has saved all of our lives with fearsome magic, she is pale and sweating—and you choose to quarrel with her?” To Tris, the woman said, “My wagon is cushioned, with heavy drapes to close out the light, and there is cool mint tea. Will you rest your head there? Briar says he has a headache medicine that may help you.”
Sandry turned and fled. If anything, she felt even smaller than she had when Tris had accused her of wanting to control her. Why didn’t I notice she was ill? she wondered. And why is she being so mean to the three of us? She was that way to strangers when we lived together, but not us. Unless…of course. We’re strangers.
She stopped, her back to the caravan. Reaching into the small pouch that always hung around her neck, she brought out the thread with its four equally spaced lumps. Sandry turned it around in her fingers, handling each lump, feeling each familiar bit of magic. Maybe we were this cord once, but for now it’s only a symbol, she thought wearily. Asymbol of four children. Now we’re four adults who have become strangers. I have to get used to that. I have to get used to it, and think of ways to make us stop being strangers once and for all.
She sighed, and returned the thread circle to its pouch. And how will I do that? I have no notion in the least.
3
The 27th day of Goose Moon, 1043 K. F.
Twelve miles outside Dancruan,
Capital of the Namorn Empire
I f Chime had not seen a magpie in the meadow and given chase—she had developed a furious dislike of the vivid black-and-white birds on their way north—the four would have quietly entered Dancruan as part of Third Caravan Saralan. Their arrival would have followed the structure of diplomatic propriety. They would have been introduced to the court as so many others were introduced, as part of the summer flow of guests from abroad. Instead, not long after the caravan emerged from the shelter of Mollyno Forest, the magpie flew at Chime and smacked the glass dragon with its wings, plainly outraged by Chime’s very existence. Chime voiced a scraped-glass shriek of rage and gave chase over a nearby meadow.
“Tris!” yelled Briar. “Do something!”
“She’ll be back,” replied Tris calmly. She turned a page in the book she was reading as she rode.
The sun inched higher in the sky, with no sign of Chime. Sandry finally sighed and found Saralan’s rideleader. “You’d best go on ahead,” she told him. “I know you have ships to meet at the docks today. Business is business.”
“I don’t like it,” said Daja behind her. “It’s not what’s due to your consequence, entering Dancruan with just us for company.”
Sandry giggled. “As if I cared about such things!”
“You should,” the ride leader told her soberly. “You will find they care about it very much at the imperial court.” He raised his staff and galloped to the front of the caravan, voicing the long, trilling cry that was the signal to move out. Everyone who had gotten down from horses or wagons to stretch their legs took their places once more. The caravan rolled on without their four guests: Traders kept their good-byes short, to avoid the appearance of owing anything to those they left behind. Sandry had always liked that philosophy, but then, the nursemaid who had practically raised her had also been a Trader. Now she and her friends waved their farewells to their companions.
As the last wagons and herds left them behind, Sandry felt a weight fall from her slender shoulders. While she had enjoyed riding with the caravan, she was glad to be rid of the witnesses to the squabbles that had continued all the way here. Now, with the Traders out of earshot and the other three silent, she heard actual quiet. Only birdsong and the whiffle of the wind passing over acres of meadow grass met her ears. Mages were accustomed to time alone. That had been scarce on the long trip north.
Enjoy it while it lasts, she told herself, filling her mind with the jingle
Sandry turned and fled. If anything, she felt even smaller than she had when Tris had accused her of wanting to control her. Why didn’t I notice she was ill? she wondered. And why is she being so mean to the three of us? She was that way to strangers when we lived together, but not us. Unless…of course. We’re strangers.
She stopped, her back to the caravan. Reaching into the small pouch that always hung around her neck, she brought out the thread with its four equally spaced lumps. Sandry turned it around in her fingers, handling each lump, feeling each familiar bit of magic. Maybe we were this cord once, but for now it’s only a symbol, she thought wearily. Asymbol of four children. Now we’re four adults who have become strangers. I have to get used to that. I have to get used to it, and think of ways to make us stop being strangers once and for all.
She sighed, and returned the thread circle to its pouch. And how will I do that? I have no notion in the least.
3
The 27th day of Goose Moon, 1043 K. F.
Twelve miles outside Dancruan,
Capital of the Namorn Empire
I f Chime had not seen a magpie in the meadow and given chase—she had developed a furious dislike of the vivid black-and-white birds on their way north—the four would have quietly entered Dancruan as part of Third Caravan Saralan. Their arrival would have followed the structure of diplomatic propriety. They would have been introduced to the court as so many others were introduced, as part of the summer flow of guests from abroad. Instead, not long after the caravan emerged from the shelter of Mollyno Forest, the magpie flew at Chime and smacked the glass dragon with its wings, plainly outraged by Chime’s very existence. Chime voiced a scraped-glass shriek of rage and gave chase over a nearby meadow.
“Tris!” yelled Briar. “Do something!”
“She’ll be back,” replied Tris calmly. She turned a page in the book she was reading as she rode.
The sun inched higher in the sky, with no sign of Chime. Sandry finally sighed and found Saralan’s rideleader. “You’d best go on ahead,” she told him. “I know you have ships to meet at the docks today. Business is business.”
“I don’t like it,” said Daja behind her. “It’s not what’s due to your consequence, entering Dancruan with just us for company.”
Sandry giggled. “As if I cared about such things!”
“You should,” the ride leader told her soberly. “You will find they care about it very much at the imperial court.” He raised his staff and galloped to the front of the caravan, voicing the long, trilling cry that was the signal to move out. Everyone who had gotten down from horses or wagons to stretch their legs took their places once more. The caravan rolled on without their four guests: Traders kept their good-byes short, to avoid the appearance of owing anything to those they left behind. Sandry had always liked that philosophy, but then, the nursemaid who had practically raised her had also been a Trader. Now she and her friends waved their farewells to their companions.
As the last wagons and herds left them behind, Sandry felt a weight fall from her slender shoulders. While she had enjoyed riding with the caravan, she was glad to be rid of the witnesses to the squabbles that had continued all the way here. Now, with the Traders out of earshot and the other three silent, she heard actual quiet. Only birdsong and the whiffle of the wind passing over acres of meadow grass met her ears. Mages were accustomed to time alone. That had been scarce on the long trip north.
Enjoy it while it lasts, she told herself, filling her mind with the jingle
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