“Excuse me, Viymese-” That was Arnen. He spoke as quietly as Nia did.

Daja looked at him. “What can I do for you?”

Arnen glanced at Camoc, then pushed his spectacles up on his nose. “It’s about meditation. Most of us started with other mages, and we already know it.”

“Impossible to meditate here,” Camoc said brusquely. “Too much noise. Can you take that part of it?”

“It really is noisy,” Arnen told Nia apologetically. She nodded, too shy to speak.

Daja wanted to object, but suddenly she could hear her grandmother’s voice. “Shirkers are half-kaq,” that fierce old lady told her grandchildren. “Traders take the burden they are given.” She had been given this burden. It wasn’t shirking to find teachers with the twins’ own skills, but if those teachers asked Daja to help, she would be a shirker to refuse. “We’ll meditate at home,” she told the men and Nia. “We’ve already started, anyway.” She did her best to seem happy about it, though her inner self was demanding to know how she was to work on her own projects if she had to nursemaid the twins. She stepped on that self hard. Nia would hear any touch of impatience in Daja’s voice. The minute she did, she would fade away like a ghost, learning nothing properly from anyone. Daja ran her right thumb over her brass glove. “We’ll practice tonight, when we get home,” she told Nia, who nodded.

When Daja left Camoc’s, she was astounded to see Morrachane Ladradun, elegant in a sable-trimmed coat and hat, in the sleigh with Jory. There was liking and affection in the face that was so harsh when Daja had met her. Jory said something, and the woman actually laughed.

She must have been pretty once, Daja thought. My mother was right-if you keep making the same nasty face, one day your face will set in that expression.

“Daja,” Jory said eagerly, waving. “Daja, come meet Aunt Morrachane.” She grimaced and added, “Sorry. Ravvi Morrachane Ladradun. Aunt Morrachane-“

“I have met Ravvikki Daja,” said Morrachane with a nod. “I understand you have brought the twins wonderful news. You are to be a cook-mage,” she said with a smile, cupping Jory’s cheek in one gloved hand. “Houses will scramble to offer marriages for you and my little Nia. But where is she?” Morrachane asked Daja. “Jory said she was inside with you.”

Daja ran her fingers over the living metal on her left hand and silently listed the various coins used in Bihan. Normally she disliked the title Viymese. She felt nothing like the acknowledged mage it proclaimed, yet it irked her that Morrachane would not use it.

Jory was unaware of Daja’s tension and Morrachane’s snub. “She won’t keep us waiting forever, will she?” asked Nia’s twin. “We’ve other boring carpenters to see-“

“Actually, Nia wants to stay here,” Daja told Jory.

“She does?” Jory asked, surprised. “But she hasn’t met any of the others!”

“One moment,” said Morrachane with a frown that looked easier for her face than smiles. “Nia chose?”

“Isn’t it fun?” Jory asked eagerly. “We never get to pick our teachers, but Daja says we have to.”

Morrachane patted Jory’s arm, but her pale green eyes with their tiny pupils were fixed on Daja. “I know you like the freedom, dear one, but adults”-was Daja imagining it, or had Morrachane emphasized the word?-“know more of the world. Surely it is up to your parents to decide.”

“Nia’s mad to pick the first place she sees,” Jory added. “Is she serious? She doesn’t rush into things. She’s not like me.”

“She says she’s certain,” replied Daja, speaking to Jory.

“Viynain Oakborn said she ought to meet others, too, but her mind’s made up.”

“She likes it here, then,” Jory said firmly, smoothing the robe over her lap. “Good. No more boring carpenters!”

“I cannot believe Matazi Bancanor consented to this,” Morrachane said flatly. “Someone like Viynain Breechbranch, with his selective shop, would be far more appropriate for a well-bred girl than this hurlyburly place.”

Daja was not temperamental. She certainly wasn’t like her foster-sister Tris, who went up like explosive boom-dust if anyone disagreed with her, or even like Sandry, who sprang to battle the moment she thought someone was treated badly. There was something about Morrachane that swiftly got under Daja’s skin, stirring her to unexpected surges of temper. She toyed with melting the woman’s gold coat-buttons and her elegant ruby-and-gold earrings, but knew such a petty revenge was beneath her. She imagined it briefly as she considered and discarded a number of sharp replies. Finally she said, “I thank you for your interest, but I have discussed these matters with Ravvot and Ravvi Bancanor, and with my own teacher, the great mage Frostpine. This is how it is done.”

“Then it is done foolishly, without thought for the student’s good,” Morrachane said flatly. “What order is there when children are not guided by the advice of their parents? Family is sacred. To encourage young people to ignore the family’s needs-“

“But we aren’t, Aunt Morrachane, really!” Jory laid a placating hand on the older woman’s arm. “It’s just this one thing, and Mama and Papa worked out the list of teachers. They have medallions and things that say they teach as well as work magic. And it’s so much fun to decide something for ourselves.”