narre and Sall tried to remain with Tavi, Miss Maybin refused, ushering them out of the classroom with everyone else.
Tavi listened to the footsteps of her classmates and other students, rushing through the halls toward the exits. Sitting at her desk, she felt she should cry, but she couldn’t. The damaged classroom filled her with horror, but even more, she felt terror at her own power and her lack of control over it. And underneath it all, she was aware of her position in the room—utterly alone.
After ten minutes, the door behind Tavi opened, and she looked back to see Miss Maybin entering, followed by the headmaster, Mr. Comani. He stopped just inside the room as if he feared coming closer. “Come, Tavi,” he said, his voice level. “We will take you home.”
The walk was silent, and when they arrived at her house, Tavi went straight to her room, ignoring her mother’s questions. With the door to her bedroom closed, Tavi lay on her bed and waited. She shut her eyes, breathing deeply as Nydine had taught her to do, but instead of picturing herself on a quiet forest path or walking through the ocean’s surf, Tavi relived those two terrible minutes over and over. It was a harrowing meditation, resulting in a growing knot of distress in her gut.
When her mother entered her room, Tavi was not in the least surprised to hear she would not be returning to school until it was deemed safe for her to do so. Mey tried to engage her in conversation, and then Misty attempted the same. Tavi simply lay on her side, facing the wall, giving one-word responses. “Fine.” “Yes.” “No.” “Tomorrow.” “Goodbye.” At last they left her alone, and Tavi slept.
Chapter Sixteen
I treasure the letter you sent, but I must correct the words therein! You claim that I desired to leave. My dear, leaving you was the antithesis of my desire. I simply followed Sava’s path. Obedience must be allowed to subdue desire.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 1
“Little bird ri-i-ise, Open your ey-ey-eyes. Little bird ri-i-ise, Open your ey-ey-eyes.”
Tavi groaned. She flipped face down on her bed and put her pillow on top of her head, using her arms to press it against her ears. Still the words continued, louder now.
“Little bird ri-i-ise, Open your ey-ey-eyes.” It was Tullen, and he was enthusiastically singing, but she couldn’t tell what the tune was supposed to be. His singing voice was appalling.
“Stop,” she groaned.
Tullen continued, and now he was accompanying himself with loud clapping. Clapping! “Little bird ri-i-ise, Open your ey-ey-eyes.”
After a few more rounds of the asinine chorus, Tavi threw her pillow toward the door where Tullen stood. But because she was laying on her belly, her aim was terrible, and the pillow landed on Ista’s empty bed. Tavi opened her eyes and squinted angrily against the bright sun streaming through the window.
The poorly thrown pillow didn’t deter Tullen; he was even more cheerful. “Little bird RI-I-ISE,” he sang, bellowing the last word for emphasis. “Open your ey-ey-eyes.”
Tavi pushed herself up, placed both feet on the floor, and stood. As soon as she was upright, Tullen cut his song short in the middle of a phrase. He was grinning, and Tavi responded with the biggest frown she could manage.
“My mother has always sung that song to wake me,” he explained.
“I’m sorry your mother is so awful.”
Still smiling, Tullen replied, “She’s not awful.”
Tavi glared. “I’m sorry she raised you to be awful too.”
“Get dressed. We’re headed to the forest.”
“No, we’re not,” Tavi replied.
“Your mother said you can weed the garden all morning or train with me in the forest,” Tullen turned to leave, and called over his shoulder, “So get dressed.” He closed the door.
What did Tullen mean by “train with me”? Certainly Ellea wouldn’t approve—but Ellea wasn’t there. She didn’t need to know. If Tavi’s parents had agreed, surely it would be fine.
Tavi yanked off her nightgown, then found the oldest, ugliest dress she owned and pulled it on. In a few minutes she was ready, her shoes on and her unbrushed hair tied into a messy knot at the back of her head.
“Nice dress,” Tullen said when Tavi entered the kitchen.
She looked down, feeling a little self-conscious. The faded dress didn’t quite fit anymore, now that she had a few curves. She stuck her tongue out at Tullen. “I want breakfast,” she said.
He held up a basket, infuriatingly cheerful grin still in place. “Picnic breakfast today. Let’s go.”
Tavi released a dramatic sigh but didn’t bother arguing. Following Tullen out the back door, she asked, “Where are my mother and Misty?”
“They left early.” Tullen paused and glanced toward Tavi. “They’re helping repair the school. Your father too.”
“Oh.” Tavi felt the knot in her gut returning.
The two of them didn’t say a word as they walked through the forest, stopping at their favorite clearing. Tullen laid out a small tablecloth and placed the food on top—sausage, cheese, and cold biscuits. He opened a small bottle of milk, took a drink, and handed it to Tavi. She drank too. It wasn’t as cold as she preferred, but it was fresh and filling.
