study . . . or to the ley nodes and the Wielders. Cory and Brandt and some of the other boys whispered and snickered and dreamed about being chosen to become a Wielder, playacting in the school’s courtyard as they manipulated the ley for their own purposes, arms waving in wild, dramatic circles. But it was just playacting. Nearly everyone tested showed some trace of talent, but rarely was it strong enough to be selected to attend the University. Fewer still were taken off by the Wielders. And those that were taken by the Wielders never spoke of their training in the use of the ley. So everything that Cory and Brandt and the rest made up in the courtyard was simply . . . imagination. It wasn’t real.
She frowned and stared down at her hands, clutched now against her chest. She thought suddenly of Halliel’s Park, of the ley globes hovering above the gate brightening and dimming—
But then her father returned, a bowl of steaming stew held in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He dragged a stool close with his foot, and set the bowl and glass on the floor. “Let’s get you into a better position,” he muttered, helping her to sit up, rearranging the pillows at her back so she could lean against the wall that served as a headboard. He moved the bowl to her lap and handed her a spoon. She managed to raise a few spoonfuls to her mouth before her arm became too weak and he took over for her. The stew spread warmth through her stomach and chest and even though she still felt weak, the last vestiges of her panic subsided.
She’d eaten half the bowl when her father drew back and ruffled her hair. “Feeling better?” When she nodded, he stood. “Good. I need to get to work on this new clock. You stay here and rest. I’ll be in the next room.”
“Da?”
He turned at the door, bowl of stew cupped in one hand. He didn’t look as weary as before. “What, Kara?”
She bit her lower lip, then blurted. “I was at the park, at Halliel’s Park. That’s why I didn’t come straight home from school, why I was at the marketplace. I wanted to see the park.”
“I know.” He smiled. “And I’m glad you told me. Now you should get some rest, so you can go back to school tomorrow. Besides, your mother should be home shortly and you’ll want to let her know you’re fine by helping out with dinner, right?”
Kara made a face and scrunched back into the pillow. Her father chuckled, the sound fading as he settled into the outer room, the chair before his desk creaking with his weight. She wondered how he knew she’d been going to the park all this time, and why he hadn’t said anything to her about it before.
Then she heard her father humming in the outside room, the sound barely audible, and the tension drained from her body and the weight that made her arms and legs leaden faded and she drifted off to sleep.
Four
“W HERE ARE YOU HEADED?” Cory asked Kara as soon as he emerged from the iron gate that served as the entrance to the school’s courtyard. Their fellow students streamed out around them, screaming, laughing, and shoving each other as they dispersed toward their respective parts of Eld and whatever chores their parents had for them.
“Home,” Kara said, and hefted the leather strap holding her schoolbooks onto her shoulder. It had been two weeks since the sowing of the tower, now visible from any of the hillocks in Eld and fast becoming a familiar sight. She finally felt as if she’d regained all of her strength; Cory had had to carry her books for her the first week. “You?”
Cory sighed. “The same. My father wants me to help him with the candles. Ever since the sowing, the local lords and ladies have ordered hundreds of them. The Baron used them during the ceremony somehow and now they all want them.” He scowled. “I hate working with tallow.”
Kara drew breath to point out that his father expected him to take over the business once he’d been tested, but then Justin caught
She frowned and stared down at her hands, clutched now against her chest. She thought suddenly of Halliel’s Park, of the ley globes hovering above the gate brightening and dimming—
But then her father returned, a bowl of steaming stew held in one hand, a glass of water in the other. He dragged a stool close with his foot, and set the bowl and glass on the floor. “Let’s get you into a better position,” he muttered, helping her to sit up, rearranging the pillows at her back so she could lean against the wall that served as a headboard. He moved the bowl to her lap and handed her a spoon. She managed to raise a few spoonfuls to her mouth before her arm became too weak and he took over for her. The stew spread warmth through her stomach and chest and even though she still felt weak, the last vestiges of her panic subsided.
She’d eaten half the bowl when her father drew back and ruffled her hair. “Feeling better?” When she nodded, he stood. “Good. I need to get to work on this new clock. You stay here and rest. I’ll be in the next room.”
“Da?”
He turned at the door, bowl of stew cupped in one hand. He didn’t look as weary as before. “What, Kara?”
She bit her lower lip, then blurted. “I was at the park, at Halliel’s Park. That’s why I didn’t come straight home from school, why I was at the marketplace. I wanted to see the park.”
“I know.” He smiled. “And I’m glad you told me. Now you should get some rest, so you can go back to school tomorrow. Besides, your mother should be home shortly and you’ll want to let her know you’re fine by helping out with dinner, right?”
Kara made a face and scrunched back into the pillow. Her father chuckled, the sound fading as he settled into the outer room, the chair before his desk creaking with his weight. She wondered how he knew she’d been going to the park all this time, and why he hadn’t said anything to her about it before.
Then she heard her father humming in the outside room, the sound barely audible, and the tension drained from her body and the weight that made her arms and legs leaden faded and she drifted off to sleep.
Four
“W HERE ARE YOU HEADED?” Cory asked Kara as soon as he emerged from the iron gate that served as the entrance to the school’s courtyard. Their fellow students streamed out around them, screaming, laughing, and shoving each other as they dispersed toward their respective parts of Eld and whatever chores their parents had for them.
“Home,” Kara said, and hefted the leather strap holding her schoolbooks onto her shoulder. It had been two weeks since the sowing of the tower, now visible from any of the hillocks in Eld and fast becoming a familiar sight. She finally felt as if she’d regained all of her strength; Cory had had to carry her books for her the first week. “You?”
Cory sighed. “The same. My father wants me to help him with the candles. Ever since the sowing, the local lords and ladies have ordered hundreds of them. The Baron used them during the ceremony somehow and now they all want them.” He scowled. “I hate working with tallow.”
Kara drew breath to point out that his father expected him to take over the business once he’d been tested, but then Justin caught
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