He got up and helped Tavi to her feet. She looked down to see what had tripped her. It was a log she could’ve sworn wasn’t there before.
“When you blocked my fist, I was using my other hand to move that in place,” he said.
She nodded, and once she had enough breath, she said, “My all gift doesn’t save me from my own stupidity. I can still trip on something that’s right in front of me.”
“Good fight,” Ash said, holding out his hand.
She shook it but didn’t return the compliment. Once she’d healed Ash’s cuts, they both sat at the fire with the other Golds.
“You almost had him a few times,” Tullen told Tavi.
“But all that matters is the end result. I thought there was no way I could lose, and I still managed to.” She shook her head. “How can we be sure we’ve got what it takes to beat the Grays?”
“There will never be any guarantees, Tavi.”
She sighed and gazed at the flames. They shifted back and forth, refusing to stay in the same place for longer than an instant.
That night, all the blankets and clothes they had weren’t enough. Tavi desperately wished for a warm inn, or at the least, a tent. She dozed on and off, and every time she woke, she was shivering.
And it wasn’t just the cold. Her mind wouldn’t calm. She replayed the fight with Ash, the Meadow evacuation, the moment she’d learned of Shola’s death. Then she dug up earlier memories: Ash catching her at the farmhouse and Konner doing the same at his house. Being buried by marble and brick behind the council building. Seeing Konner introduce Aldin as king. And Misty’s death, the one constant in all her sleeping and waking nightmares.
Finally, she sat up and activated the magic in her eyes, nose, and mouth. That gave her plenty of light to dig through her pack and find a pencil and scrap of paper. She breathed a quiet thank you to the Meadow woman who’d given her those items, though at the time, Tavi hadn’t known why she’d need them.
After putting more wood on the fire, she sat close to it and draped her blanket over her head and shoulders. Her gifts still active, she began to write.
First, she wrote what they knew about the Grays’ recent actions and current status. It was a disheartening list, starting with the crowning of Aldin and Camalyn, continuing with the naming of nobility, and ending with the military violence displayed in the Meadow.
Next, she wrote “STRATEGIES.”
And then she stared at the blank page. She sat there for several minutes, never once touching pencil to paper. The Grays were far more powerful than they’d been months before, and she wondered if they’d ever stop getting stronger. She huffed with enough vehemence to push back the flames in front of her.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
Tavi looked up. Wrey was crouched next to her. Just what she needed, someone she despised providing one more distraction from sleep. She released her magic and set the paper and pencil down.
Wrey sat. “I can’t sleep either.” She watched Tavi for a few seconds then said quietly, “I’ve been hoping to talk to you. For months.”
Tavi wanted to chide Wrey for approaching her in the middle of the night. They had plenty of daylight hours in which to talk. But she knew that wasn’t fair. She’d noticed Wrey seeking her out, and every time, Tavi had done whatever she could to evade the conversation.
Wrey spoke, and despite the low volume, Tavi could hear the emotion in her voice. “I know nothing I could say would be sufficient, but I am so sorry for going to Oren and for using my gift on your sister. If there was one day I could relive . . . oh, Tavi. I’m sorry.”
Tavi opened her mouth but found she had nothing to say, so she closed it again.
Wrey continued, “I’ve wanted to tell you why I did it. But I don’t want to make excuses. And I still don’t know if I should tell you—”
“I want to know,” Tavi said, turning her head and looking in Wrey’s eyes. “Tell me why.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders.
Wrey took a deep breath. “I didn’t want to go at all. By then I already realized I’d made a terrible mistake in getting gray magic. I was tired of my job, and Konner was so convincing. But it was awful, living in the Gray House. One day Konner told me he was sending me to Oren with the others, and I told him no.”
Tavi gave her a look of disbelief. Mild-mannered Wrey had told Konner no?
Wrey continued, “I thought he’d insist, tell me I didn’t have a choice. Maybe threaten me. Instead, he said I didn’t have to go, but it would be the only way to protect you from harm.”
