“I know, but she says if I work with a bunch of kids, you’ll probably get me killed.” He shrugged and looked away. “Sorry. I know you aren’t really kids, but . . . well, I don’t know how you’re all going to fight them. Birge has a better chance.”
Tavi wanted to argue, but he was probably right.
Tullen asked, “What else happened in your conversation with Birge?”
“She—I think she’s convinced I’m almost ready to help her.”
A young man came by the table. “Beers for the two of you?”
“No, thanks,” Tavi and Tullen both answered. The man gave them an odd look, probably because of their scarves, and left.
“You said she thinks you’ll help her. Will you?” Tullen asked.
“Well, I thought I would. But then she said if I could figure out who you are, she’d make sure none of you survived longer than a day. And she’d make sure I got the credit for catching you.”
Tavi felt her heartbeat quicken. “Did you tell her who we are?”
“I told her I didn’t know your names. And it wasn’t a lie. It’s been awhile since I looked at those posters; I know your faces, but not your names. Then when she said she wanted you all dead . . . well, I can’t work with someone like that. You’re all good people, at least you seem to be.” He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know what to do.”
“One question,” Tavi said. “Does Konner trust Birge?”
Zakkur thought about that. “I don’t know. But she visited him today, and it’s pretty clear she doesn’t trust him.”
“That means he doesn’t trust her either,” Tavi said. “And knowing that, there’s only one thing for you to do.”
“What?” Zakkur sounded desperate.
“Birge will turn on you the minute she suspects you’re not totally loyal to her, and with her gift, it won’t take long for her to figure it out. Tomorrow morning, you have to tell Konner what you know. He’ll make sure Birge is arrested.”
“Why would he believe me?” Zakkur asked.
“Because I’m sure he already suspects the truth,” Tullen said. “She’s smart and independent, and she’s not afraid to disagree with him. I’m sure he’s already keeping a close eye on her.”
“And if you don’t do it,” Tavi said, “Birge will have you arrested. You know that’s true.”
Zakkur drained the rest of his beer stein, then set it down, keeping both hands around it. Finally, he said, “You’re right. I don’t have a choice.”
Tullen nodded. “And when Birge is out of the picture, will you help us?”
Zakkur looked him in the eye. “I’ll think about it.”
Tavi stood. “At least you’re honest.”
She and Tullen left the pub.
Chapter Twenty-Four
At last I have something exciting to share, something beyond the delights of red-uniformed guards!
- Erti Stag to Mika Stag, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom
Someone had shoveled the streets, but the cobblestones were still slick. It was a windy, cloudy day, and Camalyn knew she should be wearing a warm hat, as Relin was. But her hair was part of her beauty, and her beauty was part of her appeal to the people of Cormina. So in public, she let her long tresses hang free, unencumbered by clips and uncovered by any but the most fashionable of hats (which were never warm.)
The crowds in front of the temporary palace had been herded off to one side, behind barriers, and the entire street was closed to vehicular traffic. But the guards at the end of the street had been instructed to let one particular wagon through. Camalyn turned and saw the vehicle they were expecting. The spectators murmured to each other as they watched the approach of the large, black wagon pulled by two large, black horses.
Members of the crowd began to repeat one phrase, spoken in tones of fear and morbid excitement: “Prison wagon!”
Camalyn’s eyes shifted to Konner, and he looked back at her with a satisfied smile. She often disagreed with him, but in this case, he’d been right. Doing this publicly would serve a worthwhile purpose. The people here would speak of what they’d seen like it was entertainment. But word would spread to those who needed to hear the real message: rebellion at any level would be discovered and dealt with swiftly.
The prison wagon pulled to a stop, and cloudy condensation puffed from the noses of the horses. After stepping down, the driver bowed to the king and queen, then stood next to the vehicle, his back straight and eyes forward.
Konner loved to create suspense and drama, and he was in his element. He did nothing but stare at the vehicle for a full minute. The crowd quieted, and Camalyn glanced their way. They were pressed against the barriers, every eye on the scene before them.
Camalyn shifted her attention to Konner, who nudged Relin. The king cleared his throat and proclaimed, “Bring out the prisoner!”
The driver walked to the back of the wagon, unlocked it, and swung the door open. The spectators grew louder; they couldn’t see into the rear of the vehicle. Camalyn, however, could.
Two safety officers tugged at their prisoner, who quietly resisted. At last, they pulled her to the wagon’s opening and shoved her out. Her hands were tied behind her back, and she landed hard on her knees, then on her face. When she flipped to her side, her mouth and chin were bleeding. The safety officers jumped out behind her and grasped her elbows, hoisting her to her feet. They half-marched, half-dragged her to stand before Konner, Camalyn, and Relin.
The crowd gasped upon seeing her. Even if they didn’t know who Remina Birge was, they were doubtless shocked to see a bloodied woman brought before the king and queen.
