The conversation shifted as they discussed their impressions of the Meadow leaders. Even as she laughed, and later, scrubbed, Tavi couldn’t help but ponder Jenevy’s words. How long can I live in a place that will always assume the worst of me just because I wasn’t born here?
Chapter Nine
The army. Words I never expected to hear in our land, much less read in your handwriting. Darling, I am terribly proud of you. But I miss you so. Please stay safe and come home to me.
- Sharla Stemming to Colonel Kav Stemming, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom
“Really, it’s unheard of in my hometown to put sugar in your tea.” General Talger pushed the sugar bowl away.
“Fascinating,” Colonel Stemming replied, attempting to keep his voice level. He would respect her as his superior officer, but her unexpected arrival in his camp had confounded him. The new general must be twenty years younger than him. Were the king and queen that unhappy with his handling of their new army? He stirred his own tea and took a sip. “May I ask why you’re here?”
Talger sipped her tea and smiled, the tent’s lantern light reflecting off her perfect teeth. “King Relin and Queen Camalyn sent me.”
“You did mention that. If I may ask, are your troops joining mine permanently or temporarily?”
“Permanently.”
Stemming took another sip. “Very well. I look forward to working under your leadership.” His shoulders were tense, belying his words. Time to turn to practical matters. “What supplies did you bring?”
“We have our own tents, as you’ve seen. And the basics, canteens and uniforms and such.”
“Any food? Weapons?”
“We have fifty hand cannons and some pellets, but no black powder. No food, either.”
The colonel set his cup down and leaned forward. “No black powder or food?”
Talger shrugged. “It took us three weeks to trek out here. We wanted to practice with the weapons along the way. We didn’t have that much black powder to begin with, and we went through it fast. And, well, Colonel, you’ve seen how soldiers can eat! Our food stores ran out yesterday.” She crossed her arms and relaxed back in her chair, giving Stemming a small smile.
After a long moment, he said, “I presume you’ll be taking command.”
“Of course.”
“Respectfully, General Talger, may I ask you a question?”
“Yes.”
“How exactly did you become a . . .” He stopped and pressed his lips together before starting over. He needed to be careful in this line of questioning. “Are you sun-blessed?”
She smiled. “Twice-blessed.”
“I see.” Perhaps that was why, at such a young age, she’d been given command of Cormina’s forces. “What are your gifts, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Talger stood and took a quick, deep breath, in and out. Her hands and mouth filled with gray light.
Stemming’s back turned rigid, and dread blossomed in his gut. He didn’t know much about gray magic, and he certainly didn’t trust it. “What can you do?”
In answer, the general grinned and lifted her finger up, several inches from her mouth. She formed her mouth into an O and exhaled. Something flashed on her fingertip, and her breath transformed into a blaze of fire.
It was absurd and incredible, like a dragon from a picture book. Stemming barely prevented himself from crying out. The fire burned out as quickly as it had started, and Talger laughed in delight.
After clearing his throat, Stemming forced a smile to his lips. “Fascinating. May I meet the troops you brought?”
“They’re resting in their tents, but we can arrange that later. Oh, and I almost forgot. I came with orders for a mission. I’ll be assigning a small contingent of troops and leading them myself. The king and queen want us to confront a rebellious community in the area. I’ve already sent a messenger ahead on horseback to speak with the nearby duke. My soldiers are all begging for the opportunity to be part of this.”
Evitt had been listening to thunder for an hour, his face buried in his arms. He’d have preferred to continue sleeping, but that obviously wasn’t going to happen. He gave up, flipped from his belly to his side, and rose into a crouch, the highest he could stand in the small hay loft. Pale light shone through the barn window. Past dawn—he had to leave. He grabbed his bag of belongings and descended the ladder to the floor. The last thing he needed was to get caught intruding on a stranger’s property.
