Oh, thought Daja with a sigh of longing. That's why I want to learn.

  She was a big, strong girl, not graceful like her foster-mother Lark, not elegant like Matazi Bancanor. Usually she liked to be big and strong: it helped her to handle iron, brass, and bronze. Still, now and then she wanted a little elegance, like the day she found that most boys preferred smaller, more delicate girls, or the day Teraud had shown her iron worked like lace. The skaters on Kugisko's canals made her think that perhaps she could be elegant for a time with her own body. She wanted to try, at least.

  She got down to the bench and put her skates on. As the twins glided to a halt to watch, Daja stood. This time she dug in with the toe of one skate until she felt steady. Then she pushed off, freeing the dug-in toe at the same moment. She stroked down with that skate next, gliding into the center of the ice. Feeling the smoothness of her motion, its grace, Daja got excited. Her next stroke was a little too enthusiastic. She flew across the basin and slammed into a frozen snowbank, face-first.

  "Ow," she said. Her nose was mashed flat.

  The twins pulled her to her feet. I want to learn this, Daja told herself grimly. She pushed off again, gliding to the center of the basin.

  After breakfast Nia and Jory rushed out of the house and clambered into Serg's waiting sleigh. Once the girls were in place, Daja used her staff to climb in.

  "You walk like an old woman," Serg remarked, confused. "But you were fine yesterday."

  "It's the ice-skating," Jory informed him. "She's trying really hard."

  "And you are really trying," Daja said, trying to get comfortable on the padded seat. She glanced up at the sky: fat snowflakes drifted down in a slow dance. "I hope this doesn't get too bad."

  "It won't," Nia replied. "The weather-mage's crier comes every morning. Today's supposed to be just snowfall like this. It'll build up, but not too badly."

  "At least, it won't if the weather-mage is right. Most of the time they are," Jory contributed.

  "Do not borrow trouble, Ravvikki," Serg told Jory. "Viymese Daja, I await orders."

  "Camoc Oakborn," began Daja.

  "Nyree Street," replied Serg. He clucked to the horses and drove out the main gate with easy grace.

  Once they arrived, an apprentice ushered Daja and the girls into Camoc Oakborn's large shop, then went to find the master. They didn't have long to wait before Camoc joined them. "Viymese Daja," he said with a nod. He looked at Nia. "This is the girl you spoke of?"

  "Niamara Bancanor, this is Viynain Camoc Oakborn," Daja said giving him the Namornese title for a mage. As Nia curtsied, Daja added, "And this is her sister Jorality." Jory curtsied as well. "Jory doesn't share Nia's magic, Viynain Camoc."

  "I see that," he said. "Come along, then, Ravvikki Niamara. I'll give you the tour." He led Daja and the twins around the shop, identifying for Nia what was being made. He took a moment to inspect each of his people's work before he moved on. Nia looked at everything with wide and shining eyes, breathing the scents of paint and wood shavings as if they were perfume. By the time they reached the second floor, her dark and practical gown had acquired a coat of sawdust and a variety of wood shavings. Her creamy brown cheeks were flushed.

  She belongs here, Daja realized. Remembering her misgivings when she'd met Camoc, she added, or someplace like it.

  On the next floor carpenters toiled over everything from tables to beds. Jory was bored by then; Daja sent her out to buy hot cider and wait with Serg at the sleigh.

  Daja toiled up more steps behind Camoc and Nia, who remained spellbound by her surroundings. The third floor was for delicate work: inlays on fancy boxes, end tables, and cupboards, parts for looms and spinning wheels, even a dollhouse in the east Namornese style.

  "Most places are smaller," Camoc explained to Nia. "I don't specialize, so instead of running from shop to shop all day, I put it all under one roof, and climb stairs to keep my figure." He smiled ruefully at Daja. To the girl he said, "About half my people are woodcraft-mages, as I told Viymese Daja. All are specialists. If you choose to study here, one of the senior mage-students will teach you at first. I don't really handle beginners. Arnen would be your tutor."

  He pointed out a bespectacled young man of medium height and neatly trimmed brown hair and beard. He was intent on shaping a wooden tree that flattened on top to become a table: Daja saw magic follow his hands in glowing silver ropes, his power sinking into the wood. It was carved and stained to make it resemble a century tree from the south, twisted and gnarled from long, very slow growth.

