Evitt kept an eye on the shifting sunlight in the alley, and at last he was convinced it had been a couple of hours, long enough for his magic to return to full strength. Time for the next step of his plan.
He pulled a large, thick rag out of his pocket and stretched it out on the ground, smoothing it as best he could. He eased one end under the lip of the bucket, then scooted both bucket and rag until the bucket sat atop the fabric. The rat squealed the whole time, but Evitt ignored it. Next, he pulled the edges of the rag up and tied them underneath the bucket as tightly as he could. In one smooth motion, he flipped the bucket over. It looked somewhat like a drum, with the rag tight over the opening.
It didn’t sound like a drum, however. It sounded like a rodent torture chamber. Evitt gave the poor, annoying animal a couple of minutes to calm. When it was quieter, he picked up the bucket, holding it tightly against his chest. He stood and was about to activate his magic when the same owner poked her head out the back door of her restaurant again.
“What you got there?” she asked. Just then, the rat squealed.
“The king has hired people to test the rats,” Evitt said. “For diseases.”
“Ah.” The woman nodded, and Evitt couldn’t tell whether she believed him. He gave her a wide smile, and she went back inside.
Then he invited his magic in, and a moment after he felt it activate, he heard the same door open again. He turned.
“But how will—” The owner halted, looking around. “Now, where’d he go?” She shrugged and went back inside.
Evitt stifled a laugh, and the rat followed that up with loud squeal. They entered the street. Hopefully the sounds of the busy thoroughfare would cover the rat’s persistent griping.
Several minutes later, Evitt again stood in front of the palace, a few feet behind the crowd. The rat’s noises had caused a few people to turn their heads, but no one seemed to guess that the source of the squeals was an invisible rodent.
Evitt couldn’t delay; he needed to use his limited invisibility wisely. First, he loosened the knots he’d made in the rag. Then he hugged the bucket to himself with one arm, keeping the rag tight, and reached his free hand to the bottom of the bucket to finish untying the knots.
The moment of truth. He crept right up to the back of the crowd, knelt down, and found a space between two people’s feet. He inserted the bucket into the space and tipped it onto its side, the opening facing away from him. The rag fell off, and the rat darted into the crowd.
Evitt stepped back a couple of feet, just in time for a man in the crowd to see the rat—or perhaps feel it run across his feet. The man screamed. Panic spread through the crowd; in no time at all, everyone in the immediate vicinity was running and jumping like someone had set fires in their knickers.
The guards went into high alert, shouting at the people, asking what was wrong. Meanwhile, Evitt tossed the bucket off to the side and rushed through the dispersing crowd. When he bumped someone, it went unnoticed. By the time he reached the guards, the disturbance had lessened, but they were still on alert.
Evitt noticed the guards had split into pairs. He remembered seeing the same thing happen on the day Relin had been crowned king. Shooting a hand cannon was easier if one person held the weapon while the other primed the bore hole with powder and lit the match. Each pair was preparing to shoot if needed, matchboxes out and ready.
As he observed the guards, Evitt carefully crawled over the wooden barrier, which was about the height of his waist. But as he came back down to the street, he jostled the barrier. It scraped on the cobblestones, and one of the guards looked Evitt’s direction. The guard called out to the crowd, “Calm down and stop bumping the barrier. Not everyone can be in front!”
Evitt winked at the guard, who looked right through him. The rat darted in front of the palace, and Evitt waved at the little animal who’d been his unwilling accomplice.
His sense of victory was short-lived. Now he had no way to get into the palace. He approached the front door and prayed for it to open, remembering the first time he’d waited to sneak unseen into Konner Burrell’s house. Just like he’d done then, he carefully took his shoes off to make his steps quieter.
Minutes passed far too quickly. Evitt began to consider how he might get back to the street. He didn’t have a rodent to create a distraction this time. Perhaps he should forget getting past the barrier and find a place to hide until dark.
