Now as he trained, led, and inspired these four Grays, he rarely thought about the gifting of which he had been robbed. Perhaps magic had never been his calling. Despite the impressive gifts of the Grays, Konner knew that with his strategic mind and ability to influence, he was more powerful than all of them. They knew it too; he saw it in their respectful gazes and heard it in their submissive words.
They entered the carriage and began the long drive toward Savala. Konner hoped that tonight they would rejoice that Camalyn had been elected to the Cormina Council. However, if the election did not go their way, he would switch to another strategy. As long as he was at the helm, they would succeed.
“I’m taking this off,” Aldin said, unwinding the heavy scarf.
“Keep it on,” Konner instructed firmly. “You need to be used to wearing it, so it looks natural.” Aldin replaced the scarf.
Camalyn’s eyes above her veil were amused. “All these months of dressing up and going to the temple have been worth it, just to see the rest of you looking like insane ascetics,” she said.
Konner’s eyebrows lifted again. “Let’s hope you have more reason than that to find it worthwhile.”
When they at last arrived in Savala, Konner’s driver parked in an alley. All but Camalyn stood to exit. Camalyn pulled her scarf off her mouth, grinned, and blew the others a kiss. Sella, Aldin, Konner, and Ash left the carriage and made their way to the street. They walked about a block, then stood on a corner having a quiet conversation.
Five minutes later, Camalyn strode toward them, hands clasped demurely in front of her, eyes watching the street at her feet. After a moment of consultation with one another, the rest of the Grays approached her. She stopped and acknowledged them with humble nods before continuing to walk—followed now by four disciples.
As Konner had hoped, their group caught the attention of other Karites who were scattered throughout the crowd. A good number of them rushed to join the procession once they realized who was leading it.
Konner tried to keep his smile from reaching his eyes as he walked among the black-robed faithful. Since Camalyn had begun campaigning, the number of Karites in the city had grown exponentially. Even the oversized robe could not completely hide her shapely figure. She was easily recognized and readily followed.
Camalyn’s message to the people of Savala was simple. She bemoaned the lack of true religious commitment in Cormina and invited others to join the Karites, who promised to help them know Sava in a deeper way than they ever had. In order to know Sava deeply, converts were asked to commit to a stringent set of Karite rules. As Konner had predicted, most of the new followers had embraced these standards, hopeful that Sava would hold up his end of the deal and bless their lives with deeper meaning.
Religious converts were easily turned into voters—hopefully enough of them. The fickle new followers would eventually find Camalyn’s platitudes stale, and at that time she would adjust her message as necessary.
The walk to the Karite temple was half a mile long, and by the time Camalyn had reached it, forty people were following her. That didn’t surprise Konner.
What astonished him was the great crowd waiting outside the temple. There were at least four hundred people there, many of them in dark-black Karite robes. Seasoned Karites usually wore robes that had faded to gray. Oft-worn, oft-washed robes were the closest thing to a sign of prestige among Karites. The dark robes all around were a visual reminder of how many had recently converted.
Camalyn looked behind her, and her eyes found Konner’s. She bowed her head to him, but he saw a sparkle in those eyes. She had resisted this plan at first, but now she reveled in the influence she had built.
A young girl, perhaps six years old, approached Camalyn. “Will you talk to us, Cam’lyn?” she asked.
Camalyn shook her head. “I am humbled and honored that you would ask,” she said. “However, I prefer to wait quietly for the election results, as everyone else is doing.”
But a woman standing nearby encouraged Camalyn to speak. The man next to her concurred, and others in the immediate vicinity begged Camalyn to talk to the crowd. Konner wondered if the little girl had somehow been placed there by his speech-blessed young candidate. Or did the people love Camalyn that much?
Soon a group physically ushered Camalyn up the steps of the temple. When she arrived on the top step and faced the people, they quieted. Camalyn made eye contact with individuals throughout the crowd. Konner knew she was likely pressing her lips together, summoning her gray magic.