“Tell me about yesterday,” Tullen said.
Tavi sighed. She knew Tullen wouldn’t rest until she gave him the details, so she told him everything she could remember. Her voice was steady and calm. When she finished, she raised her eyes to Tullen, prepared to see the same
horror in him she felt toward herself. Instead, he was studying her, hands folded, his face full of compassion.
“That must have been terrifying for you,” he said.
And that’s what did it; the tears she hadn’t shed the day before formed all at once. They streamed down her cheeks, accompanied by sobs she didn’t even try to stifle. Tullen reached out a hand and placed it, warm and firm, on her knee. Tavi’s own hands were on her face, catching her tears and covering her grief. She cried for a long time, but eventually her breathing slowed; her puffy eyes stopped producing tears; and she pulled her hands away from her face.
“All right, then?” Tullen asked softly. Tavi nodded, and he pulled his hand away. “I’m sorry,” he said. At another nod from her, he continued, “Since you have some extra time on your hands, I’ve offered my services as your trainer, and your parents have graciously accepted.”
“What do you mean, my trainer?” Tavi asked.
“On the days I’m here, I will help you learn to use and control your gifts.”
“Don’t you need to hunt?”
“Done,” Tullen replied. “While you were still snoozing. Three fat rabbits.”
Tavi continued to protest. “But I already go to training!”
With a skeptical look, Tullen asked, “How effective have the midwives’ lessons been, really?”
“Well, I’ve only been going for a week!” Tavi retorted. “You didn’t get any training in the Meadow; how are you supposed to help me?”
Tullen snapped, “Tavi, I’ve had plenty of training; it’s just not done in strict classes like yours!” He paused, then continued with a more controlled tone. “We do things differently, and you must admit our Meadow ways have worked well for me. Maybe they’ll work for you too.”
She sighed. “I suppose it’s worth a shot.”
His good humor returned. “Excellent! While we clean up this food, why don’t you tell me what you learned with the midwives last week?”
Tavi complied, explaining the routine of lectures, practicum sessions, and meditation.
Tullen put out a hand and stopped her. “Wait,” he said, “you spend three hours a week learning to relax?” When she nodded, Tullen asked in disbelief, “Why?”
“Ellea and Nydine both say relaxation is the key to controlling magic,” Tavi explained.
Tullen shook his head in frustration. “I agree that it is the key for some individuals. But what about the many others whose magic doesn’t work that way? I’ve seen people discover many other keys to their magic. One person might need to feel connected to a greater purpose; another must be mentally alert. I know one person who can only activate his magic if he consistently exercises. What about those people?”
“Well . . . I don’t know,” Tavi admitted. “I suppose students can discover those types of things during practicum sessions.”
“Or,” Tullen said, “they may not discover those things at all, and they may end up causing an earthquake at their school.” He looked at her pointedly, but with a small smile.
Tavi raised an eyebrow at him. He was treading on sensitive ground. He was right though. “Fair enough,” she said. She stood and picked up the basket. “Teach me, oh great master of Meadow magic.”
Tullen stood. “Master of Meadow Magic. I rather like that title. You should use it all the time.”
With a sidelong glance, Tavi retorted, “Don’t push your luck. What are we doing first?”
“First, we’re—” Tullen stopped abruptly. His face took on a look of terror as he pointed over Tavi’s shoulder and let out a full-throated scream.
Tavi gasped, turning to look behind her, but she saw nothing out of place. Tullen continued to scream while Tavi shouted, “What? What? What?” She was nearly as afraid as she had been the day before, her heart pounding and her head and hands tingling.
Tullen’s screams stopped. He looked at Tavi. “Anything?” he asked.
She stared at him in confusion, her chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths.
“No magic?” Tullen asked. When Tavi didn’t respond, he explained, “I screamed to frighten you. Some people find that fear is an excellent magical stimulus. Apparently it’s not for you.”
Tavi’s face screwed up in disbelief, and she reached up and pushed Tullen in the chest. When he responded with an amused smile, she continued to push him. Tullen chuckled, stumbling backward, and he caught Tavi’s wrists to prevent her from forcing him into a tree.
Now Tullen was laughing hard as Tavi tried to pull her hands away from his. Between laughs, he protested, “Stop! Tavi, you can’t attack your trainer.”
“I won’t push you, just let go of me!” Tavi insisted. Tullen complied, and she responded with one more light push before she snatched her hands away. “Stop laughing!” Tavi said.
