Tris's Book

"Forget about it," advised Briar. "No use sticking your neb where it don't belong."

"Can we leave noses out of the conversation?" asked Sandry wistfully, tugging the end of hers.

Rusty hinges creaked in the wind. Tris held a finger to her lips, and the four stopped talking.

"... here's the cord." The Drunk Woman sounded as if her liquor was wearing off. "But if ye lay it on the ground, will it burn? We -"

There was a thunk, a sound like a cleaver biting into uncooked beef. Then came a choking gasp. Briar made a face. He'd heard people stabbed when he was a street thief. "The woman's dead," he muttered.

Tris gasped.

"If we leave her in the open they'll find her!" That was Whiner. "They'll know something's -"

"Stow it," snarled Gruff Man softly. "Once we're clear, the mage'll light the cord and -"

Something roared and thumped at the same time; light blazed across the sky. The four children flinched, and stared out over the water. The Pirate's Point lighthouse was a pillar of fire. Closer to home - just a mile away - the watchtower that capped Bit Island was a blazing ruin. The dog, startled out of his nap, began to bark furiously.

Chapter Two

Finished with his porridge, Briar yawned. He was exhausted. The four had been kept on the wall for another hour after the towers had exploded, answering the questions of first the dedicate guards, then their superiors, then the four's main teacher, Niklaren Goldeye, and the Honoured Dedicate who ran Winding Circle. It meant they had got very little sleep by the time the temple's great clock summoned everyone to the new day's work.

Beside him, pale grey eyes half-open, Tris patted her remaining porridge with her spoon. She had managed to pin up her mass of wiry red curls, but they were already struggling free of their restraints. She had got even less sleep than Briar. Tired as she was, the image of those spouting flames had stayed in her mind, keeping her awake for a long time. From the way the adults had talked the night before, they had no idea of what had caused the explosions.

Across from Tris, Daja toyed with a plump braid. She didn't care about how rested she was, or about the explosions. She wanted to start the day's chores. With those finished, she could go to her teacher, the smith-mage Frostpine, for another lesson in working metal. Today he was to beat gold into thin sheets, and she looked forward to that. She had very good feelings towards gold - not for its value, as her Trader-kin liked it, but for its friendliness, and its willingness to forgive mistakes as she handled it.

Next to her, Sandry neatly folded her napkin and placed it beside her bowl. As always, she sat with her back perfectly straight, her lively eyes examining her friends. Daja had to be thinking about smithcraft, Sandry decided. The only time Daja ever looked dreamy-eyed, as some girls did when they thought of a special boy, was when she considered tools and metal and fire. Briar, of course, wanted more sleep. Four months wasn't enough to turn a night-hunting thief into a daytime gardener. And Tris, frowning into a half a bowl of cereal, what was she thinking about? Tris was always asking questions about things. She had asked a great many of them last night, and got no answers. Perhaps that was why she scowled at her porridge.

"I once saw explosions like that," Sandry remarked, fingering the small pouch hanging on a chain around her neck. "A shed with some barrels of flour caught fire, and they blew up. The shopkeeper told my parents that if you bottle up flour and then fire it, that's what happens."

Tris glared at her with ice-grey eyes. "Flour blew up two stone watchtowers?"

"If you had enough of it?" Briar covered a yawn.

Sitting next to Sandry, their puppy whined.

"You'd think we never fed you, Little Bear." At the head of the table, Lark ran a hand through her glossy curls.

"He's a growing boy, aren't you?" Sandry gave the pup's ears a scratch.

"That's what scares me," Lark and Daja said together. They smiled at each other.

Sandry grinned ruefully. Little Bear had been small enough to fit in her lap when they had got him. Now he could sprawl over her lap and Daja's, and still prop his chin on someone else's leg.

"Where's Rosethorn?" Briar demanded.

"Water Temple," was Lark's reply. "They still have her brewing cough syrups." She got to her feet, shaking out her green habit. "She says you know what to do today..."

"Weeding," was his gloomy reply. "Because in summer it's always weeding, weeding, weeding."

Lark smiled. "Well, at least there isn't as much as there was yesterday, then."

Briar snorted, half-laughing.

"Dedicate Willowwater has asked me to meet her at the loomhouses," Lark continued. "Why ever a Water dedicate wants to see me at an Earth temple building..."

Tris pushed her bowl away. "She's out of bandages, or almost out," she mumbled. "Some novice wasn't keeping track of the stores." When she realized she heard nothing but silence, she looked around. Lark and her friends watched her with fascination. "I heard it, all right?"

"How come we didn't hear it, then?" Briar demanded.

"I was by myself," retorted Tris. "It was before we went out. Maybe you have to be close to me for it to work."

Lark tucked one of the girl's tumbling red curls behind a hairpin. "Sometimes I think we haven't even begun to see your gifts, Tris. We -"