But as he looked around, he grew more worried. There weren’t any shrubs or trees to hide behind. He couldn’t even go around to the side of the palace; the barriers went all the way to the front wall.
Evitt was standing in full view. Or he would be, once his magic released. And he could count eight guards near enough to him to shoot him with their hand cannons.
He heard a sound and spun around. The front door was open, and two guards were exiting. Heedless of the risk involved, Evitt entered just as the second guard exited. The man turned, confusion clear on his face, rubbing the arm Evitt had brushed against. Then he turned back and continued walking.
Evitt tried to slow his breathing. He’d made it inside, but terror more than compensated for his excitement. He was nearly out of magic, and he knew nothing about the building’s layout.
He was in a small lobby. A smartly dressed young man sat at a desk there, writing something. The man looked up when an interior door opened. A rich-looking woman came through it and continued walking down the hallway on the right side of the lobby. She didn’t close the door behind her, and Evitt rushed to it as a guard was pushing it closed. He couldn’t squeeze in, but he did see Aldin and Camalyn. King Relin and Queen Camalyn, he corrected himself. He’d have to get into that room later.
Evitt walked down the same hallway the woman had taken, looking for somewhere to hide. He didn’t dare open any of the doors while the man in the lobby was in sight. Another hallway branched off to his left, and he turned down it. It was empty. He listened at the first door on his right. Not hearing anything, he pressed down on the handle and was astounded when it opened. He entered, closed the door, and felt his magic release.
Evitt placed both hands on his pounding heart, forcing himself to breathe deeply. The room had no windows. Hanging lanterns in the hallway sent a little light under the door, but the rest of the room was dark. He walked a few steps in and sat on the floor. He had no choice but to wait for his magic to rejuvenate.
After some time, his nervousness fled, and drowsiness took its place. The wood floor was uncomfortable and chilly, but Evitt pulled his jacket tight around him and leaned against what felt like a stack of large crates. He was determined to stay awake, but the dark, quiet room stymied his resolve. Before he knew it, he was asleep.
Chapter Six
I have noticed that leaders in such towns often struggle to stay moderate in their guidelines, beliefs, and culture. Some are overly free, allowing behavior that would never be acceptable in a city. More often, however, they adopt a form of extreme strictness, often unwritten, due to the leaders’ desire to control their people.
-From Small-Town Cormina: A Midwife’s Reflections by Ellea Kariana
“Signatent . . . signent . . . signature?”
Tavi smiled at Shola. “Don’t just guess. Read one syllable at a time,” she said. “Here, I’ll cover up most of the word. Only say the part you can see.”
She placed her finger over all but the first few letters, revealing more of the word each time her pupil read one syllable.
“Sig . . . ni . . . fi . . . cant,” Shola said. “Significant! It’s significant!”
Tavi laughed. “Yes, it is! A significant accomplishment, reading that word. Why don’t you try the whole sentence now?”
Shola read the sentence and kept going. Tavi helped her with the difficult words. Each time they finished a page, they stood, clasped hands, and danced a jig together. Tavi felt ridiculous, but Shola loved it.
After ending her stint at the laundry house two weeks earlier, Tavi had tol
d Aba, the elder in charge of her and the Golds, how much she enjoyed tutoring Shola. Aba had allowed Tavi to become an official tutor at the Meadow school. She’d helped over a dozen children with reading, writing, and mathematics. But Shola, her first student, was still her favorite.
They were taking advantage of a beautiful fall day by reading outside the schoolhouse, under a tree. It felt strange to be teaching at a school rather than learning, but Tavi enjoyed it more than any other Meadow job she’d tried.
When the Golds decided to seek refuge in the Meadow, Tullen had informed Tavi, Narre, and Sall that they were too advanced to attend school there. The Meadow teachers met their new residents and agreed with Tullen’s assessment.
Curriculum in the Meadow wasn’t as challenging as it was throughout the rest of Cormina. The Meadow prioritized practical skills over academic learning. For instance, Shola struggled with reading but was already a skilled seamstress.
