“You don’t have to be nice to me just because I have scars on my feet. It was a long time ago.”

Myrrhtide stiffened. “I am trying to be civil because we will be the only three from Emelan in an environment which may be uncomfortable. Just because they invited us does not mean we will be welcomed with open arms. It would be nice if we could get along.” He sniffed at me, winced, and left.

“He’s stiff-rumped, that ’un,” said the woman sailor who was coiling rope nearby. “Ignore him. Look there. The isle with the tall mountain? That be Starns, where you’re bound. The peak is Mount Grace. Starns is grand. Olive groves and orange groves. Grapes burstin’ with juice. The plumpest goats and sheep and cattle I’ve ever seen. And hot springs, where a girl can relax with a friend or two.”

“And the island folk are real friendly,” joked another sailor. “Now, they’re not too good for common sailing folk. They’ve no pirates to dangle trinkets and coin in front of them!”

“At least you won’t be bored, waiting to take us home.” I said it mostly to be polite. I could feel the ocean floor again. I didn’t even have to stretch my magic to do it. I wasn’t interested in grapes and friends, but Lark told me that I should practice making conversation.

“Bored is the last thing we’ll be!” The man laughed. I suppose they were talking about fooling around. People always think they have to discuss it like I don’t know what it is. That’s grown-ups for you. I let them do their sideways joking about sex, while I let my power trail along the ocean floor.

Sustree wasn’t much of a town, but it had plenty of docks. Our crew brought us up to one nice and smooth. I hardly noticed. I was saying hello to every stone on the harbor bottom, and in the walls along the docks.

Rosethorn poked me. “You’ll feel better ashore. Let’s go.”

We said good-bye to the crew after they carried our bundles to the dock. I had a cloth sling that I used to carry Luvo around, those times when it’s easier than letting him walk. I arranged it around my shoulders, and tucked him in. Then I gathered up my mage kit and alphabet, two saddlebags’ worth, and followed Rosethorn and Myrrhtide off the ship. The moment I set foot on the ground, I felt like a different person. There were so many rocks under my feet that I couldn’t count them. They filled me with strength.

“It’s like I was breathing with only one lung.”

“You said that when we sailed home from Gyongxe.” Rosethorn looked around. “Do you suppose there’s an inn here?”

“Excuse me—are you the dedicates from Winding Circle?” A white man came over to us. “I’m Oswin Forest, from Moharrin village. I’m honored to be your escort. My headwoman, Azaze Yopali, sent me to meet you.” He was about six inches taller than me, which made him almost six feet tall. He had blue eyes as bright as turquoises, set in heavy lids. He must have been blond when he was younger, but most of the hair on top of his head was gone. What was left at the back and sides was cut really short. He had a long nose that tipped up at the end, and a nice-looking mouth. He dressed like most of the men around there seemed to, in a tunic shirt—his was bright blue, like his eyes—and tan breeches, and soft brown boots. In one hand he held a book, marking his place in it with a finger.

“We were just wondering about the arrangements. I’m Rosethorn, and this is Dedicate Myrrhtide. Your head-woman wrote that you’ve had water go bad as well as plants and trees dying?”

Oswin nodded. “It seems to be random, all around the mountain. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I can’t find anything in the village records or here in Sustree. Our mage says there were some incidents, when she was younger, but they started and stopped abruptly. People thought the usual things—the gods were angry, mostly—”

“If you could take us to our rooms now?” For someone who was always after me about my behavior, Myrrhtide could be rude. “We would like a proper meal, as well. Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn’s and my skills and senses will be at their sharpest for a night’s rest and an hour or two spent in a bathhouse, perhaps a good massage…”

Oswin’s nose twitched. “I don’t think there’s a bathhouse on Starns. We have hot springs everywhere, so no one bothered to build one. Headwoman Azaze could have one set up for you, if you need it for your rituals and privacy. We have your rooms prepared in Moharrin, along with a decent meal.”

Myrrhtide drew himself up. “Are we to walk to your village? It is not at all what we expect, nor what is due to us. I have delicate instruments for water scrying and communication with Winding Circle’s Water mages. I certainly cannot carry all of my own packs. Dedicate Initiate Rosethorn, moreover, is not in the best of health. She cannot bear heavy loads like a peasant.”

I winced. Rosethorn talked a little slow, and maybe she wasn’t as bouncy as me, but she was tough as an old root. I stood back, in case plants started shooting out of the ground to strangle Myrrhtide.

“Sorry, Oswin, sorry!” A boy maybe three years older than I am, seventeen or so, trotted down the street, towing a string of horses and mules. He was about an inch taller than me, with light brown skin and short, kinky black hair. He had a funny nose, like a long brown fat drip of wax that got frozen before it dropped, and merry black eyes. He was chubby inside his loose orange shirt and breeches. His voice was rich, like butter tea. “The old woman took forever to wrap up the herbs I bought. Then she seemed to think I would look at her dog’s sore tooth for nothing because I buy from her, and the poor thing was in pain—” He stared at Rosethorn and Myrrhtide. “Oh. Dedicate Initiates, you’re here already. I’m sorry.” He bowed low. “I’ve brought your horses, and they’re already saddled. I’ll load your things on the pack mules. Are these all of your belongings?”