Tullen calmed himself but was still smiling when he said, “I’m sorry you were unprepared for that, but don’t you see that was the only way to terrify you?”
“You’re lucky my heart didn’t stop!”
“I’m so relieved,” Tullen said, laughing again. “Let’s get started. Our first goal, as you may have guessed, is to find a consistent way for you to activate your gifts. Today will be full of experiments. We’ve already crossed both ‘utter terror’ and ‘righteous anger’ off the list of possible stimuli, so we’ve gotten a good start! Let’s sit so you can calm down before we continue.”
They sat, and Tullen asked, “What happened immediately before your magic awakened, and before it activated yesterday?”
“I don’t know,” Tavi said. “Both times I was just sitting there, and it happened.”
“What were you thinking of?”
Tavi shook her head. “I don’t know. If I’d known that was important, I would have paid attention—but I honestly don’t know.”
“Don’t worry,” Tullen replied. “We’ll track it down.”
After a couple of minutes of rest, Tullen stood and held out his hand. “We’re going to run,” he said, helping her up. When she moved as if to get on his back, he chuckled. “No, you’re going to actually run, using your own two feet. I’d like to see if exercise will help stimulate your gifts.”
Running didn’t work, but they continued to experiment. They tried whatever they could think of, determined to find a way for Tavi to activate her gifts. They sang a song together—and then Tavi sang alone, since she couldn’t stop from laughing when Tullen tried to carry a tune. Next, Tavi held her breath until she was desperate for air. She walked barefoot along the forest floor and through a stream. She climbed a tree. They counted leaves, voices joining in rhythmic numbering. In a clearing, they lay on the grass, and Tavi told stories about the shapes she saw in the clouds. They even did some of the exercises from Tavi’s meditation class, hoping she might more effectively relax when she was with only one other person.
Nothing worked. Tavi’s magic still slept. She groaned in frustration. “I’m hungry,” she said. “It must be nearly noon; let’s go eat lunch. Misty pickled some cucumbers, and I could make a whole meal of them. They’re perfectly salty and sour, and—oh!”
Tullen, who was examining a piece of antlerfruit and fumbling for his knife, turned around. He grinned when he saw the glow around Tavi. “Good,” he said. “We're doing this differently this time. Breathe deeply now, and take my hands.”
Tavi complied, taking deep breaths and grasping Tullen’s outstretched hands. She was tense but did not feel the outright panic she’d experienced at her awakening.
“Tell me what you are experiencing, Tavi,” Tullen said. “Start at the top—your mind gift.”
“The fabric of your shirt,” she said, her voice strained. “I see exactly how it was woven. I can picture it on the loom, the pattern of horizontal threads weaving through the vertical ones. I could reproduce it though I have never made fabric.”
Nodding, Tullen said, “Your eyes; what do they see?”
“I see the heat around you, under your arms and escaping from under
your hat.” She looked down. “And coming from our hands too.”
“Any heat besides body heat?” Tullen asked. “Look around the forest.”
Tavi looked, and her eyes widened in surprise. “There!” she said, pulling away one of her hands to point. “Where the sun is coming through the trees and shining on that rock. I see heat there too.” She gave her hand back to Tullen.
“Your ears,” he said.
“It’s our neighbor,” Tavi replied. “She is explaining to her husband her ideas for reorganizing the plants in their garden. She’s very excited, and it’s very boring.” Tavi gave a little laugh. “What about your ears, Tullen? I want to hear about your awakening. What did you hear first?
“I heard my friends’ voices first,” Tullen said. “I thought they were close but—No, Tavi! Tell me what you’re sensing. Your nose.”
“I want to know what it was like for you,” Tavi insisted.
“I was running,” Tullen replied, “and I didn’t even know how fast I was going. I looked—” He stopped and shook his head hard. “No. Later. Tell me what you’re smelling.”
Tavi sighed. “Loam,” she said. “Scat. Leftover sausage from breakfast. Leaves. Sap. And . . .” She hesitated.
“And?” Tullen prompted.
“You and me,” Tavi said. “We were running, and we both smell terrible.”
Tullen laughed. “I’m not surprised,” he said. “Let’s keep going. You’re doing so well, Tavi. You’re keeping it under control. Tell me about your mouth.”
“I still don’t know,” Tavi said. “I can feel the magic there, but I can’t tell what it does.”
“That’s all right,” Tullen replied. “What about your hands?”
“Your blood is pumping,” Tavi said. “It’s slower than it was when this started.”
“Excellent. Your feet.”
“There isn’t any running water beneath us,” Tavi said. “But I sense ants again. It’s beautiful. They move as if they are one animal, but there are thousands of them. They’re like a great army marching in formation.”
Facing the Sun Page 12
