"Not that we heard," Briar muttered.

The five of them were just finishing their own midday - not the stew, which was needed to build up Daja's and Frostpine's strength, but cold beef, cheese and vegetables from the garden - when a runner stumbled in the door.

"Moonstream asks for you the senior mages to be on the wall by South Gate when the clock strikes one," he gasped, and ran out again.

"That means us," Lark said, rubbing her face tiredly. "I don't know how much good I'll be for this." She rose with a sigh and looked out the window at the clock. "We have a few minutes to get there, at least."

"I know what Moonstream wants." Frostpine stood in Rosethorn's doorway, his dark face ashy with exhaustion, as he leaned on the frame. "If they're using those - those boom-stones, or whatever they are, down at the cove..."

Lark helped him over to a seat.

"Thanks, my dear," Frostpine said. He leaned forward, supporting his weight on the table. "All those bangs are coming from South Gate." Everyone looked at him, not sure what he was getting at. "I heard you say we have pirates in the cove. They'll be trying to land - and that piece of the spell-net is ruined. The southern approach has no protection but our handful of soldiers and the war-mages - who are only human. How long can they hold off pirates and their mages? And how long can they keep the pirates from landing those catapults on the shore, where they can bombard all Winding Circle?"

"Before we didn't need anything but the spell-net," Rosethorn commented. "No one could fight it -"

"Because once invaders touch the net, they have no idea of where they are, or what they do," said Frostpine. "The net is still protection for the rest of the wall on the west, north and east. But the cove... I think Moonstream needs you seniors who can walk to find ways to defend the South Gate, and the beach."

Rosethorn slowly grinned, showing her teeth. "I can be of use, then." She strode into her workshop, crooking a finger at Briar. "Come on - you'll go with me." The boy obeyed.

Lark drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. Abruptly she commented, "Sandry, continue with this kind of weaving while I'm gone."

"But Lark -" protested the girl.

Lark raised a hand to quiet her. "I know we'd thought to go back to magical weaving this afternoon, but I can't risk you trying it alone."

"I'll be careful -"

Lark smoothed a lock of hair away from Sandry's face. "Some of the spells we've done with you children - the weaving spell, the spell Niko used with Tris to see what happened at Bit, the one Frostpine and Daja used on the harbour chain - those are called great-spells. Without a senior mage who understands great-spells to guide them, young mages have been known to get so caught up in one that they die. They feed their magic and their lives in the pattern of the spell, without ever realizing what they're doing."

"My best friend died that way, twenty years ago." Frostpine was resting his head on his folded arms. "He was building a lead pattern - it was to be a window in the shape of a thousand-petalled flower, one that would hold and give off sunlight on the gloomiest days. He wanted to impress our master, and he burned up right in front of my eyes."

Sandry gulped, and nodded. "I'll stick to this, I promise," she said, patting the small loom. This weaving lacked the feeling of power she'd had the day before, as she watched the novices stagger away with baskets full of new bandage. On the other hand, she was enjoying life too much to risk losing it so foolishly.

Rosethorn and Briar returned. Briar carried a cloth bag, Rosethorn a bottle and a cup just big enough to hold an egg. To the eyes of all three children present, the bottle gleamed white with power. Placing the cup next to Frostpine, Rosethorn poured it half full of green liquid. "Drink," she ordered. "You and Daja must be able to move, just in case."

Frostpine made a face. Lifting the cup, he dumped its contents down his throat. "Auugghh!" he yelled, his voice stronger than it had been since his return from the harbour. "Are you trying to kill me, woman?"

"If I mean to kill someone. I do it," Rosethorn told him. "I don't try." She poured a lesser amount of green liquid into the cup. "Give this to Daja, and put the bottle back in my workshop. And keep resting, while you can." To Lark and Briar she said, "Let's go."

Frostpine whistled the dog back when Little Bear would have followed the three of them. The ashy tone was fading from the man's dark skin, and his back was straighter. Getting to his feet, he took the cup in to Daja.

"I hope they'll be all right," Sandry whispered to Tris.

"Maybe bring our cord out here, just in case," the other girl said quietly.

Sandry nodded, and went to get the circle of lumpy thread.

When they reached the top of the South Gate, Briar decided it had been a bad idea to invite all the senior mages up. The racket was worse than in a houseful of geese, he thought, and the noise made about as much sense, too. He could see Crane, First Dedicate of the Air temple and Rosethorn's main rival, waving thin arms as he argued with Niko and Moonstream. Gorse was nowhere in sight. Surely anyone who could blow people out of the kitchens without touching them was a senior mage, but perhaps his cookery spared him from follies like this. He also didn't see Skyfire near the Dedicate Superior. That was because Skyfire was in position further down the wall, beside a pair of mages, scowling at the invading fleet.