Daja's Book by Tamora Pierce Page A

father?” Polyam wanted to know, her eye bright with curiosity. “Would they be happy to see their child in the dirt, associating with commoners?”
    â€œThey’re dead,” Sandry replied flatly, tracing the embroidery on a cushion with her finger. “Both of them, in the smallpox epidemic in Hatar last fall.”
    â€œWhen the gods balance the books, mortals weep,” Polyam said gravely. “I am sorry for your loss.”
    Sandry looked at her, small round chin thrust out stubbornly. “Besides, Uncle likes my friends.
And
he doesn’t seem to mind dirt.”
    â€œGods know we rode through enough of it these last two weeks,” muttered Tris.
    â€œWhat of you, boy?” Polyam asked Briar. “Where did you learn
Tsaw’ha
things?”
    â€œIn Hajra, in Sotat,” replied the boy, taking another stuffed vine leaf.
    â€œDon’t look at me,” Tris said hurriedly. “My family never associated with anyone other than fellow merchants.”
    â€œYou all live in the same house, at a Living Circle temple city?” inquired the Trader.
    The four nodded.
    â€œAnd you are all
xurdin
?” she continued, using the word for mage.
    â€œNiko found us,” explained Sandry. “Niklaren Goldeye. Daja was shipwrecked, and he found her; I was hidden from a mob in a cellar in Hatar. Briar was being sentenced to—” She blinked, trying to remember her friend’s one-time destination.
    â€œThe docks,” he said. When Polyam looked at him, he showed her his X tattoos. “Caught thieving three times—but don’t worry. Anyone that nicks Trader—
Tsaw’ha
—” he changed the word with a mocking grin—”things gets bad magic on them.”
    â€œAnd Tris was at another Living Circle temple,” Sandry finished. She didn’t add that Tris’s family had given her away, being too frightened to keep her. Even now Tris hated to hear it mentioned. “Niko saw our magic, that no one else knew we had, and brought us to Lark and Rosethorn—”
    â€œAnd Frostpine,” interrupted Daja.
    Sandry beamed at her. “I wasn’t going to forget him. How could I? They had magic like ours,” she told Polyam. “Well, and he brought me there partly because Duke Vedris is my great-uncle.”
    â€œIt’s quite a story,” admitted Lark. “And it grows every day.” She grinned. “Sometimes it’s very tiring to be a part of it.”
    â€œAck!” cried Briar. Now that the food was nearly gone, he realized his current pot of what he called “oil stew” might burn. Getting up, he ran over to tend it.
    â€œSo you were Blue Traders?” Polyam asked Daja.
    Seeing Tris open her mouth to ask for an explanation of the term, Daja quickly said, “Those who travel the seas and rivers are Blue Traders. The ones who ride snow or sand are called White Traders.” Answering Polyam, she added, “Blue Traders, on the Pebbled Sea.”
    â€œSpeaking of snow, Polyam, didn’t you come here from the north? How were the passes? Is autumn there as late as it is here?” Lark wanted to know.
    Polyam refilled Daja’s teacup. “Not in the Namornese Mountains,” she replied. “But the closer we came to here, the more shrunken the snow and ice-fields on all but the highest mountains.”
    â€œMaybe you know what I saw,” said Daja. “There was a river of ice, I swear it! In the higher mountains, about ten or fifteen miles—” She looked around, trying to guess directions from the sun. She pointed. “Southwest. It ended in a barren valley—”
    â€œIt looked more scraped than barren,” Briar called from his table.
    Polyam and Lark traded amused glances. “You have never seen a glacier before?” inquired the Trader.
    â€œA glacier? A real one?” asked Tris, eager. “Where? Could I see