When they reached the end of the chapter and performed their little dance, Tavi gave Shola a hug. “I know that was tough,” she said as they sat again. “You did well.” Giving her pupil a thoughtful look, she asked, “Do you enjoy books like this?”
“Not really,” Shola said. “I’ve never liked novels.”
“What do you prefer to read?”
“History books!” Shola’s eyes brightened. “My grandfather wrote a book all about Meadow history. I’ve read it so many times, the cover is falling off.”
Tavi beamed. “Bring it next time we meet. And I have another idea. Reba, one of the young women who arrived here with me, has a book of Corminian history. I’ll ask her if you can borrow it.”
“Ahem.”
Startled, Tavi looked up. A stern-looking woman stood above them, hands on her bony hips. Tavi thought she recognized the woman as one of the Meadow elders.
As soon as she had their attention, the woman said, “You’re here to teach reading, not to indoctrinate our youth in the beliefs of the outside world. The day you bring that book to our school will be your last day working here.”
“I apologize,” Tavi said. “I didn’t think the book would—”
“You didn’t think,” the woman said. “At least that much is accurate. Carry on with your tutoring session, please. I’ll stay for a bit and observe you.”
With the elder standing over them like an eagle guarding her eggs, Tavi and Shola stammered their way through another ten minutes of reading.
Tavi couldn’t have been happier when Tullen interrupted their session, sprinting up to them with magically assisted speed. He halted and gave the elder a friendly smile. “Good afternoon.”
The woman glowered at him. Tullen was not popular among the Meadow leaders after leaving their community and returning with new ideas and new friends.
But her attitude didn’t seem to bother Tullen in the least. He knelt next to Tavi. “Something’s happening at the gate,” he said. “I think we should be there.”
Tavi stood. “Read the rest of the chapter,” she told Shola. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She leapt onto Tullen’s back, glad she was wearing her new trousers. The elder’s loud protestations followed them, and Tavi turned and gave her a friendly wave. Tullen’s speed got them out of hearing range quickly.
Tavi laughed. “Perfect timing,” she said. “How did you know I needed rescuing?”
Tullen’s voice was serious. “I didn’t. The new duke is at the gate, and he’s trying to get in. If one of the king’s men comes in here, we’re all in danger.”
Tavi’s eyes widened. “What does he want?”
“I don’t know,” Tullen said. “I’m lucky I happened to be walking by. I didn’t stay long enough to get any details. Or for him to see my face.”
Tavi said, “I’m not sure what we can do. We don’t have any power to negotiate with nobility.”
Tullen looked up and grinned. “But you do have the power to scare him away.”
They reached the gate quickly, thanks to Tullen’s gifted feet. He lowered Tavi to the ground in a copse of trees off to the side. Then they looked at each other and, in unison, pointed at their ears. With a quiet laugh, they both activated their hearing magic.
It only took Tavi a second to hone in on the conversation at the gate. She heard a non-Meadow voice first. She’d never met the duke, but he sounded just like a rich nobleman should, his words over-enunciated.
“ . . . must insist. I have a royal writ,” the duke said.
A Meadow guard replied, “Duke Gristle, was it?”
“Gistler,” the duke corrected, his tone making it clear he did not appreciate the error.
“Duke Gistler, then. Seventy-three years ago, the Corminian Council awarded limited autonomy to the Meadow. That means we’re still part of Cormina, but we don’t pay taxes, since we don’t utilize any national services.”
“You already told me that,” the duke said.
“Yes, and you already told me you have a royal writ.” Tavi could hear the smile in the guard’s voice. “I’ll be at this post until nightfall; I’m happy to have this conversation as many times as you’d like.”
“This is unacceptable!” the duke said. “Clearly you don’t have the authority to speak with me about this. I demand to speak with the leader of the Meadow.”
“Which one?” the guard asked.
The duke paused, then spluttered, “The top one. The head—the main leader. Whatever title you use for him.”