Looking around the building, Evitt noticed light wasn’t the only thing sneaking into the barn. Rain forced its way through gaps on all sides of the doors. He groaned. He’d known it was raining; it was hammering on the roof. But seeing the wetness invade the building reminded him he was about to have to walk in it. And it would be cold.
Evitt took a moment to brush hay off his clothes and pick the larger pieces out of his hair. Then he closed his eyes, held his breath, and invited his magic in. It swallowed his head in pain, and he let out a resigned sigh as he opened the barn door and stepped into the violent sheets of rain.
Headache from Kovus. Cold. Wet. And so hungry I could eat my shoes. It was the definition of misery. Evitt pulled his knit cap farther down on his ears and began walking. The farmhouse was just ahead. At least he didn’t have to sneak around. His magic and the rain camouflaged him from both eyes and ears.
Just after Evitt passed the farmhouse, he stopped at the sound of the front door opening. He turned, his stomach letting out a low rumble. Perhaps whoever lived in this house lived alone, and Evitt could sneak in and steal enough provisions to get him through the next week on the road while they took care of . . . well, whatever a farmer took care of each morning.
But the person who exited was a young girl, perhaps ten years old. So much for her being the only person living there. She carried a bucket and wore a massive rain coat, probably belonging to one of her parents. She looked so warm. And dry.
Out of curiosity, Evitt followed her. He expected her to go to the large barn next to the little barn where he’d stayed. Evitt was no farmer, but he was pretty sure the bellowing cow in that big building desperately wanted to be milked. However, the girl walked in the opposite direction, rounding one corner of the house, then another.
In the rear of the lovely home (which, judging by its active chimneys, had two fires Evitt longed to sit before), the girl walked straight to a little building. She undid the latch and entered. The squawking of chickens reached Evitt’s ears.
Evitt felt as if his heart would stop. Chickens. Oh, how he wanted to eat a chicken. Not that he’d have a way to cook it, and he didn’t even know how to pluck one. But where there were chickens, there were usually eggs. And eating a few eggs was almost as good as eating a chicken.
Problem was, he didn’t have a place to cook eggs, either. But eggs could be eaten raw, couldn’t they? With his stomach this empty, Evitt thought he’d be willing to try it. He had to get some.
He crept up to the chicken coop entrance, prepared to wait. But as soon as he got there, the girl exited, carrying her bucket with more care than she had earlier. She’d covered it with a cloth, probably to keep out the rain.
Evitt hurried into the coop and sat on the floor by the rear wall. He scraped the heel of his boot against the floorboards as hard as he could. But the rain was so loud, he feared it was blocking the sound. So he accompanied it with a high-pitched squeak from his mouth.
A moment later, the girl returned. Her brow furrowed as she looked around the tiny coop. Evitt continued to make the sound with his heel.
Just as he’d hoped, the girl knelt and put her bucket down so she could get on her hands and knees and look into the bottom row of . . . compartments? Nests? What were those little cubbies called, anyway?
Evitt didn’t have time to ponder it further. The girl’s back was to her eggs, and he reached carefully under the cloth, his hands searching out the bucket’s contents. He withdrew two gorgeous, brown eggs and placed them
in his jacket pocket.
But he’d been so focused on his thieving that he’d forgotten to watch the girl. At some point she’d given up on her search and stood, and now her boot came down hard on his calf.
Evitt lurched, throwing himself into the wall. The girl screamed. He wasn’t sure why her reaction was so strong until he realized his head didn’t hurt anymore. When she’d stepped on him, he’d lost his focus and his magic.
The girl’s terrified gaze was fixed on him, her eyes as round as the eggs she’d collected, and she continued to scream. Evitt scrambled to his feet and sprinted out the front of the chicken coop. He ran in a straight line away from the house, and soon he heard shouts from a man and a woman. As he ran, he closed his eyes again, relieved that his magic responded. The family’s yells became even more alarmed when he vanished.
