Facing the Sun

by Carol Beth Anderson

  “I think I’ll go west today,” he told his father. “I’ll stay close to home, of course. I’m hoping to get a deer.”

  Kley looked up. “Son, the elders are placing you on a different duty for now.”

  Tullen waited for more information. When it didn’t come, he asked, “What sort of duty?” He was certain he wouldn’t like the answer.

  “Tower watch.”

  Gritting his teeth, Tullen stared at the man in front of him.

  “Be patient, Tullen.” His father’s eyes held compassion. “They want you to get a different perspective.”

  “This was Aba’s idea, wasn’t it?” Aba was the oldest elder. She was a writer, and even her punishments were poetic. A “different perspective” indeed—from the top of a five-story tower.

  “I believe she had something to do with it,” Kley said. “Handle it with humility, and you’ll be back to hunting in no time.”

  Tullen’s only response was a grunt.

  Tullen could look for animals all day and not get bored. Watching people all day was a different story. The tower was right next to the Meadow gate, and Tullen’s duties were twofold: Call down to the gate guards if any strangers approached, and keep an eye on the community inside the walls. As Tullen watched throughout the morning, nothing of consequence happened below. He observed only the routines of a typical day.

  People worked, scattering to their jobs throughout the Meadow or outside the walls. Even children worked on assigned chores, and at a set time, they switched from manual labor to mental labor, learning academic skills from adults and older adolescents. There were breaks, during which adults shared tea and conversation, and children played games. A little before noon, people began to drift toward the meeting hall for lunch.

  It was boring. And it was beautiful.

  As tedious as it was to watch from above, Tullen was reminded of why he loved the Meadow. He loved the feeling of true community. Children not only had parents; they were guided by dozens of “aunts and uncles” too. The people took care of each other; no one went without food or shelter. And he loved the values of hard work and carefree play. After all, hard work wasn’t so hard when everyone was encouraged to serve within their strengths.

  Until you anger the elders. Then you’re required to work in a boring job until you’re back to being a humble, devoted Meadow Dweller.

  The punishment wouldn’t have bothered Tullen so much if he’d actually done something wrong. But all he’d done was make friends in Oren. Good friends. Good people. And when he had been told he was needed at the Meadow, he’d taken less than half a day to run to Oren and say goodbye. For that, he was now a prisoner—and his cell was a guard tower, of all things.

  Tullen’s thoughts were interrupted by footsteps on the stairs below him. Perhaps it was Aba, coming to tell him he could hunt again. He pulled open the trap door at the bottom of the guard tower.

  It wasn’t Aba. Tullen was greeted by a mass of dark, curly hair, an upturned, smiling face, and two hands carrying a plate of food and a cup of water.

  “Jenevy!” Tullen greeted her. “Is that for me?”

  “Of course!” Jenevy reached the top of the steep steps and entered the small tower.

  Tullen took the food, set it down, and gave her a hug. Of his dozens of “sisters,” Jenevy had always been one of his favorites. “You could have sent the food up the pulley porter!” he said, referring to the small box used to send messages and items between the ground and the tower.

  “And missed the opportunity to see this view?” Jenevy walked to the railing at the side of the tower, looking over miles of trees.

  Tullen tucked into the food. After he’d eaten several bites of meat pie, he asked, “Anything new with you?”

  Jenevy laughed. “Nothing with me. The most interesting topic in the Meadow right now is you!”

  “Me?”

  “Half the community thought you wouldn’t return when you ran off two days ago,” Jenevy said.

  Tullen took a bite and chewed slowly. When he had swallowed, he said, “But my family is here.”

  Jenevy glanced back at him, her forehead furrowed, before turning back to her view. “I didn’t think you’d come back,” she admitted.

  Tullen watched Jenevy’s back. At first glance, she appeared to be relaxing, enjoying the vista. But her hands held the railing with a too-tight grip, and her shoulders were square and tense. “I didn’t want to leave my family, Jenevy,” Tullen said.

