Tavi quickly recounted her defiant response to her father, and her less-than-polite exit. “What do you think?” she asked.
What did he think? He thought her father was an unmitigated idiot who did not see his daughter’s strength of character and who was willing to trade Tavi’s love for the loyalty of a politician. He thought Tavi was strong, and once again he admired her instincts. He turned toward her and was faced with hunched shoulders and a bowed head.
Tullen waited until Tavi’s eyes rose to meet his. “I have a great many thoughts,” he said, and the anger had left his voice. “But the one you need to hear is this: If you are at all questioning your response, don’t. Your words and your actions were entirely appropriate.”
Tavi sighed, but her eyes didn’t leave his. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely certain.”
She smiled, just a bit. “Thanks,” she whispered.
They continued to talk, and Tullen even elicited a few laughs from Tavi. He hoped she was feeling lighter by the time Misty opened the door and told them everyone was going to bed. Tullen gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before they both stood and entered the house.
When Tavi went to bed that night, she was certain she had made the right choice. But in the coming weeks, she doubted herself again and again.
Her father didn’t rebuke her. He didn’t ignore her. Instead, he treated her as a casual acquaintance, and Tavi was convinced this was the worst option he could have chosen.
With studied politeness, Jevva greeted her each day with, “Good morning” and “Good evening.” At dinner, his comments to her were limited to, “Pass the bread, please. Thank you.” His eyes were cold, and if he cared for her at all, Tavi couldn’t detect it.
The day after the confrontation, Tavi told Misty about it, and together, they told their mother. Mey’s face filled with disappointment, but she did not reprimand her daughter. Tavi was encouraged by her mother’s promise to talk to her father, and she was certain Mey followed through, but nothing changed. Tavi did not involve her mother any further, but she often caught Mey watching her and Jevva with sad, weary eyes.
When she told the story to Sall and Narre, and they both offered to confront her father, Tavi laughed out loud. She was glad her friends were willing to defend her, but she again refused. If Jevva wouldn’t listen to his wife, he certainly wouldn’t listen to his daughter’s friends.
As autumn came to a close, Tavi adjusted—both to her resumed school schedule, and to the distance between her and her father. Each time she heard updates on the mayor’s campaign trips, she felt an undefined anxiety. Nearly every day, she repeated to herself the words she had heard from Tullen: “Your actions were entirely appropriate.”
But a cruel truth burrowed deep inside Tavi: Sometimes it felt terrible to do what was right.
Chapter Twenty-One
For the first time, my mother is training a midwife apprentice who is gifted with magic. My mother, of course, is the one who gave the girl her blessing breath eighteen years ago. I cannot tell you how excited we were a fortnight ago, when the girl breathed into an infant born facing upward, and the glow of magic entered the babe. What joy to know that when my mother is gone, her tradition will continue!
We dream of a day when every city and town has at least one magical midwife, someone who can spread Sava’s gifts to children. There are so few of us who are gifted, and the world will benefit if there are more.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 1
“Ouch!” Camalyn yelped as the carriage rolled over roads that grew rockier by the minute. The passengers inside were being tossed around like dice in a cup.
“Almost there,” Konner assured them.
Ash forced himself not to frown at Camalyn, who had complained the whole way. Instead he smiled and said, “It will be worth the wait.”
The five Grays were crammed into Konner’s carriage, which, while luxurious, was not suited to so many passengers, nor to rural roads. They had been traveling for an hour, being thrown into one another and shivering from cold.
Konner was true to his word; after five more minutes of jostling, the carriage turned onto a long drive with minimal rocks and ruts. Camalyn wasn’t the only one to breathe a sigh of relief as the ride became relatively smooth.
After a few turns of the road, a rambling, one-story farmhouse came into view. Past it were a large barn, a stable, and other outbuildings. None of it was new, but it boasted a fresh coat of paint, and the grounds were well kept. Ash couldn’t hold back a proud smile when he saw it.
The driver brought the carriage to a stop in front of the house before opening the door and assisting the occupants out of the vehicle.
Sella looked around, her face unimpressed. “What is this place?”
Konner smiled. “It’s our new headquarters.” He turned to Ash. “Show them the inside.”
Ash faced the small group and gestured to the house with a flourish. “I will be your guide today,” he said with a broad smile. “I think you’ll like your new home.”
And he was right—they were impressed. Even Sella couldn’t hide her admiration as Ash led them through the house, pointing out its features in every room. The early winter chill wasn’t present inside; instead, hot air blew through vents, warming their chilled hands and red noses. Everything was new, from the glossy wooden floors to each room’s hanging lamps, which boasted cut-glass chimneys and used a new fuel called paraffin. There were hot and cold water taps in two bathrooms, in addition to flushing toilets and large tubs. Off the kitchen were servants’ quarters. Only at the most spacious bedroom did Ash’s narrative falter. He couldn’t see a place like this without imagining how much Riami would have loved to share it with him.
Inside the kitchen, one of Konner’s servants was cooking something that smelled delicious. When Ash finished explaining the modern design of the stove, Aldin commented, “You know a lot about this place.”
