Once she was able to walk without feeling she would melt over the floor, she straightened Lark’s workroom. Lark herself was at the loomhouses, to help mend the damage there. Cleaning up was pleasant work for Sandry, particularly since she was now able to call any unruly wool, silk, flax, or cotton to order if it tried to misbehave.

Briar sought out his shakkan as soon as he returned to the cottage. It had taken no harm from the quake; the shallow dish was uncracked, the earth inside just as he’d left it. Putting his hands on the thick trunk to thank the tree, he now felt the power that had been hidden to him before, sunk deep into each fiber.

It also had buds at the end of each twig. “None of that,” he warned, starting to pinch them off. “Your helping me doesn’t mean I’ll let you grow any which way.”

He felt something like a tree-sigh under his hands. The shakkan thought, perhaps one new bud?

“Oh, all right,” Briar said. “Which do you want to keep?”

The tree seen to, a few more meals and another night’s sleep under his belt, Briar decided to have a look in Rosethorn’s shop. She was still in Summersea, where her knowledge of medicines was desperately needed.

Dismayed by the mess in her workroom, Briar sorted through the packets and bottles strewn over the worktables and floor and rescued the potted plants. Gathering up some labeled bottles, he went looking for Tris. He found her on the back stoop, bent over something in her lap. Power rose like a ghost around her; he felt it as he’d felt the magic in the balm Rosethorn had smeared on the children’s bruises. “What are you doing?”

Tris squeaked in alarm and hid the thing in her lap. “Nothing.”

“Come on, I could feel it. What have you got?”

“I said—”

He sat beside her. “I won’t go till you tell.” He put the bottles he’d been carrying by the door. Little Bear, who was exploring the garden, came to sit with them, scratching one of his own healing scrapes.

“It’s nothing—”

“Don’t lie to me, four-eyes. You’re the worst liar in this house.”

“I’m not lying, exactly.” She sighed windily. “I’m just trying something, is all.” Looking at the bottles, she said, “Do you want me to teach you how to read?”

Although he wanted to ask just that, he bristled. “Who says I don’t know how?”

The look she gave him was one of amused scorn. “Do you think I didn’t notice you wait till you see what chores everyone else has before you start yours? I was going to offer.”

“I wouldn’t mind learning,” he admitted. “I’ll teach you how to fight, then.”

She grinned. “I’d like that!”

“It’s a bargain. Now, tell me what you’re up to.”

Turning red, she held out a round blob of smoke-gray crystal, filled with cracks and copper threads. “I thought I could put light in it. Frostpine says crystals are good for that, and they last for years. I’m weak as a kitten, though.”

“For Sandry?” he asked quietly.

Tris nodded.

“Lemme see if I can help. Come on,” he argued when she hesitated. “It’s a good idea. Let’s try. Breathe in—”

Together they inhaled, held the breath, let it out, clearing their minds as they exhaled. It was easier for both to do now. Once they were settled, Briar cupped the girl’s hands in his. They concentrated on the crystal.

“What are you doing?”

Occupied as they were, neither Briar nor Tris knew that Daja had come in search of them. They jumped and pulled apart. “Nothing,” they both said.

Daja sat cross-legged beside them. “Nonsense. I felt the magic clear upstairs.”

“We just want our strength back, so we’re meditating,” Briar told her.

Scornfully, Daja held out her palm. Tris sighed, and handed the crystal over. Some of the breaks and threads now sparkled.

“For Sandry,” Briar explained.

“So she’ll always have a light,” added Tris.

“You’d better let me help,” Daja said. “Where did you find this, anyway?”

“It fell out of the coal when they rescued us,” Tris said. “I just picked it up.”

Daja put the stone in her cupped palms. Briar cradled her hands with his; Tris covered them. Three sets of lungs began a long, steady breath.

Sandry woke when Lark went out for the Earth temple’s midnight rites. About to go back to sleep, she saw a light under her closed door. Little Bear, curled up on her bed, jumped down and nudged the door open. In came Daja, Briar, and Tris, all in their nightshirts. Daja offered her their unflickering light: stronger than Sandry’s bedside lamp, it shone from the small, round crystal that she carried.

“So you never have to worry about the dark again,” explained Tris.

Briar tossed her a small, leather pouch. “See, if you put it in there, it doesn’t show, and you can hang it around your neck.”

Sandry, voiceless, took the crystal, holding it up before her eyes.

“Crystals can be spelled and hold power for a long time,” Tris explained. “We figure—”

“We hope,” Daja corrected.

“We hope that by the time the power leaves the crystal, you won’t be afraid of the dark anymore,” Briar explained.

Sandry’s eyes filled and spilled over. “Thank you,” she said. “I couldn’t ask for better friends.”