“—shi,” Frostpine said weakly. “Shurri defend us. They know about this?”
“That plate was Polyam’s trade-token for me,” Daja said. “We left it beside the vine. There was just one bud out when she left, but she raised the price to two gold majas when she saw it.”
“Right there?” asked Frostpine. “She didn’t ask to consult with her gilav?”
The four young people and Lark shook their heads.
“They have a buyer,” Niko said firmly. “They must. It’s the only reason to offer that much. They have someone who pays well for magical artifacts.”
“Do you know who?” Rosethorn asked, inspecting the copper buds. It was the third going-over she’d given the vine since she’d seen it late that afternoon.
“There is a handful of people around the Pebbled Sea who pay highly for magical curiosities,” replied Niko. “If you like, Daja, you might try to sell it directly to them.”
Sandry looked at Niko, surprised. It was certainly Daja’s right to try to go around Polyam, but it didn’t seem honorable.
“No,” Daja said, frowning. “I want them to think Polyam dickered me exhausted and got an outrageously cheap price. That might replace some of the zokin she lost when they made her qunsuanen.”
Niko smiled, approval in his dark eyes. Sandry glared at him. “Daja doesn’t exactly need to be tested on whether she’s honorable or not,” she told him crossly.
“Doesn’t she?” asked Niko. “Don’t all of you?” He looked at each of the four. “This is your first taste of the things which may come from your being powerful mages. People will offer you gold, status, even love. I want to know how you will react. I want to know if your teachers will release greedy, thoughtless monsters into the world.”
All four young people looked away.
“Well,” Frostpine said cheerfully when the silence grew long enough to make Little Bear and Shriek stir restlessly, “while your creation was getting away from you, how did your ordinary work go? Let’s see your nails, Daja.”
With a groan, she fetched the bucket full of her afternoon’s work. Smoke billowed in the window, making the others cough as she handed the bucket to Frostpine.
He said nothing at first, but the look on his face as he scooped up nails and let them run through his fingers was odd. “This makes no sense,” he muttered. “Not in the lea—Where is it?” he demanded. “Where’s your magic?”
“Sandry has it,” replied Daja, startled that he’d asked.
“‘Sandry has it,’“ Frostpine repeated, eyebrows raised. “I see. You just, you felt generous, and you said, ‘Take my magic, Sandry, I’m not using it—’“
“Don’t get into one of your flames,” Lark advised, tucking her hands in the sleeves of her habit.
“One of my—” Frostpine’s voice rose. “You strip my apprentice of her power—”
“It’s just a loan,” Briar protested.
“Look at what Sandry’s doing, before you say anymore,” Lark told Frostpine.
He glanced at the young noble, who wove as she had since they returned from supper, deep in a trance of concentration. Working at a steady pace, she threw the shuttle, with its burden of power and silk thread, to and fro in the warp on the loom. Under her fingers lay three inches of cloth. Although the thread on the shuttle was creamy undyed silk, there was a pale touch of color in the cloth. On one edge a barely green stripe was shaping; on the other, an orange-red one. A white stripe lay inside the green one, while a blue tint brushed the cloth between the white and the orange. A second look showed that threads of each color trickled into the other stripes, starting just an inch away from the bottom of the loom.
“She’s mapping, you great dolt,” said Rosethorn sharply. “You know as well as we do that something must be done about the way their power is leaking. Or do you want to put it off until lightning strikes whatever you’re working on next?”
“You shouldn’t encourage them to turn their power over to anyone,” argued Frostpine, his eyes glittering with anger. “Not to each other, not to us, not to anyone on the face of the earth! They have no idea what evils could result, but I would have thought that you did!”
“We do know,” replied Niko. “This must be done, and done now.”
Daja rested a hand on her teacher’s arm, not wanting him to be upset. “If you could feel my magic in plain work like nails, couldn’t that be trouble someday?” she asked. “Lark thinks we can fix this now. I want it fixed.”
“Me too,” said Briar.
“Me three,” added Tris.
Frostpine ran his fingers through his mane of hair. “I don’t like it,” he protested. “What if Sandry goes awry?”
“She can’t,” Lark replied calmly. “She and I bound every protective and enclosing spell I could think of into the warp and the structure of that loom before a single thread was woven. When she’s done, loom and cloth alike will be taken apart and the thread burned.”
Frostpine gave Sandry another look, then stalked out onto the balcony. Daja stared at the remaining adults. Frostpine never acted this way. Even during the pirate attack on Winding Circle he had stayed calm.
“I’ll speak to him later,” Niko said, rubbing his temples. “He’s just miffed that we didn’t consult him, even though he agreed that Lark and I make the decisions where this kind of learning is involved.”