8

Secondday, 3 Sprouting, 962

Larine paid careful attention to the information the Mother’s power poured into her senses. There were the slightly sour taste and squishy feeling in the bones she’d identified as markers of the disease. The visual indicator was more subtle, but she was sure she wasn’t imagining the slight dimming of the normal glowing, swirling lights given off by the various organs, as if a faint shadow lay over the child’s body.

See it, Flutter?

The falcon’s vision was far more acute than hers. He’d been the first to notice and call her attention to the shadow. It’s pretty strong in this one.

She hadn’t distinguished a darker shade, but she’d take his word for it. The feeling is strong, too. Maybe if he’s acutely affected we can find a sound or scent to go with the rest. Their best chance of finding an effective treatment for the mysterious disease lay in identifying it early, before the characteristic malformation of the bones began. Growing up, she’d never thought the bowed legs and flared ribs common to many residents of Gemgeda were strange. But after years in Elathir where they were almost unknown, the defects leapt out at her, a skewing of the Mother’s design for the human body.

Flutter’s sense of smell wasn’t strong, but his hearing was keen. Larine let him listen while she took a deep breath and sorted through the healthy scents of a normally functioning body. I think I’ve got something. A sort of moldy, dusty smell, like a cave or a dark cellar. Just a trace, but I think I’ve smelled it before. What do you think?

I suppose that could be something. Send me what you’re sensing.

Larine opened her mind and shared the sensory impression through her link with her familiar. Flutter absorbed it and compared it with what his senses were receiving. It’s very faint, but I think you’re right. We’ll have to go back to some of the worst of the others we’ve examined and see if they’ve got it.

Larine agreed. Excitement coursed through her as Flutter let the golden light enveloping their patient fade. They’d learned more about the disease in the past week than wizards had in the previous thousand years. If this observation proved another reliable indicator, her masterwork would surely be accepted by Master Tasha and the other masters, even if she accomplished nothing else. But she still held out hope of finding a cure. There had to be one. Something the people of Elathir got plenty of, while the people of Gemgeda didn’t.

They’d confirmed the correlation between birth season and how badly a child suffered. Larine had been born late in the winter, so she’d only been mildly affected. When she’d moved to Elathir, the slight aches in her bones she’d occasionally gotten as a child had abated within the first year. She’d heard the same from other people who’d relocated. Maybe it had something to do with the temperature. Elathir was so much warmer than Gemgeda.

Larine smiled at the boy as he squirmed in his mother’s lap. “All done. You can let him down. Thanks for letting us interrupt you.”

The woman let her son slide to the floor. He toddled off to a corner full of blocks and cloth animals. “It was no trouble. If you can find a way to fix his aches, it will be a blessing.” She rose and went to a table spread with fabric and littered with shears, pins, and needles. “But I do need to get back to work. With this early warm spell, everyone’s impatient for new summer tunics.”

Larine was glad of the sun and mild weather. Her years in Elathir had ruined her tolerance for cold and gloom. She bid the woman farewell and left the house. Flutter sprang from her shoulder as soon as they were outside and spiraled into the sky. Larine squinted at the sun, wondering if they had enough time to visit and re-check a few of the children they’d studied before her parents would expect her home for the midday meal. Maybe two or three, if they were quick.

Here comes Shiar.

Larine stiffened. Flutter’s warning gave her just enough time to relax her shoulders and plaster a smile across her face before she turned. It warmed into something more genuine when Ozor darted ahead of his father and tackled her around the knees. But it chilled again when she raised her eyes to her husband. “You’re early. Again.”

He didn’t even have the grace to look abashed. “I need to go by the cobbler before I report to the ship. My new boots are ready for their final fitting.”

“You could have taken Ozor with you.” Smash it, her work was just as important as Shiar’s. More important. She never interrupted him during the afternoon to ask for help with Ozor, but he seemed to believe she was available to take over their son’s care whenever he found it inconvenient.

“He’ll be happier with you.”

The fact it was true didn’t mollify Larine. She only had two weeks in Gemgeda to complete all the research for her masterwork. She needed every minute she was due. “Can you take him extra tomorrow to make up the time?”

