Like Azaze said, Jayat was waiting in the courtyard with the horses. I put Rosethorn’s kit on her horse myself. Then I slung a little pack I carried, in case I found new rocks, in front of me on my saddle and perched Luvo on it. Luvo wanted to see everything. By the time I was ready, Rosethorn and Myrrhtide were set to ride. The sun was all the way up as we followed Jayat east, on the road through Moharrin.

By day we could see more of the village. It was set on the inner edge of a gigantic, gently sloping bowl ringed by mountains, or at least very tall hills. Mount Grace was the queen of them, towering over the others. Lake Hobin was where the water ran at the lowest point of the bowl. There were patches of farmland and orchards around the rim. The country seemed prosperous enough, earthquakes and all.

“Have you been in the lake yet?” Rosethorn reached over with a foot and nudged Myrrhtide.

He glared at her. “I have not. It looks very, very cold.”

“It’s snowmelt, a lot of it.” Jayat was much too cheerful for that hour of the morning. “You’ll be wide awake if you have a swim.”

“I thought you Water temple types didn’t care about the temperature,” Rosethorn said. I don’t know why she kept telling me to behave with Myrrhtide. She was always after him like a needle with the mending.

“Will you please be quiet?” Myrrhtide rubbed his forehead. “I can’t hear the adorable little birdies greet the thundering sun.”

The road followed the shore. We had a wonderful view of Lake Hobin and all the birds that fished and swam there. The sun turned the water into a bright silvery mirror. Now and then a fish would splash, rising to grab a bug. I half-expected the lake to show us those same weird ripples Rosethorn and I had seen in our wash water and tea. Only the animals ruffled its surface. Not even the wind stirred it. The air was still.

At last we turned down a new road, away from the lake. It took us past a few of those small farms. “This is Oswin’s place.” Jayat led us through a rickety gate. “He was the first of us to find a dead patch on his land.”

A little girl stood on the doorstep of the main building, sucking her thumb. She was six, maybe, a mix of races, with light brown skin, brown hair, and long brown eyes. Her nose and chin were sharp. She was a pretty thing. She needed better clothes, though. Her dress was the color of butter amber, but it was patched. The sleeves had been ripped out of the armholes. She stared at us, walking out into the dooryard for a better look.

The beautiful girl—Nory—who had come for Oswin the night before ran out of the house. “Meryem, I told you to change out of that old rag!” She grabbed the girl by the back of her dress, then glared at us. “Don’t even think of waking Oswin. He didn’t get to sleep until long after midnight, with one horse having croup and us needing a rebuilt table for breakfast.”

I felt watched and looked up. Faces in the upstairs windows of the house, boy and girl, watched us. They were all colors: black, white, brown, and mixes like Meryem. These would be the pirate kids Oswin had taken in, the ones left over after the adults had been killed. They looked like street kids I had known in the old days, before Briar had found me. They had that wary expression, the same as feral cats.

“Dedicates Rosethorn and Myrrhtide need to see the pond, Nory,” Jayat said. “We don’t have to wake Oswin to do it.”

Nory scowled at all of us. “There are plenty of dead spots all around here. Why don’t you go poke your noses into them?”

“Because we’re here. We won’t be any trouble.” Jayat was almost pleading with Nory. I wondered how long he’d been sweet on her. Quietly he said, “Come on. You’ll wake Oswin before we do, with your growling.”

The older girl took Meryem inside the house. Jayat looked at us and shrugged. “Oswin says she’s getting softer, looking after the kids. You just have to know her, I guess. This way.” He led us around the house, down a rock-lined path into the trees.

I drew up even with Jayat. “I don’t get it. Why are you showing us around, if you and your master are the only mages for this whole area? Won’t you be needed someplace, sooner or later? Couldn’t someone else play guide for us, if Oswin isn’t available?”

Jayat shook his head, making his curls bounce. “It isn’t just that the plants and water are getting poisoned.” He looked older this morning. Maybe he just didn’t like what he was saying, or thinking. “Too many of the dead patches are on places where this island’s lines of power lie.” He pointed to a rough granite post beside the path. It was as tall as my hip. Carved in the top of it was the Earth symbol, the circle that enclosed a cross.

I had seen them the day before, but had been too busy looking for new rocks to care. I studied the post. “It’s tilted. And there’s a crack in the middle of the granite. A bad shock and it will split right down the middle. You haven’t been taking care of it.”

Jayat scowled at me. “Then we’ll replace it. We have one of those every ten yards to mark where the lines of the earth’s power are hereabouts—”

“Are they all stone?” At least this was something I could take an interest in. “Are they all granite?”

“How would I know?” Jayat seemed grumpy. “They’re just rocks that tell us where we may draw on the force of the earth, to give us strength for our spells. That’s how lesser mages like Tahar and me can be of use to our kindred…”