“What?” Tavi’s voice was louder than she intended, and across the fire, she saw someone turn over in their sleep. “Protect me?” she asked in a forceful whisper.
Wrey nodded. “He said if I didn’t come and put you to sleep, that brute he was sending with us would have to restrain you, maybe even knock you out. He told me I could make sure you arrived safely, just by keeping you asleep.”
“For a two-week trip?” Tavi asked.
Wrey looked away, staring at the fire. “I think they planned to tie you up whenever it was time for you to wake. We’d give you food and water, and then I’d put you back to sleep.”
Tavi gaped at her. “That’s awful!”
“I know!” This time it was Wrey whose voice rose, and she placed her hand over her mouth, correcting her volume to a whisper. “It sounded awful to me too. But it was a lot better than a huge man knocking you out over and over. And Reba insisted that once she had a chance to talk to you, you’d cooperate, and we wouldn’t have to restrain you.”
“Did you really think that would happen?”
Wrey’s shoulders slumped. “It didn’t seem likely.” She turned her entire body to face Tavi, and Tavi wondered if she was cold. Wrey hadn’t brought her blanket with her.
“There isn’t any excuse for what I did,” Wrey said. “I wanted to do what was right. Or at least the most right thing possible, considering I’d partnered with the Grays. But, Tavi, I’m sorry.” She began crying again, her whole body shaking. “I hate myself for what I did,” she whispered through her sobs. “I hate myself for ever saying yes to Konner Burrell.”
Tavi watched her and felt an absurd desire to reach out and comfort her. Instead, she folded her hands and watched as Wrey continued to weep, her face buried in her raised knees.
Tavi had become used to a painful tightness in her chest every time she was near Wrey. What she’d just heard was like a cool compress to her inflamed heart. She was so tired of hating this quiet, kind, meek woman. A part of her had always wanted to like Wrey. It might take longer to reach that point. But knowing what Wrey had told her, believing those words, Tavi could now tolerate the young woman. The step from hatred to tolerance was a big one. Tavi reached out a tentative hand and placed it on Wrey’s knee. “I’m glad you told me.”
Wrey nodded, though it was a few more minutes before she stopped crying and lifted her head. She gave Tavi a tentative smile.
Tavi responded by nodding and pressing her lips together, holding back unexpected emotion.
“I should go back to sleep,” Wrey said.
“Wait.” Tavi held up a hand. “I think you can help me.” She lifted the paper she’d been writing on and reactivated her magic. “Since I was awake, I thought I’d write some ideas on how to fight the Grays. But I can’t think of any we haven’t talked about before. You know them, Wrey. But you’ve always been so quiet in our meetings. Do you have any ideas? At all?”
Tavi expected Wrey to clam up. But Wrey sat up straighter, crossed her legs, and whispered, “I have a lot of ideas.”
Tavi’s eyes widened, and Wrey gave her an embarrassed half-smile, but she didn’t explain her former reticence.
“The first thing you should know is that Konner is . . .” Wrey looked into the distance, her brows knit together.
“Worthless?” Tavi suggested.
“Well, yes, but he’s also—”
“Inhuman?”
“That too, but—”
“Tyrannical?”
“Yes—”
“Callous? Wicked? Grotesque?”
Wrey broke into laughter, stifling it with her hands, and Tavi couldn’t help but join in. A couple of Golds turned over in their sleep, one of them groaning, which made both women laugh even more.
Tavi forced herself to take a few deep breaths, and Wrey did the same. At last, Tavi whispered, “Sorry, you were saying?”
Wrey grinned. “Konner, as you’ve pointed out, is many things. But most importantly, he’s arrogant. He believes he’s the most brilliant person in Cormina, and he thinks he knows everything, whether it’s the proper temperature of a lamb chop or the best way to start a monarchy. But there’s one huge thing standing in the way of him seeing things the way they truly are.”
“What?” Tavi asked.
“Himself. Think about the mistakes you’ve seen him make. How did you escape from the farmhouse?”
