“Oh, magic, who cares?” Briar dug into his food, refusing to talk more until it was in his belly, where no one could take it from him. Plants from all over the world? What must that be like?

“I believe there is a dedicate at Winding Circle who has been able to grow vegetables and fruit—even trees—inside a building,” Niko remarked. He wasn’t even looking at Briar, but at the view of the seashore from the inn’s window.

Briar just couldn’t imagine it.

“One thing that I really feel I must say.” Niko put greens on the boy’s plate. “If I’m forced to bribe hostlers at night to help you bathe, that means less money for food like this as we travel.”

Briar glared at him. If Niko saw the dirty look, he chose to ignore it. Instead he returned to eating his dinner.

I’ll stick as far as the border, thought the boy. Get a few more meals like this under my belt—so I’d better try this washing. After that, we’ll see. Maybe I’ll have a look at this Winding Circle place; maybe I won’t.

The Pebbled Sea, off Capchen:

Their first night out, the captain invited Tris and Niko to share the evening meal with the officers. The captain himself was delayed, which gave Tris a chance to examine an odd display on the wall near his map-table. It looked to be a collection of knots tied in thick cords, each hanging from a single nail. She counted two in green, one in yellow, one in blue, a fifth that was green with a thin yellow strand in it, and a sixth, green with a blue thread. About to touch them, she changed her mind. They seemed to shimmer, promising a scare to anyone rash enough to handle them.

“There’s my treasure, little girl.” The captain had come in. “A fortune in winds, that is.”

Tris pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s the work of mimanders—Trader mages,” he explained. “For a small fortune they’ll take a cord and tie a bit of wind up into it for you. See, it’s green for north, yella for east, red for south, blue for west, just like they do it in the Living Circle temples. Them’s for blowin’ us all the way out of any tight spots. And I got one for northwest, and one for northeast. Those’ll blow me to safe harbor in Emelan, if ever we need it.” He ushered Tris to her chair.

“People can tie up a wind with a knot?” she asked, eyeing him sharply. “You’re telling me a tale.”

“It’s a tale I paid for in gold,” the man replied, forking slices of ham onto his plate. “Pass Master Niko the bread, there’s a good girl.”

She ate quietly, paying little attention to the men’s talk. The knots occupied her mind. How could anyone tie up wind in a knotted cord? Was it an easy thing to learn, or hard? She’d never heard of it before—was it a thing only Traders knew?

As the first mate filled their cups, she saw that Niko was watching her. Again, those large, black eyes gave no clue as to what he thought. Why did the man have to stare so? she wondered. Didn’t his mother teach him it was rude?

“Why don’t you ask me anything?” she demanded abruptly. “If you’ve something on your mind, tell me!”

Niko’s eyelids fluttered—was he laughing at her? “I can’t,” he told her, tearing a piece from a sheet of flat-bread. “Any questions I have might limit how you think, and the way you act on your thoughts. You see, Tris, just now your mind is unformed, without prejudices. If I present you with the wrong ideas, they might restrict what’s inside you.”

She thought about that for a few moments, ignoring the smiles of the ship’s officers. “That makes no sense whatever,” she replied at last. “I’d like an answer that makes sense, if you please.”

“Not yet. We have to get to know each other better.”

“That’s just his way, youngster,” the captain explained, passing a dish of olives to Tris. She muttered her thanks and took some. “Master Niko, he’s as hard to understand sometimes as any oracle. When the fit’s on him, he can talk you so confused you’ll forget which bearing is north.”

“It’s the university education,” Niko told them. “It teaches us to chase our tails for an hour before breakfast, just to get the exercise.”

“University?” Tris inquired, interested in spite of herself. “Some of my cousins are at universities. Which one did you go to?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Niko answered, “Lightsbridge, in Karang.”

Tris shoved an olive around her plate. “My cousin Aymery studies there. He’s to be a mage. Maybe you know him? Aymery Chandler?”

“I haven’t been there in five years,” was the answer. “Chances are that I don’t.” He poured fresh pomegranate juice for her, then said, “Would you like to be a mage yourself?”

How could he keep taunting her this way, suggesting she could have the one thing she knew that she didn’t? “No! I hate mages! They confuse people!” Jumping up, Tris ran out of the cabin.

Alone on deck, she heard thunder growl in the distance. The storm that had threatened all day was breaking. Darting over to the rail, she turned up her face just as a tall wave slapped the ship. She was immediately soaked, and her anger washed away. Shaking water from her spectacles, she wondered how it was that she felt queasy in her cabin, but perfectly fine now, with the deck jumping under her feet. It must be the smell, she decided. The cabin smells like all the cargoes these people have ever carried, and maybe some extra.