  "Arnen's good with beginners," Camoc said. "I have to let him get one of these fancy pieces out of his system now and then. The rest of the time he makes the best barrels and axle-trees money can buy. Those barrels hold anything, and his axle-trees never break."

  Looking at Arnen's tree, Daja marveled at the mind that could jump from barrels and wagons to something so beautiful. Arnen reminded her of Briar, who went from weeding temple fields to shaping miniature trees, not just to fit them for magic, but because there was loveliness in the tree itself.

  Camoc opened a door onto a classroom much like the one in Bancanor House. There were no maps on the walls. Desks were replaced by long tables and work benches. A case of books lined one side wall; a large slate was hung on another. On it someone had written the magical runes for strength: flexible strength, hard strength, endurance.

  A collection of wooden cubes about the size of Daja's fist sat on a table. Camoc stirred them with knobby fingers. "Come here, girl," he ordered. "Let's see what you know."

  Nia walked over, her eyes on the blocks rather than on Camoc's face. She pulled one away from the others. "Yellow pine," she murmured.

  "Speak up," the man ordered. "What use does it have?"

  Nia cleared her throat. "Shelves," she said. "Porches, house walls – "

  "Pick something else," Camoc ordered.

  Nia pulled a second block from the collection. "Maple," she announced. "Musical instruments, shelves, stairs, interior trim – "

  "Next," ordered Camoc.

  She went through most of the pile, unable to name only a few pieces. Daja saw that Nia had learned a great deal already, haunting carpenters' shops near her home. She reminded Daja of all the time she'd spent as a child, handling every piece of metal her family's ship had carried.

  What happened to ambient mages who never found teachers? Did they even know what they were missing? The thought made Daja shudder. She dragged her attention back to Camoc and Nia. The wood-mage was asking her to name a series of carpenter's tools and their uses. Daja sat and waited.

  Finally Camoc looked at Daja. "She knows more than I expected," he told her. "I know you've other mages to see before she decides – "

  "Please, I don't want to see anyone else," Nia said, her voice quiet again. "I'll stay here."

  "You're better off meeting other carpentry-mages. Different carpentry-mages," Camoc insisted. "Smaller shops, not as many people trooping in and out."

  "But I like that it's big," Nia said, almost whispering. "There's all kinds of things to do here."

  "May I talk to Nia a moment?" Daja asked Camoc. He nodded, and went out into the shop. Daja turned to the girl. "Nia, not all teachers work the same. Some are easygoing, some strict. You won't even be studying with Camoc at first, but his student. Tell me why you don't want to see anyone else."

  "You have Jory to settle," Nia explained. "And I like it here." She brushed at a streak of sawdust on her gown. It clung to her stubbornly. "It's… homey."

  Daja grimaced. Too often Nia put her twin first. "Never mind Jory. Let's visit some other carpentry-mages."

  Nia shook her head. "You said I could pick. Well, I have." She looked at Daja with flashing eyes. "I've been in other wood-mages' shops, you know. This is the best, and now I know why, because my magic's here."

  Daja scratched her head and grimaced as she yanked a loop from one of her many braids. She didn't like it – she wasn't sure that she liked Camoc – but Nia was the one who had to live with the choice. If Camoc or his assistant Arnen had been handsome and charming, she might have forced Nia to meet other teachers. The girl wouldn't be the first twelve-year-old to fall for a handsome face. When Daja thought of the healer-mage student she'd fallen for two years ago, she felt her cheeks warm. She had mooned over the fellow for months. But Nia didn't show signs of a sudden infatuation, and Daja had only a feeling that Camoc might be too hard on her. It wasn't enough.

  She would do better to let time decide. Nia might well change her mind. If that happened, Daja was fairly certain she could get Matazi and Kol to let Nia change teachers. They should know how uncertain anything involved with magic was.

  She took Nia out to Camoc, who introduced her to Arnen. About to go, Daja hesitated. "Nia, how will you get home? Have you money for a guest-sleigh, or – "

  "I'll skate home. There are always lawkeepers on the canals – I'll be fine," Nia insisted.

  "Excuse me, Viymese – " That was Arnen. He spoke as quietly as Nia did.

  Daja looked at him. "What can I do for you?"

