Cold Fire by Tamora Pierce Page A

pointed out a bespectacled young man of medium height and neatly trimmed brown hair and beard. He was intent on shaping a wooden tree that flattened on top to become a table: Daja saw magic follow his hands in glowing silver ropes, his power sinking into the wood. It was carved and stained to make it resemble a century tree from the south, twisted and gnarled from long, very slow growth.
    “Arnen’s good with beginners,” Camoc said. “I have to let him get one of these fancy pieces out of his system now and then. The rest of the time he makes the best barrels and axle-trees money can buy. Those barrels hold anything, and his axle-trees never break.”
    Looking at Arnen’s tree, Daja marveled at the mind that could jump from barrels and wagons to something so beautiful. Arnen reminded her of Briar, who went from weeding temple fields to shaping miniature trees, not just to fit them for magic, but because there was loveliness in the tree itself.
    Camoc opened a door onto a classroom much like the one in Bancanor House. There were no maps on the walls. Desks were replaced by long tables and work benches. A case of books lined one side wall; a large slate was hung on another. On it someone had written the magical runes for strength: flexible strength, hard strength, endurance.
    A collection of wooden cubes about the size of Daja’s fist sat on a table. Camoc stirred them with knobby fingers. “Come here, girl,” he ordered. “Let’s see what you know.”
    Nia walked over, her eyes on the blocks rather than on Camoc’s face. She pulled one away from the others. “Yellow pine,” she murmured.
    “Speak up,” the man ordered. “What use does it have?”
    Nia cleared her throat. “Shelves,” she said. “Porches, house walls-“
    “Pick something else,” Camoc ordered.
    Nia pulled a second block from the collection. “Maple,” she announced. “Musical instruments, shelves, stairs, interior trim-“
    “Next,” ordered Camoc.
    She went through most of the pile, unable to name only a few pieces. Daja saw that Nia had learned a great deal already, haunting carpenters’ shops near her home. She reminded Daja of all the time she’d spent as a child, handling every piece of metal her family’s ship had carried.
    What happened to ambient mages who never found teachers? Did they even know what they were missing? The thought made Daja shudder. She dragged her attention back to Camoc and Nia. The wood-mage was asking her to name a series of carpenter’s tools and their uses. Daja sat and waited.
    Finally Camoc looked at Daja. “She knows more than I expected,” he told her. “I know you’ve other mages to see before she decides-“
    “Please, I don’t want to see anyone else,” Nia said, her voice quiet again. “I’ll stay here.”
    “You’re better off meeting other carpentry-mages. Different carpentry-mages,” Camoc insisted. “Smaller shops, not as many people trooping in and out.”
    “But I like that it’s big,” Nia said, almost whispering. “There’s all kinds of things to do here.”
    “May I talk to Nia a moment?” Daja asked Camoc. He nodded, and went out into the shop. Daja turned to the girl. “Nia, not all teachers work the same. Some are easygoing, some strict. You won’t even be studying with Camoc at first, but his student. Tell me why you don’t want to see anyone else.”
    “You have Jory to settle,” Nia explained. “And I like it here.” She brushed at a streak of sawdust on her gown. It clung to her stubbornly. “It’s… homey.”
    Daja grimaced. Too often Nia put her twin first. “Never mind Jory. Let’s visit some other carpentry-mages.”
    Nia shook her head. “You said I could pick. Well, I have.” She looked at Daja with flashing eyes. “I’ve been in other wood-mages’ shops, you know. This is the best, and now I know why, because my magic’s here.”
    Daja scratched her head and grimaced as she yanked a loop from one of her many braids. She didn’t