“You haven’t heard that story?” Tavi asked.
“I’ve heard you and others refer to it, but I don’t know the whole thing.”
So Tavi told Wrey about her great escape—the ravines she’d made with her gifted feet and the way she’d healed the land. Tavi was used to people being impressed when they heard the tale. But Wrey’s primary reaction wasn’t awe; it was amusement. Again, she had to stifle her laughter as Tavi recounted the details. Tavi hadn’t ever seen this side of Wrey.
“I wish I’d witnessed that,” Wrey said. “But think about it. Konner was overconfident. He thought he’d set up the perfect location, a farmhouse outside the city. He thought he had a team that was strong enough to keep you in check. And then he thought he could ride up on his big horse and scare you away. There are so many things he could have done to keep you captive, but he underestimated you. And the only reason he did that is because he overestimated himself.
“He did the same thing when he caught you and Tullen at his house. He believed his fancy new weapon was all he needed to beat the all-blessed girl. You proved him wrong again.”
“Maybe,” Tavi said, “but I doubt he’ll ever make those mistakes again.”
“Perhaps not with you,” Wrey said. “But my guess is he’s making more mistakes than ever, because he has more power than ever. How many times do you think he’ll send soldiers to ransack people’s homes before someone rises up against him? I bet he believes every one of his nobles adores him. How long before one of them gets just as power-hungry as he is?”
Tavi nodded slowly, then held up her paper and pencil. “That all sounds true,” she said. “But how do we turn it into a strategy?”
Wrey didn’t hesitate. “You’ve already figured out some of it yourself. You said we’d talk to pilgrims at the monastery about what’s happening throughout Cormina. We need to listen for ways that Konner’s arrogance is breeding discontent. High taxes, ridiculous laws, that sort of thing. The people affected can become our allies.
“Then when we’re ready to take him down, we’ll need to bait him with something that would reflect so well on him, he won’t be able to resist it. Something big.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. But I’ll keep thinking about it.”
Tavi cocked her head and studied Wrey. “You’ve been thinking about a lot of things, haven’t you?”
Wrey looked down and shrugged.
“Why haven’t you said anything?” Tavi asked. “What you’re telling me, it’s so helpful. Why do you stay quiet when we talk about this as a group?”
Wrey turned her head to look into the fire, and one more tear travelled down her cheek. Thinking she’d get no answer, Tavi was about to go back to bed. But at last Wrey spoke, her voice the quietest it had been all night. “Sometimes the heart gets so heavy, it stifles everything else.”
The last thing Tavi would have expected was to feel empathy for Wrey. But hearing those words, she couldn’t help but close her eyes in painful understanding. “I know what you mean,” she whispered.
Without another word, they both lay down to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Midwifery should be free of political influence; that is certainly what I expected when I entered the profession. Until a Corminian councillor approached, asking if I could give his wife exercises to encourage her child to be born facing the sun. In the next breath, he promised to bring forward a vote for greater funding of midwife houses.
We must fight to remain apolitical, but I have realized that even “No” may be a political statement. Perhaps there is no such thing as a profession entirely immune to politics.
-From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana
The days grew shorter as autumn continued. Yet to Tavi, sunup to sundown felt interminable. They’d been walking for over two weeks, staying close enough to roads to avoid getting lost and far enough away to avoid being seen. She was still unable to heal weary muscles despite years of trying, so she was sore. She was cold. And every time she heard a sound that might be a human voice, she was scared.
She’d never been so grateful to have Tullen around. A week earlier, he’d declared he was barely recognizable, thanks to his full beard, and he’d risked walking into a nearby town to purchase a bow. Since then, he’d hunted a few times. The meat he brought back gave them all a break from the dried, salted stuff they’d brought from the caverns.
Tavi appreciated Tullen for more than his hunting skills, though. He made her laugh when it was the last thing she wanted to do. And every few days, when everyone else sat by a warm evening fire, he ran with her. As they flew through the dark forest, she lit the path around them with her magic. On those evenings, for a few perfect minutes, Tavi was grateful for the trip. Even the cold, uncomfortable parts.
