“You would have liked it if they sold you before they left?” Jayat sounded shocked.

“It would have made more sense,” I answered. “In Chammur I was a stupid slave who could barely talk. I had to run away, my master beat me so much. Then I lived on the street. You really see the good side of people that way. They chase you from their garbage heaps with brooms and rakes. They dump chamber pots on your head. They scream ‘thief!’ when you walk by, they steal what little you have, they kick you when they pass…For every person who did me a kindness, I knew twenty who left bruises on me.”

Jayat took my horse’s reins. “I’m sorry, Evvy. I must have sounded like an idiot.” He looked up at me. “But people are different here. We won’t take advantage of either of your dedicates. You have to trust me on that. She’ll see, won’t she, Master Luvo?”

Luvo was as silent as clay.

Jayat glared at him. “Master Luvo?”

Luvo clicked and said, “My knowledge of humanity is most incomplete, Jayatin. The samples of it that I have encountered until today have been of a mixed kind.”

Luvo always could say something bad so politely that it almost sounded good.

“We were in a war,” I told Jayat. “It sours you, kind of.”

We had reached the circle of light in front of the inn. Rosethorn, Oswin, and Myrrhtide had already given their horses to stable hands for care. I slid off mine and hit the ground with a wince. My knees and thighs moaned. I hadn’t done so much riding in months. My bum felt like crumbling sandstone. I hung Luvo’s sling over one shoulder, and my stone mage kit over the other. A stable boy took my reins.

Jayat got my saddlebags, lifting them down with a grunt. “What have you got in here, rocks?”

I grinned at him.

“So what happened?” He showed me inside and up a set of stairs. “How did you come to be traveling with Dedicate Rosethorn, if you were a street kid…where?”

He opened a door and ushered me into a room with two beds. I saw that Rosethorn’s gear was already there. I also saw a basin of warm water, soap, and cloths to dry with.

“Luvo, would you tell him while I clean up? I feel like I have a mask of dust on my face.”

“I do know the story. Evumeimei was nine human years of age when she heard the song of stones out of harmony with themselves. She was in the city of Chammur.” I had put Luvo and his sling on my bed. I peeked over. Jayat sat beside him, watching Luvo as if Luvo was the village storyteller. I giggled and began to scrub off the dust.

“She followed the disharmony to a merchant who sold stones,” Luvo went on. “She offered to clean them for coins, and in cleaning them, she restored their harmony. A year later, young Briar, Rosethorn’s student, saw Evumeimei’s magic in the stones. Briar pursued Evumeimei for days, to inform her that she had magic.”

“He sounds very determined,” Jayat said as I dried off.

“He would have to be.” Oswin stood in the open doorway. “From what I hear, the mages of Lightsbridge and the Living Circle have strict rules. Regarding new mages, if a graduate of those schools finds one, he has to make sure that new mage gets an education. If he doesn’t, the penalties are harsh. The graduate mage will lose his credentials. Or hers.”

I nodded at Oswin. “That’s right. The only stone mage in Chammur was a fungus on legs. I refused to study with him. Briar had to teach me the easy stuff until he found somebody who wasn’t. He and Rosethorn were just visiting Chammur on their way to Yanjing, so I went with them. That’s where we met Luvo. Oswin, you know a lot about mages, for somebody who isn’t one. You aren’t a mage, right?”

“You can’t tell?” Oswin crouched by the bed so he could have a better look at Luvo.

“No, that’s Briar. And his sisters. They can all tell if someone has magic in them.” I squinted at Oswin. I always do that, squint at people, though I can’t really see magic. At the same time I reached out with my power to try to feel Oswin’s. I felt only air, like I do with most people. I’d only felt air with Jayat. “Are you a mage, then, Oswin?”

He gave me a twisted, sideways smile. “No, but I’ve studied what they do, every chance I get. How they use herbs, how they clean wounds—whatever helps the magic along. You’d be surprised how many of those things a normal human can put to use.”

“Oswin’s the reason why Starns hasn’t needed to call on outside mages in years.” Jayat said it with as much pride as if he was the reason.

“That’s not true.” When Oswin blushed, he did it from the collar of his tunic all the way to the back of his skull. There wasn’t any hair to cover it. “Tahar is good for most problems, and you’re coming along, Jayat.”

Jayat chuckled. It was a deep, rich sound, like warm honey. “Tahar would tell you herself, she can’t even predict the weather with a spyglass and a tall rock to stand on. Maybe once, but she’s too old now. She’s good enough for the likes of me, with my cupful of talent, but what does that say? None of us is up to Winding Circle standards. If we were, we’d be somewhere else, earning a real living.”

“It is a wise mortal who knows his limits, young Jayatin.” Luvo cocked his head knob to look at Oswin. “And what kind of man is it who is more valuable than mages?”

“I’m not.” Oswin turned even redder.

“Oswin fixes things.” Jayat leaned back on the bed. “Let’s say you have a problem. Maybe your well’s gone dry, or your barn roof is falling apart. You have no money for a new roof, or the mage can’t find water to fill your well. So you go to Oswin’s with a loaf of bread or a crock of pickled eggplant, and you tell him your problem. Oswin comes to your place with a slate and chalk and looks things over. He starts drawing things and telling you what you have to do. Sometimes it involves helping another fellow who comes to help you. Sometimes Oswin builds a device to fix your well so you have water again. Then you send him home with a roast leg of lamb or a sack of couscous. They always need food at his house.”