Several older Karites stood at the edges of the crowd, and as Camalyn prepared to speak, Konner watched them. Above their veils, their eyes looked skeptical and angry, brows knit together. Their arms were crossed, and they stood apart from many of the new believers. Camalyn had told the Grays about these temple elders. Many of them were resisting her dynamic message. They were uncomfortable with how quickly their temple attendance was growing, and they did not trust the new converts’ true commitment. However, it was impossible for them to publicly come against someone who was spreading the Karite message more effectively than anyone had in generations.
After at least a minute of looking at the crowd, Camalyn spoke. “Friends,” she began, “I am unworthy of so very much. Unworthy of life itself. Unworthy of the favor of Sava. Unworthy of a position on the Cormina Council. And unworthy of speaking to you.”
As the message of tedious humility continued, Konner’s eyes remained on the Karite elders. At Camalyn’s first phrase, their dispositions changed. Crossed arms dropped, foreheads smoothed, and every eye was on the young woman speaking on the steps. Some of the elders even moved forward. They not only listened; they loved what they heard. Would they question it later? Undoubtedly. But for now, they were in her thrall.
Konner had practiced resisting Camalyn’s gifted speech, and his knowledge of her magic also made it easier not to fall under her sway. Even so, he was nearly drawn in along with the rest of the crowd. And to think her gift had been wasted on ridiculous shopping expeditions before this!
Camalyn began to speak of the Karite robes and veils. “Why must we look different?” she asked. “Because we are set apart! We are the true followers of Sava and the true disciples of Kari. Many of you are new to the Karite faith. I know you are being asked by friends and loved ones, ‘Why will you not join us in drinking sweet wine? Why will you not celebrate our holidays? Why will you not wear our clothing and our cosmetics?’
“Your answer is simple. ‘I do not need these shallow pleasures. I have found a much higher joy, the joy of worshiping Sava through his servant Kari.’ And then you may say to your loved ones, ‘Join me. Join me in living a true life. A life of wholeness, unencumbered by the self-indulgence that strips away true contentment.’ ”
Camalyn’s attention was arrested by something in the crowd to her right, and Konner stood on his toes, struggling to see what it was. After several seconds, a man approached the steps, holding a paper which was folded and sealed with a large daub of red wax. Camalyn gestured for him to come up the steps, and he complied. They held a brief, whispered conversation, at the end of which Camalyn held her hands high in the air.
“My fellow pilgrims on this journey of truth,” Camalyn said, her voice filled with soft joy, “I am pleased to introduce you to Mr. Denno, who is a clerk with the Cormina Election Commission.” A murmur of excitement arose, but when Camalyn held her hands up to the crowd, they became silent.
Camalyn spoke again, “As you may have guessed, Mr. Denno has brought us the election results. However, I have news which is far more important and which brings me great joy. Mr. Denno has been standing at the back of this crowd, listening—and he wishes to become a Karite himself! Blessed be the First Midwife!”
“Blessed be the First Midwife!” the crowd cried.
“Mr. Denno, our friend Junati will speak with you about the Karite faith,” Camalyn said. A tall elder stepped forward. He beckoned to the election clerk, who gave the paper t
o Camalyn and made his way down the steps. Camalyn continued, “And I would like to ask Retta if she will honor all of us by reading the election results.” Retta, the oldest elder, climbed the stairs with Camalyn’s help.
Konner smiled. By involving the elders in such prominent ways, Camalyn was keeping them on her side for the time being. She had more strategic ability than he had realized.
Retta reached the top step, and Camalyn handed the sealed paper to the fragile, old woman. The crowd was as silent as a large group could be. As Retta broke open the seal, Konner realized he was holding his hands in tight fists. He released them, his fingernails leaving irritated imprints on his palms. Although Konner had told himself this election wasn’t crucial, he knew how much they had invested in it. He hoped it had been enough.
Retta’s voice was high-pitched and shaky, but traveled well across the quiet crowd. “Final Results in the Election for Savala’s Three Cormina Councillor Places,” she read at a painfully slow speed. “Councillor positions will be given to the three residents of Savala District who received the highest number of votes. First, Aron Stimmit.” This was no surprise; Stimmit had won every council election for over two decades.