  She turned around, and now her gaze didn’t shy away. “Your family—do you mean there or here?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she gave him a tight smile. “I’m teaching an afternoon mathematics lesson,” she said. “I’d better go.”

  Tullen watched her climb down the stairs. What was that look she’d given him before she’d gone? Jenevy was eighteen, just as he was. She was likely hoping to marry and raise a family in the Meadow.

  A couple of years earlier, when they had been old enough to consider adult things but not old enough to take on adult responsibilities, Tullen had entertained casual daydreams about building a life with Jenevy. At some point—he wasn’t sure when—that dream had dissolved into the past, joining other discarded desires such as finding gold buried in the forest.

  But now Tullen was back in the Meadow to stay. He needed to be thinking about his future, just as Jenevy was. She was beautiful, and they had always enjoyed spending time together. When Jenevy had turned toward the stairs, Tullen’s instinct had been to hug her goodbye, as he would have done in the past. What, he asked himself, had stopped him?

  Tullen walked back to the railing. This time, he wasn’t watching the Meadow. His gaze meandered south, in the direction of a certain small town on the edge of the forest. He stood there a long time, sharing his thoughts with only the wind.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Sand looks like water

  To one who is thirsty enough.

  -From Proverbs of Savala

  Reba Minnalen sat on a barstool, watching the few people eating dinner at the Oren Inn and Pub. Several autumn leaves had blown in the room, and she knew she should sweep before it got too busy, but she didn’t want to. When she had been hired as a barmaid, Reba had been ecstatic. By the end of her first shift, she had realized just how dull her new job was.

  Her father had been more than happy for her to work. She suspected that his enthusiasm was due to her dismal grades at school and her lack of progress in developing her gift. He seemed relieved that she had found something she could do, and it didn’t hurt that she was earning a few chips.

  The week before, Reba had approached the pub owner with her best flirtatious smile. “My sight gift will be such an asset,” she told him. “From across the room, I can see when drinks need to be refilled.” She did not mention that when she tried to activate her gift, she was only successful about half the time. He had probably hired her more for her magical figure than her magical eyes, anyway.

  Nem, the most regular of the regulars, was already in his seat. Every night, he came early and left late, slowly spending his substantial inheritance on alcohol. At least he tipped well—when he was sober enough to think of it. “Reba!” he called, his late-afternoon voice not yet slurred. “Come on over, sweetie.”

  Reba pasted on that flirtatious smile again, though she hated wasting her looks on Nem. She swayed her hips just enough as she approached his table. “Ready for another?” she asked.

  Nem held up his glass, which was still half full. “Nah, just wanted to say hello,” he said. He reached out, and Reba shifted away before his hand could “say hello” to her backside.

  Shaking her index finger at him, Reba gave him a look of mock rebuke, pouting her full lips. “Don’t be naughty!” she said, and she winked and turned. As soon as she was no longer facing Nem, Reba allowed her face to reflect her disgust.

  The pub began to fill over the next hour. It was a nice enough place, and most of its patrons this time of night weren’t drunks like Nem;
they were individuals and families who wanted a hearty meal. Reba kept busy taking orders, serving food and drinks, and charming the customers.

  The stairs at the back of the pub creaked, and Reba looked up to see two young men making their way down from the rooms on the second floor. Now this was interesting. The younger one was a little thin for her taste, but he had a fantastic smile she’d like to see directed toward her. And his friend—once Reba looked at him, she couldn’t look away. He appeared a few years older than the skinny one, and she admired his thick hair, white teeth, and broad shoulders.

  “Is that for us?” A voice asked.

  Reba nearly dropped the food she was holding, and she uttered an embarrassed, “Pardon me!” She set down three full plates, one for the woman who had spoken and the other two for her husband and young son.

