Facing the Sun

by Carol Beth Anderson

  Tavi opened the front door, stepped inside, and gasped. She ran back through the door and caught up to Sall.

  “My scent gift!” she exclaimed. “Sall, I can track her.”

  His face filled with sudden hope. “Will it work?”

  “I don’t know; I’ve barely even practiced with that gift. But we have to try. Do you have any clothing of Narre’s?”

  “I have—I have a sock,” Sall admitted, and if the light hadn’t been so dim, Tavi knew she would have seen his blush. “She was barefoot at my house once, and I kept one of her socks.”

  Tavi couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Oh, Sall, I had no idea you were so . . . a sock?” When Sall’s face screwed up in further embarrassment, she assured him, “It’s very sweet. And odd. Bring it tomorrow, all right?”

  Sall nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

  Tavi found it almost impossible to sleep, and when she did finally succumb to her exhaustion, she dreamed of Narre, tied up, being transported in a dark wagon to a dirty brothel in Tinawe. She sat up, heart pounding, on the verge of tears. An hour later she again fell asleep, but the dreams proved even worse.

  At dawn, Tavi gave up on sleep and dragged her body out of bed, trying not to wake her sisters. She was sore all over, doubtless due to her utter lack of relaxation the previous day and all night long. She got ready and impatiently waited until her normal departure time. Finally, she left the house and strode briskly toward Sall’s.

  From down the street, Tavi saw him waiting in his front yard. A modicum of relief hit her; at least she was not going to be alone today. As she drew closer, Tavi saw that Sall was gingerly holding out a sock, grasped between two fingers. Despite her nerves, Tavi suppressed a laugh at the sight.

  “I wanted to touch it as little as possible,” Sall explained. “I didn’t want too much of my scent on it.”

  Tavi nodded. “Let me see it,” she said. He handed it to her. “Are your brothers gone?” she asked.

  “They left for school already,” he replied.

  “Good.” Tavi lifted her eyes from the sock to Sall. “You realize we’re skipping school, right?”

  His face looked a little sick at the thought; his behavior and grades were among the best in their class. But he nodded in slow agreement.

  “Let’s go to Narre’s,” Tavi said.

  They walked nearly to their friend’s house, stopping under a dense group of trees in a neighbor’s large yard.

  “No time like the present,” Tavi said nervously. She had heard of scent-blessed investigators tracking criminals, but it wasn’t a common occurrence. She had no idea if her barely developed scent gift was up to the task. But she closed her eyes, shifted her attention to her nose, and then focused on her single greatest desire—to see Narre safely home.

  A burst of magic flooded Tavi’s nose, so much warmth it was almost uncomfortable.

  “Wow,” Sall said.

  Tavi opened her eyes. “What?”

  “It’s very bright,” he said, staring at her nose.

  “Apparently strong desire equals strong magic,” Tavi said. She brought the sock up to her nose. She inhaled deeply, then lost herself in a coughing fit. She had never enjoyed the strong odors that came with her scent gift, and the pungent sock overwhelmed her.

  When the coughing stopped, Tavi said, “Sall, let me smell your hands.”

  He raised an inquisitive eyebrow, but complied. After a brief sniff of his palms, Tavi again smelled the sock—this time with a shallower inhale. “Good,” she said. “I can tell the difference between your scent and hers.”

  Sall nodded in understanding. “What’s next?” he asked.

  Tavi took a moment to think. “Her scent will be all along this road, because she walks one direction to school and another direction to my house. Let me see if I can pick it up at all.”

  Tavi experimented, with input from Sall. First, they discovered that she needed to leave the sock behind so it didn’t interfere with picking up Narre’s scent on the road. They threw the sock into a small pond behind Narre’s neighbor’s home. Tavi was confident she would not forget the scent.

  At the road, Tavi took another deep breath—and there it was. It wasn’t the strong odor of stale sweat; it was the underlying scent that had permeated the sock, the scent that was Narre. Though Tavi had never tried to isolate Narre’s scent in the past, it was somehow completely familiar to her once she picked it up. It wasn’t a bad smell or a good one; but it was entirely unique. It brought tears to her eyes. When she told Sall of her success, he swallowed and blinked hard, nodding his approval.

