Now that Rosethorn and Myrrhtide knew the problem was nothing to do with plants or water, we could go home. Against volcano spirits, my magic and theirs was helpless. Our ship was waiting for us in Sustree. I didn’t even care that it meant another week at sea. I’d have the new rocks I’d gathered here to entertain me. And maybe a view of the volcano when it finally exploded. That would be really interesting.
Jayat and Tahar drew spell designs on the floor. Their lips moved as they called on the rocks to show where they came from. I sighed. It was taking forever.
Then I had to smile at myself. I was spoiled. In the old days, in Chammur, magic never happened at a snap of the fingers. We waited for the mage to dance, shake rattles, burn herbs, or spin a prayer wheel a hundred times, until the mage was ready and the magic was done or failed. It wasn’t until I knew Rosethorn and Briar that magic turned into something at the speed of, “Here you go.”
I smelled heating stone first. It’s a dry smell, like the sun in the desert. Grains of dirt and dried leaf from the rocks I hadn’t cleaned were baking. Then the leaves burned outright. I shook my head. In a good spell, the heat that the stones remembered would never escape the spell. If the leaf bits were burning, there would be scorch marks on the table, too. Azaze had better not blame me.
My pieces of mica started to crack. I wasn’t bothered. I’d collect more on the way back to the ship.
A little volcano image appeared over each rock. Jayat looked up from the design on the floor. He was sweating. He made a swirling motion with his hand. The little volcanoes formed one big image, one big volcano that stood over six feet tall. Just as the single image came together, a blast of smoke and stones blew the mountain’s side out. Everyone flinched, though the blast—the eruption, my books back home called it—went through them like a ghost, and vanished.
Tahar sighed. The image disappeared. The room seemed darker, though the lamps and the fire still burned. I went over and picked up a beautiful pink granite chunk I had found that morning. It would have burned anyone else. Just as I thought, it left a scorch mark on the table. My lovely mica was just ruined. They might have to scrape that off the wood.
The nervous herder gulped her tea before she spoke. “But—I don’t understand. Where was the lake? Where was Mount Grace?”
“This happened thousands of centuries ago.” Rosethorn rubbed her eyes. “Didn’t you look at the trees? The only time you’ll ever see leaves like that is captured in stone, just as you’ll find animal and fish skeletons. They’re the ancestors of your trees. The distant ancestors.”
“But our lake.” Just like her goats, the Herd Mistress wouldn’t let go of something she had her teeth into.
“The place where the volcano erupted…” Tahar was hoarse.
Jayat poured her a cup of tea.
Once she finished drinking, Tahar went on. “Where the volcano blew out its side, that became our lake. The remains of the volcano became the spine of our Mount Grace.” She looked at me. “The child found countless rocks here which were born in a volcano. If Dedicate Rosethorn is right, that volcano last erupted in the dawn of time. We sit on top of its sealed grave. That seal is about to come right off.”
Rosethorn got to her feet and put an arm around me. “Well done, getting their own mages to show them. Very well done. Time for you to go to bed. There’s more talking to do, but you’re about to collapse. Don’t even try to carry Luvo. I’ll bring him when I come up. It’s not as if he sleeps.”
“Are you sure?” I know I was swaying where I stood. “I can go for a bit longer.”
“Of course you can.” I knew better than to believe her when she spoke all syrupy sweet like that. “Why, you can last just as long as it takes to go back up those steps. I’ll bring the rest of your stones, too. Go on, Evvy. You know it will just annoy you to hear us negotiate with the locals. It usually does.”
“It annoys you, too.”
“Yes, but my vows say I have to be nice to people sometimes, for the good of my soul. You haven’t taken vows. Scat.”
Every now and then I like to do as I’m told, just to confuse people. This was one of those times. I climbed the stairs and fell into my bed. I don’t think I even took off my sandals.
11
Helping Out
Magic, at least the kind Rosethorn and Briar and I have, is greedy stuff. It doesn’t always need us to be awake or even conscious. We ambient mages, drawing on part of the everyday world, have it easier than book ones. Our power hunts when we’re weak, looking for more. Our magical selves draw new power to replace what’s gone. I was asleep, but my power wasn’t. It went to the stone alphabet that Briar had given me. That was a collection of rocks, one for each letter of the alphabet. They were neatly laid out in pockets sewn in a quilted piece of cloth.
He used to tease me about it. “Other kids get a book or a scroll to learn their letters. I had to get you an alphabet made of stones, so your letters would make a dent in that stubborn head of yours.”
He didn’t fool me. He wanted me to have something nice of my own. Something that was all new. I never let on that I understood, of course. Briar would just start hitting the air like he was pushing me away. He’d say, “Girls! Always making a boo-hoo about stuff!”
Just so he knew I didn’t forget, I showed him every new stone I added to the cloth pockets of my alphabet. And just so he didn’t think I was sentimental, I told him all the magical uses for the new rocks. He’d moan and roll around, saying stones bored him. He’d also see how nice I kept my alphabet.