The August 5 by Jenna Helland Page A

administrator, Shore tried to avoid the Zunft’s own statutes and hold a mass trial of the August Five. By law, those accused of treason are entitled to separate trials and competent legal representation. The motion was suppressed, but will the August Five be given a fair trial under a chief administrator who is willing to break the laws of the land?
    The Zunft Chronicle reports that maritime traffic delays forced Hywel to miss the session, but this reporter found no delays in the ferry schedule. Where is Toulson Hywel?
    â€” JFA Bulletin, August 12
    â€œThe vote was staged. Without Hywel, there was no one to stop it!”
    â€œCan they truly enforce the Ancestral Homes Act? Some of those bond records are a hundred years old! It will be economic chaos.”
    â€œForget economics. It’s slavery!”
    Tamsin could hear the urgent conversation through a grate in the floor, but it didn’t make much sense to her. Her head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton from drinking root tea to take away the pain of her injuries. The only voice she recognized was that of Brian Leahy, the patriarch of the Leahy family and her father’s close friend. Tamsin was staying at the Leahys’ home, a narrow row house near the Lyone River. Heat from the woodstove rose through the grate into the little sleeping room that had once been a closet and could barely accommodate the cot where Tamsin rested. Instead of being dark and oppressive, the tiny room felt cozy and safe. The walls were painted a bright yellow with a vibrant mural of a sunflower above her bed. In Sevenna, several cottager families would often share one row house, and space was at such a premium that even the unlikeliest of spaces were inhabited. The Leahys had made a special effort to make this windowless room a pleasant place for their guests.
    A white candle flickered on the nightstand beside her. Tucked under a colorful quilt, Tamsin lay on her uninjured side. She felt lonely and wished she had the strength to get up out of bed and join the people downstairs, but whenever she sat up, she felt too nauseated to stand. She listened as the voices grew more agitated:
    â€œWhere were the people during the Rising? Too scared to take to the streets!”
    â€œWhat about the pub, Brian? What’s going to happen now?”
    Brian and Katherine Leahy ran a popular establishment known as the Plough and Sun. Cottagers couldn’t own property, so a Zunft family name must have been on the title to the pub, but everyone referred to the pub as the Leahys’ place. The urgent conversation continued as Tamsin dozed off. She dreamed that she was walking with her mother, Anna, on a rugged beach back on Aeren. She tried to hold on to Anna’s hand, but her mother kept disappearing into the mist. In her dream, the waves crashed loudly and the mist encircled her like a funeral shroud. Finally, she saw her mother’s blond hair gleaming through the fog, but when she reached out to touch her, Anna shattered like glass.
    When Tamsin awoke later, the candle had burned down to a stub. The many voices she’d heard beneath her were now gone, replaced by silence. In her drowsy state, she had the impression that the front door had clattered opened and slammed shut. Maybe that had jarred her awake. She wondered what time it was. It seemed like it must be the middle of the night.
    â€œHello, Gavin,” she heard Mr. Leahy say through the grate in the floor. “Take your coat off. Have a seat.”
    The rocking chairs creaked as the men sat down in front of the fire. When they began to talk, their words were so clear it felt like she was in the room with them.
    â€œAre you all set up?” Mr. Leahy asked.
    â€œEverything is operational,” Gavin answered. “We assembled the presses last night. I printed the first newspaper today with the news about Shore and the Chamber. He’s obviously bought Kaplan off. Having the adjudicator on