It was possible. It simply wasn't likely.

The doors popped open. Out came Gorse himself, their baskets in his hands, and a smaller, covered basket threaded on to one brawny forearm. Tris took charge of one of the large baskets and the little one; Briar took the other.

"Have we met?" Gorse enquired, looking at Aymery.

"Aymery Glassfire," the younger man said, with a half-bow. "I'm recently arrived, come to pursue studies at the library."

"A mage," Gorse said. "I know how it is. If you are hungry, reading late, come here. Someone is always on hand."

Someone meaning you, thought Briar, but he kept it to himself.

To Briar and Tris, Gorse said, "Do not linger. Go home quickly, and store what is not to be eaten right away in your cold-box. The little basket is just cookies, for afternoon." With a nod, he disappeared back into his kingdom.

"If you don't mind, I'll come with you," Aymery said, walking outside with them. "I'm hoping your Lark and Rosethorn will take pity on me. They want to move a Trader caravan leader and his wives into my rooms in the guesthouse. If I don't find something quieter, I'll end up with a piece of floor in the boys' dormitory. No one can study under those conditions." Reaching out, he gripped the heavier of Tris's two baskets. "Let me help you with that."

Tris scowled, and yanked it away. "I've carried worse than this," she growled as the three of them followed a path that cut across the wide loops of the spiral road. "I used to carry two baskets this size to market, when I was at Cousin Uraelle's, and back."

"Back?" Aymery's eyes widened with shock. "Up that ghastly hill? But you were just a little girl -"

"I earned my keep," Tris said with pride, hoisting the larger basket to keep it from brushing a flower border.

"But she had servants, the old miser -"

"A woman came three days of seven, for big chores," replied Tris. "But she had to be watched. She was lazy. Cousin Uraelle was bedridden, so I had to keep an eye on things."

"The old skinflint," muttered Aymery. He took the other large basket from Briar, which suited the boy just fine. "She was rich enough to afford servants. Did she leave you anything when she died, at least?"

Tris shook her head. "Not a copper."

"Then where did the money go? She must have left it to someone."

"House Chandler. They have to have a ship named for her on the seas for evermore."

Merchants, Briar thought. I'd've left it for something useful, like a garden in a place like Deadman's District, or the Mire. He grinned, amused by the idea that he would ever be in a position to leave money to anyone when he died.

They were just crossing the crowded road between the loomhouses and Discipline when three loud, sharp cracks split the air to the south. A horse reared, screaming in fright; Aymery dragged Briar out from in front of it. Oxen drawing a handful of carts lowed, the white showing all the way around their eyes. Little Bear plumped his behind on the cobbles and yowled; dogs and babies among the refugees did the same thing.

"Thanks," Briar said to Aymery, when the man let go. "Little Bear, stop it, or I'll tell Rosethorn on you." The pup fell silent.

Tris stared at Briar, sweating. "You think it was more of those booming things?"

"I'm sure of it," the boy said, opening the gate to Discipline. "Come on - let's get inside."

Chapter Nine

Rosethorn, Lark and Sandry were all at the big table, working. Tris went immediately to her bird in Rosethorn's workshop. She could hear his peeping. Uncovering the nest, she saw the starling was awake and alert. Seeing her, he opened his beak wide.

"In a moment," she said, and covered him up again. She helped Briar to stow the baskets' contents in the cold-box, eager to find the ground meat and egg yolks that Gorse had put in. The nestling squalled; 'in a moment' was not what he wanted.

"If we didn't have Frostpine and Daja in our own rooms - well, Rosethorn and I will be sleeping in our workshops as it is," said Lark, when Aymery made his request.

"I feel guilty, not having anyone when they're laying pallets down in all the dormitories," Rosethorn admitted.

"I don't mind a pallet, here or in the attic," Aymery told them.

"You don't need one." Sandry looked up from her weaving. In the time since Briar and Tris had left, she had managed to put nearly a foot and a half of cloth on the narrow loom that Lark was teaching her to use. If pressed to comment, she would have said it looked no worse - and not much better - than the weaving she had done the day before. "If Daja says it's all right, I'll sleep in her room, and Tris's cousin can sleep in mine." Getting up, she went to see if Daja was awake enough to ask.

She was, and gave her permission immediately. With that settled, Aymery went to get his things from the guesthouse.

"Now," Lark told Tris and Briar as Rosethorn heated fish stew, and Tris prepared meat and egg balls for her nestling. "What did Moonstream say when you found her?"

The nestling was fed, and the stew hot, when five sharp crack-booms shattered the noontime heat one after another. Outside, animals and babies cried out. One woman screamed, "What is it?" over and over, until someone hushed her up.

Tris was shaking. Lark and Rosethorn, looking grave, took the stew to their invalids.

"No one's ever seen anything like this?" Sandry whispered to the other two children.