Little Leaf regarded Gwin strangely when she returned to her room. She tilted her head in her delicate, bird-like manner, sharp black eyes glittering at the sight of her mistress’s hands—damp and stained with ruddy-coloured mud. Gwin waited until the heavy door had swung safely shut before shaking her head at her companion.

  “You should not be out here in plain sight,” she said. “What if it had not been me who entered just now?”

  Little Leaf simply raised hair-thin, pale green eyebrows.

  “You believe you would have known if it was me or not?” Gwin said. “I’m quite sure you’re right, Little Leaf, but you really must take extra care in this place. The people here are the only ones for many leagues who understand magick. They could easily use it to conceal themselves. How can you ever really be sure I am myself?”

  Little Leaf shrugged and Gwin coloured slightly. She moved to the table against the far wall, rummaging inside her cloak for the small woollen bag she had hidden within its many folds.

  “Yes, I probably am being paranoid,” she agreed, seating herself and upending the bag on the table. A spill of fine brown soil spread across the aged surface. “The citadel seems to have that effect on me. Hence this.”

  Little Leaf fluttered down from her perch above the window and landed neatly on the edge of the table. Gwin stroked her forehead, oblivious to the way the leafling flinched from her filth-rimmed finger.

  “It has been a while since I last made ready to cast,” she said, staring down at the dirty tabletop. “I must remember how to begin.”

  Little Leaf stepped into Gwin’s line of vision, forcing her to look at her.

  “You are curious as to what I’m doing, are you?”

  Little Leaf nodded solemnly.

  “This is an old trick the Asrai use for simple divination. Back in our frozen homeland, I could use the traditional snow, but when we are abroad we have to be more resourceful. I have done this before using dust gathered from corners and crevices, but this room is so pristinely kept I was unable to find any. The soil will do just as well, although I would rather have avoided the risk of being found skulking about in the courtyard.”

  Little Leaf tapped her foot.

  “It is a little like reading tea leaves, I suppose,” Gwin replied. “The skill is in knowing how best to interpret the signs or symbols produced in whatever you use as a conduit, whether that be snow, dust, or soil. Here, let me show you. I think I am ready to begin.”

  She held out her hand, ushering Little Leaf onto her palm so she might lift the koskin up onto her shoulder. Little Leaf did as she was asked, holding on to the tip of one thumb so as to touch as little as possible of Gwin’s soil-streaked hand.

  “I wish to know if I should beware of Primm,” Gwin told Little Leaf.

  The leafling settled into the recess made by Gwin’s collar bone, holding tight to the neck edge of her robe so she could lean over and see what was happening on the table below.

  “She is extremely good-natured, yet I cannot help feeling there is something of a shadow about her. She is friends with the Silver Scholars, and when we first met yesterday her enthusiasm for making a friend of me was overwhelming. Let’s see what my cast has to say.”

  Closing her eyes, Gwin held her hands palms-down above the soil and began making slow circles in the air. As she sank down into stillness, concentrating all her energy and focus into her palms, she could feel the weight of the soil beneath them, humming with its own subtle power.

  “There is a magnetism and a life force in everything,” she informed Little Leaf. “Even within this plain dirt.”

  Little Leaf sighed against her neck, making the Asrai shiver.

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  Fixing her question about Primm in her mind, Gwin slowly lowered her hands until they were touching the soil. She was still making large circles, pushing the soil about the table in a lazy swirl. Some of it was thrust over the edge to scatter across the floor, but some remained, turning, caught up in the motion of Gwin’s hands. It coalesced and spun away to make clotted patterns on the tabletop. Finally, Gwin stopped and opened her eyes.

  “Well, this is interesting.”

  Little Leaf’s wings, delicately veined and paper-thin, brushed Gwin’s ear as she craned further forward, struggling to see what her mistress was looking at. She almost lost her balance.

  “Now then,” Gwin said, peering intently at what was left of the soil. “Can you see here, Little Leaf? Here, where the earth has gathered itself to make something of a teapot? In fact, I believe that is exactly what it is, although the spout appears to have broken off. Tea can be connected to family, home. It’s familiarity and safety. The broken spout could mean a familial bond is broken. I suppose that makes sense. I did travel here following the death of my brother, after all.”

