“We’ll see. Don’t gawp like a girl at her first dance, Azaze. Let’s get on with this.” Tahar thumped her cane on the floor.
Jayat sat on a bench near Tahar’s elbow. Azaze looked at the maids, who left, closing the door behind them. Now it was just us and the town council. Oswin propped the slates where everyone could see them when the time came.
Rosethorn stood in front of them to speak. “Myrrhtide and I came in response to your complaints with regard to the poisoning of your plants, streams, and ponds.” She looked calm and beautiful, her hands clasped in front of her. These people wouldn’t know she had been riding all day. “Evvy and her friend Luvo came by chance, except that the gods seldom leave these things to chance. Luvo is the heart of a mountain, traveling with us for a time. Evvy is my friend, a young stone mage, presently in training at Winding Circle.”
I hung my head so she wouldn’t see me blush at her calling me her friend.
Rosethorn told them what had happened that day, up to me riding off. Jayat took over, explaining how he caught up and stayed with me. Then I told my story to the council. I described the underground chamber, Flare and Carnelian, and the spirits underground. I explained the poisons on the stones under the dead spots, and my idea that the poisons were borne on air that escaped volcano spirits as they pushed toward the surface. About how the shocks were their attempts to escape that chamber. About how they were going to succeed, somewhere around Mount Grace, very soon.
Using the maps I had made, I showed them where Carnelian and Flare had come closest to the open air. Luvo told them where the chamber was while Rosethorn made me drink a second cup of her medicine tea. By then I was very tired. Even after I had the tea, the room seemed a little spin-y. I took a step away from the slates and lurched. I caught myself on the table. I had never had to talk to people like this before, drained of magic and my bones aching from exhaustion. I searched the grown-up faces for Rosethorn, but either I was too tired to pick her out, or she wasn’t there.
“The volcano spirits will come out sooner or later,” I told the village council. “It’ll go better if they break through one of Mount Grace’s sides facing the open sea. But the thickest stone they have to push through is that way. If they come through the top, or through the cracks, they’ll dump lava and poisons on any villages around Mount Grace, maybe on the whole island. Maybe on the neighboring islands.”
“That makes sense.” Oswin looked up from his tea. “If we confine something that moves, like a stream, then give it a small path to escape, like a hole in a pipe or a dam, you know yourselves it’s a lot stronger. And remember the volcano on Levit Island three years back? We could see the blast from here—that went through the top of the mountain. There wasn’t a tree left standing on the whole island.”
Softness settled around my shoulders. Rosethorn tucked a knitted blanket around me. Even as I grabbed it I recognized its opal colors. Lark had made it special for Rosethorn, knitting in signs of strength and healing and warmth for her.
“But she meant this for you.” I tried to take it off. Rosethorn settled it back around my arms.
“She meant it for anyone who needs it. Right now you need it,” she whispered very quietly in my ear. “You still need to convince these people, all right?”
The smith got up. “Azaze, you and these learned dedicates are paying heed to this nonsense? She makes up this faradiddle and expects us to swallow it? The wench is trying to duck a beating at her master’s hands. I don’t know how she worked the magic to get the rock to look as if it talks. Plainly she’s talented if she can fool Winding Circle mages. That still doesn’t mean honest country folk like us have to scramble for her nonsense.” He looked at Myrrhtide and Rosethorn. “Forgive me, Dedicates. Your minds are plain addled with all that magical learning if you swallow this chit’s tale.”
Myrrhtide glared up at him. “I am not addled. I am no more likely to swallow anyone’s ‘tale,’ as you call it, than I am likely to fly. I am a Dedicate Initiate of the Water temple of Winding Circle. I have studied at Lightsbridge university and at Swanswing university in Hatar. In that time I have studied the writings of some of the greatest earth, water, and fire mages ever born. What they record of the days before a volcano’s eruption sounds very much like what Evvy and Luvo have told us since their return to this inn tonight.”
So that was why Fusspot hadn’t started yapping at me the first chance he got. He really did believe me. He even said he believed me.
Maybe I ought to try to be nicer to him.
Fusspot wasn’t done with the smith. He thrust his teacup over in front of the man. “What do you see in my cup?”
The smith gave him a glare that would start a fire. “Tea, you pompous—”
“Master Smith!” Azaze’s voice cracked like a whip.
Fusspot acted like he hadn’t even heard. He’d never acted that way when I’d insulted him. If he had, I would have stopped. “What is my tea doing, Master Smith? Please note that I am not touching the cup.”
The smith jammed his hands in his pockets. “It’s shivering.”
“As was my wash water,” Myrrhtide said. “As is the well water. As is the water in the pots used for cooking and laundry. Before volcanoes loose their heavy fire, Master Smith, the ground can tremble for days, constantly. This is why we addled mages keep written records from the past. So we can learn from the experience of others who have gone before.”