  Reba then made her way to the bottom of the stairs where the two men waited. “You can take whatever table you like!” she said. Then she leaned in and gestured toward the family she had just served. “You might want to sit far from them; that kid throws food.” She winked and was rewarded with two handsome smiles.

  After serving one more table, Reba approached the two men. They ordered beer and beef stew. She served them, and with her best smile in place, asked, “Did the two of you arrive in town today?”

  “Sure did,” the older one said. He was polite but didn’t seem inclined to give more information than that. Reba headed back to the bar.

  There was a temporary lull in responsibilities, so she tried to activate her sight gift. It was difficult in the loud atmosphere of this place, but she took several deep breaths as she had been taught. She allowed her vision to relax and let out a happy sigh when she felt warmth enter her eyes and the surrounding skin. Examining all the glasses across the room, Reba noticed just one empty—Nem’s. She released her magic with a frustrated huff of air and headed to his table to offer a refill. His answer, of course, was yes.

  With that taken care of, Reba swayed her way back to the table where the two men sat. “Gentlemen, how is the stew?” she asked.

  “Best we’ve had on the road!” the younger man said.

  “I’m so glad to hear it!” Reba replied. She was about to turn around when the other man spoke.

  “You’re sight-blessed!” he said with a warm smile.

  Delighted, Reba confirmed, “I am! It helps me better serve my customers; I can see when they need a refill.” She glanced down at their glasses. “Speaking of which, neither of you have taken more than a sip!”

  The older one laughed. “I’m savoring it,” he said. “My name is Jay.” He held out a gloved hand.

  “I’m Reba; it’s a pleasure to meet you.” She reached out with her palm down, inviting a kiss on her hand. Jay didn’t take the bait; he shook her hand, then let it go.

  “I’m Vinn,” the younger man said, and Reba shook his hand too.

  “What brings you to Oren?” Reba asked. But just then, she was interrupted by the booming voice of Gerval, the owner.

  “Reba,” he called from behind the bar. “Two new customers!”

  With a coy grin, Reba said, “Let’s talk in a bit.” She spoke to the new patrons, brought them their ale, and checked on the rest of the tables.

  Once everyone was settled, Reba walked back to Jay and Vinn. She was prepared to coax them into conversation, but it wasn’t necessary.

  “We’re scholars,” Jay said with a grin that didn’t look scholarly to Reba. “We’re working for the monks at the monastery west of Savala, in the mountains—have you heard of it?”

  Reba didn’t know much about the monastery, but she gushed, “Oh, yes, I’ve heard that’s a beautiful place!”

  “It is,” Jay confirmed. “Actually, we’d love to talk to you! We are traveling around Cormina, speaking with those who are gifted. The monks want to know more about how sun-blessed people throughout the land use their gifts.”

  They wanted to talk to her about being sun-blessed? Reba was rarely given attention for her gifts; all the honor seemed to be saved for her peers. She gave the men a wide smile. “I would love to help in your studies, however I can!”

  Vinn spoke up. “And will you also introduce us to your gifted friends? The more Blessed we meet, the better.”

  Again, they were interrupted by Gerval. “Reba!” he called. When she looked his way, he gestured to an empty table that needed to be cleaned. Reba excused herself and did the job as quickly as she could.

  By the time she had refilled more drinks, served dinner to a family of six, and again dodged Nem’s eager hands, Reba was surprised that Jay and Vinn were still nursing their drinks and their stew. She sauntered back to them. “What were we discussing?” she asked with a laugh.

  “Your friends,” Vinn said. “I’m sure you know others who are gifted?”

  “Oh, of course,” Reba said. “They're so arrogant, though. It’s surprising in such a little town, but most of the Blessed here think very highly of themselves. I doubt any of them would want to talk.”

  “We’ll start with you,” Jay said, “and you can tell us about others. The monks are eager to know what gifts are represented in the rural areas.”

  “Sure!” Reba said. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gerval watching her, hands on his meaty hips. She put on an embarrassed smile for his sake, excused herself, and tended to the rest of the customers.