  They didn’t spend long on Narre’s street; Sall was nervous that Jilla would see them and send them to school. Once Tavi knew she had the scent, they walked west and turned south on a road that would meet up with the main western road out of town, toward Tinawe. Almost as soon as they turned south, however, Tavi frowned.

  “I’ve lost it,” she said. “I don’t smell Narre here at all.”

  “Are you certain?” Sall pressed. “You have to be certain!”

  Tavi knelt on the dirt road, her nose an inch from it. She crawled the whole width of the road, twice.

  “I’m sure,” she said.

  “What if she went somewhere else first?” Sall asked. “Maybe they took a different route.”

  That was a good point. Tavi released her magic, and she and Sall walked until they’d reached the westbound road out of Oren that would lead them to Tinawe. Reactivating her gift, Tavi tried to pick up Narre’s scent there, but she could not.

  “There are two more main roads out of Oren,” Sall pointed out, turning to continue walking before he’d even finished speaking. Tavi followed him, and they made their way to the road that led south out of the city. Narre’s scent was nowhere to be found.

  Frustration was thick in the air as they made their way toward the main road that headed east out of Oren. The road was several feet away when Tavi again activated her gift. As soon as magic flooded her nose and she inhaled, Tavi’s eyes snapped open, and she cried, “I smell her!”

  Sall rushed to her side. “You do?’

  Tavi led him to the road, and they walked down it. “Yes, yes, she was definitely here,” Tavi said. “I don’t even have to get on my knees; she was here.”

  Sall stopped, and when Tavi noticed, she turned to him. His expression was crestfallen. “That means her father went the wrong way,” he stated.

  Tavi felt her magic dissipate as the truth of his statement sank in. Not only had the search party gone the wrong way; they had gone the opposite way. She closed her eyes in frustration, but her vision filled with the previous night’s dreams—Narre screaming, Narre crying, Narre in pain. And this time, there was no one coming to get her.

  Tavi’s eyes snapped open again, and she forced herself to think of their next steps. After a moment, she squared her shoulders, stared at Sall, and spoke with a conviction she didn’t quite feel yet.

  “We’re going to find her.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I love all the students in my training programs. I remember each of them by name. Yet I have always held a special fondness for those whose births I attended. When I look at a young man or woman who received their breath of blessing from my lungs, I want nothing more than to protect them. And often, I cannot.

  -From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana

  “What do you mean by, ‘We’?” Sall asked.

  “We,” Tavi replied. “You and I are going to find Narre. And Reba too, of course.”

  “I can’t.”

  “You can’t? Why not?”

  Clearly flustered, Sall said, “I can’t. I can’t leave.”

  “Sall, you love Narre!” Tavi exclaimed. “Or I’m assuming you do! Do you love her?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then come with me!”

  “I can’t!” Sall repeated. Tavi stared. He insisted, “Narre will understand! She knows—she’ll understand!”

  “Her life may
be in danger, Sall! What exactly will she understand?” Tavi demanded.

  Sall froze. After several seconds, he said, more quietly, “She will. We have talked about . . . many things. She will understand, Tavi.”

  Tavi shook her head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I don’t have time to argue with you. If you’re not coming, I’m going alone.” She strode down the street.

  Sall followed her, and neither of them spoke. Tavi reflected on her words. Could she do this alone? Travel on roads she’d never stepped foot on, using a gift she hardly knew how to use, to find two girls whose location was unknown? She believed Narre’s life was at risk; did she really have the skills and bravery to rush into such a situation?

  Those three words returned to her mind: I am enough.

  And with that, the doubts were gone. She knew. Tavi knew Narre had gone down that eastbound road. She knew if her friend was not found soon, she might not be found at all. She knew no one was better suited to find Narre than the all-blessed girl who loved her.

