Threading her basket until it rode higher on her arm, Tris grabbed the boy's hands. "You won't fix anything if you break his finger!" she yelled in Briar's ear. "You -"

Suddenly the three of them came apart. Flying backwards, they landed outside, on their behinds: Tris, Briar and the dedicate. Little Bear shrieked madly. The man scrambled to his feet, to come face-to-face with a big-bellied dedicate who stood in the open doorway. The newcomer scowled at all of them impartially. He was two inches short of six feet, with the black hair, brown skin and almond-shaped eyes of a far easterner. His hair was gathered into a tail and clubbed to lay forward on top of his head, after the custom of the men of Yanjing. He had a broad face, with a long, flared nose, a wide mouth and a thick, trimmed beard. It was impossible to tell what colour his habit was, under the stains and scorches. Tris thought it might be red, then wondered if it was blue, green or yellow. She had never been able to decide which temple this man was dedicated to. Perhaps, since kitchens combined all the elements, the dedicate in charge of Winding Circle's belonged to all four temples.

"Dedicate Gorse!" cried the Water dedicate. "I was trying to eject a thief..."

"If you must grab things, Dedicate Withe, you may grab thirty chickens and kill them for me." Gorse's voice was deep and booming. He spoke very precisely, with a thick accent.

"Make sure to bleed them in the proper manner. Now, please. No more grabbing my visitors." To Briar and Tris he said, "Too many mouths to feed today. We are very busy."

"That boy is a known thief!" cried Withe, pointing at Briar. "He was skulking in there -"

Little Bear growled. Tris seized his collar.

"Briar Moss never stole from me." This time there was a dangerous note in Gorse's voice, and a hard glint in his black eyes. "Chickens, Dedicate Withe. And think as you kill them about the fate of those who accuse without proof."

The man stomped away, red with humiliation. Briar held out the slate Rosethorn had given them.

To him Gorse said, "No more breaking the fingers of kitchen help. I need their hands. Break a toe, if you must." Taking the slate, Gorse looked at Tris. "How is your bird? Briar said you have a baby bird to raise."

She smiled wryly. "He's loud."

"That's good," said Gorse, nodding with approval. "Healthy lungs are loud ones. I will grind fresh meat for him, so he builds his strength. Cooked eggs we also have plenty of, for the soldiers. And what is this?" He read the note on the slate, frowning. "Pork liver or beef liver? Three kinds of beans? We have peas and seafood stew. This is rich food she wants - very heavy, very strong."

"It's to build up Frostpine and Daja," Briar explained. "They worked magic in the harbour, and now they're so tired they can't sit up. Rosethorn says they need all that."

"Then we'll give Rosethorn what she wants, or she will come to get under my feet. You two wait in the shade, by the stair. Too many people like Withe are under my feet today." He picked up the baskets they had dropped, his big hands dwarfing the thick, strong handles. "I will fill these. Wait."

He leaned inside, and reached for something. One at a time, he handed a pair of heavy buns to Briar with his free hand. "One is for Trisana," he told the boy with a meaningful look, and vanished into the kitchen.

"You never said he was nice," Tris accused as they walked to the entrance that would let them into the Hub tower.

"You shoulda figured it out your own self," replied Briar, mouth full.

"I never really talked to him before." Tris sank down on a bench near the central stair, the dog at her feet. A lone runner seated against the wall nodded to them, then dozed off.

Tris ate her bun by picking off a piece at a time, and chewing carefully. Strange, she thought as she began to relax. The racket from the kitchens didn't reach this part of the tower - and yet only the walls and a set of double doors lay between the two.

Magic, no doubt. Was everything here magic?

One of the kitchen doors eased open, releasing a burst of sound and a slender male figure in breeches and overrobe. He closed the door, and turned into the light.

"Tris! Briar!" Aymery was clearly startled - and not entirely happy - to see them. He fiddled with his earring, then smiled so warmly that Tris wondered why she'd thought he was unpleasantly surprised to find them here. "Now this is a happy coincidence."

"Depends on what it's happy for," Briar remarked. "I can't believe Gorse let you escape without giving you something to eat."

"Gorse?"

"The dedicate in charge," Briar said, frowning. "Everyone who goes in there meets Gorse."

"Maybe on other days," said Aymery. "Right now, I think he's busy. What are you two doing here?"

Briar explained their errand, but kept his other thoughts to himself. He must have gone through those kitchens dozens of times since his arrival at Winding Circle. He'd crept in at night, in the days after his arrival, when a full belly was still cause for excitement, and he'd filled it as often as he could. He'd hidden under tables, and kept to the shadows when all the fires were banked. He'd come as meals were being prepared and people rushed in and out, carrying food to the wagons for those who didn't eat in the main dining halls. Before dawn, at high noon, at midnight - it didn't matter. He was never in those kitchens for longer than a minute or two before Gorse showed up, and gave him something to eat. He thought that Gorse might sleep in the Hub, but that was not the point. He'd seen Gorse do it with anyone who wasn't kitchen staff. He supposed it was possible that Gorse had not spotted Aymery today, with refugees pouring into the temple community, needing to be cheered up with a good meal.