  Gradually, those eating dinner finished and settled up. There was always a lull between dinner time and the late-night drinking rush. Jay and Vinn, however, seemed content to stay at their table. They switched to hot tea, saying they needed focused minds for their research.

  When Reba walked by the bar, Gerval instructed, “Grab yourself some stew before the drunks get here.” She gave him a genuine smile this time; she was hungry.

  Once she had a steaming bowl, Reba headed toward an open table in the corner. Vinn looked up and asked, “Care to join us, Reba?” Jay pulled out a chair for her, and Reba happily changed direction and sat with them.

  After a couple of minutes of small talk, Jay looked at her seriously.

  “Reba,” he said, “I have a question for you. It’s a sensitive topic, but something tells me you’re brave enough to discuss it. The monks are interested in magical resistance. When Sava doesn’t allow you to use your magic, how do you react? It must be frustrating.”

  Reba nodded with an aggravated sigh. “It’s so upsetting!” she said. Her voice lowered. “See that man over there?” She pointed her head toward Nem. “If I bring him refills all night, he’s more likely to tip me well. My gift helps me keep a close eye on him. But after he’s had a few, I can’t use my magic to see into his glass anymore!”

  Jay and Vinn laughed. “Apparently Sava is a teetotaler,” Vinn said.

  “Not at all!” Jay asserted. “She said the gift works at the beginning of the night. That tells me that, as long as it’s in moderation, Sava himself loves beer!”

  “It may seem funny to you,” Reba protested, “but with what that man puts me through, I expect him to tip me! I’m simply asking my magic to help with that!”

  Both men’s faces became somber. “Others have told us that too,” Vinn said. “It’s almost as if magical resistance is . . .” He paused, as if searching for the right words.

  “Is pointless,” Jay finished for him. “Sava trusts us by giving us gifts. Don’t you think he should trust us to use them properly?”

  Reba’s eyes widened. “I’ve been thinking the same thing for the longest time—but I’ve never heard anyone willing to say it out loud! Wait, did you say ‘us’? Are you gifted too?”

  Jay looked embarrassed. “I didn’t mean to give that away,” he said. “We get too much attention if we display our gifts when we travel, but you seem trustworthy, and I don’t mind you knowing I am touch-blessed.”

  “And I’m stride-blessed,” Vinn admitted.

  “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to meet others who aren’t satisfied with how magic works!
” Reba enthused.

  “Reba, how was your stew?” Gerval’s voice was tinged with impatience; he was already back to work polishing glasses behind the bar.

  “Delicious, thanks!” Reba responded. She looked at Jay and Vinn with good-natured chagrin as she stood.

  “I hope we can talk more,” Vinn said. “Maybe tomorrow morning when things are slow here?”

  “Oh, I’d love that, but I can’t in the morning,” Reba replied. “I have school.”

  Both sets of eyebrows rose. “You’re still in school?” Jay asked.

  “Just for a few more months,” Reba lied. “I turned eighteen recently.” She never told her customers she was only fifteen, and she looked at least three years older.

  Jay smiled. “What time do you work in the afternoon?”

  “If you get here around four, it’ll probably just be me and Nem,” Reba said. “I should be able to talk then!”

  “We’ll be here!” Vinn said.

  Jay stood, and Vinn followed suit. “I think we’ll go upstairs to get some rest,” Jay said. “Travel is always tiring!”

  Reba admired Jay’s broad shoulders and slim waist again, and she gave the men a flirty smirk. “Sleep well, boys!”

  They retired to their rooms, and Reba set to work cleaning tables. For once, she worked vigorously. Perhaps she didn’t have a gift that made her light up like a bonfire, as Tavi did, or magical hands that could break things in two, like Narre. But she was important, with her sight gift. She’d always known it, and Jay and Vinn saw it too.

  Reba scrubbed the tables, counting the hours until she could talk to them again.

  Chapter Thirty-Two