Nia would be home by now. Daja hurried her steps. Maybe they could go skating.

Now that Jory could block most of Daja’s strikes without watching her, they began the work of controlling her power. Jory envisioned a jar like those in which spices were stored, trying to draw her power into it as Daja circled her. Each time she tapped Jory gently with the staff, the younger girl was distracted and lost control of her magic. She was cross enough to growl and stamp on the floor when the house clock chimed.

“Calm down,” Daja ordered, shaking her gently by one thin shoulder. “You thought you’d never know when I was about to hit you either.” Remembering her talk with Ben, she added, “We’ve got all winter.”

Jory sighed as Daja opened their protective circle. “Olennika says you must be a wonderful teacher, because I’m learning really well,” she said.

Warmth crept into Daja’s cheeks. She had developed a hearty respect for Jory’s teacher that one night in the great kitchen. “She did?”

“I’m glad you two think I’m doing well.” Jory grumbled, leaning her staff against the wall. “I don’t notice anything different.”

“That’s why you’re the student, and we’re the teachers,” Daja said in her loftiest tone.

“And I thought full mages were so wonderful they didn’t need to tease their students,” Jory retorted with a sniff.

“Tell that to Frostpine,” Daja suggested. “He’s been teasing me for years.”

“It’s just that Nia does so well,” Jory said. “I see her getting better. She’s turning into a lamp that glows all the time, only I don’t think anyone notices.”

“Only those who see magic can,” Daja pointed out. “You’re not used to her getting ahead of you?”

“I didn’t say it was a nice way for me to feel,” grumbled Jory.

Memory suddenly kicked Daja. In their second year at Winding Circle, the four of them had taken classes in anatomy under Water temple healers. Time after time she had watched Tris and Briar answer questions: they always knew the answers. Sandry hadn’t cared about being second best, but Daja had.

“Don’t worry about how well Nia does,” she told Jory more kindly. “You picked a kind of meditation that’s more complicated. I don’t know if I would have made as much progress in the same time you have, if I hadn’t learned the easier way first.”

Jory only shrugged, her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Daja scrambled for something to brighten the younger girl’s spirits, and found it. “Would you like to try an attack-defense combination for staff fighting? I think we have time.”

Jory’s eyes lit. “Not magic?”

Daja grinned. “Just combat.”

Jory grabbed the staff she’d put aside.

After breakfast Daja returned to Teraud’s shop and lost herself in plain work with no issues of magic to distract her. It was relaxing not to have to think of anything but iron as she heated and hammered. When they stopped for midday her muscles were pleasantly warm, well exercised and tingling. Over the meal everyone wanted to know about the Jossaryk House fire. Daja told them as much as she could without going into the grim details. When the journeymen tried to press her, Teraud changed the subject. He caught Daja’s grateful look and winked.

Once the journeymen and apprentices had left the table, Teraud leaned back in his chair and fixed Daja with his deep-set eyes. “I hear dat fire was set.”

She looked down. She wasn’t sure if she ought to speak of that to anyone other than Heluda or Ben.

“Two killer fires on Alakut, after months of no fires bigger dan my forge, except Ladradun’s warehouse.” Teraud shook his head. “So either the firesprites came back from holidays, or we got a firebug. I ain’t never seen no firesprites. I seen a firebug, though. Boy twelve years old, couldn’t stop, whatever they done to him. Dey finally burned him after he did a fire killed five people.”

Daja shuddered. When she was nine, she had seen a firesetter burned alive. She’d had nightmares for weeks. She couldn’t think of a worse death.

“I’ll pray the gods dat lawkeepers catch dis one soon,” Teraud said, getting to his feet with a sigh. “Nothin’ scarier than a firebug. Nothin’.”

“I’ll pray, too,” Daja assured him.

Daja skated home. She was too late to meet Nia: the skies were dark, the lamplighters busy at their work, and shadows lay over the canal ice. Daja stumbled three times on uneven spots, but managed not to fall each time. She was proud of herself as she glided into the basin at Bancanor House. Like Jory and Nia, she had come a good way in a short time.

Frostpine was in Anyussa’s kitchen, basking in front of the large hearth as he idly made links of steel wire for mail. Nia sat across from him, dutifully carving buttons.

“Would you mind if I came?” Frostpine asked when Nia stood to follow Daja. “I won’t be in the way.”

Daja put her hands on her hips. “I could have used your help when I started this,” she pointed out, perturbed. Did he want to take over Nia’s teaching? Had he seen things Daja had done wrong? If he wanted to take over, shouldn’t she be glad that an experienced mage wanted to step in?

Stop that, replied her sensible self. If he thought you had done badly, he would have mentioned it the night you saw him meditate with her.

“No, you couldn’t have used my help earlier,” Frostpine said coolly. “When you four were given medallions, it meant you had permission to fumble your way to a teaching style, just as the rest of us did. It was also understood that you knew enough about magic to do so successfully. Most who wear it never have their teachers close enough to oversee when they find their first students, you know.”