“Maybe.” Shiar shrugged and backed away. “Thanks. See you at the evening meal.”

She scowled after him, then strode to grab Ozor an instant before he plunged his hands into a muddy patch by the road. Several of their subjects were near Ozor’s age. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go visit some friends you can play with.”

The father of one of them, a carver, opened the door of his workshop. “Of course you can examine Kezel again. Although I thought you were finished with her.”

“There’s one more thing we’d like to check.” Flutter swooped through the door behind Larine, made a tight circle around the room, and landed on her shoulder. Kezel jumped up from her toys with an exclamation of delight, but Ozor was so used to the bird’s comings and goings he didn’t even notice. He dove for the unattended toys as soon as Larine released his hand.

“Don’t let us keep you from your work,” Larine said, when the carver glanced toward the abandoned tools and fresh curls of wood around his stool. “We’ll only be a moment.” She took Kezel’s hand and went to sit on the floor by Ozor.

“Thank you.” He hurried to pick up a knife and a half-formed block of wood.

Larine settled Kezel next to Ozor and Flutter sent the Mother’s power over her. She tried to focus on what her senses were telling her, but it was difficult to concentrate. Ozor kept snatching toys from Kezel, who screamed and snatched them back. Larine had to keep shifting her attention to restoring the peace. Finally she got them both settled with separate toys and was able to sink deeply into her perceptions, sorting through them layer by layer.

There, a waft of cool, damp dust, like a root cellar briefly opened. But before she could be certain it was the same, the scent slipped away, and she had to search for it again.

Through the humming, buzzing background melody came a sharp voice. “Don’t touch!”

Larine’s eyes flew open and she jerked her senses back to the real world. The carver was holding his knife away from Ozor’s grabbing hands. She grimaced and hurried to pull him back. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s nothing. Kezel does the same thing.” But his voice was insincere, and Larine could see traces of the annoyance he sought to hide.

“Let me take the children outside. It’s warm and lovely today. I can observe Kezel as easily out there as I can in here.”

Relief was plain on his face when he assented. “I hate to trouble you, but I must get this done, and her mother isn’t due back from the shop for another hour.”

“It’s no trouble,” Larine assured him. She took Ozor by the hand and went to get Kezel as well. Both of them fussed at being dragged away from the toys, but as soon as they emerged into the sunny spring morning, they cheered up. Larine found a patch of sandy soil with a few child-sized shovels and buckets that was obviously a favorite play-place. Once Kezel and Ozor were busy digging, scooping, pouring, and building, she settled cross-legged beside them. Flutter nestled against her neck and they resumed their observation.

No matter how hard she searched, Larine couldn’t find the elusive scent again. She tried for at least a quarter hour before giving up. I was sure I smelled it before, but it’s gone now.

Flutter rubbed his head against her cheek. We’ll check the others. Maybe we can do it this afternoon; Ozor seems happy to play while we’re busy.

But discouragement settled over Larine’s heart, too heavy to shake. If it’s even part of the disease, and not something unrelated. Even if we consistently find it, I should check the affected children against healthy ones. And all the children here have at least traces of the disease.

Use Ozor as your comparison. We know he’s healthy.

The suggestion was sensible, but Larine couldn’t shake her gloom. If it hasn’t hit him, too, since we’ve been here.

They’d seen nothing to suggest the disease was contagious, but sudden unreasoning dread seized Larine. She put out her hand, and Flutter sent a wash of golden light over Ozor. He ignored it. Larine evaluated the beloved, intimately familiar sensations of her son’s body. Thank the Mother, there was nothing soft about his bones, and his taste was as pleasantly spicy-sweet as always. His colors were bright, his light undimmed.

She dutifully sought the new scent, but a long search produced no hint of it. At her thought, Flutter moved the light back to Kezel. She braced herself to endure the unpleasant contrast, but the difference was less than she expected. The signs of the disease were there, but slightly less pronounced than they’d been earlier. Larine frowned and sank deeper into the Mother’s power. The more she studied Kezel, the more certain she became that the difference was real.