“That’s because for the last three months, I have been overseeing its renovation.”
Multiple questions were thrown at him at once. “This was all done in three months?” “What about your job at the healing house?”
Ash held up his hands to quiet the team. “Yes, three months.” He grinned at Konner. “It’s amazing how quickly things can happen with a nearly unlimited budget. As for my job at the healing house—”
Konner interrupted. “Let’s go to the sitting room, and we’ll talk about that.”
They made their way to comfortable seating in the front room. Only Konner remained standing. “I hope you feel at home here,” he began. Ash was pleased to see some measure of agreement on each of the surrounding faces.
Konner continued, “My home has been an adequate base of operations. However, it is very public, and questions are arising regarding my long-term guests.” Ash and the others had claimed to be Konner’s relatives. He didn’t seem to regularly welcome houseguests of any kind, so it wasn’t surprising to hear that people were questioning this.
“I knew we needed a different headquarters,” Konner said. “Several months ago, I began searching for a place that was spacious, private, and close to town. When I found this old farm, I snatched it up.
“Around the same time, Ash approached me with his own concerns. His contact at the healing house had begun doubting his motives and questioning why he was unwilling to provide end-of-life relief to patients who were not gifted.
“We could not continue to grow our group through the avenue we had established. We stopped adding additional members. Ash resigned from the healing house and began work on the project here.”
“So our group won't grow larger than it is now?” Sella asked, her candid tone making her misgivings clear.
Konner held up a finger. “I didn’t say that. I have a plan. But first, let’s make our way to the barn. I would like you to see what we have arranged there.”
Even Ash didn’t know the answer to Sella’s question, and it was just one more examp
le of Konner’s unwillingness to trust him. He attempted to keep his expression neutral, but he felt a familiar, growing anger. Ash had facilitated murder (even if they appeased themselves by calling it “mercy killing”) to grow this group—not to mention the sacrifice he himself had made in discovering gray magic. What else could he do to prove his loyalty? With a shake of the head, he followed the rest of the group through the kitchen and out the back door.
They hurried to the barn, shivering in the early winter wind. Konner stopped at the doors. “Ash,” he said, “would you like to do the honors?”
Ash couldn’t repress an excited smile as he slid open the barn doors and entered the space, where hanging lanterns were already lit. As the rest of the Grays entered, there were gratifying gasps of approval. It did not look like a barn. The floors were polished wood, just as in the house, and the room contained comfortable, quality furniture, scattered throughout. There was even a small kitchen area with a dining table.
“This is our training space,” Ash pronounced. He gestured to the far wall of the barn. It was covered in narrow panels, installed side-by-side, each covered in a different material—brick, stone, wallpaper, wood, tapestry, logs, and drapery. “Aldin, you can practice your wall-walking there.” Ash laughed at Aldin’s hoot of glee. The young man ran across the space, took a moment to activate his gift, and sprinted up the log panel.
“Camalyn,” Ash continued, “you now have a Corner Rostrum where you may develop and rehearse your speeches.” Camalyn walked to a corner near the door, where a simple wooden platform was set up. Off to the side sat a heavy streetlamp, a yellow glass globe surrounding its gas light.
For weeks, Camalyn had been giving speeches at Corner Rostrums just like this one. During election season, any candidate could speak to the public from such a platform, marked by a yellow streetlamp. The candidate was guaranteed not to be interrupted by authorities. (Some candidates received plenty of rude interruptions from crowds, but Camalyn never had that problem.)
Camalyn stood on the platform with a wide smile. “It’s just like the real thing!” she gushed. “Except the lamp is too short.”
Ash laughed. “Nothing but the best for our next councillor—and this lamp is short enough for you to light without a ladder.”
Turning to Sella, Ash said, “Come with me.” He led her to a table on which sat boxes, cartons, jars, pots, and bags. They were made of various materials: wood, porcelain, leather, metal, and more. Taking the lid off an aluminum box, Ash showed Sella the empty interior. “Ask someone else to put an object in one of these,” he said, “and you can hone your sight magic skills. One container can even be put inside of, or in front of, another, allowing you to practice looking through multiple materials.”
“You forget I can’t see through metal,” Sella said.
Ash raised his eyebrow. “I didn’t forget. I thought you might like to keep trying.”
Sella shrugged, but Ash thought he could see determination in the set of her mouth.
Konner’s voice rang through the large space. “Come to the center of the room, please.”
The four practitioners of gray magic all gathered in front of the banker, who was standing in an open floor space in the middle of the room. “Ash did an excellent job with this space; would you concur?” Konner asked. There were murmurs of agreement, and Ash accepted the praise with a wide smile.
“In this training arena, you will continue to develop your skills in gray magic,” Konner said. “My most important requirement is this: Be creative. This is not midwife magic school.” There were quiet chuckles; all the Grays had been through at least some of the traditional, tedious training. “You can use your gifts in any ways you wish, as long as you don’t cause serious harm to one another,” Konner continued. “Compete. Challenge one another for power and prestige. Connect with the warrior of old who dwells within you.”