Even invisible, Evitt didn’t dare stop running until he was certain he wasn’t being followed. At last, he felt confident enough to stop under some evergreen trees. They prevented some of the rain from reaching him. He released his gift with a sigh and took a long moment to catch his breath.
Then he reached into his pocket, ready for his feast of two eggs. But his hand found only broken shells and sticky insides. I must have broken them when I slammed against the wall of the coop.
He pulled his hand out and tried to lap up the raw egg, but he got shell pieces in his mouth too. It felt like he was starving to death, but he must not be. If he were actually starving, surely he’d gladly eat the raw egg, shell and all. Instead, he fought back vomit and walked back into the open so the rain could rinse off his hand and the pocket of his poor coat.
I just want to go home. He returned to the covering of the trees, lowered himself to the ground, and sat against the damp bark.
Evitt rested his cheek in his hand and thought back over the previous weeks. His trip out of Savala had started off just fine. He’d had enough money to stay in decent inns, and everyone had bought his story that he was looking for the Meadow to see if they’d let him join their community. Most people didn’t know what the Meadow was, but within two days of beginning his trip, he’d found someone who’d heard of the place. He’d told Evitt what route he thought the young man should take.
That was the last bit of good luck to find Evitt. The next day as he’d traveled, he’d encountered a raucous group of young men on the road, eager to share their dreams of making fortunes. Evitt had taken a nice, long break with them, sharing some cheese he’d brought from home and accepting their dried meat in return. It wasn’t until hours after they’d moved on that Evitt had realized his bag of money was gone.
Now he’d spent weeks roaming Cormina’s countryside, without a quad to his name, trying to stay warm and fed. And failing at every turn. He wasn’t even sure he was going in the right direction anymore; perhaps he’d passed the Meadow altogether.
Evitt tried to think himself into a better state of mind. The tree trunk is comfortable. I’m warm. I’m drinking rain dripping from the branches; I don’t need food. It didn’t work. Every part of his body cried out for a hot meal and a warm bed, and all the imagination in the world wouldn’t change that.
He couldn’t get comfortable and figured it was best to keep moving. So he returned to the road and found it slick with mud. Fine; he’d stay on the grass bordering it. He walked, pretty sure he was still headed west. Possibly. He hadn’t seen the sun in three days, and the road might have gradually curved in some other direction during that time. But at least he was moving.
After an hour of walking, Evitt felt more than hungry. He was weak. His body needed nourishment to continue. He urged himself to keep going, but there were no homes or buildings of any sort in sight. A sudden, irrational fear overcame him: that he was the only person left alive in the world. He laughed it off, but the general sense of dread remained.
One step, then another. His entire world was cold rain, soggy clothes, and a screaming stomach. Every step looked and felt the same, and he had no concept of how much time had passed. When was the last time he’d eaten? Four days? Five? He stumbled but managed not to fall. Several seconds later, it happened again, but this time, he fell into the grass and mud.
I have to find something to eat if I’m going to keep walking. Evitt looked around. He didn’t know anything about getting food in the wild. He had the feeling he was more likely to find animals or edible plants in a wooded area. Not that he knew how to catch an animal, make a cook fire with no matches, or discern between safe and poisonous plants.
All around was sodden grass, but he saw a copse of trees a ways off the road, to the left. He trudged through the long grass, almost tripping twice. At last he reached the trees.
He counted them. Seven. Certainly no forest. This is ridiculous. Animals wouldn’t live here, except maybe bugs, and he wasn’t that desperate yet. Though maybe he should be.
Evitt entered the trees. As before, their evergreen needles blocked some of the rain. But the only thing he saw that looked possibly edible was a small grouping of mushrooms. That scared him; they didn’t look like the ones his mother cooked with, and he knew there were plenty of poisonous mushrooms in the wild. Again, he sat against the unforgiving bark of a tree. He hugged his knees to his chest, lay his head on them, and closed his eyes. Just for a moment.