She broadened her focus to take in Kezel’s whole body. For a while she just watched, while the children played happily in the dirt. The processes of life went about their swishing, swirling, singing business. Wizards didn’t fully understand them all, but Larine could identify many. Digestion broke down the last of the breakfast in Kezel’s intestines, extracting its nutrients. The slowing flow stimulated her hunger for the coming midday meal. Her lungs took in the vital component of the air and infused it into her blood, which carried it to her brain and muscles.

Larine sank deeper and deeper into her perceptions, turning her attention back to the signs of Kezel’s disease. She was certain now they were abating. Only a tiny amount, but enough to sense. Whatever was happening was on a level too small for her to make out, but instincts honed over years of using the Mother’s power let her tease out hints of understanding. It felt as if Kezel was absorbing an important nutrient, but not from her digestive tract.

From her skin?

The insight was so odd Larine almost dismissed it, but something made her look closer. There was something happening in her skin. On her cheeks, her hands, her arms, the back of her neck, wherever the bright, warm sunlight fell on her bare skin, some infinitesimally small process was busily at work. Some substance sank through the layers of skin like water through a sponge until it reached the blood. Wherever it traveled the light brightened, the sour taste sweetened, the squishiness firmed.

Her breath quickened. This had to be it. She couldn’t experiment on Kezel without her parents’ permission, but…

At her urging, Flutter moved the light back to Ozor. Now that she knew what to look for, it was easy to find the same process at work in his skin. But only where the sun touched it, not where clothing blocked the bright rays.

She drew a shaky breath. “Hey, sweetheart. Let’s take off your tunic. It’s so warm today, you don’t need it.”

He looked puzzled at her strange suggestion, but like most children his age he was happier without clothes, so he let her unbutton his tunic and pull it off without a fuss. As soon as she finished he went back to digging in the sand. Sunlight fell across the smooth brown skin of his shoulders and back.

Larine held her breath and watched. At first nothing happened, and disappointment stirred in the pit of her stomach and tightened her throat. But gradually the slumbering skin awoke. The process started slowly, like a heavily laden wagon lurching into motion, then accelerated, like that same wagon rolling downhill. Before a quarter hour had passed it was well underway, flooding his body with the life-giving substance.

Larine shouted for Kezel’s father, but she couldn’t wait. Hands trembling, she stripped off the girl’s tunic. The carver came running, alarmed. She thrust the garment into his hands. “Sun,” she cried, pointing at his daughter’s bare torso. “She needs more sun.”

He looked at her as if she was insane, but Larine didn’t care. It made perfect sense. Here in Gemgeda, children were bundled heavily against the cold all winter. They spent most of their time indoors by the fire. When they did venture out to play in the snow, their hands were encased in mittens and their faces shrouded by hats and scarves, only their eyes and maybe a few inches of cheek exposed to the wan winter sunshine. Babies didn’t even get that much, because mothers covered their faces with blankets to guard them from the wind. And the days were short, with the sun rising late and setting early. If sunlight was necessary to their bodies’ well-being, no wonder they got sick.

Flutter poured the Mother’s power over Kezel. It was working. The large area of skin producing the substance was having a marked effect on her illness. The shadow was only a filmy veil. The squishy feeling and sour taste receded. It would take a long time before they were gone completely, but they were clearly responding.

Larine threw her arms around Kezel’s father in an exuberant embrace. He gaped at her, but she just laughed. “I figured it out. I found the cure.” Her masterwork would be written into the records of the guild. She’d be included in the next History, like the wizard in the Sixth History who’d discovered that fresh fruit and vegetables kept sailors from developing scurvy. Children in Gemgeda would never have to suffer pain and deformation again. “Let her play in the sunlight as long as she wants.” Surely the sun today wasn’t hot enough to burn her, like happened to apprentices who played on the beach too long. “Every day, all summer, until she stops complaining about her bones hurting. I’ll check on her as long as I’m here to make sure she keeps improving, and I’ll tell the wizards who come with the next voyage what to look for.” They’d have to find a way to let children get sun in the winter without freezing. Unless they stored the substance in their bodies somehow. Maybe that’s why summer babies weren’t affected as badly.