“Second,” Retta said, “Barria Yanno.” Yanno was the one who had taken the seat Konner had wanted; she was weak but just uncontroversial enough to keep her office.
Perhaps Retta had learned to manipulate crowds in her many years speaking to fellow Karites, for she paused an obscenely long time before reading the third winner’s name. Six more candidates were considered to be in the running, and Camalyn had announced her candidacy later than the other five. In addition, all of the others were sun-blessed. Konner knew how important that was to the citizenry, and they did not know of Camalyn’s gift. Had her platform of religious reform, shared through magical speech, been enough? Konner exchanged brief glances with Ash, Aldin, and Sella. They appeared as tense as he felt.
At last Retta took a trembling breath and announced, “Third, Camalyn Hunt.”
The crowd was quiet. This was the strangest election result announcement Konner had ever heard. The Karites, not given to exuberant displays of approval, did not seem to know how to respond to the good news.
But Ash, Sava bless him, was committed to the role he was playing. He called in a loud voice, “Blessed be the First Midwife!”
A sense of relief and excitement filled the crowd. As one, they repeated the words. “Blessed be the First Midwife!”
On the stage, Camalyn’s hands were held out toward the people, and her head was bowed low, the picture of a humble servant.
Konner would have been willing to bet she was hiding a gleeful smile.
Back at the farm, heavy veils and robes lay discarded on the barn floor, and all five Grays lounged at the table, enjoying their drinks of choice. They hadn’t stayed long at the temple, Konner having insisted that they should leave the people wanting more of Camalyn. But he had another reason for bringing them back here—they needed to talk.
“It’s spring,” Konner said. He was greeted with confused looks; this wasn’t news to anyone. Konner laughed. All eyes on him, he held up his brandy snifter.
“Next week,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass, “our first traveling team will depart. It is time for our numbers to grow.”
The celebratory mood seemed to double in a moment. Glasses clinked, toasts were made, and the Grays reveled in the future they were creating.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Everywhere I go, people tell me stories they have heard about healings I have performed. Nearly every tale centers on someone who has been pulled back from certain death. At such times I urge them not to discount the value of minor healings. When I heal a small scratch, boil, or abrasion, the person I touch experiences Sava’s love. That may be just as profound as a saved life.
-From Savala’s Collected Letters, Volume 2
“Ow!”
First Tavi felt pain; then she heard the laughter of a classroom full of trainees. Ellea’s lecture on early magical history had lulled Tavi to sleep, and someone had roused her with a sharp pinch. Narre’s sheepish grin exposed her as the culprit. The burn of a blush took over Tavi’s face and neck. Things were already tense between her and Ellea; the last thing she needed to be doing was falling asleep during the midwife’s lectures.
“Is everything all right, Tavi?” Ellea asked.
“Yes,” Tavi murmured.
Ellea let out a small chuckle before continuing her lecture.
Tavi wished they could do away with lectures in spring—or at least have them on the lawn. Even Ellea was boring when lovely weather and soft grass waited outside.
Five more minutes into the lecture, Tavi was again fighting a losing battle with her sagging eyelids. She was relieved when the classroom door opened, jolting her back to attention. When she looked behind her to see who had entered, her relief flew out the window into the cool spring air.
Mayor Briggun Nolin stood in the doorway. His hair, usually combed to perfection, was in disarray. “Pardon me,” he began, not sounding apologetic at all, “but I must have a word with Tavina Malin.”
Tavi’s eyes widened, and she stared at Ellea, trying to send a message through that gaze—I don’t want to talk to that awful man!
Ellea, however, was looking at the mayor. The request had obviously surprised her, but she responded, “Of course,” before shifting her eyes to Tavi. She must have seen the distress in her student, because Ellea amended, “Mayor Nolin, please make it quick; this is an important lecture, and Tavi should not be gone for long.”