In this little bit of theatre, it was Camalyn’s turn to play her role. She took one step forward. They’d considered whether she should use her gift, but Birge, being so aware of its power, might resist it. Even if it worked on her, it could have too much of a calming effect. They wanted the crowd to see Birge as belligerent, and she was complying—by not complying. She pulled against the strong men holding her and spat blood at Konner. It landed in the street between them.
“Remina Birge,” Camalyn began, “You are charged with treason against your king and queen. You will be tried in a court of law. If you are found guilty, the penalty is death.”
“This is preposterous!” Birge shouted. “I have always been loyal. Who told you I wasn’t?”
“The details will be disclosed during your trial,” Camalyn replied.
Birge stopped pulling and stood tall, hate in her eyes. She turned all her attention to Konner. “I know who it was. One of the guards, Zakkur, approached me. He wanted to start a rebellion. I even had him watched; a large group of people visited him last night, more members of his little resistance.”
“If you knew he was being treasonous, why didn’t you tell your king and queen immediately?” Konner asked.
Birge didn’t hesitate in answering, “I wanted to have enough evidence first.”
Camalyn laughed. “For someone who can detect deception, Birge, you’re a terrible liar. Officers, take her to the city jail to await trial.”
“Wait!” Birge cried. Camalyn held up a hand, and the officers stopped. Birge spoke again, quietly enough not to be heard by the crowd behind the barrier. Her voice was still full of sharp hate, but blurry desperation now lined it. “There won’t be a trial, will there? Who’s going to make a midnight visit to my cell? I know you have someone in mind. Who’s going to steal my last breath?”
“Take her!” Konner shouted, enraged.
Camalyn was as angry as he was; would the officers speak about what they’d just heard? Would Birge tell them even more?
“My attorney is already being notified of this!” Birge screamed as the officers dragged her toward the wagon.
Konner strode up to the wagon and watched as the officers threw Birge in and lifted themselves in after her. “You think your attorney can save you when your king and queen know you’re guilty?”
Birge laughed, lon
g enough to make Camalyn question the woman’s sanity. When the laughter stopped, Birge muttered through her bloody lips, “I didn’t say she’d save me.”
Konner himself slammed the wagon door.
“Wake up! All of you, wake up!”
Tavi opened her eyes, squinting against the lantern light in the bedroom doorway.
“Benisa?” Jenevy asked. “What is it?”
“Come into the common room. I’ll wake the boys.” The light departed, then returned. Benisa urged in a louder voice, “Get up, girls, please, you must hear this.”
She always called them “girls” and “boys,” even those who were adults. That didn’t usually bother Tavi, but early in the morning, it didn’t take much to annoy her. When Benisa left, Tavi stuck her tongue out at the empty doorway.
In three minutes, all nine Golds had situated themselves in the common room. They were bleary-eyed, still in their pajamas, and several of them moaned when Benisa lit the room’s hanging lanterns.
“I’ll start a fire,” Jenevy said.
“It can wait.” Benisa’s voice was firm. “A laboring mother just arrived, and her husband found this slipped into the crack between our front door and its frame.” She held up a folded sheet of paper.
“What is it?” at least three people asked.
“It’s a flyer. On the front, it says ‘THE TRUTH’. And on the inside—well, who wants to read it?”
“I will.” Narre raised her hand, then used it to snatch the flyer from Benisa. She opened it and took a few moments to scan it. Her hand dropped, still holding the flyer, and her other hand covered her mouth. “Oh, dear Sava, no.”
She handed the paper to Sall, who sat next to her. His eyes widened when he glanced at its contents, but he swallowed and read it aloud.
My name is Remina Birge, and I was a Cormina councillor. I have worked for King Relin and Queen Camalyn ever since. To be more precise, I work for Chief Minister Konner Burrell, who uses our king and queen as his puppets. He is the true power behind our new monarchy.
I left instructions for these leaflets to be distributed throughout the city if I was ever arrested or killed. Clearly, one of these circumstances has materialized.
Your nation’s new leaders have kept secrets from you, and it is time to reveal the truth.
Gray magic is not a gift from Sava as you have been led to believe. To attain gray magic, one sun-blessed person must kill another after stealing that person’s breath.
Allow me to elucidate the process. Just as a baby receives magic through a blessing breath, gray magic is also bestowed through breath. The gifted person seeking gray magic must steal the last breath of the gifted person they are killing. This is usually achieved by placing one’s mouth on top of one’s victim’s mouth, sharing the victim’s breath, and then strangling or suffocating the victim. Within minutes of the murder, the sun-blessed person’s magic will convert to gray magic which, as you know, frees them from the bonds of resistance. There is a cost: Gray magic is very painful to use.
You, the people of Savala, now know the truth. Share it far and wide. Gray magic is the key to making our nation strong. My desire to share the truth has led to my capture and likely my death. May this same truth lead to our nation’s renewed life.
Remina Birge
No one spoke. Across from Sall, Ash reached out his hand. Sall handed over the flyer, and others huddled around Ash to read it for themselves.
After everyone had a chance to look at it, Sall stood. “I’m going out,” he said. “I want to know how widely these flyers have been circulated.”
