Sandry's Book

As a wave came in, she called to its strength, taking it in. Without letting it go, she reached for the power of the next wave, and the next, draining the tide of force as it tried to cover the shore. With her eyes closed, she couldn’t see that the water now lurked around the far ends of the rock shelves, bubbling and churning like a pot on the boil.

She grasped as much power as she could stand—to her surprise, she couldn’t hold nearly as much of it as she had expected to. Like a sailor trying to empty out a sinking boat, she hurried to dump the strength from other waves into the rock beneath her. The sea fought hard, surging and pulling on her magic, trying to shake her loose.

Just a little longer, she thought. Just a bit more, so I know I really did it….

When Tris opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was Niko’s face. “Uh-oh,” she whispered, and closed them again.

“Now you know why only one in ten Trader windmages lives to adulthood,” that clipped voice said.

She tried to sit up. The rock under her felt strange—hardly like stone at all. For one thing, she’d had to crawl onto it; now she could just step off, once she had the strength. For another, it gave, more like a sack of grain than a proper boulder.

When she tried to lever herself off the stone with both hands, it collapsed, dropping her amid a shower of gravel, shattered into a thousand small pieces. Tris rolled onto her back, staring up at Niko. Little Bear came over and licked her face.

“What happened to my rock?” she demanded lazily. “It’s all to pieces.”

“It’s where you placed what you took from the tides, isn’t it?”

She nodded.

“You put in more than the stone could hold. It’s dissolving. Now, let me ask—have you had a lesson today?” inquired the mage.

“You look very tall from down here,” Tris remarked. His eyebrows came together in a scowl. Hur-riedly she said, “When my teacher tells me it’s a bad idea to try and fight the power of nature, I should listen.”

He grasped her hands. “I don’t know that I can walk,” she admitted as Niko helped her to rise.

“I know very well that you can’t,” he said. “Your luck is in. The moment I knew you were in trouble, I enlisted a friend.”

“Hullo,” Kirel said. Tris hadn’t seen him waiting on the path. “You must be Daja’s friend—the crotchety one.” Grinning, he knelt, folded her over his shoulder, and stood.

“This is so humiliating,” grumbled Tris. She was too weak even to struggle.

“Let’s go,” Niko said. Little Bear, yapping with pleasure, danced around them as they began the long climb back home.

Winding Circle kept the Midsummer holiday in style, with a feast, music and dancing, and rituals. One and all thanked the sun for its gifts on the longest day of the year, and prayed for a good harvest. Freed for the holiday, Briar, Sandry, and Daja wandered through Winding Circle, listened to music, and ate until even Briar could not manage another bite of meat or cake.

Tris remained at Discipline. Her experiment with tides had left her weaker than an overboiled noodle. She slept in a chair; when she lay flat and closed her eyes, the tide dragged at her bones, trying to pull her out to sea or dash her against rocks.

Little Bear kept her company all day. Now and then someone would look in—the other children, or one of the dedicates. Niko came by and gave her a book called Daring the Wheel: Those Who Defied Nature’s Magic. Reading it was a sobering experience for Tris. She had gotten off lightly; she was still alive.

As the longest day of the year drew slowly down to night, her stomach began to roll. Her pulse thumped in her ears; her feet and hands tingled. She fought to stand, trying to get a body no stronger than soup to carry her through a door a few feet away. Little Bear whimpered and circled her, barking, as she gave up on standing and crawled.

She had reached the outside doorstep when the ground shuddered and flexed. Little Bear raced to the outdoor shelf that held Briar’s shakkan, barking madly: the tremor had made it slide forward. Gulping against the need to vomit, Tris realized that yet another shake was on its way.

There was no time to think. She scrambled for the shelf as the shakkan leaped toward her, thrown off its support by the new tremor. With a yelp, Tris caught it and held it steady. Little Bear whined and tried to crawl into her lap underneath it.

Briar was the first to reach Discipline, at a run; Rosethorn was not far behind him. When they came through the gate, they stopped to stare. Tris leaned against the cottage, asleep. The shakkan was in her lap; Little Bear was draped over her shins. The new shelf on Briar’s window hung only by one strut—the other had broken in the second tremor.

Tris woke as Briar lifted his treasure out of her lap. Guessing what caused his scowl, she said, “Don’t thank me. You’ll just scare me worse than I’ve been already.”

Instead he reached his free hand down to her. “C’mon, old lady,” he said. “Time to hobble inside.” Rosethorn took the girl’s other hand. Between them, they helped Tris into the house.

12

Niko had just started the next day’s meditation when someone knocked briskly on Discipline’s front door. He frowned and went to answer it himself.

“I’m sorry, Master Niko.” The novice was gasping for breath. “They want you at the Hub, now.”

“I’m teaching—”

“Honored Moonstream said it can’t wait.”