“Well,” the guard said, “He is a she, and she’s probably not the type of leader you’re thinking of. We’re not led by one person; we’re led by elders. One of them is the oldest, but really, she’s not any more of a leader than the rest of them. It’s kind of like the old Corminian Council. You’ve probably heard of the council; it’s the group that just got replaced by that king you keep mentioning. A remarkably stupid king, from what I hear.”
“How dare you! I demand to address the elders! All of them!”
The guard replied in the same casual manner as before, and as he spoke, Tullen murmured to Tavi, “You need to get rid of that idiot.”
“Idiot? Show some respect. He’s a duke, you know.” Tavi gave Tullen a look of admonishment, though she could feel a smile tugging at her lips.
“Sorry. You need to get rid of that esteemed idiot.”
She laughed loudly, then placed a hand over her mouth, looking around. No one was nearby. “How?”
“Shake him up a bit.”
“This should be fun. Let’s get a little closer. Behind the guardhouse.”
They left the trees and sauntered casually to the guardhouse, which was attached to one side of the gate. Tavi stood at the back corner, where she had a good view of the duke. A gate separated him from three guards, including the one acting as spokesperson. Tavi kept listening to their conversation, which was pretty much a repeat of what she and Tullen had already heard. As she watched, she shifted some of her magic into her feet.
“Now?” she whispered.
Tullen gave her a smile and a nod.
Tavi started by using her magic to sense what was under the ground, beneath her feet and beyond. She detected water, several moles, and thousands of ants.
Then she heightened the magic in her feet by focusing on one desire: Safety. It wasn’t romantic or exciting, but it did the trick. Tavi could feel her magic, straining to be let loose in the ground.
The bedrock under the duke was close to the surface. Tavi encouraged it to shake. Just a little.
The duke’s first reactions were a slightly furrowed brow and a small step backward. Tavi grinned and adjusted her magic so the disruption remained directly underneath the man. She upped the intensity, and even from where she stood, she could see the dirt moving under his feet, shifting just a little, like water on a barely breezy day. Puffs of dust rose in a circle, at the center of which stood a very confused duke.
He stepped to the side. Tavi instructed her magic to do the same. When he moved the other direction, her
magic did too.
Tullen leaned down, and his breath was warm in her ear as he whispered, “You’re sending a good message, but it doesn’t seem to be impressing him enough.”
“Can’t have that.” Tavi urged her magic to strengthen, and instead of shifting slightly, the dirt under the duke’s feet began to shake back and forth. Duke Gistler nearly toppled over, but he regained his balance, planting his feet wide apart and bending his knees. He held his hands out, arms bent at the elbows, and swayed like a hungover sailor during a storm.
The guards had taken notice by then, and all three of them stood absolutely still, jaws dropped low, as the duke gyrated in front of them. Tavi was overcome with hysterical laughter, which she tried to stifle via a firmly closed mouth. When she looked at Tullen, she saw he was doing the same. Tavi gave up. She burst into loud guffaws, unconsciously releasing her magic at the same time.
Several things happened all at once. The duke stilled and looked around, as if afraid some other unseen force would attack him. One guard kept his eyes on the duke, but the other two turned and looked for the source of the loud laughter.
“Better go,” Tullen said.
Tavi hopped on his back. As they ran off, she looked behind her. The duke was walking toward his horse as fast as he could manage, and one of the guards was watching Tavi and Tullen, his hands on his hips.
Tullen turned to look, too. “That’s Urlo,” he said. “He’s an old friend. He’ll never let me hear the end of this.”
Tavi just laughed, and they continued to run.
The next morning, the Golds sat in the Meadow meeting hall, eating breakfast. This early, the building was sparsely populated.
“I appreciate you all being here,” Sall said. “Jenevy, I know you just finished a night shift. I’ll try to keep this short so you can get to bed.”
In response, Jenevy smiled and sipped her tea. Her work at the Meadow healing and midwifery house often required her to keep odd hours.
Facing the Fire Page 6
