Tris grumbled, but followed the other girl, to lean against her open door. Daja's room already had light of a sort, from a candle set on the family altar in the corner. Using it to see by, Daja changed into breeches and a shirt, and shook out her various short braids. Slipping her feet into sandals, she blew out the altar candle, and followed Tris downstairs.
It wasn't all that late; one of the women in charge of Discipline was still awake, writing a letter. She wore only an undyed cotton shift as she worked - her Earth temple green summer habit was tossed carelessly over the table. Like Daja, she was dark-eyed and dark-skinned, though her skin was a lighter shade of brown. She wore her glossy curls cropped short, where they fanned out to frame an almost cat-like face with broad cheekbones and a pointed chin. As late as it was, as hot as she was, she still gave the two girls a smile, which they returned. Even Tris, with her moods and her temper, liked Dedicate Lark.
"Just for an hour," Lark told them, digging into a habit pocket. She produced a round iron token that showed the bearer was outdoors with permission, and handed it to Tris. "If it's still hot when you come back, we'll set up pallets for you on this floor."
Someone who sat in the shadows near the front door got up, startling Daja. It was a boy, dressed only in light breeches. His skin was even more golden brown than Lark's, his almond-shaped eyes a startling grey-green. He wore his black hair coarse-cropped no more than an inch or so from his scalp. His nose was short and straight, his mouth firm and slightly down-turned at the corners. "Lark..." he began.
"Yes, Briar, you may," Lark replied, tired but amused. "Put some shoes on."
Grumbling, the boy entered his room.
A head with sun-streaked brown hair dressed in two braids poked out of the room across from Briar's. Sleepy eyes of a bright, cornflower blue peered at them. "I heard voices," the girl said, and yawned. A young dog, all ivory curls, elbows and tail scrambled into the main room from hers, dancing frantically and whining.
"Sandry, we're going on the wall to cool off," Daja said. "You want to come?"
The light brown head nodded; its owner vanished inside her room, and closed the door. A minute later she came out, wearing a blouse, skirt and slippers, pinning up her braids under a scarf.
By the time she was done with her hair, the boy re-appeared, hopping as he tried to yank a sandal over one foot. The other was already shod. "You girls better not take forever to get ready..." he began, then realized that they were waiting for him. He switched his attention to the dog. "You better not keep me waiting, Little Bear."
Sandry, laughing, shoved the boy out the front door ahead of her. The pup yelped and followed them, as Daja and Tris brought up the rear.
The last one out the door, Tris stopped and looked back. "Lark?"
"Yes, dear?"
"W-would you like to come? With us, I mean?" A part of Tris was dismayed: what had she turned into? Two months ago, she never could have made such an offer to anyone, particularly not an adult.
Two months ago she had come to Discipline cottage. Now she had days when she wasn't sure who she was - but she knew that she liked the change.
Lark smiled. "Thank you, but I'm to do the fires at midnight services. Some other time, perhaps?"
Blushing hotly at her lapse into affection, Tris nodded, and ran to catch up with her housemates.
Panting as they reached the top of the wall, each found an open stone notch to sit in. Instantly they realized that Tris had been right; it was cooler up here, and they had a fine view of the cove below Winding Circle's south gate. Their dog flopped on to the walkway behind them with a happy sigh.
"How much more of summer is there?" Daja asked, once she'd caught her breath.
"It's just the second week of Mead," replied Sandry. Yanking off her scarf, she undid the ties at the ends of her braids, and combed her hair out with her fingers. "Two more weeks after this is Mead, then all of Wort Moon."
"Maybe even most of Barley, too," Briar chipped in. "Rosethorn says all the omens are for a long summer, and a short autumn." His teacher Rosethorn was the other woman who watched over Discipline.
"What are you doing up here?" A pair of guards trotted down the walkway from one of the towers that punctuated the wall. Dressed in the red habits of those dedicated to serve the gods of fire, they carried long staffs capped with broad, two-foot-long blades as weapons.
The four young people got to their feet and moved closer together. The dog sat in front of them, thwacking the stone with his tail. Digging in her pocket, Tris found the iron token, and passed it to Sandry. Things went better when their noble did the talking for the four.
"We have permission," Sandry explained, showing the token to the guards. One side of it was marked with a D, for Discipline cottage - the other showed an engraved bird and a thorny branch for Lark and Rosethorn.
"But this should be only for one child," argued the woman. "There's -"
The man was far taller than his partner. The four watched, amused, as he bent down to whisper in her ear. Though he kept his voice soft, they still heard him mutter, "It's those children. The four mages. They often run together."
Briar puffed out his chest. He liked being called a mage, as if he were a man, not a boy.
Sandry planted her hands on her hips. "I am Lady Sandrilene fa Toren. You have my word that we all have permission to be here," she informed the guards.