“It means a lot to me,” Daja said defensively, wishing the redhead didn’t always press so hard. “You have no notion.”
“You’re going with them, then.” Sandry’s voice was soft. She could have been addressing her pillow, or her night-light.
“No,” Daja flatly replied.
The noble’s eyes flashed. “No?”
Daja sighed. “I could give up our circle, perhaps, or I could give up smithing. I think I could, anyway—though I’m not entirely sure. But give up both? I thank you, but no. I’ve changed too much to go back.”
“Why didn’t you say so before?” Tris demanded, lying back down.
Daja sighed. “I’ve been thinking about it. All right? May I go to sleep now?”
The next morning Daja was making her bed when Little Bear’s hysterical barks and Shriek’s answering whistles announced the arrival of guests. Hurriedly she tucked her work under her blanket and went to see what was going on. The newcomers were Traders—Chandrisa, the ride leader, the mimander, and Polyam. Knowing why they had come, Daja fetched her new staff and took a seat beside the table, along with her three friends. Lark went for refreshments; Rosethorn summoned Niko and Frostpine. Daja realized that the women also guessed the reason for the Traders’ visit.
First, however, there were Trader rituals for serious conversation to be gotten through. Once everyone had a seat, Lark served tea and cakes. The adults chatted about the aftermath of the fire as they politely sipped and ate. The four young people fed their cakes to the dog on the sly and tried to be patient.
Finally gilav Chandrisa put down her cup, and folded her hands in her lap. “We take the road at dawn,” she said flatly.
“The snows will begin in six days,” added the mimander, invisible behind his lemon-colored veils. No one questioned his certainty—mimanders often specialized in weather magic of some kind.
“You must pack and be in Polyam’s cart at first light,” the gilav told Daja. “Do not hold up our departure.”
Daja picked up her staff with both hands. “I thank you, but I cannot accept this.” Getting to her feet, she offered the staff to Chandrisa. “I’ve been a lugsha for too long. I cannot give that up.” She swallowed hard. Even knowing her answer hadn’t prepared her for how difficult it was to actually say the words. “I cannot give up my new home, and my new family. I would be grateful if you just took my name from the record of trangshi. That way I can do business with the Tsaw’ha, without anyone being qunsuanen.”
Chandrisa looked at the staff and at Daja. “Our debt will be paid in full? You will not hold us owing?”
“Once I am no longer trangshi, we will be even,” Daja said. Taking a step closer to Chandrisa, she offered the staff again.
The gilav wrapped brown fingers around the wood, then let go. “Keep the staff, as a sign of friendship,” she said drily. “As a promise that we shall do business together. I hope it will please you when I say that our messenger went south two weeks ago, to correct the records of your name.”
Daja leaned the staff on her chair, biting her lip so as not to cry. She cleared her throat. “Tenth Caravan Idaram and I are clear, but there is another matter. I owe a personal debt, and I must pay it.”
Briar and Tris knew what she meant. They went into the girls’ bedroom and returned with her creation, still in its blue silk wrapping.
Daja turned to Polyam. “If not for you, I never would have had a chance to wipe my name from the trangshi book.” Taking her work from Briar, she carried it over to Polyam’s chair. “This is actually from all of us,” she told the woman quietly as Sandry pulled the silk wrappings away. Polyam’s jaw dropped; Chandrisa and the two male Traders leaned forward, intent.
It was a metal leg, shaped entirely of thin iron rods and joints. Everything was covered in a gleaming brass skin. Briar tickled the metal sole. It twitched, just as a living foot might twitch. Tris laid a hand on the shin, and the knee bent.
Polyam stretched out a hand that shook violently and touched the leg. She yanked her fingers away, shocked. “It’s warm!”
“It should act just as a real limb would,” Niko said. “We tested it enough. And you have the rest of today to try it out.”
“It will shape itself to your flesh,” explained Frostpine.
“You’ll be able to take it off whenever you like,” Sandry put in.
“You can even bathe with it,” added Briar.
It was Tris who asked the question on everyone’s mind: “Do you want to try it on?”
The room was absolutely silent. Even the dog sat quietly, his dark eyes on Polyam. Only Shriek moved, picking up crumbs from the table.
At last Polyam nodded.
Rosethorn and Lark helped her to remove her wooden peg and roll her legging up to bare what remained of her thigh. Gently Frostpine and Daja slid the open sleeve at the top of their creation over Polyam’s stump, placing the leg so it matched the angle of her good leg. As they settled it, Frostpine showed her the brads to press on the uppermost rim of the metal, so it would relax enough for her to take it off or to put it back on.
Once the leg was settled, Polyam gasped as brass-coated iron shifted, molding itself to her flesh. “It lives!”
Daja watched the metal adjust, frowning absent-mindedly. All her power was bent on her work as it fit itself to Polyam. “It’s supposed to,” she murmured.