“You may examine it later,” Niko said. “Go in. This is Discipline, your new home.”
When they entered, a boy with coarse-cut black hair was sniffing dried herbs that hung in bunches near the hearth. Seeing the girls, he skipped back, as if he’d been caught doing something that he shouldn’t.
“Good morning, Briar,” Niko said. “I’ve brought you some housemates.”
The boy glared at them, his eyes a startling gray-green in his gold-brown face. “Oh, wonderful,” he replied. “More girls.”
“It could be worse.” The quiet, lilting voice came from a room to Tris’s left. “It could be more boys.” A tall, black girl, dressed in a scarlet coat and leggings, emerged, carrying a wooden crate filled with possessions. Her face was round and calm, framed by a headful of short braids. She nodded to Niko, who smiled.
“Daja!” Sandry grinned at her—it was good to see a familiar face. “You live here?”
“Since yesterday,” the other girl replied.
“We’re being punished, all right,” Tris muttered.
How could she live with a Trader?
“You have a problem with me, kaq?” Daja inquired, black eyes flashing.
“Daja!” cried Sandry, shocked. Kaq might be the word that Traders used to mean non-Traders, but it was also a very rude word.
A tall woman in the dark green habit of an Earth dedicate came in through a side door. Like Briar’s, her skin was golden brown. She wore her curly black hair cut short, and her smile was genuinely welcoming. “Niko, more desperate criminals for us? They must be cleaning house down at the Hub!”
“Dedicate Lark,” said Niko, “I’d like you to meet Sandry and Tris.” To the newcomers he added, “Lark and Dedicate Rosethorn are in charge of Discipline.”
“Welcome, both of you,” Lark said, resting a strong hand on each girl’s shoulder. “May you weave happy lives here.”
Sandry dipped a curtsey. Tris attempted to do the same, but wobbled and nearly fell over. The boy snorted, and Tris blushed.
“This is Briar.” Lark pointed to the boy, who scuffed a bare foot across the wood floor. He was taller than the new girls, dressed in sturdy breeches of plain brown cloth and a white shirt. Where his sleeves should have been, there were only ragged holes—he’d cut them off. Lark pointed to the Trader. “And Daja.”
“We’ve met,” Daja and Sandry chorused, and grinned at each other.
“Here’s my room,” Briar announced flatly, going to an open door on Sandry’s right. “I came here first, and I’m keeping it. You kids stay out!” He disappeared inside.
“‘Kids’?” Sandry asked, puzzled. “Why is he talking about goats?”
“Kid is thieves’ cant for child,” Lark said. “Now—there’s another room on this floor.” She glanced at the black girl. “Daja says she prefers one of the upstairs rooms. We have another spare room up there as well.”
“Our own rooms?” Tris asked, startled into speech. “I thought this was a punishment place.”
“It’s for people who are—ill at ease—with the other Winding Circle children,” Lark replied. “Things go better here if our guests have rooms of their own.”
Tris glared at the boy’s closed door. “May I see the room upstairs?” she asked, thinking, I want to be as far from him as possible!
“Come on,” Daja said. “I’ll show you, merchant girl.” Going to the back of the long main room, she climbed a steep and narrow stair. Tris followed her.
Lark started to set the table near the kitchen hearth. Drifting toward the free downstairs room, Sandry kept an eye on Briar and Niko. The boy grabbed Niko, drawing him closer. Sandry entered the empty room and ducked behind the open door, out of sight.
She could hear Briar’s hoarse whisper: “It wasn’t me nicked them things, Niko. If they told you I did—”
“I know you didn’t,” replied the man, just as quietly. “But—knives, Briar?”
“I need—”
“Knives?”
“You don’t know what it’s—”
“Knives?”
Briar gave up.
“I want them,” Niko said flatly.
The boy stuttered, outraged.
“All of them,” insisted the man.
“But it ain’t safe,” protested Briar. “What if I have to defend myself?”
“The knives, Briar. If you have them, you also have the temptation to use them. Now, if you please.”
Slouching, Briar left Niko, and Sandry tugged a braid, thinking about what she’d just heard. At last she shrugged—she didn’t think Niko would put her anyplace where she would be in danger. That decided, she looked around at her new home.
The room was plain and clean, its walls covered with a coat of whitewash. The bed, night table, stool, and wardrobe were all roughly made, but sturdy. The desk was slightly better, as was the chair in front of it. The front window gave her a view of the path to the door and the spiral road beyond.
Going to the window in her side wall, she looked out. This view was of the inside of the wooden frame addition, the one with cloth screens. Long poles braced shutters against the ceiling, to open the sides of the place. A workroom, it contained a pair of long tables, a big spinning wheel and a smaller one, and a pair of hanging looms. Baskets on the floor held bundles of dyed and undyed wool, as well as spools and balls of spun wool, flax, cotton, and silk. Near the back wall stood a large floor loom. On its web hung a shimmering cloth, its design not quite visible to her straining eyes.