The carver grinned at her bemusedly. “Her mother’s going to have my hide for letting her play naked.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Larine promised. “Believe me, every child in Gemgeda is going to be playing naked all summer.”

After a brief tussle with Ozor to get his tunic back on, she scooped him up, made a hasty farewell, and hurried toward the center of town. She had to tell someone who would understand.

When she neared the Mother’s Hall, loud, angry voices came from within. She peeked in a window. The other two journeymen wizards who’d come from Elathir were deep in the middle of an acrimonious court case. One displayed a window, while the other spoke earnestly to first one party, then the other, trying to keep their frayed tempers from exploding into violence.

Deflated, Larine backed away. She couldn’t interrupt them. Her news would have to wait. At least she could tell her family over the midday meal.

As she turned, the cobbler’s shop caught her eye. She would tell Shiar. He wouldn’t be terribly excited, but maybe he’d finally appreciate the value of her work. This would prove to him that she’d been accomplishing something significant during the mornings while he cared for Ozor, not just idling away her time the way he’d accused her of doing.

She hurried across the street and pushed the door of the shop open. The front room was empty except for a stranger perusing the displays of shoes and boots. Shiar and the cobbler must be in the back.

She poked her head through the curtain that screened the rear doorway. “Excuse me?”

“Yes?” The cobbler, an older woman, looked up from her workbench, her knife poised over a half-shaped piece of leather.

Larine stepped through the curtain. “Ah, I’m looking for my husband, Shiar Butcherkin Sailor. He said he was going to get a fitting for the boots you’re making him?”

Her brow creased. “No, they’re finished. He picked them up yesterday.” Suddenly her expression cleared, and she nodded at Ozor, who was squirming in Larine’s arms. “I told him I’d be happy to make your little one a new pair of shoes, since he’s almost outgrown those. But he said you took care of the boy’s clothing, so he’d send you by. You must have misunderstood what he said. I can take the measurements now, if you have time.”

Larine clutched Ozor close. “I need to find my husband. We’ll come back later.”

“Very well.” The cobbler winked at Ozor, who stopped wiggling to stare in fascination. “Just remember I’ll need three days to make them, so be sure to leave enough time before your ship sails.”

“I will.” Larine backed toward the curtain.

“Sorry I couldn’t help you.” The cobbler bent back to her work.

Larine tried to remember exactly what Shiar had told her as she left the shop. She was sure he’d said he was the one who needed the fitting. But she’d been annoyed at him, so maybe she hadn’t listened clearly. He frequently complained that she misheard his words. Or maybe he’d known that if he told her the truth, she’d be even more annoyed. She’d asked him dozens of times to take some responsibility for clothing his son, instead of expecting her to do it all.

In any case, he’d probably returned to the ship. She scowled. He’d given her a false excuse so he could steal an hour of idle time without Ozor. She wouldn’t be surprised to find him napping in their cabin.

Larine set Ozor down, took his hand, and marched toward the dock. Usually when she discovered Shiar’s little prevarications she ignored them, but she wasn’t going to let him get away with it this time. Her work was important, and he would blasted well respect it from now on. His interference might have caused her to miss the clue that had unlocked the puzzle, if she hadn’t been so determined to continue her investigation.

Then again, if the need to keep Ozor out of trouble hadn’t driven them outside, she never would have guessed sunlight might be the vital factor. Her anger gave way to rueful contemplation of the mysterious ways the Mother worked. Maybe she should thank Shiar instead of scolding him.

None of the sailors were on deck when Larine picked Ozor up and carried him onto the boat. She shifted him to one hip and navigated the ramp down to the cabins in the stern. She wasn’t looking forward to the homebound voyage. She’d been tense the whole trip north, constantly vigilant lest Ozor tumble overboard or blunder into any of the dozens of dangers the ship offered. Shiar was infuriatingly blind to the dreadful possible consequences of a single moment of inattention.

Larine strode along the narrow corridor and shoved the door of their cabin open. “Shiar, are you—”

She froze. The bunk was occupied, but not by Shiar alone. Her husband and one of the female sailors turned to gape at her in unison.

