Since the castle walls were thick, the walkway behind the battlements was a broad one, with guardsmen posted at every hundred feet. From here Yarrun’s companions could see an orange glow to the north.
Just like the walls at Winding Circle, these were pierced with deep notches. Yarrun and his guests took positions in them, to be granted a complete view of the night-black ground below, the cluster of huts inside their log wall, and the fire. It was as the boy had said. One house was burning to the ground, while the thatched roof of the house beside it was in flames. Behind them a small barn had also caught fire, upper and lower stories alike. Wide gardens lay between the barn and the wall. They were half-burned, the eager flames seeking every scrap left from the harvest. Everyone drew back to see how Yarrun planned to handle matters.
He turned to Niko, the distant flames reflected in his large eyes. “The courtesy of our craft dictates that I first offer you the chance to douse the flames.”
Daja frowned. There was a sting in Yarrun’s voice that she didn’t like.
“I can’t,” Niko said quietly.
“Indeed? You are so famous that one would have thought dousing a simple village fire would be an easy matter for you. Are you sure—?” Yarrun asked, raising one eyebrow.
“Quite sure.” Niko’s voice was cold.
The fire-mage opened the leather bag and rummaged inside it. “Then, if I may,” he said, drawing out a clenched fist. Walking up to the notch in the battlement, he threw a spray of some kind of powder into the air. Slowly it drifted away from the wall.
Shaping signs with his fingers on the air, Yarrun began to speak in a language the four didn’t know. His powder sparkled in the air and sped toward the village below. Yarrun’s voice rose, until he spoke three final words in a shout that made Lark cover her ears.
The village fires—the houses, the barn, the gardens—went out. There was not so much as a single glowing ember visible to anyone’s eyes. Yarrun slumped against the wall. None of those watching him had any urge to speak, but from below they could hear the distant sound of cheers.
At last the fire-mage straightened. He passed a trembling hand over a face now covered with sweat. Daja thought his brown eyes were larger and wetter than ever. The grin he favored them with seemed half-crazy.
“You were helpless, Niklaren Goldeye!” he remarked, his voice as harsh as a crow’s. “You, a member of the governing board of the university, and famous all around the Pebbled Sea! But I did it. The fire obeyed me.”
Niko met the other man’s eyes calmly. “You are to be congratulated.”
Yarrun sighed. “I only serve the lady of Gold Ridge.” He rubbed his eyes. “I had best remain for a while to make sure no pockets are burning in someone else’s thatch. This kind of thing is easier under the sun, when I can see the smoke.”
“I don’t understand,” said Briar. “You can see fire better at night.”
Yarrun’s lips twitched in a false smile. “By the time we see flames, the structure is most likely doomed. Smoke is the earliest sign there is a fire in the offing. But please, don’t linger on my account.” He rubbed his hands. “The night grows cold.”
It was a dismissal and they all knew it. Briar growled under his breath, resenting Yarrun’s attitude. Sandry tugged him along as they followed their teachers into the watchtower.
“He didn’t ask you if you could put it out,” Lark murmured to Frostpine as they began to descend the stairs.
“I couldn’t, not at this range,” Frostpine replied. “We smiths like our fires up close.” He glanced back at Daja with a wink; she grinned.
“Niko, what was the matter with him?” Lark asked. “He wasn’t very polite.”
“I’ve seen it before,” Niko said wearily. “Some get renown whether they feel they deserve it or not. Others who feel they should be famed labor in obscurity. It’s—Rosethorn?”
Rosethorn had stopped just short of the ground floor exit. “I’ll catch up to you later. I need to talk with him.” Gathering the skirts of her habit in one hand, she began to climb the stairs again. The four young people stood back to let her by.
“These academic mages,” said Lark as she, Niko, and Frostpine walked out of the tower. “How can you stand to work among them?”
“I do it as little as possible,” the four heard Niko reply as the door swung shut. They were still inside the tower. In the stairwell they could hear the echo of Rosethorn’s trotting climb and the creak as she opened the walkway door.
Sandry opened the door to the main courtyard and looked out. Niko and the other two adults were halfway across the yard, heads together as they talked. They seemed to have forgotten their students.
“I wonder what Rosethorn has to say to him?” muttered Briar. “She had that look on her face.”
“What look?” Daja inquired softly.
“The one that means she’s seen you do something really dumb and she means to pin your ears back,” Rosethorn’s student answered drily.
Sandry looked back at her friends. She was still holding the door open.
Daja shook her head. Carefully Sandry let the door swing shut.
Not a word was said as the four began to climb back up the stairs. All of them were careful to walk on the outsides of their feet, making as little noise as they possibly could. When they reached the top step, Briar slipped into the lead. Gently, not making even the tiniest sound, he opened the walkway door a crack.