Sorry I haven't updated in a few days, but my wisdom teeth had emerged and were pried from my jaw painfully. Due to Vicodin and odd sleep patterns, I haven't had much time to write. By the way, excuse the chemistry crap in Daja's section. I squeaked by Chem with a B-.

Here is a rather shoddy chapter on what the little magic ones are doing. Please comment, I need some sweet lovin'.



Frostpine watched, amused, as an irritated Daja continued to make yards of copper wire. "Frostpine, you haven't forced me to make wire since ... since ..."

"Forever," he answered. "The next step will work better, though, if the wire comes from your hands. Not that you'll have much time for wire, but we'll start out strong. Thinner, now."

"No magic?" the girl muttered.

"None. You'll need it later."

Kirel stuck his head into the back forge. "If it makes you feel any better, Daj," he said, "Frostpine's been having me do iron wire for the past week. And he's done pounds himself."

"What could we possibly use all this for?" Daja asked, staring at the frightening weak fiber in her hands. "It's almost like string."

Frostpine looked at Kirel accusingly, who shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't tell," the younger Fire dedicate told his master.

"We are going to be working in conjunction with our finest weaving mages, namely Lark and Sandry," Frostpine explained, opening a small cabinet and taking out bunches of wire in copper, silver, and iron. Daja whistled in appreciation. "It's to fortify battle robes."

"Battle robes?"

Frostpine rubbed his chin in frustration. "Stop playing dumb. Now lay out your wire on the table, flat. Smooth it with your hands until it's as straight as you can get it." Daja obeyed. "Now look at it."

She did. "I see wire, Frostpine."

He spoke slowly this time, and Daja paid even closer attention. Frostpine and patience went together like Traders and merchants; when he used this tone of voice, it meant she had better pay attention. "Focus your eyes, look as close into the metal as you can see."

Daja squinted slightly, her eyes pointed to the edge of the glistening strand. She imagined herself moving closer...closer...she was inside the metal. But not inside, exactly. She was among it now.

"I see it," she whispered. She drifted past tiny, dense masses, carried along by a bizarrely swift current. Daja frowned. "Some of these don't look the same." To her mind, the dense clumps looked like lumpy circles. Some were lumpier than others.

Frostpine's voice sounded very far away. "Then throw them out," he suggested. "We need the copper to be as pure as possible." She took one of the anomalies in her hand, chucking it as hard as she could.

"Can I come out now?"

He chuckled. "Of course."

Daja returned to her body and looked up at her teacher. "What were those things? I didn't think metal looked like that close up."

"The building blocks for all matter. You saw the ones that looked like copper." Frostpine looked at the wire, and then back at Daja. "We won't need to look that close again for the present, but will be needing to etch our runes into the surface of these wires. This time, don't go into the metal, just hover over the surface. Draw your finger over the exterior, and you'll leave extremely small grooves in the wire."

Daja swung herself in close to the wire, but refocused her eyes briefly to look at her teacher. "What should I write?" she asked, her body's index finger poised like a pen.

Kirel and Frostpine exchanged glances before the younger Dedicate answered. "The symbol for physical protection. The copper will protect the body from some blows, while the iron strands will be inscribed with repelling factors. Silver will strengthen the spirit, and we'll- actually, you'll- be marking those with the symbol for composure."

"You see," Frostpine added heavily, "the news we've had is quite bad. We have a maybe a week to prepare, and we, my student, need to outfit our entire standing force."



The look on Rosethorn's face was almost priceless as she stood on the back stoop of Discipline. "I assume you've noticed," she said crisply, her hands on her hips as she inspected her garden.

"Ma'am," Briar murmured, wondering how close he could walk near his teacher without being cuffed. She inspected his work, nodding at the cleared areas.

"As much as I appreciate weeding, boy," she began, "we're going to abandon Crane's little exercise in reconciliation for the time being. I hope he doesn't mind too much."

"No weeding?" Briar asked, shocked. It was summer. Summer meant weeding.

"Fortification." Rosethorn's voice cut into Briar's thoughts like a scythe. "Sweat heather, lavender, and lace fern, to name a few. And especially rose geranium." Briar grinned; both Lark and Frostpine used rose geranium extensively, and he had become more than slightly fond of the scent. He followed Rosethorn into her workroom, and nearly tripped over bushels of mast.

"We've got some work cut out for us," the earth Dedicate said dryly. "Remember the blue pox? The work we did there was for one hospital; now we get to do Winding Circle. This reconstruction we do for Lark and Frostpine. The rose geranium ought to have tipped you off by now."

"'Course," Briar said, as blithely as he could without showing his dismay at the sight of the thousands of baskets stacked in every available corner. "Though what possibly for?"

His teacher nodded toward an empty bench- the only one not covered in supplies, Briar noted- and motioned for him to sit as she loomed overhead. "This is confidential, boy," she said, her eyebrows knitted together. "You've only been given leave because they need our work to begin now." She smiled wryly. "Consider yourself lucky. You get to reconstruct for the rest of the week. I get to help Crane."

Rosethorn's hands were shaking, which was beginning to alarm Briar. "Does this have anything to do with Niko's recent vision?"

A forefinger and thumb gripped his ear. "And just what did that weather- witch Tris tell you?" Rosethorn demanded.

He glared at his teacher, prying her fingers from his head. "Nothing at all," he said, defensively. "Niko had more tricksy shading spells set up than a dragonsalt merchant's den."

She leaned forward. "Crane's working on seeds that will grow to be aware, to be planted discreetly along the roads and wilderness outside Summersea. We're to do these plants up new for Lark and Sandry, as well as Frostpine and Daja, and then, like the last time pirates hit, attempt to barricade our weak spots with those thorny brambles."

