For now, she saw no point in telling Jory that as an accredited mage, she knew more about magic than Anyussa. Instead Daja told the girl, “There’s another kind of mage, not as common as the ones who train with the Mages’ Society or at Lightsbridge. We see a lot of them at Winding Circle. They use magic that’s already in things, rather than adding magic to something. It’s called ambient magic. You can make it stronger, or bigger, or more accurate, with book studies, but you still draw on magic that’s already there. Everything has some magic in it.” She looked at Nia. “I suppose you like cooking too? Though I hardly ever see you in the kitchens.”

Nia shook her head.

Jory replied, “She won’t go near a hearth. She’s afraid of fire.”

Nia glared at Jory. “You would be, too, if you had any sense,” she informed her twin.

The house clock chimed the hour.

Jory and Nia looked at each other. “Music lessons!” they yelped, and tumbled out the door.

Daja uncovered her necklace and went back to work.

After a couple of hours’ labor, Daja realized she was stiff. A walk might clear the cobwebs from her skull. Down the servants’ stair she went, bypassing the kitchen and its enticing smells, following the corridors that connected the buildings until she reached the slush room. Properly clothed, she wandered out into the waning afternoon and the alley. The rear gate to Moykep House was still open, the trampled and sooty ground around it frozen into ruts and holes. Daja looked in. A tall, rumpled figure in a heavy sheepskin coat wandered through the remains of the stable, kicking apart any large clumps of charred matter. Bennat Ladradun was checking for hidden blazes that might find something to burn if the wind picked up.

Entering the courtyard, Daja threw her power out ahead of her, feeling for heat. “There’s nothing warm left,” she told him. “I just checked.”

The big man smiled. “Another useful skill, Viymese Daja,” he said, using the Namornese word for a female mage. He walked carefully across the burned-out mess until he reached her. Places where the firefighters had used water were frozen, making the footing treacherous. As he spread his arms for balance, Daja saw a neatly wrapped bandage on his left hand.

“You got scorched,” she said, pointing to it.

He made a face. “Not too badly. There was a piece of wood in the way when I went to get those boys. I knocked it aside, but the blanket slipped and I hit it with my bare hand. The healer says when I take this off, day after tomorrow, I won’t even have a scar.” Changing the subject, he remarked, “I’m surprised you’re not studying with Godsforge. I don’t know if you’ve heard of him-” He slipped on the edge of the building.

Daja instantly steadied him. “I have,” she said, releasing him as he got his footing. “I’m a smith, really-fire for its own sake doesn’t much interest me. All I know about fire comes from my magic. I know you studied with him.”

Bennat shook his head. “We think we’re such a worldly city, but really, we’re just a collection of villages. Gossip flows quicker than air here. Did they tell you about my birthmarks?”

Daja grinned up at him. “I don’t know how they missed that,” she replied. She had already discovered that most Kadasep Island residents knew her name and Frostpine’s, why they had come to Kugisko, and where they lived. “If you don’t mind my asking, why study with a fire-mage if you’ve no magic yourself?”

“Because he knew how fires burn with different materials, and how to fight them,” the man replied. “Things even someone like me could learn. Things like when you’re in a burning building, touch a closed door first. If it’s hot, you won’t like what happens if you open it.”

Daja raised her eyebrows in a silent question.

He answered: “Opening the door, you give the fire inside a burst of air. It blasts out and cooks the person in the doorway.”

Daja whistled softly. “I’ll remember that. And it makes sense. We use a bellows in the forge to pump air into the fire to make it burn hotter. What else did you learn?”

“How to know if a fire was deliberately set,” he explained. “And wind patterns, the use of sand in winter… ” He stared at the ruins, hands stuffed in his coat pockets. “One time there was a barn that had to be destroyed, so he set fire to it. Then he threw a shield over us, so we could stand in the middle of the barn and watch how the fire burned, along the floor, up the walls, into the loft. It was like a carpet of fire blossoms rippling over our heads.” He glanced at Daja. “I’m sorry. People tell me that I just rattle on.”

“No, no, I’m interested!” Daja protested. “The only time I ever saw anything like that was during this forest fire. Even then, what I saw didn’t ripple or anything. I pulled it through me. All I saw was streaks.” She realized what she must sound like, and hung her head. “I’m not boasting. It really did happen.”

“Oh, I believe you,” said Bennat, his eyes blazing with excitement. “What I would give to see that!”

Daja grinned at him. “At the time I wished I hadn’t, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. I would have died if my foster-brother and -sisters and Frostpine hadn’t helped with their magic. And I didn’t exactly come away unscathed.” She rubbed her thumb against the metal under her left glove. Yes, it was useful. Yes, she now made living metal creations that rich people bought at high prices. She had also seen revulsion on the faces of those who touched her hand and found warm metal, or those who saw her peeling the excess from her flesh. She’d also suffered infections when the metal caught on something and pulled away part of her skin. She shook off those memories. “Did you learn about forest fires from Godsforge?” she asked her companion.