  Arnen glanced at Camoc, then pushed his spectacles up on his nose. "It's about meditation. Most of us started with other mages, and we already know it."

  "Impossible to meditate here," Camoc said brusquely. "Too much noise. Can you take that part of it?"

  "It really is noisy," Arnen told Nia apologetically. She nodded, too shy to speak.

  Daja wanted to object, but suddenly she could hear her grandmother's voice. "Shirkers are half-kaq," that fierce old lady told her grandchildren. "Traders take the burden they are given." She had been given this burden. It wasn't shirking to find teachers with the twins' own skills, but if those teachers asked Daja to help, she would be a shirker to refuse. "We'll meditate at home," she told the men and Nia. "We've already started, anyway." She did her best to seem happy about it, though her inner self was demanding to know how she was to work on her own projects if she had to nursemaid the twins. She stepped on that self hard. Nia would hear any touch of impatience in Daja's voice. The minute she did, she would fade away like a ghost, learning nothing properly from anyone. Daja ran her right thumb over her brass glove. "We'll practice tonight, when we get home," she told Nia, who nodded.

  When Daja left Camoc's, she was astounded to see Morrachane Ladradun, elegant in a sable-trimmed coat and hat, in the sleigh with Jory. There was liking and affection in the face that was so harsh when Daja had met her. Jory said something, and the woman actually laughed.

  She must have been pretty once, Daja thought. My mother was right – if you keep making the same nasty face, one day your face will set in that expression.

  "Daja," Jory said eagerly, waving. "Daja, come meet Aunt Morrachane." She grimaced and added, "Sorry. Ravvi Morrachane Ladradun. Aunt Morrachane – "

  "I have met Ravvikki Daja," said Morrachane with a nod. "I understand you have brought the twins wonderful news. You are to be a cook-mage," she said with a smile, cupping Jory's cheek in one gloved hand. "Houses will scramble to offer marriages for you and my little Nia. But where is she?" Morrachane asked Daja. "Jory said she was inside with you."

  Daja ran her fingers over the living metal on her left hand and silently listed the various coins used in Bihan. Normally she disliked the title Viymese. She felt nothing like the acknowledged mage it proclaimed, yet it irked her that Morrachane would not use it.

  Jory was unaware of Daja's tension and Morrachane's snub. "She won't keep us waiting forever, will she?" asked Nia's twin. "We've other boring carpenters to see – "

  "Actually, Nia wants to stay here," Daja told Jory.

  "She does?" Jory asked, surprised. "But she hasn't met any of the others!"

  "One moment," said Morrachane with a frown that looked easier for her face than smiles. "Nia chose?"

  "Isn't it fun?" Jory asked eagerly. "We never get to pick our teachers, but Daja says we have to."

  Morrachane patted Jory's arm, but her pale green eyes with their tiny pupils were fixed on Daja. "I know you like the freedom, dear one, but adults" – was Daja imagining it, or had Morrachane emphasized the word? – "know more of the world. Surely it is up to your parents to decide."

  "Nia's mad to pick the first place she sees," Jory added. "Is she serious? She doesn't rush into things. She's not like me."

  "She says she's certain," replied Daja, speaking to Jory.

  "Viynain Oakborn said she ought to meet others, too, but her mind's made up."

  "She likes it here, then," Jory said firmly, smoothing the robe over her lap. "Good. No more boring carpenters!"

  "I cannot believe Matazi Bancanor consented to this," Morrachane said flatly. "Someone like Viynain Breechbranch, with his selective shop, would be far more appropriate for a well-bred girl than this hurlyburly place."

  Daja was not temperamental. She certainly wasn't like her foster-sister Tris, who went up like explosive boom-dust if anyone disagreed with her, or even like Sandry, who sprang to battle the moment she thought someone was treated badly. There was something about Morrachane that swiftly got under Daja's skin, stirring her to unexpected surges of temper. She toyed with melting the woman's gold coat-buttons and her elegant ruby-and-gold earrings, but knew such a petty revenge was beneath her. She imagined it briefly as she considered and discarded a number of sharp replies. Finally she said, "I thank you for your interest, but I have discussed these matters with Ravvot and Ravvi Bancanor, and with my own teacher, the great mage Frostpine. This is how it is done."