"What do you mean...like the last time?" Briar had less than fond memories of the last pirate attack on Winding Circle.

Rosethorn sighed, her face grim. "It's raiders, this time, and mages, the worst kind you could expect. Along with ..." She paused. "I'm trusting you now, boy. We're not supposed to let this be public until after his grace Vedris was informed." Briar crossed his heart with one tattooed hand. "That vile Frantsen is leading an attack by land and sea against his own father. And our defenses are absolutely useless unless we can modify them in time to trick those complacent traitors into a trap."



Tris sat near Niko, watching as her teacher's face went red with rage. "It's not as if I haven't tried to scry deeper into their plan!" he shouted into his speakstone. "The reason that no one has even seen the enemy movements is because Glassheart is a vision artist trained specifically for the hiding of illegals."

The speakstone was silent for a moment before voices reerupted from the smooth surface. "But Niko, aren't you a seer?"

For a moment, Tris actually thought that Niko would have hurled his speakstone into the road, judging from the expression on his face. "I can't make miracles," he said, teeth gritted. "While I do command more than a little skill at detection, I cannot patrol every inch of Emelan's boarders; nor can I alone expose what must be scores of mages spending power on Glassheart's spells."

Tris awkwardly patted her teacher's arm. Despite her years among friends – real friends- she had never been very comfortable touching people. "They can't expect you to do everything," she said quietly, allowing a small breeze to whisk her voice away from the stone.

Niko looked up at her and tried to smile, his eyes bloodshot. "Then they certainly do try," he replied bitterly, staring out over the plains. "We should have left earlier," he commented. "Then I could have personally thwarted their uninformed scheme instead of arguing through- through a rock!"

"Hush," Tris snapped as her winds quickly trapped his angry voice in its turbulence. "I can't block all the sounds, you know." The wagon stopped rolling, and Tris noticed that the sun was beginning to set. "I guess we stop here for the night."

Niko didn't answer. A flask of now-cold tea sat next to him, unopened. Closer inspection showed her that the flecks of leaves inside were soggy and clumped at the bottom. Tris sighed. "Come on, get some fresh air. I'll make some tea, you know that will help. And, if you'd like ..." She hesitated.

"Yes?" Niko said, arching one tired eyebrow. "You know you only sound like that when you have some magical suggestion, and you're worried that I will be offended."

Tris made a face. "Of course." Jamming the rim of her glasses back up the side of her nose, she glared at the man for knowing her so well. "I was thinking that, if you could keep your eye on Summersea's harbor and to the south of Winding Circle, I could try to look out for anomalies from the north and west."

Niko looked at his student. "I wasn't aware you had many seeing properties among your magic- any of you."

"I'm no seer, but northwest of Emelan is mostly grass. And most practical shielding spells don't account for one thing- wind. I could listen for odd gaps, where breezes bounce off of barriers, as well as for those shoddy ones that don't even keep in sounds."

"They are just going for invisibility," Niko murmured, clearly thinking hard. She let him have his silence for several minutes.

Tris twiddled her thumbs in her cotton skirt. "It won't take very much out of me," she commented finally, "and you could still tap me if you needed something big."

She could tell he didn't want to accept. "I am getting pretty tired," he admitted. "But if you see anything suspicious- anything- you come tell me first. Before you start poking around."

"Deal," Tris said. "Now, for your tea."



Sandry wanted to scream.

"We know that Frantsen knows of Winding Circle's defenses along the harbor. So even if we employ the vision mesh around the temple grounds, their mages will know to avoid the trap."

"Even with Rosethorn and Crane's plants, how will we know that enspelled platoons aren't sneaking by?"

"How well is Emelan prepared for a siege? Pirates with their black dust almost cracked their way within these walls five years ago, so imagine what an armed force outfitted with mages and catapults can do."

Erdogun caught Sandry's eyes and motioned with his head toward Vedris, who sat stiffly between them. His face was beginning to be tinged with gray, though not nearly as badly as it would have a year ago. Sandry, however, had not anticipated an all-day meeting. And as uncomfortable as Sandry felt by interfering, she knew she had to.

"Uncle," she whispered finally, catching the edge of his sleeve with her magic. The duke felt the gentle tug and acknowledged, turning to Dedicate Moonstream with a sigh.

She understood. "Perhaps we can reconvene tomorrow? When we have had a chance to consolidate our plans." The duke moved to rise, and only wavered slightly on his feet as both Sandry and Erdogun quickly braced him by the arms.

One of the nobles, Lord Krendaw from a fief in Southern Emelan, jumped to his feet. "But your grace," he sputtered, "we can't possibly leave without some kind of plan."

Vedris's hand tightened on Sandry's shoulder preventatively as Moonstream simultaneously held up one slender hand. "If it is a plan you want, then we shall have one tomorrow. But this may satisfy you for now: we will send messengers overnight to the borders of Emelan, to inform my nobles of their duties to the people isolated in villages."

Moonstream nodded in agreement. "Winding Circle will set our most powerful mages to the detection of any disturbances in our range. Will you now allow his grace to regain his strength?" Krendaw gulped, seeing the set of Moonstream's mouth.

"Yes, Honored Dedicate," he murmured, attempting to gracefully withdraw from the chambers without drawing attention to himself.

"Sandry," Vedris said, once mounted on his horse outside the Hub. "I will rest, I promise."

"I'll ride back with you," the girl offered, blue eyes worried. "I don't want you to strain yourself, not tonight." Her uncle chuckled, reaching out to tousle her hair, pausing only at the last minute as she grinned. "Go ahead, it can be messy now," she told him impishly.

"Don't worry about me. Go home to your friends tonight, I'll see you soon enough."