But it had been a couple of days since she’d run with Tullen, and the effect had worn off. In a terrible mood, Tavi trudged up the mountain trail, tuning out the conversations around her. They’d been in the foothills and mountains for two days, the temperature getting colder as they hiked closer to the clouds. She thought back to her conversation with Wrey the week before, and she felt a sudden urgency to get to the monastery and start talking to pilgrims. “Can we speed it up?” she asked. There were a few groans, but the group complied.
A few minutes later, Ash, who was at the front of their little caravan, called, “What does the monastery look like, Tavi?”
Tavi thought back to when she’d seen it on her trips into Savala. “It’s made of stone,” she said. “It matches the mountain, but it’s large enough not to blend in. I think it’s three stories tall.”
“Like that?” Ash asked, pointing north.
Tavi peered in the direction he was pointing and gasped. It wasn’t close, but it was visible. She smiled so wide, her chapped lips protested in pain. Pushing forward, she took the lead. “Let’s walk faster.”
The monastery was farther away than it had appeared to be, thanks to the winding mountain trail. They stopped for lunch, Tavi barely reining in her impatience while the other Golds took time to relax and chat.
She wasn’t sure why she was so excited to see her sister. She’d never been close to Tess, who’d always been a solemn girl who spent time in her room reading and praying while everyone else played outside. But Tavi hadn’t seen anyone in her family in a year, and she yearned to hear a voice she’d known all her life, to feel the arms of someone who loved her. Will she be allowed to hug me? Tavi didn’t know how strict the rules were.
Halfway through the afternoon, they came around a bend in the trail, and the monastery lay before them. All the Golds stopped, silently appreciating the sight. The building inhabited a large, flat shelf of land. Its side walls seemed to disappear into the ancient stone mountain that rose up behind the monastery, with no discernible line between what humans and Sava had wrought. Perhaps thirty feet from the front of the monastery, the mountainside fell away into a steep cliff. Rising from the lip of the cliff, a stone wall reached high into the air. The wall the
n curved away from the cliff to meet the building’s front corner. Tavi’s eyes followed the line of the wall, then travelled down the cliff. She shuddered at the depth of the canyon below.
“Let’s go in!” Narre said.
As one, they approached a gate in the wall, its wrought iron beautifully bent into the shape of a tree. Panes of thick, translucent glass mounted to the iron blocked their view of what was beyond.
“Here we go,” Tullen said. He opened the gate.
They walked into a large courtyard. It was paved with stones of various shapes, colors, and textures, creating a pattern that was both geometric and organic, ordered and artistic.
About half a dozen men and women walked in the courtyard, following no discernible paths. All of them had their heads bowed, and none looked at the Golds as they entered. Many of them moved their lips, probably praying. Or counting the paving stones, Tavi thought with a small smile.
“I think we should go to the front door,” Wrey whispered.
“I agree,” Tavi said, keeping her voice just as low as Wrey’s. Even the whisper felt like sacrilege in this environment.
They pulled the gate shut with an echoing clang, then walked through the wide courtyard to the building’s massive wooden door.
“What do we do?” Reba breathed.
“I think we should knock.” Sall was the only one who didn’t lower his voice. The others stared at him, and he raised his eyebrows and rapped several times on the door.
A peephole window opened at eye level (or, in Tavi’s case, above-the-head level). From the opening, which was the size of a hand, a bored voice issued. “A monk meets with pilgrims at sunup and sundown each day. There are public cottages on the north side of the property for anyone who wishes to stay overnight. You’re responsible for your own food and drink.” The little door behind the peephole slammed shut.
Tavi released a frustrated grunt and knocked, harder than Sall had done. The tiny door remained closed, but the same voice emerged, muffled by the thick wood. “Pilgrims can’t come in!”
Facing the Fire Page 14
