“Yes, I’m sure it was,” he said, his face shadowing. “Only…”

“Only it was a foolish risk,” she said, impatiently contrite. “Yes. I know. I won’t do it again.” She pulled a face. “At least I’ll try not to. But Remmie—”

His lips tugged into a wry smile. “It was make the clock your way, just once, or burst.”

She’d feel less guilty if he didn’t understand. If he blustered and railed at her she wouldn’t feel so selfish. If once, just once, he’d properly lose his temper with her, scold her for being high-handed and thoughtless, then she’d not have to feel so mean. But he never did. It just wasn’t Remmie.

As she frowned at him, vexed by his unnatural niceness, he shoved his chair back. “Any measure, what’s done is done and no harm done. This time. Now do set the table, would you? Supper’s ready.”

So she set the table and he filled two stoneware bowls with the rich mutton and barley he’d cooked. Fresh, cool cider and thickly buttered bread rounded out the meal. Halfway through his tale of the day’s classroom antics he interrupted himself, his expression comical.

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Word came from Elvado this morning. The Council of Mages has ratified four new incants, and there’s to be a public demonstration of them to mark the occasion. I’m asked to take my pupils to see it. Will you come?”

Belly griping, Barl bit her lip. Doubtless it was petty, the urge to refuse her brother because she resented those unknown mages whom the Council had decided to honour. But she felt what she felt. There was no point denying it.

“I can’t go if it’s a working day,” she said, poking her spoon through her stew, pretending interest in food so Remmie might not see what raged beneath her indifferent surface. “Arndel would never give me leave.”

“There’s no need to ask, for it’s not,” Remmie said, cheerful. Either she’d fooled him, for once, or he was choosing to ignore her rewoken ill temper. “The demonstration’s to be held next Winsun. In the plaza outside Elvado’s Hall of Knowledge, no less.”

The Hall, yes. Of course. That fabled place of breathtaking beauty, where Dorana’s vastly powerful Council of Mages laid down the rules of magework by which everyone else had to live.

Still, it could be worse. They could hold the ceremony at the College. I don’t think I could bear that.

“There’ll be a terrible crowd,” she said, hunting for a cloud to dim Remmie’s smile. “We’ll not see a thing.”

“Ah, but we will,” he said, unclouded. “On account of being with the children. The Council made sure to mention there’d be a special place reserved for all attending students and their teachers.”

Well, didn’t he just have an answer for everything?

“Elvado’s too far from here to ride in carriages. We’ll have to translocate.”

“You can chew on some runip berries before we leave. They’ll settle your stomach well enough.” Remmie pushed his emptied bowl away, the faintest hint of irritation shading his voice. “Or you could not come.”