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And she knew Lark. If Lark said they were not finished with each other, that Sandry was as good as her own blood, then perhaps Sandry could afford to be generous.
"Let him have my room," she heard herself tell Lark. "That way he doesn't have to run so far to hide."
Lark rested a hand on Sandry's shoulder. "You needn't do that. You know Daja sleeps mostly at the forge when she's here at Winding Circle."
Sandry nodded. "My rooms got better light for a weaver," she replied quietly. "And it's nice, being next to your workshop. I used to listen to you weave, late at night. I bet Comas would like that, too."
"Then why don't you go and tell him yourself?" asked Lark. "He knows you are my student—you can reassure him that you aren't jealous."
Sandry got to her feet. "I have an idea," she said. "My student is too outgoing, and yours isn't outgoing enough. We'll mash them together and teach them as one boy. Then we'll mix them up a little and make two new boys who are almost perfect. Teachers will come from everywhere to guess our secret."
"Mila, don't let Comas hear you," said Lark, her eyes dancing. "He might think we could actually do it."
Sandry gri
I must keep in mind to watch for other mage kids. And I'll write Tris, and Briar, and Daja, and tell them. We were lucky. It's time we spread our luck to others, I think.