“I don’t understand,” complained Daja, leaning on her staff. “What’s so important about the hot springs and stone cracks?”

“Water,” said Briar. He’d removed his shoes. Sitting on a rock, he lowered his feet into the river—and yanked them out with a yelp. “That’s cold!”

“Ice melt,” Polyam reminded him, grinning.

“Water,” Tris said irritably, seeing that Daja still had not figured out what she was driving at. “How do we get more water into this river, and into Gold Ridge Valley, when we’ve tons of the frozen stuff right here? See, with hot springs nearby, it means that lava’s close to the surface—”

“Or that it’s easier to reach,” Niko said. “If the lava gets into faults in the earth that go under where the glacier is at its thickest, we can get the ice to melt faster.”

Now Daja saw it. “It’ll run downstream to the lake. Gold Ridge will have water.”

“Niko says parts of the glacier are thousands of feet thick,” Tris explained. “That’s maybe enough weight to keep the lava from bursting through. That’d make a volcano, which we really don’t want.”

“Don’t forget we also need caution with regard to how much ice melts,” Niko pointed out. “Too much heat, and you run the danger of flooding, or mud slides.”

Polyam looked at them oddly, her good eye shuttling nervously from face to face. “You talk about using the power of the earth as you might a hammer that lay near your hand,” she said, looking at Daja.

“It’s what they do,” Niko told her quietly.

“And Daj’ might never have found out she could,” Briar reminded them. Gingerly he put his feet back in the water, a little at a time. “The way you people are about tools and making things, she never would have gotten near a smithy.”

Daja didn’t want to hear that, from him or from anyone. She turned away.

“If there’s a way to get more water to Gold Ridge, Lady Inoulia should be told,” Sandry remarked with a yawn. “She needs all the good news she can get right now.”

“I thought you didn’t like her,” Niko said, his eyes amused.

“I don’t,” admitted Sandry. “But her people are nice enough, and they’ll benefit from anything we can do.”

With that, all of them returned to collect their things. Topping the hillock where they had eaten, they halted. Lark knelt on the dropcloth, as if she’d gone to retrieve Daja’s copper flower as she cleaned up. Now she waved them closer.

The flower had grown. The stem Daja had thrust into the ground was thicker; two more stems sprouted from the earth around it. All three had split into lesser branches and leaves. A bud was already forming at the end of the middle stem.

Daja fell to her knees beside Lark. Reaching out, she cupped her original blossom in her hands, and gently felt the petals. They were the same thickness they had been when she put the flower down for a centerpiece. Unlike the iron vine, the flower hadn’t lost metal in its race to put out more shoots. The rest of the new plant was sturdy.

“I don’t understand,” she complained, looking up at Niko. “There’s maybe four times the copper here than was in the flower I brought from the castle. It can’t just make copper from air!”

“Where do plants get what they need to grow?” asked Briar, his face eager.

“From the ground,” Sandry murmured. “They get it from the ground.”

“But the ground’s just dirt,” protested Tris.

Daja could hardly breathe, she was so excited. “Except when it has metals in it,” she told the redhead. “It’s getting the copper it needs to grow from—”

“More copper?” whispered Tris.

“A lot more copper,” Daja said with a grin.

“Are you sure?” demanded Polyam.

Frustrated, Daja rocked back on her heels. “If I had my magic, I could follow it down and be sure!”

“I am sure,” said Niko, getting to his feet. “This thing has found a vein of copper to take root in.”

“Lady Inoulia should be notified right away,” Lark pointed out. “No doubt she’ll want to send soldiers to hold this ground. And maybe one of us should stand guard while the others return, to guard the copper plant from any of the local ruffians.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Niko stepped to the edge of the dropcloth, and took a deep breath. Lark drew or motioned everyone away from the copper plant.

“What’s he doing?” Polyam whispered to the others.

It was Tris, Niko’s student, who answered. “His magic has to do with seeing things, all kinds of things. He’s going to change how people see what’s on this spot.”

“Hush,” Niko ordered without opening his eyes. Pressing his hands together, he bowed his head. White fire streamed across the space between him and the copper plant. Sinking to the ground, it wrapped itself around the metal, forming a cylinder that built until it was nearly five feet tall. Branches thrust out from it, and sprouted twigs and leaves. The white fire grew dim, replaced by brown or green color. At last Niko dropped his hands, and opened his eyes. His perfect tree illusion solidified and settled.

“Very nice,” said Briar with approval. “Couldn’t have done better myself—”

“Couldn’t do it at all yourself,” muttered Tris.