The woman grabbed for a blanket and Shiar scrambled to disentangle himself. “I swear, this isn’t what it looks like.”

She stared pointedly at his nakedness. He flushed, his fists clenching. “Blast it, Larine, I can explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain.” A strange calm gripped her, half pain, half relief. This time he wasn’t going to weasel out of it. “I saw you. Nothing you can say can make this anything but what it is.”

The woman looked nervously back and forth between them, clutching the blanket to her throat. Shiar hopped on one leg while trying to shove the other into his breeches. It was all Larine could do not to laugh. He refused to stop babbling. “It’s just part of being a sailor. We take care of each other when we’re away from home. It doesn’t mean anything.”

She’d suspected him of infidelity for a long time, but she’d never had proof before. There were rumors about the Sailors’ Guild, and she’d resigned herself to the likelihood that Shiar indulged while on voyages. Now, though… Rage bubbled up from her gut. “Smash it, I’m right here. With our son.” She thrust Ozor forward. His big eyes were taking in the whole scene. “But clearly none of that matters to you.”

Shiar moved to get between her, or more likely Ozor, and the woman in the bunk. “Stop making a scene,” he said through gritted teeth. “We can handle this quietly.”

She did laugh at that. Fury and triumph made a heady mix. “I’m done covering up for you. I’m done looking the other way. I’m done with you.” She wrapped her arms around Ozor and stepped backward through the door. “You’re not welcome in my parents’ house any more. I don’t want to see you again the rest of the time we’re in Gemgeda. I’ll have the captain assign me a separate cabin for the trip back. When we get to Elathir, you’ll sign the divorce papers without argument. Our guild representatives can negotiate a standard settlement and custody agreement.”

She took a deep breath. “If any of those arrangements aren’t to your liking, I can always bring a case against you for adultery right here and now. The court can watch what you just did through a window, along with all of Gemgeda. And the crew of this ship.”

He glared, but there was nothing he could say, and they both knew it. Proof of his betrayal presented at a public trial would ruin his reputation and destroy his chance of earning the captaincy he wanted so much. Larine held all the cards. All Shiar could do was forfeit the game before he lost everything.

Larine turned her back and walked away. She heard the door slam behind her. Tears formed in her eyes, but she held her head high and blinked them away. She’d never wanted it to end this way, but she couldn’t be sorry it had. Thank the Mother, she was finally free of him. She’d never have to deal with Shiar again.

Ozor twisted in her arms. “Want Dada,” he said petulantly.

Larine held him tighter. “Not now, sweetheart. Dada’s busy.”

His face crumpled and he thrashed. “Dada!” he screamed, kicking so hard Larine feared he’d leave bruises. “Want Dada!”

His tantrum raged while Larine trudged up the ramp and left the ship. A few of the sailors gave her sympathetic glances; they’d become accustomed to Ozor’s outbursts during the journey. Nothing calmed him once he reached this state. All she could do was wait it out.

Larine walked along the shore for more than a mile before exhaustion overcame Ozor. His screams subsided to wails, then sobs, then hiccups. He sagged against her shoulder, sweaty and tearstained, stuffed his fingers in his mouth, and fell asleep.

She buried her face in his hair. She’d been wrong. She would have to deal with Shiar again, regularly, for many years to come. Some bonds couldn’t be broken. Until Ozor was grown, they’d have to tolerate each other as best they could, for their son’s sake.

Larine stood outside Dabiel’s door. She stroked Flutter with shaking fingers. I don’t want to do this.

Her familiar was sympathetic but uncompromising. If you don’t face her now, you never will. Shiar will win. Is that what you want?

She winced, but he was right. Absolutely not. The thought of Shiar’s smug satisfaction if she and Dabiel remained estranged was just the kick she needed. She forced her hand up and rapped on the door.

She heard movement inside. The door opened a crack, and Dabiel peered out. She eyed Larine warily. “What do you want?”

“Can I come in? Please?” Larine took a deep breath, let it out, took another. “I—I need to apologize.”

