I nodded, though it made my head spin. “Yes, Headwoman Azaze. But I never lie to Rosethorn. She, um, discourages it.”

“Evvy and I have an understanding.” Rosethorn had returned with packets of herbs and a mug. She grabbed the teakettle and poured hot water into the mug. “She tells me the truth, and I don’t hang her in the first well we come to. It’s a solution that works tolerably well for both of us.”

I watched sadly as she tipped powders into the mug. It didn’t help to know she was adding her magic with them. Her power just made the brew taste that much nastier.

“Is this Evvy such a handful? She seemed well enough last night.” Azaze had a real smile on her face now. The village’s miller, weaver, and carpenter, who sat with us, were out-and-out chuckling.

“As much as my student—her former teacher—Briar was a handful,” said Rosethorn. “He and I had a similar understanding. Evvy, stop making faces. You will need a clear head tonight. You are drinking this, whether you like it or not.”

“Not even honey?” I had to ask, though I could see she hadn’t looked at the honeypot.

“Honey would just make the experience pleasant. I haven’t forgiven you for racing off without a word.” Rosethorn looked at me and her face softened, a little. “Honey would also give this tea nasty side effects. I’m sorry, but it’s true. Drink it all, Evvy.”

I took the mug. “You could try harder to make them taste good, you know.”

She gave me a mocking smile. “Now, where would the fun be in that?” She turned to the maid who had been serving the elders. “Is there any egg-and-lemon soup left?”

The girl nodded.

“She’ll need a cup of that to start, then a cup of the white bean soup. If she can eat more, the artichokes in oil,” Rosethorn ordered.

I held my nose and gulped a mouthful of the tea. Even that way, I thought it would be a miracle if I kept the stuff down. It had the musty, greenish taste of cellar mold. Before I met Briar I had eaten vegetables stolen from cellars. I knew what that taste was. Wherever did she find the herbs for these drinks? I was always afraid to ask. She would tell me.

And yet the sweat on my face began to dry. My stomach settled after three more gulps of the stuff. My ears stopped ringing. My knees, ankles, elbows, and wrists felt like they were made of bone, not green twigs. My brain decided I was not on rocking ground, but a solid bench. My heart stopped hammering.

I put the mug down. “Not the sludge.” With my eyes I begged Rosethorn not to say the dreaded words.

She looked into the mug, where soggy herb paste waited. Then she checked my forehead, and my pulse. “Much better.” She threw the sludge on the open hearth fire. It roared up in flames. Everyone flinched with a gasp. I looked at Rosethorn with admiration. What had she put in that tea?

The maid set artichokes and both soups in front of me. Remembering what had happened when Jayat showed me those dumplings, I ate slowly and carefully.

“How could you go under the earth if your body did not go?” While she had waited for Rosethorn to finish doctoring me, Azaze still had questions. “Can all mages do this?”

I shook my head. “Some can, some can’t.” I felt good enough to take out the rocks I had gathered that day and put them on the table. When I’d first come in, the smallest of them had felt too heavy for me to lift.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Evvy.” Rosethorn sat next to me, accepting a cup of normal tea from the maid. “My young friend will have water.” Two of the other people Azaze had sent for arrived. The maids rushed to serve them.

I swallowed my beans so I could answer Azaze. “It’s useful if you can do it, the traveling in your magic. It’s how Luvo could see things on his mountain. It’d take him forever to walk over all of it. His mountain’s huge.” I grinned at Luvo. “So he just goes around as his magic self.”

“But how does his mountain do things with Luvo gone?” That was Myrrhtide, asking a normal question, for a change. He looked at my small pile of rocks and didn’t even sniff.

“My mountain rejoices.” Luvo walked over to stand in front of Myrrhtide, so that Myrrhtide would have to watch him as he spoke. “I do not rearrange its crystals and pillars, or redirect its streams and glaciers. I do not reshape it with avalanches, floods, or tremors. It can slumber in the sun and cold in peace. My mountain finds me too active a heart for its liking, Dedicate Initiate Myrrhtide.”

“No wonder you get on so well with Evvy.” Myrrhtide leaned back, though he kept his eyes on Luvo. “Being so wise, Master Luvo, I’m surprised you didn’t warn us of what is happening under this mountain.”

“Warn you? As I have said, I did not know.” Luvo sat on his rounded stone rump, his head knob pointed up at Myrrhtide. “And what is the point of a warning? The volcano will be born, devouring all in its path. It will continue to destroy, or it will become land, and a mountain. The new eats the old. It is always so.”

“But we’re humans,” said Myrrhtide. “We can flee. Provided we have time.” He nodded to yet another village notable who came in the door.

“That’s what we’re going to work out, once the entire village council is here.” We had forgotten that Azaze was listening. “Evvy—it is Evvy?”

I nodded. I was fishing stones from my other pocket and setting them on the table. Here was an odd, interesting bit of obsidian, like pumice in texture. Here was a fine-grained gray rock that had begun life far below the earth. There were other kinds of volcano rocks that had been high on Mount Grace.