The Magic Engineer
is…was…my neighbor.” Dorrin forces achuckle. “Right now, she thinks it’s my fault she’s here.”
    “Oh?” Jyll steps toward the serving table.
    Dorrin follows, his voice low. “I wanted to learn how to be a smith, like her father, but I messed up some of his iron by turning it into black steel. So he got to know my father better. When Hegl had trouble with her, he asked my father what to do.”
    “All right.” The dark-haired girl grins. “I just thought I’d ask. Do you like her?”
    Dorrin blushes again, caught off-guard by the question.
    “Never mind. I think you answered the question.”
    Dorrin follows Jyll’s example and picks up one of the heavy gray plates. From the serving platters, he takes two slices of heavy dark bread, some white cheese, a mostly ripe pearapple, and a large helping of a stew that probably has too much pepper in it. He passes by the platter of mixed greens, and pours himself a glass of redberry.
    Jyll, on the other hand, takes only the smallest helping of stew and piles on the greens, sprinkling them with an apple vinegar. She sits at one of the two empty tables, and Dorrin, after glancing at Lortren’s table, where the gangly youth is leaning toward Kadara, sits beside Jyll.
    He takes a sip of the redberry, warmer than he prefers. “If it’s not intruding…what’s your family like?”
    She finishes crunching a mixture of celery and sliced fennel before answering. “My father is a trader in wools. My mother was a singer from Suthya. I don’t have any brothers or sisters, yet.”
    Dorrin frowns. The words imply that her mother is dead, and that her father has another wife who may yet have children. “I take it that was a little difficult.”
    “It was fun growing up, even if I only had a nurse. Father took me on his trips to Freetown. I had my own horses, and he even let me learn blades from one of the retired Guards. What about you?”
    “My life was much less adventuresome. My father is an air wizard, and my mother is a healer. I’ve never been much farther from home than here, at least in person.” Dorrin takes a spoonful of the hot stew, followed by a mouthful of the black bread.
    “In person?”
    “…mmmhhh…” He waves a hand and swallows. “Whenyou follow the winds, you send your mind out. Not that I’m very good at it. That’s the problem. Father wants me to work at being an air wizard, when I’m probably a better healer or a smith than an air wizard.” Dorrin sees Kadara’s eyes flicker from him to Jyll. The redhead’s face is impassive. Why should Kadara should be upset? She was the one who marched off and left him.
    “Do you mind if we join you?” asks a petite strawberry-blond girl with pale green eyes. With her stand two others, plates in hand—a brown-haired youth as tall as Brede and a slender black-haired girl taller than Kadara.
    “No…please do…” offers Dorrin.
    “We should get to know each other. I’m Jyll.”
    “Dorrin.”
    “I’m Alys,” responds the strawberry blond.
    “Shendr,” adds the brown-haired big youth.
    “Lisabet.” The tall girl looks away from Dorrin’s direct appraisal and sets down her plate with a clunk .
    “This isn’t much better than peasant fare.” Alys slides her chair up to the table.
    “But there’s plenty,” mumbles Shendr with a full mouth.
    Lisabet eats slowly from a plate filled, like Jyll’s, mainly with greens, cheese, and fruits. Her big hazel-green eyes seem unfocused.
    Dorrin looks away from the tall girl and takes another spoonful of stew.
    “…really can’t belief that they can get away with this…You think a thought of your own, and they want to throw you off the island…” Alys continues talking to Shendr as Shendr continues shoveling in his meal.
    Dorrin munches on the not-quite-ripe pearapple.
    “You never finished telling why your father sent you here,” prompts Jyll.
    “I guess because he feels that all machines are linked to chaos. I think that you can blend
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