Konner smiled. “One more thing. I will teach you to fight. Would anyone like to assist me in a brief demonstration?”
Ash took an unconscious step back; he had no desire to repeat his first encounter with Konner. He could still feel that brick wall scouring his face. Aldin, however, stepped forward with a naïve grin. He was several inches taller than Konner and brimmed with confidence.
“Hit me,” Konner said. Aldin raised his eyebrows and moved his hand as if to slap the banker. Konner batted the hand away. “With a fist!” he insisted.
Aldin swung his fist hard, and a moment later, he was on the floor. Ash wasn’t even sure what had happened; Konner had somehow grabbed Aldin’s arm and flipped him as if he weighed nothing. After a brief pause, Sella applauded, and she was joined by Ash, Camalyn, and, from the floor, Aldin.
Konner reached out a hand and helped Aldin stand. In a rare moment of informality, the banker rubbed his hands together and said, “That was fun.” He then schooled his face into a serious expression and looked in the eyes of each of the four practitioners of gray magic.
“I doubt you comprehend how difficult the journey ahead will be,” he said in a low voice. “Ash will be king, and alongside him, we will lead the world to a place of strength again. But that will not happen without our willingness to fight. We will assault the assumptions of our foolish culture. We will combat traditional magic. And, when necessary, we will physically battle those who try to stop us. This room is where we will train and fight and learn. This room is where we will prepare.”
Ash was the first to speak when Konner closed his mouth. “We need more people.”
With a firm nod, Konner agreed, “The five of us are the foundation, but the Grays must grow larger. We will do so once spring arrives. We will travel to other cities and towns, for if our influence is to extend beyond Savala, our members must come from beyond Savala.
“One of your primary goals in the coming months is to become skilled in the art of persuasion. We will take turns traveling in pairs, and we will seek strong, gifted individuals who already see that our world is broken. In other words, you will find people like yourselves. You will show them a better way, and they will join us. We will become broader, deeper, and stronger as we grow.”
Konner stopped talking but made eye contact with each person in the room. Ash saw the others leaning in, waiting to hear what the banker would say. “Ash will tell you the story of a very strong girl,” Konner said. “This girl may have greater powers than we have yet seen. She could be a myth, but we hope she is not. When you travel, you will seek information on her.
He paused before speaking again. “In the meantime, we will continue to work to ensure that Camalyn is elected. She will influence Cormina from the top.” He smiled. “The veiled councillor will rip the veils off her colleagues. She will expose the deceit and manipulation rooted deeply in that august legislative body. That will set the stage for a new leader—a new king—to arise.”
The air felt full with solemnity and possibility until Aldin turned to Ash and said in a whisper loud enough for everyone to overhear, “I’m going to spend your entire coronation dancing upside-down on the ceiling.” He broke into uncontrollable laughter. Ash didn’t want to join him, but ultimately he couldn’t hold back, and he guffawed along with the young wall-walker.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Before my gift awakened, I hoped to develop the ability to heal. I think many touch-blessed children harbor this desire; we want to follow in Savala’s footsteps.
Instead, I was given the gift of spreading peace through my hands. Each time I use my magic to comfort a laboring mother, I thank Sava for giving me this gift. I would have it no other way.
-From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana
Tavi, Sall, and Narre sat in their favorite clearing under the winter sun. It was a little cold for a picnic, but they wanted to enjoy the outdoors while they could. The first snow of winter would normally have come by this time, and it would surely not delay much longer. Huddled close together on a blanket, the friends ate bread with jam and discussed that afternoon’s trainin
g.
Sall’s exposition of a particular magical theory was interrupted by a voice calling through the trees, “Hello-o-o!”
“Didn’t Tullen just go home last night?” Narre asked.
“Yes,” Tavi confirmed, as confused as her cousin. But sure enough, Tullen made his way through the trees and entered the clearing. “What are you doing back so soon?” Tavi asked.
“Well, I’m happy to turn around and run back home if you’d prefer,” Tullen replied.
Tavi laughed. “You know that’s not what I meant!”
Tullen leaned his bow against a tree. As he took multiple packs off his shoulders and back, he said, “I have a confession to make. I’ve been keeping a secret from all of you.”
“What is it?” Narre asked.
“I’ve been trying to work out the details with the Meadow elders and my parents, and also with Tavi’s mother,” Tullen said. “It’s now official.”
He stopped talking, crossing his arms with a challenging grin. It only took a few seconds for Narre to blurt, “Tell us, you big oaf!”
Tullen’s grin grew even wider. “I’m staying here,” he said, “for the whole winter.”
Tavi’s mouth dropped open, and she leapt up to wrap her arms around Tullen’s neck. He barely uncrossed his own arms in time to catch her around the waist, and with a laugh, he swung her in a circle before placing her feet back on the ground.
Tavi was laughing too. “That’s the best news you could have brought us!” she exclaimed. “How did you manage it? I want to hear everything!”
“I’d better have a seat, then!” Tullen found a spot on the blanket, and Tavi contained her excitement and followed suit.
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