Dabiel blinked. After a moment, she said, “I’m listening.” The door remained where it was, her body blocking the narrow gap. Buttons’s broad face poked around her legs. His shiny black eyes studied Larine.

Larine fixed her eyes on Dabiel’s left ear, as close as she could come to meeting her gaze. “You were right. Shiar told me to break off contact with you.”

In the three years since, they’d only spoken when they had no choice but to work together. Dabiel treated Larine with distant courtesy. At first Larine had longed to confess everything to her friend, but after a few months of coldness she grew angry that Dabiel had been willing to drop years of close companionship after one argument, without even putting up a fight. Eventually she grew numb, certain that things between them would never change. Even now she didn’t dare hope Dabiel would want to renew their friendship. Larine had hurt her too much. A few measured words of forgiveness would be more than she deserved.

Dabiel’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you telling me this now?”

Larine clenched her fists. “We’re breaking our bond. I caught him with another woman.”

Dabiel blinked a few more times. She glanced down at Buttons, who returned her gaze with his usual immense dignity. He flicked an ear, and Dabiel swallowed.

Abruptly she yanked the door open and stepped aside. “Come in and sit down. I want to hear everything.”

Larine walked in. At Dabiel’s gesture she took a seat in one of the chairs in the small sitting area across from the bed. Once she’d spent almost as much time in this room as in her own. Dabiel sat across from her, just as she always had whenever they weren’t flopped on the bed or sprawled on the floor. Flutter glided to the ground and hopped over to exchange sniffs with Buttons. The pig collapsed at Dabiel’s feet, and the falcon snuggled against his side.

“Look at them.” Dabiel jerked her head. Larine couldn’t tell whether the disgust in her voice was amused or not. “Like nothing ever happened.”

“They didn’t fight.” Larine twisted her fingers together. “I’m sorry, Dab.” The old nickname felt both awkward and natural in her mouth. “I should have believed you. I shouldn’t have let him come between us.”

“No. You shouldn’t have.” Dabiel sat stiffly straight, not yielding anything.

Larine rubbed her face, then wrapped her arms around her torso. “I loved him so much, and I was so scared of losing him. I would have done anything he asked. He—he accused me of having an affair with you.” She grimaced. “How could I be so stupid? He was probably sleeping around already. I bet he got angry because he felt guilty and couldn’t admit it, so he blamed me for what he was doing.”

“That would be typical.” Dabiel still didn’t show any reaction in her face or voice, but one foot reached out to rub Buttons’s side. The pig grunted and rolled a little closer to her.

Larine twisted her fingers together in her lap. “So, anyway… I did what he told me, and lied to you that I didn’t want to be friends any more. And here we are.” She shrugged helplessly. “I know it’s too late to fix things between us, and I don’t blame you if you hate me, but I had to tell you the truth. It makes me sick when I think about how much I hurt you. I really am sorry. I’d do anything to go back and change what I did. But since that’s impossible, I would be forever grateful if someday you could find it in your heart to forgive me.” She stood up and edged toward the door.

Dabiel jumped to her feet, scrambled over Buttons, and threw her arms around Larine. “Smash it, Lar, of course I don’t hate you. I hate that rat of a husband of yours for doing this to us. Of course I forgive you.”

Larine clung to her, shaking. “I’m so sorry, Dab. I never meant any of those things I said.”

“I know you didn’t. I always knew it was Shiar. Dear Mother, Lar, I was terrified he’d hurt you. I mean, I knew Flutter would protect you, but I was afraid he’d be clever enough to catch you alone.”

“He never did that, thank the Mother.” Larine rested her forehead on Dabiel’s shoulder. “Maybe if he had, I would have seen the truth and gotten out sooner. Before Ozor—” She shook her head, unable to go on. No matter how irresponsible it had been to bring an innocent child into their disaster of a marriage, she couldn’t regret her son’s existence.

Dabiel stroked her hair. “Shh. He’s proof the Mother can bring good things out of bad. Never be sorry you had him.”

Sobs wracked Larine’s body. Dabiel held her, a quiet, strong support, until they subsided. When at last Larine stilled, Dabiel pulled a handkerchief from her pocket, handed it to Larine, and gently guided her back to her chair before returning to her own. “Where is the little handful, anyway? Not with Shiar, I hope.”

