“I’ll take them, Niko,” called Lark from her workroom.
Niko hesitated, then followed the novice out of the cottage.
He was absent the rest of that day. Tris, waiting for her afternoon’s lesson, gave up and continued to read Daring the Wheel. The residents of Discipline had just settled down to the night’s spinning when Niko returned. “Lark, Rosethorn, if I may have a word?” he said, with a nod to the children.
They went outside and talked so quietly that none of the four could eavesdrop, although they tried. At last the adults came back into the cottage, looking troubled.
“Come with me, Briar,” Rosethorn ordered.
The boy carefully put down his spinning and followed her to her workroom.
Niko gave another book to Tris. “Something’s come up, and I am needed at the Hub for a while. Study this—it’s about weather patterns in Emelan and her neighbors, and how one kind of weather may spark another. Meditate daily, record the tides and the moon’s phases as I requested, and do whatever Lark and Rosethorn say. I’ll look in on you as I can.”
“Niko, what’s going on?” inquired Sandry.
“I don’t know yet,” he replied. “That’s the problem. There’s a tremendous amount of activity in the seeing and hearing places of the Hub—omens and portents are being reported from everywhere around the Pebbled Sea. We must sort through all that is being foretold and try to put together the alternatives we are being shown.”
“I don’t understand,” complained Daja, winding newly spun thread onto her spindle.
With a sigh, Niko sat on a chair. “When seers view the future, it isn’t a lone, solid image. The various choices that people make change any one future into many. Each choice in those futures gives birth to still more. Omens and visions are pictures from all those futures. Our task is to find the single event, or events, that started them. Once we find it, we can learn where and when that event takes place and try to prepare.”
“That sounds like work, if you ask me,” Daja said firmly.
Niko smiled. “It is.”
Rosethorn and Briar returned, the boy carrying a basket full of packets of herbs and bottles of liquid that Rosethorn had just measured out of her supplies. “I labeled everything,” Rosethorn explained. “If they need more, tell them to send to me.” Her mouth twisted wryly, and she added, “Perhaps mention that Crane’s keep-awake tea is a hair better than mine.”
Everyone stared at her.
“But just a hair!” she said crossly. “And don’t tell Crane I said it!”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Niko reassured her, taking the basket. “Dedicates, thank you. Children, I hope to see you all soon.”
“Mila bless,” Lark said gently. “May the knot come undone, and the threads be laid out straight for you to see.”
Sandry blinked: as Lark spoke, the girl saw golden strands of power drift through the air and twine gently around the mage. The other three sensed the magic’s passing and shivered.
Niko bowed and left. The dedicates and the children drew the gods-circle on their chests and returned to their work.
Over the next two weeks, whenever any of them saw Niko, his thick, black eyebrows were knit in a thoughtful frown. He gave Tris more books and scrolls to work from. For several days he turned her over to Frostpine, who taught her and Daja the properties of metals. Niko rarely visited the cottage for meals; Briar was left to bathe on his own most nights. Even when Niko came to eat or teach, he was easily distracted.
Standing on the temple’s northern wall with the others one hot afternoon, Daja saw a cloud billow from the windows of the Hub. “Is that—?” she asked Briar.
“The bird-cote,” he replied. “It surely is.”
The cloud of messenger birds broke up and spread, headed in all directions. Less than half an hour later, mounted couriers galloped out of Winding Circle.
“Something big,” Tris remarked.
“Maybe someday they’ll tell us what’s going on,” grumbled Briar. “That would be nice.”
Two nights later, Niko joined them for supper. He looked worn out. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot; the lines that framed his nose and mouth were deeper than usual.
“I think we’ve done all we can,” he announced. “They got the word in time, certainly, and the message has gone to the coast cities and to the islands. Now all we can do is wait.”
“What message?” asked Sandry.
“You’re going to tell us what’s up?” Briar wanted to know.
The man nodded. “Ragat will have an earthquake tomorrow, sometime before noon. Word’s been sent to Ragat and her neighbor Pajun to prepare, and to everyone on the surrounding coasts who might be hit by a tidal wave.”
“A quake? Are we in danger?” asked Tris, nervously.
“None. If there’s a wave, the east shore of the Emelan peninsula will take the brunt of it, not our side,” Niko told her. “Ragat is too far away for us to feel the quake itself.” His fingers tapped restlessly on the table.
“Something bothers you still?” Lark wanted to know. “You can only alert people. It’s not as if you can actually stop an earthquake.”
“Why shouldn’t they stop an earthquake?” Sandry asked when Niko didn’t answer right away.
Tris turned suddenly pale; for a moment, she felt the power of the tides squeeze her. “Don’t even think of such a thing!”