"Now, go out and draw water to wash down the flagstones," Mother Fern set Nissa at another task as soon as the floor was thoroughly swept. "Then go out and see if you can get more clay. You can sift tomorrow—that last batch should be dry enough by then." Nissa didn't say anything; she just grabbed the rope-handled bucket by the door and went toward the well between the shed and Mother Fern's small house.

It took seven buckets of water and plenty of scrubbing with the broom to get the remaining clay dust and clumps off the flagstone floor to Mother Fern's satisfaction. Nissa's shoulders ached—she wasn't used to this much physical labor—most of her work at Grey House had been accomplished with mental ability. She grabbed the shovel and two canvas bags and headed toward the old streambed.

Warily watching to make sure Gren and his followers weren't anywhere nearby, Nissa began digging not far from the boundary line. She'd gone Looking again, and discovered clay there. Thankful that her mother had taken the time to show her how to focus her mind on a single bit of needed information and locate it with power, Nissa focused on Gren while she dug. She found him at his lessons with Tiearan, Head of the Green Fae village. Gren was helping adjust the yeast for the winemaking and seemed very happy that he'd been the one chosen to perform that task. "Showoff," Nissa muttered to herself as she turned up another shovel full of clay.

All the clay inside the canvas bags was cleared of roots and other impurities before she ever headed toward Mother Fern's shed. It was getting late, too, and Nissa knew she'd be scolded for holding up dinner. That was the feeling she'd gotten from Redbird, anyway.

* * *

"Where have you been?" Sure enough, Redbird was trying to scold the moment Nissa walked through the door.

"Mother Fern gave me extra chores," Nissa muttered, hanging her head.

"And what chores were those?"

"Sweeping and washing down the floor in the pottery shed, and then going after more clay." Nissa didn't look up to meet Redbird's eyes.

"Tell Mother Fern next time that I do not like holding dinner." Redbird stalked off toward the kitchen. "Get cleaned up—you're covered in filth from hair to heel."

Nissa lifted her eyes to follow Redbird's retreating back. She wanted to stick out her tongue but thought better of it. She headed toward the washroom instead.

Using a bit of power to clean the clay from beneath fingernails and then a bit more to clean off most of the muck from her clothing, Nissa arrived at the dinner table a few moments later. "You can do the dishes after dinner," Redbird announced. Nissa jerked her head toward Toff's foster-mother, biting back a retort. Corent came in, then, sitting down in his usual seat.

"Finally got all the maple trees tapped today," Corent sighed and dipped into the sliced turnips and greens that Redbird set on the table. "The syrup making is going well this year. The early frosts helped with that."

"Are we going to trade some of it for wine corks and the metal nails we need?" Redbird asked as she ate. Nissa watched Redbird as she dipped into her own meal. Redbird was always dressed better than either Corent or Toff, gauging by the clothing she'd found inside Toff's closet. Today, Redbird wore a red blouse and tan pants with red shoes. She was beautiful, with her hair gathered back and tied with a scarlet ribbon. Something bothered Nissa about Redbird, however, and Nissa couldn't quite put her finger on it. She kept eating as Toff's foster parents talked over dinner.

Nissa wiped the countertops down after all the dishes were washed and dried and then put a hand to her right shoulder—it ached. She wished she could have taken a class or two with Selkirk at Grey House—Selkirk was the best healer they had. Now she had no idea how to go about using power to eliminate the aches in her body.

"Go to bed, son, this looks good enough." Corent had a hand on the shoulder that Nissa had just rubbed. Power passed from his hand, too, and Nissa's shoulder felt better.

"Thank you." Nissa ducked her head and walked toward the narrow hallway that led to her bedroom.

* * *

"What is Belen doing here?" Tory whispered to Ry as he pulled his brother toward his side of their shared suite. Neither of them could properly describe Belen or name what he was. Belen was an enigma.

"He asked to meet with Mom and the others—the Inner Circle," Ry whispered back. That's why Ry had come to see Tory after they were both supposed to be in bed. Ry had gone on a secret raid of the kitchen and had caught sight of Belen walking through the halls with his mother. Belen sometimes had a light around him and Ry couldn't explain that.

"Do you think he knows anything about Sissy?" Tory asked.

