“Like what?” asked Daja. “Like a noble?”

“Uncaring,” whispered Sandry. “Oh, I know she was flighty. So was Papa. They were like children, in a way. They used their money to travel and have fun all the time, never asking where it came from or what they owed to the people who provided it. They were wrong in that, very wrong. If I’ve learned nothing else these last three years, I’ve learned that much.” She turned and went to sit in the chair next to Daja’s. “And yet—I don’t want to be responsible here. I don’t want to stay here. My home is with Uncle, and the three of you. But won’t I be selfish if I insist on going away again? Won’t I be turning my back on these people?” She bowed her head and covered her face with her hands.

Daja stroked her friend’s hair. Sometimes she has too good a heart, Daja thought. I had forgotten that. “It depends on how you do it,” she said gently. “I just don’t think you should be deciding all this on a bad night’s sleep and an ugly scene first thing in the morning. You need to eat something. And you’d best tell the housekeeper to make provision for your new maid and her children.”

Sandry winced. “You’re right. Will you keep Gudruny company while I go?”

Before Daja could say, “I think you’re supposed to have the housekeeper come to you,” Sandry was out the door. Looking into the bedroom, Daja saw that Gudruny was staring out at her. She walked over to the woman. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” Daja said. “I’m her sister, Daja Kisubo. There’s another sister and a brother. You saw them outside, maybe, the redhead and the young man with the short black hair. We’re all mages. Real mages. With a medallion.” She lifted hers from under her robe and watched Gudruny’s face as the woman looked at it. She wanted Gudruny to understand her perfectly. “If you try to take advantage of Sandry, that would be sad. We really won’t like it. People usually wish they’d just left the four of us alone after they’ve experienced us as unhappy.”

Gudruny was trembling. “I didn’t know about her family. I thought she was an only child. And no one mentioned mages, either. I didn’t ask her to give me work.” She licked her lips. “Though it would keep me safe from Halmar taking revenge. And my parents will never forgive me for losing Halmar’s income for our family. I don’t know why she was so generous, but I hope you’ll understand if I don’t run away screaming. I have nowhere to go.” She met Daja’s eyes squarely, though she gulped when she did it.

Daja had to grin. “Ah. The Sandry effect.” She held up a hand. “No, I don’t expect you to know what I mean. You just reminded me that when we four lived together—at Winding Circle temple in Emelan for four years—now and then we’d find people who looked flattened, dismayed, and happy. Then we always knew Sandry was nearby. Once she decides to make your life better, look out! It’s easier to throw yourself off a cliff than it is to keep her from sweeping you up when she’s in that mood.” She changed the subject abruptly and offered her hand. “Daja Kisubo. Was Halmar really as pinheaded as he was talking out there?”

Gudruny sighed and sat on Sandry’s bed. “Halmar was never denied anything by his family—he was the only male child. And he taught me not to deny him anything once we were married.” She smoothed her crushed skirts. “When he beat me I sought help from Saghad Ambros and got it. But…I never knew Halmar’s moods. He would punch the wall next to my head, and throw things at me or our children. He would lecture me for hours into the night, until I’d agree to anything just so he would let me sleep. I was always shaking, never sure what the children or I might fail at next.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite manage it. “I don’t believe I’ve had a night’s sleep in ten years.” Gudruny looked up at Daja. “So what kind of mage is the clehame?”

Daja went over to Sandry’s workbasket. “First rule: Don’t touch this or anything in it, ever, all right? Even if you need scissors, or needle and thread, get them elsewhere. It may look like a sewing basket, but it’s her mage’s kit.”

Gudruny looked at the basket, then at Daja. “I may only be a miller’s wife, or a miller’s onetime wife, but that doesn’t make it right to mock me, Viymese,” she said with injured dignity.

Daja rolled her eyes. “I don’t mock, not when it comes to magic,” she retorted. “Sandry is a mage with weaving, spinning, sewing. Even her pins have magic in them. You don’t know what they’ll do if you use them. Make sure your children understand it, too. Briar thought once he could give his hands a little tattoo with vegetable dyes—he has plant magic—and Sandry’s needles. Now he has plants made of ink that grow and move under his skin.”

Gudruny’s lips moved in a silent prayer. Feeling she had made her point, Daja asked, “You have two children?”

“Yes,” Gudruny admitted. “My boy is seven, my daughter ten. I’ll be certain they know—they are good children, and they mind me. But I have never heard of a mage whose kit is a sewing basket.”

“You’ve heard of stitch witches, though. Where do you think they keep their mage kits?” Daja opened the shutters, letting the morning breeze into the room. “Did you see the redhead?”

“Her hair was sparkling,” whispered Gudruny. “Actually, it looked like…” She hesitated, as if afraid to name what she had seen.