  She hurriedly turned her eyes from the dark shape to fix on another, pushing away the last pained image of her brother’s bloody face, stark against the glittering ice.

  Lifting her right hand over the scattered soil, her fingertips twitching slightly as she searched for the subtle change in vibration that would tell her which particular shape or pattern should be taken note of, Gwin felt drawn towards a long line of unbroken dirt snaking its way along the bottom of the table. She followed its path with interest.

  “I believe this could be a tail,” she said. “See how it ends here? This shape appears wolf-like. It has pointed ears. A wolf can mean ferocity, hunger. Strength in numbers. Does this represent Primm, I wonder? What is she ferociously hungry for?”

  Gwin let her fingers wander where they would once more, hovering just an inch above the soil. “Should I be wary of Primm?” she asked again.

  A strong pull towards the left of the table overtook her. Gwin gasped at the cold force of it, her eyes flying open to see what her index finger was pointing at.

  “A bottle,” she surmised. “A bottle, half full with… With what, I cannot know. The bottle is not broken. That would indicate poor health. Therefore, an unbroken bottle could mean good health, but that has no relevance within the context of my question.” She let out an agitated sigh. “I do not think I am focused enough, Little Leaf. I usually see so much more than this in a cast. It’s as if someone is—”

  A loud knocking on the door startled them both. Gwin slammed her hovering hand back down on the table, obscuring the cast and creating a fine cloud of soil that made Little Leaf cough daintily.

  “Who is it?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

  “It’s just us,” Natalia called back from the other side of the door. She spoke as though they had been friends for years. “Let us in, I have mooncakes.”

  Gwin was not sure why the presence of mooncakes meant she should grant them access to her room, but she did as Natalia asked, making sure to sweep the soil from the table onto the floor. Little Leaf jumped to the ground and scurried beneath the bed.

  “What have you been doing in here?” Natalia said as soon as she entered. She stared pointedly at the earth scattered beneath the table. “Has the citadel no working brooms?”

  “My goodness, Gwin,” Primm echoed from the doorway. “I had no idea you were so untidy.”

  Gwin began forming a suitable lie but Primm continued for her. “No matter,” she said. “I know where the cleaning supplies are kept. I had to find them myself to clean my own room before I unpacked my things. There were cobwebs the size of fishing nets hanging from the corners. I had imagined they would make sure the lodgings were orderly before moving us into them. It was quite a shock to find that was not the case.”

  She disappeared before either Gwin or Natalia could answer, letting the door swing shut behind her. Gwin looked about the room, wondering what Primm’s idea of orderly was. Before she’d thrown soil across the floor, her quarters had been pristine and so bare her voice echoed against the cold stone walls.

  “Do they have mooncakes where you come from?” Natalia asked.

  She moved to place the pastries piled in her arms onto the table and Gwin quickly snatched up a large handkerchief, spreading it across the surface muddied by rain-damp soil before Natalia could put them down.

  “I must confess,” Gwin said, wishing the room had some chairs as she lowered herself onto the edge of her stiff bed, “I have never eaten a mooncake.”

  “What sort of cakes do they have in Wastewound?”

  “I’m not actually from Wastewound,” she replied, ready this time with a plausible back story. “I come from a village between Trappastina and Kaelunis.”

  “I envy you,” Natalia said. “I hear the weather is nice down that way. I like the sun but I was born here in Armoria. The Thet makes everything feel cold and damp.”

  Primm clattered back through the door with a long broom hoisted in her thin arms and began sweeping, making short work of gathering the dirt on the floor into a pile in one corner. She bent to clean beneath the bed, paying no mind to the women sitting on top of it who hurriedly swung their legs from the broom’s path.

  Gwin struggled not to register her dismay, knowing Little Leaf was hiding in the shadows beneath them. She gripped the edge of the mattress, hardly daring to breathe as her ears strained for any sounds of a small creature scurrying away. To her great relief, Primm soon moved on. Gwin let out a long breath before realising Natalia was watching her, and quickly coughed into a curled fist in an effort to mask it.