The front door was closed against the night’s growing chill. Sandry, feeling unsure, knocked.

She heard footsteps, then the door opened. The |woman who stood there was four inches taller than Sandry, with bronze-colored skin and wide brown eyes set over sharp cheekbones. Lark was dressed in a long h abit of the dark green shade worn by those who dedi-:ated themselves to the gods of the earth. She smiled warmly and hugged Sandry. “What a wonderful surprise!” she exclaimed. “I wasn’t expecting to see you till next week! How is his grace? Come in, and we’ll have tea.”

Sandry hugged Lark fiercely, then walked into her home.

Once she had brewed some tea, Lark made Sandry and eat. As she did, Sandry asked after the other residents of Winding Circle. “I have to stay with Uncle a while more,” she said, though Lark hadn’t asked when she would be coming home. “Till I’m sure he’ll be all right. He was so tired this morning, and he doesn’t know how to be careful.”

Lark smiled at her. “It’s comforting to know you’re with him,” she said, offering Sandry an apple. “He really does listen to you—he has ever since we took that trip north with him, the year when you first came to us. He told us then he thought you had a head on your shoulders. And everyone knows he works much too hard.”

Looking at her made Sandry feel as if she’d been walking through a gale and had stepped through a door into a warm house. “I miss you so much,” she said. “I wish you were there with me.”

Lark shook her head. “I have so much to do here. Be sides, Duke’s Citadel is too big and drafty for an ex-tumbler turned stitch witch,” she teased. “And Dedicate Vetiver says one of the novices who came this summer shows some odd flashes that could be magic. I don’t think Daja will mind if this boy turns out to need her old room. Vetiver says he’s terribly shy and can hardly speak, even to other novices.”

Sandry nodded. Just-discovered mages who had trouble fitting in at Winding Circle were often turned over to Lark and Rosethorn. The two women had taught a number of mages over the years, though none so unusual as Sandry, Briar, Daja, and Tris. “Can you manage without Rosethorn here?” asked Sandry.

Lark chuckled. “It might even be easier, at least for the first few months.

Never tell Rosie I said that.”

Sandry grinned. Dedicate Rosethorn was a terror.

The Hub clock chimed the hour. It was getting late, and there was the ride back to Dukes Citadel to be thought of. “Lark, this boy I found

” She told her teacher about Pasco. “His magic’s as plain as the nose on my face,” she said when she had finished. “I’m just not sure of what to do. Should I leave him to his own devices? We were always told that if a mage doesn’t get proper training, sooner or later his magic starts to run wild, like Tris’s used to.” Her friend Tris had left a wake of frightened people and ruined property before she had come to Discipline.

Lark sat back in her chair, brows knit in thought. “A dance-mage,” she murmured.

“How very odd.”

“I figured you’d know if there were any,” Sandry pointed out. “All the places you’ve been.”

Lark rubbed her temples. “I’ve seen a few, but it was far and away. The shamans of the Qidao people dance their magic. So do the shamans of Ugurulz—it’s be tween the Sea of Grass and Yanjing, in the north.”

“He won’t go all that way to learn from a shaman if he doesn’t even want his magic here,” Sandry remarked. “What about those Qidao people?”

“More thousands of miles,” Lark replied. “They’re in southern Yanjing. Even if he wanted to journey so far, we couldn’t allow it. First he must learn basic control over his power. There’s no telling what kind of mischief he could set in motion with a step here, and a step there.”

“I don’t think he’s strong enough to do serious damage,” Sandry told her.

“It doesn’t matter if he is or he isn’t,” Lark said. “Dances are patterns. You know what patterns can do.”

“Placing magic in a pattern makes the magic stronger,” Sandry replied; it was a lesson she knew as well as her own name. She smiled. “That’s why you and I have to be careful when we weave. So you’re saying that Pasco can extend his power through dance patterns.”

“Easily.” Lark toyed with her teacup. “And the stronger the pattern, the more things can go wrong. What if this Pasco had not followed the net so faithfully?

A wrong step that broke the net magic might have driven all the fish from the sea for miles. What if he’d thought of pretty girls as he danced? He could have called all the girls of Summersea to him, whether they wished to be called or not. You’re absolutely right. Pasco must be taught.”

“So I’ll bring him to the school here.” Sandry felt bet ter immediately: a decision had been reached.

Lark shook her head. “It’s not that simple. Temple and university mages follow laws and guidelines, some of which you know. On the subject of new mages, the law is set. If no teacher with the same power is available, the discovering mage has to teach the newcomer the basics.”

Sandry laughed. “But the discovering mage is me.”

Lark nodded gravely.

“I’m just a kid myself,” Sandry pointed out, using street slang for child. “I cant teach him. I have to keep an eye on Uncle.”