  Scratch that. The all-blessed woman who loved her. Tavi might only be fifteen, but she had to think of herself as a woman if she was to go on this journey alone.

  Urging her shoulders back and tilting her chin up, Tavi walked even faster, the cool autumn breeze not quite keeping up with the perspiration she was producing. Her heart felt ready to burst with grief and worry and, yes, confidence.

  The midwife house was on the road they were traveling. They had barely passed it when they heard a voice. “Tavi! Sall!” Turning, they saw Ellea coming down the steps of the house.

  Sall and Tavi exchanged a glance. They should be at school, and before too long it would be time for them to come back here for their afternoon training. Yet they had just passed the midwife house, and it was obvious they weren’t walking from their school. They hesitantly strode toward Ellea and met her in the yard.

  But the head midwife had not called to them to chide them. Her eyes were wide and expectant. “Have you heard anything about Narre and Reba?” she asked.

  Tavi let out a frustrated sigh. “No,” she said. “But we discovered something. Their fathers left for Tinawe this morning, but they went the wrong way. Narre left town on the eastbound road.”

  “How do you know this?” Ellea asked.

  Tavi explained how she had used her scent gift to track Narre.

  Ellea’s face showed surprise. “Using a scent gift to track is difficult.”

  “I know what I smelled,” Tavi insisted. “There was no question.”

  “Oh, dear girl, I’m not doubting you.” Ellea’s face softened with a smile. “I have every confidence in your gifts. Now I assume you’re heading to the office of safety to pass along this information?”

  Tavi and Sall looked at each other. Again, Tavi was the one to speak. “I don’t think they’d believe me,” she said. “And, really, they’re not handling the investigation well at all.”

  Ellea’s expression was wary. “What are you planning to do?” she asked.

  Again, the two trainees shared a glance. This time, they stayed quiet.

  “Are you planning to search for them yourselves?” Ellea asked.

  More silence. Sall broke it. “I’m not,” he said.

  “But you are?” Ellea asked Tavi. She was answered with a nod. “Tavi, you can’t go.” Ellea was firm. “You aren’t ready for this. You have done well developing your gifts, but you don’t know what you’ll encounter. You’re only fifteen; your parents will never allow you to leave!” Tavi’s expression must have held guilt, because realization filled Ellea’s voice. “You’re not going to tell them.”

  Tavi said, “Ellea, I have to find my friend.”

  “No!” Tears filled the midwife’s eyes. “Someone needs to find her,” Ellea said. “Someone—but not you. Tavi, it’s so dangerous. You aren’t ready.”

  Tavi felt her resolve quavering, but she shored it up with words. “I’m the best person to search for them.”

  Ellea reached out and grasped Tavi’s arm. The older woman’s hand glowed golden, and Tavi felt more peace than she had experienced since the previous morning. “Promise me you will talk to your parents about this first,” Ellea said softly.

  Tavi nodded. “I will.”

  “Promise me.”

  Tavi forced herself not to look away. “I promise.”

  The midwife smiled though she still looked worried. She grasped Sall’s shoulder with her other glowing hand. Tavi looked at her friend, and his face, too, softened with peace.

  “Sava bless you both—and Sava bless Reba and Narre,” Ellea said.

  “Sava bless you,” Tavi and Sall replied.

  Ellea let go of them and of her magic. Sall and Tavi turned and continued down the road.

  When they were out of earshot, Sall said, “You'll tell your parents?” Tavi gave him a look of hesitant guilt, and he said, “You lied.”

  Tavi again felt tears filling her eyes. She was so tired of crying. “I didn’t want to lie,” she said, “but I have to do this.”

  Sall turned his head to her. “I understand. And, Tavi?” He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was strained. “Thank you.”

  When they reached the turnoff to Sall’s house, they both stopped.

  “Please search for them with me,” Tavi pleaded.

  Sall’s head dropped. “I can’t.”

  “If you change your mind, be at my house early in the morning,” Tavi said. “As if you’re picking me up for school.”

