Ladradun House was larger than Bancanor House, its windows curtained with brightly embroidered drapes displayed through expensive glass windows. Steps, window frames, and shutters were vividly painted to distract people from Namorn’s long gray winters. Soon after Daja’s arrival, the twins had given her a tour of the neighborhood, explaining that roof and window carvings showed the family’s occupation. At Ladradun House Daja saw bears, otters, lynx, hares, and beavers in the carvings, a proclamation of the family’s fur business.

A maidservant let Daja in and led her to Ben’s study. The woman dressed in the band-collared, tunic-length blouse and long skirts of the Namornese, but unlike most, she sported no colorful embroideries. As Daja followed her they passed two other servants, a man and a woman, whose clothes were just as drab. Namornese fashion was to dress servants in matching clothes, or liveries, but Matazi had given her people a choice of three bright colors for their indoor clothes, and let them decorate with embroidery as they wished. Daja wondered if the Ladradun servants were depressed by such dull garments.

The maid admitted her to a room containing a wooden table heaped with books and papers. Books were stuffed into shelves on the walls; more books filled a cupboard beside the window. The curtains were blue, as was the small rug on the floor. The room was cold, with no fire burning in the stove. The maid left Daja there.

Daja settled herself in a chair to wait. There were drawings on the walls, but little else in the way of decoration. On her arrival in Namorn she’d found the clutter of designs, carvings, and vividly dyed and embroidered cloth annoying. Now she was in a house that had stripped most of that away, and she missed it.

She was shaking her head at her folly when the maid returned with a tea tray. The girl set the tray on a corner of the table nearest Daja and filled a tea glass before she scuttled out again.

Daja sipped her tea. It was watery: the third or fourth brewing from these leaves, not the first. Did they think she was a servant? If she were here as a Trader, to do business, she would have left. Pebbled Sea hospitality dictated food, tea, and a comfortable setting, articles as important as the business discussed. Tea like this was a slap in the face.

“Daja, hello, hello.” Ben Ladradun walked in, making the room feel cramped. He seemed taller indoors than he had out. “You’re good to come, and so quickly. I thought you might be exhausted-we can really talk another time… .”

“No, I’m fine,” Daja said. “Truly, I am, Ravvot Ladradun.”

“Ben, remember. Ravvot Ladradun is who I am to the people at my business. I prefer to think about business as little as possible.” He poured himself tea, put a sugar lump in his teeth, and tried to swallow. He made a face and went to the door. Leaning out, he called, “I want my tea, Yulanny.” He turned back to Daja, running a big hand over the unruly curls on top of his head. “She didn’t realize that you’re an important guest. They get in trouble if they brew fresh tea for someone who isn’t merchant class… . Where are you from exactly? I don’t think anyone mentioned it.”

“I lived four years at Winding Circle temple in Emelan, where Frostpine’s a Dedicate,” said Daja, looking up at him. She wished he would sit. “Before that, I was a Trader on the Pebbled Sea.”

To her relief-her neck was getting sore-he crouched to start a fire in his stove. “As I understand it, if you’re a Trader, you’re one for life.”

“People can leave,” Daja said. “Some do, usually for love. I was made trangshi-outcast-when my family’s ship sank and I was the only one who lived.”

“And now you’re a smith-mage.” He added wood until a healthy blaze was going.

Daja nodded, then realized he couldn’t see it. “So they tell me,” she replied. “I keep thinking I haven’t learned nearly enough.”

He asked her other things, about her travels, about the metals she had studied. Once the maid brought fresh tea, Ben poured for Daja and himself. Settling into his chair, he cradled his steaming glass in his hands. His left hand was unbandaged now, with newly healed skin bright pink on its back. “How do you do it?” he wanted to know. “I told you Godsforge couldn’t handle fire, though he could shape it. He made creatures for the local children on holidays. They loved his fire butterflies and dragons. But he could never have walked into a burning building like you did and come out unscathed.”

“I don’t know how I can do it and others can’t,” Daja replied. “Though Frostpine can, too.”

“And you can see, even inside the flames?” Ben asked.

Daja nodded. “Just as clear as you see me.”

Ben set his glass down, turning the metal base in his fingers. He took a deep breath, like a man about to dive into the sea, then asked. “Did you see anything odd inside the boardinghouse? Anything unusual?”

Daja thought, Of course. He’s probably seen hundreds of fires. He’d notice this one was not typical. “I think the fire was set,” she told him.

He frowned. “I was afraid of that,” he commented softly. “I’d hoped I was wrong.” He coughed and sipped his tea. “Why do you think it was set?”

Daja stared at the hearth-fire, picturing the burning house in her mind. “On the ground floor, everything to the right of the hall and everything to the left was burning. The hall and stairs were spelled against fire, but the spells weren’t that good.” She drank her tea, registering the stronger taste. “Accident fires run outward from one place. By the time this one reached those spells, it should have been big enough to roll over them.” Ben nodded. She continued, “That hall should have been on fire, too. I think it was started, maybe in the cellar, along each side of the house. That’s why the hall and stairs weren’t burning-the fire hadn’t reached them yet.”