that when he found me hunting for the sea's floor. The hearts of mountains apparently never get tired of telling the same jokes.
They also never get tired of hearing the same answers, so I told him what I often did, "There's always a first time."
I think the reason Luvo came out of his mountain to meet me, and the reason he's stayed with me ever since, is because I make him laugh. Though I don't actually hear him laugh, I know he does.
"The sailors have told Dedicate Rosethorn that we should see the island of dying trees tomorrow, if not today," Luvo said. "You will be able to sense the ocean floor soon, I promise you."
"I know," I replied. "You never lost touch with it. I'm sorry I'm not centuries and centuries old. I'm sorry I'm not even a great mage. I bet you Rosethorn knows each and every plant below us, however many fathoms deep they are right now. But I've only been at this mage business four years. I have some catching up to do—"
The hairs on my arms stirred, then stood up. My belly rolled, like that first cramp that warns you the sausage was bad. My magic flexed. Far under the sea I felt power move. The Pebbled Sea had earth tremors and earthquakes, plenty of them, but this one was different. It was thick and heavy, like molten stone. My body filled with a deep, bone-tugging hum. It swamped my teeth and made them itch.
I began to slide off the rail. I swung, twisted, and grabbed. I clung tight to the rail with both hands and one leg. My hold was strong—I was used to climbing mountains. I waited for the world to settle, especially my magic. Right then it was still bouncing up and down, making my bones rumble.
"Did you feel that?" I called to Luvo. I thought I might pop out of my skin, I was so excited. "What was it? Is it going to happen again?"
"It is a waking tremor." I heard Luvo's voice as clearly as if he hung beside me. "It may well happen again. You should climb back on board, Evumeimei."
"Evvy! There, you see? I warn and warn you, and now it's happened. You never listen."
That was Dedicate Fusspot calling out from the deck. His real name was Myrrhtide. I called him Fusspot, for good reasons.
"You went over the rail. You nearly dropped straight into the ocean just now. How many times have I said dangling like a monkey is a good way to drown. You never know when a swell like that one will overtake us!" Myrrhtide was coming closer to me from the sound of his voice. I dragged myself back on deck and faced him. Myrrhtide annoyed me. He wasn't old. He wasn't in his forties, like Rosethorn—more like his early thirties. Yet he always moaned about his gray hairs. I couldn't even see any among his red ones. He just carried mine. Hers was nice and small. Her lips were even a natural reddish color. Mine were just wide. My skin is Yanjing gold brown, so I don't have to worry about the sun as much as she does, but if I ever get interested in romance, I'll have to pay attention to my looks.
"You could try harder to get along with him," Rosethorn told me. "You're a stone mage. You could borrow patience from your rocks."
"I'm no butter of his," I grumbled. "He doesn't have to try and churn me all the time. Don't worry about Myrrhtide and me, Rosethorn."
"I'm not worried. I just don't want him carrying bad reports of you to Winding Circle."
I didn't like that thought, so I changed the subject. I looked at Luvo, who sat on the deck between Rosethorn and me. "Does the earth do waking tremors often?" I asked him. "It's not like ordinary earthquakes, where two slabs of rock are slipping together. This is more like—"
"Molten rock. Magma," said Luvo. "It is moving. I have sensed such tremors for several days, but not of this strength. Prepare yourselves. Another comes."
I put my feet on the deck and gripped the rail. Luvo hardly ever gives orders. Far below the ship, stone power rose to meet the outermost feelers of my magic. It felt so strange, pressing like hot, solid water on me. I gasped. The wave passed on, but the sense of stone didn't die, not completely. I felt touches of mica at the fringes of my