  Sall hugged her. “Bring her home,” he said, choking on the words. He let her go and turned down the path to his house.

  As Tavi continued walking, she felt as if her head would burst from all the anxious thoughts it held. What had happened to her confidence? Oh, that’s right—Ellea had happened.

  Tavi loved Ellea. She respected the midwife who had given her the gift of a blessing breath and who had poured such wisdom and care into her. Tavi also trusted Ellea. That trust was mutual, and now Tavi had broken it.

  Guilt filled her chest, pressing against her ribs as if it wanted to escape. She wished it would. As the guilt scoured her insides, doubt bombarded her mind. What if Ellea was right? Tavi was fifteen; what was she thinking, planning to walk along a scent trail to find her friend who was in danger?

  Tavi hit her temple with her palm as if to force out the confusion. It didn’t work. “You aren’t ready,” Ellea had said. Tavi wanted to be furious with her mentor, but she was too full of worry, shame, and self-doubt. She had no room for anger.

  Her house was in view, but Tavi wasn’t ready to see Misty or her mother. She walked past a neighbor’s house and entered the forest. In a few minutes, she had reached her favorite clearing—“our clearing,” as she still thought of it, even though the other half of “our” was gone for good.

  Tavi sat in the dry, cool grass. She was tired of thinking and grieving and imagining terrible things. Magic—she wanted magic, needed the peace it offered, just for a few minutes. Closing her eyes, she held her hands in front of her, loosely weaving her fingers together. She took a deep breath and released it fully. What did she desire?

  All Tavi could think of was how overwhelmed she was, how old and tired she felt. Her magic would never come if that was her focus. What do I desire?

  She desired security, encouragement, and relaxation. She desired to be carefree, to enjoy life.

  She desired Tullen.

  At that thought, Tavi’s eyes popped open in surprise. She saw her hands, folded together, and she wished that instead, her fingers were intertwined with Tullen’s, that he was sitting with her instead of thirty miles away.

  That’s your brother you’re thinking about, Tavi chided herself. She pulled her hands apart and shook them as if to rid herself of the unwelcome longing invading her consciousness.

  It was chilly. She wrapped her arms around herself, closed her eyes again, and focused on her hands. Touch magic; that’s what she needed. Tavi pictured a pickle,
sour and juicy and salty. Just a hint of sweetness.

  Her magic did not come. Food didn’t sound good, not even Misty’s pickles. Tavi pulled her arms tighter around herself, warding against the chill.

  But it wasn’t her own arms she wanted to feel. Tavi couldn’t stop thinking about Tullen, how his arms, wiry and strong, had felt around her when they’d said goodbye. And because she wanted the comfort of magic, and this seemed to be the only thing her muddled mind was willing to desire, she gave in.

  Tavi leapt into her imagination. Tullen’s warm arms were holding her. His strong heartbeat pulsed against her cheek, and his chin rested on her head.

  Soothing magic filled Tavi’s hands, and she pressed them against the center of her chest. She could sense the blood entering her heart, then pumping out to the rest of her body, over and over in steady repetition. She tried to focus on this rhythm of life, to allow it to ground and calm her. But her thoughts insisted on returning to the man who could not be more than a friend, who could not even be that now.

  Tavi tried to recall his face, every aspect of it. She found that she wasn’t sure whether his eyelashes were long or short, and the shape of his nose escaped her. But his lips—those she could picture in perfect detail. A little thin, but wide, and always ready to broaden further into a smile. She could see the “V” at the center of his top lip, and the small mole that barely intruded on the edge of his bottom lip. For Sava’s sake, when had she memorized his lips?

  Tavi’s hands moved to her warm cheeks. With her gift, she detected blood flooding innumerable tiny vessels near the surface of her skin. Blushing even when no one was around to see her. Narre would laugh.

  Narre. Tavi pulled her hands off her cheeks, clenched them as tightly as she could, then flung her fingers open, shoving every drop of magic out of her. What was wrong with her, thinking about a romance that couldn’t even happen, when her friend was in danger, and she could do something about that?