Tavi gave Ellea a nod of gratitude before standing and walking toward the door. Mayor Nolin stood in the hallway waiting for her, and the wrath on his face did not bode well. Tavi closed the door and faced him.
Mayor Nolin held out a piece of paper, creamy white with the remnants of a red wax seal adhered to it. He was gripping it so tightly that his hand shook, and he advanced a step closer to Tavi to thrust the paper in her face. She stepped back in response.
“Do you know what this is?” the mayor asked through a snarling mouth, his bright teeth shining. Tavi barely had time to shake her head before he continued, “This message contains the election results.”
Again he stepped closer, and again Tavi backed away, this time bumping against the hallway wall, across from the classroom door.
The mayor thrust the paper at Tavi’s face. “You’ll notice my name is not listed!”
Tavi looked down at the paper inches from her eyes and read the name of Modun Slead, written in fine calligraphy. Councillor Slead was not popular, but voters had found him more palatable than the other options—including Briggun Nolin.
The mayor was standing so close, too close, his angry eyes locked on Tavi. He expected a response. “I see that,” Tavi said.
“You see that?” The response burst out of Mayor Nolin’s mouth, and Tavi was assaulted by hot breath that smelled of liquor.
Tavi realized she was hunched over, cowering. Well, that was about to stop. She was strong enough to stand up to this little man who found it acceptable to bully a young girl. Tavi straightened and met the mayor’s gaze. Inside, she trembled with disgust and fear, but she was determined not to show it.
“I would have won had you campaigned with me!” Mayor Nolin’s voice rose in volume. “I installed plumbing in your family’s home! When your gifts awakened, I spoke with the midwife—that one teaching right now—and told her to give you the best education possible! This is the gratitude you show? You selfish child!”
While the mayor was speaking, the door to the classroom behind him had opened. Mayor Nolin took no notice, but Tavi saw Narre standing there with fire in her eyes. Tavi held out her hand to deter Narre’s involvement, but she appreciated her cousin for continuing to stand watch.
“Mayor Nolin.” Tavi’s voice was stronger than she had expected, and it built her confidence. “If you need to remove the plumbing from our home, that’s fine. But
I won’t ask people to vote for someone like you. Ever.”
Her response further infuriated Mayor Nolin. He crumpled the paper and threw it down the hall with an angry grunt. Immediately, he pulled his hand back, looked at it, and put his finger in his mouth.
“Paper cut?” Tavi asked.
The mayor slammed both his hands on the wall to either side of Tavi. She responded with a sharp gasp but stood her ground.
“You’re not only an ingrate; you’re stupid! I would have helped you as much as you helped me!” Mayor Nolin shouted, small flecks of spittle hitting Tavi’s face.
Tavi saw Narre’s wide eyes, and she knew her cousin was about to come to the rescue. But Tavi wanted to fight this battle herself. She would use one of her mother’s tactics, developed to perfection over decades of parenting. Whenever Tavi exploded with anger, Mey's response was calm and quiet. It took the wind out of Tavi’s sails.
“Mayor Nolin,” Tavi said, her voice low and calm, but firm and not the least bit sweet, “move your hands.”
The mayor’s eyes widened. He pulled his hands away and folded his arms across his chest.
Tavi’s next instinct caught her by surprise, but she didn’t resist it. “Let me see that paper cut,” she instructed the mayor.
“What?” he asked, baffled.
“The paper cut,” Tavi said. “Let me see it, please.”
She couldn’t believe he complied. But he did, and in seconds, Tavi summoned healing magic into her hands and mended the tiny cut. She was getting good at this. When she pulled her hands away and looked back at Mayor Nolin’s face, she saw confusion rather than anger. He was speechless—and that didn’t happen often.
Tavi shifted her shoulders back, lifted her chin, and spoke. “That is what my magic is for,” she informed the mayor. “Sava gives us magic so we can do good things with it, not favors for dishonest mayors.” Perhaps it wasn’t worded perfectly, but it would have to do. Tavi strode past Mayor Nolin, gave Narre a grin, and entered the classroom.
Facing the Sun Page 19
