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Three boom-stones had made it past the shields while Tris and her friends attacked the fleet. One had landed on a wing of the girls' main dormitory. The Water temple dedicates finally barred Tris from working in that infirmary ward: she sparked lightning every time she set foot inside it.
On her eighth day of service, the dedicates sent their healed criminals to the Duke's court in Summersea. Once they were gone, less than half of all the patients remained.
With plenty of healers now to care for them, Tris was put to scrubbing the floor of a newly-emptied room. She was half done when she heard a step. Looking up, she saw Niko.
"Are you ready to begin lessons again?" he asked.
She pushed her spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. "After I finish this floor."
"Have you any ideas about what area of your talents we should concentrate on?" It seemed like an idle question.
Her answer was not at all idle. "I need to learn control, Niko - for real. With everything. I think the rest has to wait." Swirling water fiercely in the bucket, she stared at soap bubbles to keep him from seeing her mouth tremble. She was beginning to fear she would dream about the drowned slaves for the rest of her life. "I don't want this to happen again -not ever."
"At least you know it," he said quietly, rolling up his sleeves. "You could have been another Enahar, living off human pain."
She looked up at him, her grey eyes sharp. "The other mages - were they all slaves?
Aymery said as long as Enahar bound him with blood, he had to do what he was told.
But -
he liked the money, too, Niko - the money and the power. I could tell."
"Most of the mages served him willingly," was the quiet reply. "And had Aymery tried to disobey Enahar, he would have paid for it with even more of his blood."
"Dirty jishen" whispered the girl, scrubbing hard.
Niko tracked down a second brush, and helped her to finish the room.
Late that afternoon, Tris was about to give Shriek a feeding at the big table when Briar carried a small, covered dish to her. Sandry and Daja followed - he'd hinted that a treat was in store.
"Rosethorn says to start giving him some of these," he informed Tris, offering her the container.
"Rosethorn?" Tris called.
"That's his natural food," was the reply from the workshop. "He won't survive when you set him free if you don't start him on this now."
Briar removed the lid of the dish with a flourish. Tris looked, and shrank back: inside squirmed one or two earthworms, a handful of grubs and a small white caterpillar.
Little Bear stood on his hind legs to peer into the dish. Grabbing his collar, Daja hung on, in case the pup decided it was time to try bird food.
Shriek, still under the handkerchief on his nest-box, squalled.
"Drop them in his nest," Tris suggested to Briar.
"Can't. Rosethorn says they gotta go in his beak, same as the rest." Briar offered a small pair of metal tongs in the size that ladies used to pluck their eyebrows. "These'll help. Come on, bird-dam - he wants his supper."
"I hate bugs," insisted the girl. 'They're- Shurri defend me, they wiggle."
"Come on, merchant-girl," said Daja with a grin. "You faced pirates, an earthquake, Rosethorn - what's wrong with a bug or two? Did she get any locusts?" the Trader asked Briar. "They're better fried, but still good when they're fresh."
Tris gagged.
"Nothing that flies is in there, or it'd be gone by now," Briar said. "Get to work, Four- Eyes. We haven't got till the end of time."
"Will you do it?" Tris begged Sandry. "You're not afraid of anything."
Sandry tucked her hands behind her back. "I'm not his mama," she replied with an evil grin.
"Neither am I!" cried Tris.
Briar put the tongs in her hand and wrapped her fingers around them.
"The caterpillar is crawling out," remarked Daja. She flicked it back into the dish.
"You do it!" Eagerly Tris thrust the tongs at her. "You like bugs!"
Daja grinned and stepped back. "Sandry's right. I'm not his mother either."
None of them but Little Bear had paid attention to the nest-box as the handkerchief cover b.u.mped, thrashed and finally slid off. Its inhabitant climbed out. Almost a fledgling, Shriek was now three inches long from head to rump, with another two inches of tail. He was still in pin-feathers, but his black eyes were alert and wide open. He waddled across the table, yelling.
The dog fled. The four children watched Shriek.
"Maybe he'll eat from the dish," suggested Daja. She thrust it into his way.
Shriek walked around it without once shutting up, headed for Tris. When she stretched her hand out to him, he pecked one finger hard.
"Ow! Shriek-"
He screamed - and pecked - again. Tris backed up.
Shriek came on and dropped off the edge of the table. Sandry and Tris banged into each other in their rush to catch him, while the bird - cradled in Sandry's skirt - continued to scream. When Tris gathered him up, he continued to peck her. She kept her hands cupped around him, wincing at the pain. "That beak is sharp" she complained.
"Anything for peace and quiet." Picking up the tongs, Briar selected a worm and held it over Shriek. The nestling gave Tris a last jab and sat up in her hands, opening his beak wide. Briar dropped the worm in. Shriek swallowed. He appeared to think about what he'd just eaten.
"Well, that's better, anyway," Sandry remarked with a sigh.
Shriek screamed.
"My turn." Daja took the tongs and offered the caterpillar to the bird. This Shriek bit in two, allowing her to keep half while he gulped down the rest. Once the t.i.tbit was in his belly, he s.n.a.t.c.hed the rest out of the tongs.
Sandry picked up an earthworm with her fingers. Shriek accepted this offering as he had the caterpillar, eating it in neat bites.
"Your turn, mama." Briar drew the nest-box over so Tris could put her charge back in his bed. Shriek squalled.
Slowly, gingerly, Tris picked a grub up with the tongs, wincing as her firm hold crushed the sacrifice. She positioned the tongs over the nestling's gaping beak, and dropped the grub in.
Everyone applauded. Shriek blinked, sighed and settled down for a nap.
About the Author.
Having worked as a housemother in a group home, a literary agent's a.s.sistant, and an investment banking secretary, Tamora Pierce now writes for a living (with time off for school visits and book gatherings).
She lives in New York City, sharing her home with her husband, technical writer Tim Liebe, their three cats, two budgies, and whatever animals she rescues from affliction in the park.
Tamora Pierce has several series published by Scholastic: The Song of the Lioness Quartet, The Immortals, Protector of the Small, Circle of Magic and The Circle Opens.
Why not visit her at her homepage, www. sff.net/people/Tamora.Pierce. or on her discussion board, www.sheroescentral.com.