No word had come to them for two days regarding their sister, and Grey House was still doing an investigation. At least that's what Uncle Shadow said. He'd come in earlier that day, and Ry's father had pulled the boys out of the dining hall as Shadow dropped to his knees in front of their mother and laid his head in her lap. Ry thought he heard a sob as Erland hauled them toward the kitchen to finish their meals there. Whether it was their mother or Uncle Shadow who wept, Ry couldn't say for sure.

"Do you think Belen might be looking for her, too?" Ry hoped that was the case. He felt power whenever Belen was around—power with a capital P.

"Now is when we need invisibility," Tory muttered. "We could hide in a corner of the library and listen in."

"Like Mom wouldn't know," Ry did a little muttering of his own. "Dad swears she can see through walls, sometimes."

"And sniff out anything from a mile away," Tory agreed. "Of course we don't know what effect being pregnant is going to have on all that."

"You're pregnant?" Ry grinned and poked at his brother.

"I've got a headlock right here, bubba." Tory went after Ry.

"Hey, did you see the vids earlier on Cloudsong?" Ry and Tory were both flat on their backs on Tory's bed—they'd pummeled each other for minutes before tiring.

"Yeah. It's worse than we thought. Those kids are starving." Tory sat up and lifted a pillow off the floor—he and Ry had knocked everything off his bed while they wrestled.

"I know it might not be a good thing to bring up with Mom—Cloudsong, you know, but those kids." Ry didn't finish his statement. He'd seen the thin, emaciated bodies that the documentary crew had recorded.

"Yeah, but she's always done things for kids," Tory nodded. "Maybe we can get her interested in this."

"It won't bring Sissy back." Ry rubbed his eyes. He was scared witless, if he were honest with himself. Nobody had come forward demanding a ransom or anything. "Why would somebody break through the Grey House barriers, just to take Sissy? There are multiple fortunes in spelled jewelry, weapons and artwork. If they wanted money, all they'd have to take was a little of that."

"I know. I heard Uncle Tony and Uncle Rigo say the same thing earlier." Tory slumped on the bed. "What are we going to do, Ry? We have to get Sissy back. Next week is her birthday."

* * *

"Be sure you get the corners." Toff wondered what Narissa had done before she'd acquired him as her personal slave. He had no idea what to do to get away from her—she watched him every waking moment. He was wearing some of her old clothing, too—old tops and pants that hung loosely about his small frame. He was using a ragged cloth to clean the corners of the floor while he wondered what she'd set him to doing next.

"Tomorrow is food day—we'll pick it up at the western boundary," Narissa was smiling. "You can handle the wheelbarrow, I think." Toff looked up at her briefly—she sat at the tiny kitchen table sipping tea. She hadn't offered him any, he noticed.

"The western boundary?" he asked casually. Toff didn't want to express too much interest in case Narissa decided to withhold the information. He'd made the mistake earlier of asking her why she was alone inside the boundary. She'd cursed and then ordered him to clean the corners of the stone floor in the kitchen. The stones were fitted tightly against one another—whoever laid them had been a master at building. They were sealed and watertight, too. Toff discovered that when he'd mopped the floor before starting on the corners.

"The one between me and the comesuli farms, of course. You think those Fae would share anything without payment?" Narissa hmmphed again. Toff was beginning to dislike that sound intensely.

"What about those others—what did you call them—to the east?"

"Elemaiya. They don't share either, as a rule. They'll talk if I find one of them down on that side, but they don't often come in this direction. They stay farther south; it's warmer there."

"I've never heard of that race—what do they look like?" Toff asked.

"Just like most other humanoids. They used to have power." Narissa sniffed at the admission.

"What happened?"

"The Queen of Le-Ath Veronis happened. No more questions." Narissa got up and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Toff alone with his questions and his task.

* * *

"We're going to have to use power." Gren's statement made Laral and Clover cringe. Who knew what kind of trouble they might be in if their parents learned of this? Laral and Clover had very little power, though they were Halves, just as Gren was. Gren had increased his power lately and his two disciples were at a loss to explain it.

"But what are we going to do?" Laral felt helpless—he'd thought that cozying up with Gren would allow him access to Tiearan and better lessons. It didn't. Tiearan would take Gren and two of the older ones and teach them apart from the others. Rain would take the ones with lesser ability and work with them during their lessons. Neither Laral nor Clover had ever gotten to work with the sun crystal and that was Laral's chief desire. Now he found himself trapped in Gren's plot to do away with the baby-faced worm.