“In my room, asleep.” Larine scrubbed her eyes with the soft cloth. “He was so excited to get home. He wore himself out playing with the familiars after the evening meal—they all adore him. I think he knows every one of them by name.” She gulped. “But I have to let Shiar have him sometimes. He hasn’t done anything to justify taking away his blood rights. He’s keeping him tomorrow morning while I report to Master Tasha about my masterwork.” She twisted one corner of the handkerchief. “He’s not very attentive or involved, but he does love Ozor. I know he’d never hurt him. And Ozor loves him. He’d be devastated if he couldn’t see his Dada anymore.”

Dabiel nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “I guess that’s for the best. If Shiar can manage to be even a halfway decent father, it will be a lot better for Ozor than if he had to do without.”

“I think he can. I hope so, at least.” Larine uncrumpled the handkerchief and blew her nose.

“Good.” Dabiel waited until Larine folded the handkerchief and stuffed it in her pocket. “So tell me about your masterwork. How did it go?”

Larine brightened. “Better than I ever hoped. I not only figured out what was causing the disease, I found the cure.”

Dabiel leaned forward, eyes sharp with interest. “What—no, wait, start at the beginning. I want to hear everything.”

Larine poured out the story. Dabiel listened with unwavering fascination. When the narrative was complete, she asked insightful questions and raised some points Larine hadn’t considered. From there the conversation wandered to other unsolved mysteries of their craft and how they might be investigated. Dabiel talked about the advanced training Master Idan was giving her in conflict resolution, and Larine described her work with various diseases that affected children. They talked for hours, catching each other up on everything that had happened during the years they’d been estranged. They spoke about their hopes and dreams and fears, their memories and regrets, all the secret things they could confide to no one else.

During a lull in the conversation, Flutter’s sleepy voice reached Larine’s mind. I hate to interrupt, but you’d better get at least a few hours of sleep if you don’t want to be dozing off during your meeting with Master Tasha tomorrow.

Larine blinked at him. It’s not that late, is it? She went to the window and craned to catch a glimpse of the moon. The lopsided disk, a few days past full, had passed its zenith and was descending toward the western horizon. Smash it.

Dabiel joined her, blinking at the silver orb with the same astonishment Larine felt. “I didn’t realize it was so late.”

Larine went to gather Flutter from his spot next to Buttons. The falcon nestled in her arms, too drowsy to perch on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have stayed so long. I hope Master Idan isn’t cross with you tomorrow.”

“Some things are more important than sleep, no matter what the Law says.” Dabiel embraced her, careful not to crush Flutter. “I’m sorry about your marriage, but I’m so glad to have you back.”

Larine shifted Flutter to the crook of one elbow and hugged Dabiel in return. “I can’t begin to express how happy I am that you’re still willing to be my friend.”

“I’d be harming myself more than you if I held a grudge.” Dabiel pulled away and looked at her seriously. “Just promise me you won’t let anything come between us again. If a man doesn’t want you to have friends, he’s no good for you.”

“Believe me, I’ve learned that lesson.” Larine thought about Hanion, but dragged her mind firmly away. He’d been sitting with Semira at the evening meal, looking at her as devotedly as ever. Larine would stay far away. She’d never participate in subjecting another woman to what Shiar had put her through, no matter how much she disliked her. Hanion had chosen his life’s path, and Larine wasn’t part of it. “Between wizardry and motherhood, I’ll have plenty to keep me busy. I don’t expect I’ll be looking for a man for a long time.”

“That’s probably wise.” Dabiel’s expression softened. “Just don’t write off love completely. That wouldn’t be natural for you. Don’t give up hope that someday the time and the person will be right.”

Larine nodded, her throat tight. Sometimes she envied Dabiel, who was perfectly content to have no interest in sex or romance. But she envied Master Idan and Master Tasha, with their deep and lasting love for each other, even more. “I won’t.”

Dabiel hugged her again, they bid each other good-night, and Larine returned to her room and her warm bed, snuggled between Ozor and Flutter.