An hour later, everyone was in the dining room. They hadn’t wanted to eat, but Benisa had insisted. Tavi looked up from her plate to see that Sall had returned.
“What did you learn?” Benisa asked.
“Everywhere I walked, safety officers were collecting all the flyers they could find,” he said. “But they can’t keep up. Early risers have already read the information. There are flyers in the gutters and trampled in the streets. People are outside, talking to their neighbors about it.”
“It’s too late,” Tavi said. “Too many people already know.”
Sall dropped into a chair. “It was one thing to attempt to stop gray magic when only a few people knew how to attain it. But this—this changes everything.”
No one spoke, but the room wasn’t silent. Tavi followed the sound and found Ash, who’d pushed his chair back into the corner. He sat, elbows propped on his knees, face in his hands, shoulders shaking. Muffled sobs escaped his mouth and filled the room.
Chapter Twenty-Five
I have helped bring far too many children into this world to remember them all. But I haven’t forgotten even one child who received my breath of blessing.
-From Midwife Memoirs by Ellea Kariana
“It’s not working.”
Konner Burrell stood and leaned over his desk, propping himself on his hands. “What do you mean, ‘It’s not working’?”
The safety officer in front of the desk stumbled back. He was much larger than Konner and might even be able to win a fight between them. But the man knew where the real power lie. He served at Konner’s pleasure and could be fired or arrested at any moment.
The officer looked somewhere over Konner’s shoulder as he said, “My officers have visited every midwife house, just like you told us to. Not all of them have magical training programs. But we told the ones that do to give us lists of their students. Past and present, just like you said. And they won’t.”
“Did you tell them you were acting on behalf of their king and queen? Did you make it clear this was an order, not a request?”
“Of course! I mean, yes, sir, I did. But they said the information is confidential. A couple of them said yes, but when officers went back for the lists, the midwives said to come back later. I don’t think any of them will give us what we want.”
“Your officers are incompetent.”
“Sir—”
Konner came around his desk and stood inches away from the officer, who averted his gaze. “Get out of my office, and get out of this palace.”
Tullen approached the little butcher shop. Through the window in the front door, he saw two customers at the counter. He stepped back, not wanting to enter until the others left. It had been cloudy for days, and the sun was finally out. He was enjoying the feel of it on his skin so much that he was a little disappointed when both customers exited and it was time for him to go in.
“Meat, meat, gotta eat!” the man behind the counter called out as Tullen wiped his boots on the doormat. “It’s all dead, and it’s a treat!”
Tullen had wondered how he’d know if the man working there was the one he was seeking. The only description he’d gotten was, “It’ll be obvious, Kogar the Butcher is crazy.” This was definitely the right man.
“Glad it’s dead,” Tullen said. “I used to work at a butcher shop, and customers wouldn’t have been too happy if they’d had to kill their own animals.”
Kogar laughed like it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. “What can I get ya?”
Tullen ignored the question. “The butcher shop I worked at was in a little town a couple of weeks’ walk from here. Have you ever been that far from Savala?”
“No, I’ve never even left the city. Everyone in that place talk like you do?”
“No, just me.”
“Everyone wear scarves on their face like you do?”
Tullen smiled behind the scarf, though he was tired of wearing it. “It was really cold out there. I’m still warming up.”
“Well, I’m happy to give you a good cut of meat. Maybe some pork chops? They’ll warm you up once your lady cooks them.”
“Or once I cook them,” Tullen said.
“You don’t got a lady? Can’t help you with that. Bet my business would be better if I could! How many pork chops you need?”
“Let’s do some pork roast instead. How about those two?” He pointed.
&nbs
p; “Cooking for a big group, huh?” Kogar began to wrap the first roast.
“So you’ve lived here all your life,” Tullen said. “I haven’t been here long. What’s it like, being so close to the king and queen all the time?”
Kogar cut a piece of twine and glanced up at Tullen as he tied it. “It’s just fine.”
“Just between you and me,” Tullen said, “I’m not sure how I feel about this new kingdom. In the past, my little town helped elect a councillor. Now the people there feel like no one represents them.”
Kogar scooted the first roast toward Tullen and leaned forward. His booming voice suddenly turned soft. “Like you said, just between you and me, right?”
“Of course.”
“None of us regular people in Savala feel like we’re represented either. You think I could just go talk to that king and queen? No way. There’s some rich lord who’s in charge of all us butchers now. The man couldn’t even tell the difference between venison and rabbit when he came in here! And he’s supposed to tell me how to run my business? Started collecting extra taxes too. And I got nobody to complain to.”
“I heard you felt that way,” Tullen said.
“You heard?” Kogar stiffened.
“I talked to a kid from the neighborhood; he told me you’re not crazy about the new king and queen. Neither am I. Or the rest of the group I’m with.”
“What group?”
“People like you. Unhappy with how things are now. And determined to bring about change.”
The butcher stepped back and picked up the second roast. He lay it on a large sheet of paper and began to wrap it. “Or maybe you work for the king, and you’re trying to get me in trouble.”
Facing the Fire Page 23