For the second time that day, Evitt woke to a loud sound. But this time, it wasn’t thunder. It was a gruff voice.
“What are you doing out here?”
Evitt’s eyes snapped open. A man knelt before him. The rain had stopped, thank Sava, though the sun still wasn’t out.
Everything the man wore was dark gray. Sturdy pants, collared shirt, thick coat. On top of it all was a gray rain coat.
Evitt’s first instinct was to use his gift. He’d make himself invisible, then slip away. The man would be so surprised, he wouldn’t know what to do.
But Evitt couldn’t bring himself to do it. The man looked well-fed. And warm.
Evitt had to get to the Meadow. But he’d never find it if he was so hungry and weak that he couldn’t stay awake in the middle of the day. Perhaps this man could give him some food. Maybe even some information.
“Are you all right?” The man’s tone became concerned. “Can you hear me, young man?”
“I can hear you.” Evitt forced a smile. “I’m really hungry.”
“Do you live around here?”
Evitt shook his head. “I was travelling. To see family. But I got lost.”
“Where do they live?”
Now he’d messed it up; why had he said he was visiting family? Nobody just visited the Meadow. “Savala,” he blurted.
The man chuckled. “You really are lost. Savala’s nowhere near here. Come join us. We’ll get you some food.”
We?
The man stood, held out both hands, and helped Evitt up. They exited the little grouping of trees, and the man led him across the street and over a couple of small hills. Evitt gasped.
The plain beneath them was covered in countless canvass tents.
Evitt sat before a fire so large and hot, no one could get close enough to place additional fuel on it. They had to stand back and heave the big logs into the roaring flames. Each time someone did so, embers and cheers rose into the air. It was still early afternoon, but with weather like this, Evitt was glad they didn’t wait until dark to build a fire. The rain had stopped, but it was still chilly.
He was warm, full, and dry for the first time in days. And as much as he wanted to go rest in the tent the kind man had told him he could use, he forced himself to stay with the group. He needed information.
At least he knew the name of the man who’d rescued him: Colonel Stemming.
“Colonel of what?” Evitt had asked, feigning ignorance. He’d heard Konner himself talking about this fledgling army. It was bigger than he’d expected, though. There must be at least five or six hundred men and women in the camp.
The man smiled and waved his hand toward the gray-clad group. “
Of the Corminian army.”
“Who will you be fighting?” Evitt asked.
“Whoever the king and queen tell us to.”
That was all the information Colonel Stemming would give him. Then he loaned Evitt a warm uniform and fed him. The food made Evitt vomit since his stomach was so empty, but then the colonel gave him another tin plate of food. Evitt had eaten that one more slowly.
Now, he sat in front of the fire surrounded by men and women who were being trained to kill for the monarchy. They were surprisingly kind, normal people.
“You should join the army,” a cute young woman with shockingly short hair said.
Evitt laughed. “Me?”
“Sure. How old are you?”
“Eighteen,” he lied. He’d just turned seventeen.
“Perfect,” she said with a smile. “You don’t even need your parents’ permission.”
“Why were you going to Savala, anyway?” a man asked. He was tall and skinny and looked just a little older than Evitt.
“There’s not much to do in my hometown,” he said. “I thought I’d stay with some family there and try to find a good job.”
“There’s a good job right here,” the young woman said. “We get enough food, and we even get paid.”
“What sorts of things have you been doing?” Evitt asked, desperate for information. He wished he could ask the questions that were really on his mind. Had the general arrived yet? Had she and her troops gone to the Meadow?
Another man spoke up. He had thick muscles and a bushy beard and looked like he was made to fight. “Mostly we’ve been training. Learning to march and use hand cannons. That sort of thing.”
“We even play games,” the young woman said. “The colonel breaks us into two groups, and we pretend we’re two different armies. We try out strategies, capture each other, and practice hand-to-hand fighting.”
Facing the Fire Page 9