  "Then it is done foolishly, without thought for the student's good," Morrachane said flatly. "What order is there when children are not guided by the advice of their parents? Family is sacred. To encourage young people to ignore the family's needs – "

  "But we aren't, Aunt Morrachane, really!" Jory laid a placating hand on the older woman's arm. "It's just this one thing, and Mama and Papa worked out the list of teachers. They have medallions and things that say they teach as well as work magic. And it's so much fun to decide something for ourselves."

  "There!" snapped Morrachane. "You see? Already it begins."

  Daja's knuckles were creaking, so tightly were her hands clenched in her coat pockets. The living metal bit into her flesh, squeezed by her working muscles. In the end, she did something she had always sworn she would never try. She could almost hear Dedicate Crane, the most snobbish mage at Winding Circle, talking as she spoke. "Forgive me, Ravvi Ladradun," she said, gathering an invisible robe of arrogance around herself as she stood straighter, "but we speak of things magical, which may only be understood by adepts. Nia has discovered something within these walls which calls to the source of her power. It cannot be safely ignored. However incredible it seems to those without magic, it is a thing that any mage will know." She turned to Serg, who was pretending not to eavesdrop. "Let us seek out a teacher for Ravvikki Jorality." To Morrachane she added, "Will you excuse us? The moment power is revealed, a teacher must be found quickly, or tragedy may result." Morrachane sighed. Her face was briefly wistful as she kissed Jory's cheek. "Tell your sister I am sorry I did not get to say hello."

  Jory kissed Morrachane's cheek in return. "She'll be sorry, too, Aunt Morrachane."

  The older woman climbed out of the sleigh. Her nod to Daja was barely polite. "Good day to you."

  Daja nodded, then climbed into the sleigh. In her normal voice she said, "Little Sugar Street, please, Serg." As he set the horses forward, Daja looked back. A sleigh with the Ladradun insignia was drawing up before Morrachane.

  Jory, who had remained straight-faced through Daja's speech, collapsed into giggles. "I'm sorry," she said when she caught her breath, "but you should have heard yourself. What was that? Is it really so drastic to find us teachers?"

  "That was what Briar calls snooty mage jabber," Daja replied with a rueful smile. After two months, the Bancanors were all familiar with Daja's foster-family. "I shouldn't have done it, really."

  "Oh, that's all right," Jory said. "Aunt Morrachane's sweet to me and Nia, and to Eidart and Peigine when she sees them, but she isn't very nice to other people."

  "Is she really your aunt?" Daja asked. She couldn't imagine the Bancanor family tree sprouting any fruit like Morrachane.

  "No," Jory replied, flouncing to get comfortable. "But we call her that. I think she misses Ben's children, so she adopted us. She likes it when we call her Aunt. She says it makes her feel like we're really family."

  And that is a good thing? Daja wondered as Serg wove the sleigh through crowded streets. I'd as soon be related to a shark. Sooner.

  Daja had planned to stop for midday at some point, but she had reckoned without the cook-mages they visited. Each offered Daja and Jory tea and refreshments; Namornese hospitality meant that Serg too was fed. By the time the sun dipped below the western roofs, they had visited all of the cooking-mages on Daja's list. Jory had chosen none of them.

  "What about Inagru?" Daja asked. "Only has two other students, bakes for the governor's castle, does the Goldsmith's Guild suppers… "

  Jory shook her head.

  "Viymese Valerian," Serg suggested wearily. "Nobles' banquets only. Jars of summer vegetables with magic for strength, health, peace, love. I should eat at his table."

  Jory shook her head.

  "We've met the best cook-mages in Kugisko," Daja reminded her. "You saw this list. Your mother approved every name on it. I don't – "

  "There's one I didn't mention," Jory said without meeting Daja's eyes. "Mother didn't list her because she's said not to take students. But we don't know till we ask, right?"

  Daja labored against a feeling of ill-usage. Jory had arranged things so that by the time she mentioned this person, Daja would be too exhausted to object. Worse, her maneuver worked. Daja just wanted to see this mage and get it over with. "Who?" she demanded.

  "Olennika Potcracker," Jory whispered. "In Blackfly Bog.”

  "I am doomed," announced Serg, shoulders drooping. "Ravvot Kolborn will use my blood to strengthen his gold and make my skull into a chalice."

  "Papa won't put blood in gold," said Jory. "It wouldn't be good for it."

 

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