She stared at him. Since she was little, she'd viewed her father's favourite uncle as a marble man who never aged or tired. It was a surprise to hear him admit to weariness. "Is everything all right? Apart from pulling things together after the quake?"

"We have more pirates about than usual. I'd have thought the merchants' screams would be audible all the way up here."

She smiled, and was glad to see that he smiled back. "Have they reason to scream?"

"Only if they hear the same news as I do. The worst of the Battle Islands' raiders, Pauha - she calls herself Queen Pauha - has talked a number of the lesser chiefs into sailing under her command. That's bad enough - she can muster quite a fleet that way. Worse, her brother Enahar has joined her. He is a mage, educated at the university where Niko studied. Enahar might complicate things, if Pauha turns her eyes our way."

"Is she going to?" The thought of a pirate fleet - not just a handful of ships - with a really good mage along made her skin prickle.

"I hope not." He got to his feet and stretched. Sandry also rose. "I'm doing my best to make them go elsewhere. Most of Emelan's fleet is at sea, guarding the coast." He gave her a strong hug. "Not that you need to worry. Winding Circle has its own way to discourage unwelcome visitors - no one has breached these walls in four hundred years."

"And Summersea?" she asked, walking with him to the door. Outside, a mounted company of the Duke's Guard waited under some shady trees.

His eyes glinted frostily. "They'd do better to swallow a crested porcupine. That's why our port is the most popular in the Pebbled Sea - we are the safest of all." He kissed her cheeks. "Be well, Sandrilene. Once things calm down, we'll have you and your friends up to Duke's Citadel, and you can show them around."

She caught his sleeve as a young Guardsman brought over his horse. "Take care of yourself, Uncle. Let your merchants scream in a courtyard where you can't hear them. The exercise will keep them young."

He threw back his head and laughed. "That's my favourite niece!"

His Guardsmen grinned as the Duke mounted up. He saluted her, and led the company up the spiral road. Sandry waved for as long as she could see him.

"I'm impressed," Lark said quietly. She came up to put a comforting arm around Sandry's shoulders. "The word is that he doesn't really like many people, and I can see he loves you."

"He works so hard," whispered Sandry. "I wonder if they appreciate him." She sighed, and looked into Lark's kind face. "And are we back to work?"

"For a while longer," the dedicate replied. "We'll stop at suppertime. You don't feel the effect of spending all this magic now, but you will tomorrow."

Five minutes later, as they were about to start their magical weaving again, a winded novice half-fell through the door.

"Excuse me," she gasped, "but has Duke Vedris come here yet? Moonstream wants him back right away!"

Lark frowned. "He's gone - he may be through the North Gate by now."

"Oh, cowpox!" cried the runner. She raced off.

Sandry fiddled uneasily with her spools of linen thread.

"It may be nothing," Lark said. "If it's bad news, we'll hear soon enough."

She was right. Taking a breath, Sandry eased into her magic, and the weaving resumed.

By suppertime, Sandry and Tris were half-asleep, worn out. Briar focused on eating, silently going over the letters Tris had taught him. Daja was restless, thinking of that hidden ship, and what it could mean; her clan had lost people and ships to pirates. Lark, Niko and Rosethorn, together at supper for the first time since the earthquake, discussed the gossip that Rosethorn had picked up while working at the Water temple. "Niko, this spell is giving me a headache," Tris complained when the adults fell silent. "Do I need to see magic all the time? Doesn't it give you a headache?"

For a moment Niko caught her eyes with his, and held them. Tris's vision doubled, then tripled as her teacher glowed, then blazed. "Ow!" she cried, breaking free to cover her eyes with her arm. "Stop it! That's worse than the flicker!"

"That is what I see," he explained, smoothing his moustache as he often did when thinking. "You're adapting to the spell quite nicely. It's not just the edges of your vision any more, is it? You're starting to see magic when you look directly at it."

"You almost blinded me," she grumbled, rubbing her eyes with her fists.

"If you don't like it, alter the spell. Try to change the intensity of what you see. Dim the magic's glow." The edges of his eyes crinkled in a hidden smile.

"But I don't know what you did to my specs," she argued. "I have to know what you did to fool with your spell."

"Probe it with magic. You have to start learning how to pick apart the spells cast by strangers anyway - think of this as a necessary exercise."

"Something in your eyes is flickering?" asked Daja.

"At the edges," Briar said, a spoonful of rice halfway to his mouth. "Like ghosts, only when -"

"Or azigazis" murmured Daja. When they all looked at her, she told them not just what the word meant, but what she had seen that afternoon.

"They're sniffing around," Rosethorn said grimly when Daja finished. "Scavengers. Parasites."

"At least we'll be safe," Lark replied. "Better they should blunt their teeth on us, or on Summersea - again - than go after a village still digging itself out."