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“Dawsyn! I’m nude!”

“I see that,” Dawsyn says, pacing further into Baltisse’s home without further preamble. She lets her eyes sweep over Esra’s body under the water. “You look improved.”

Much to Dawsyn’s surprise, Esra blushes. “Eyes on mine, woman. This isn’t a show.”

Dawsyn frowns. “You can’t honestly claim to be modest now, Es.”

“I’m not looking my best,” he says coyly. “And Baltisse treats me like a child.”

“An impertinent one,” the mage agrees, running a sponge gingerly over Esra’s back. The scars on his body are prominent, but with Baltisse’s healing, there are no longer patches of red and raw flesh marring his skin. The wounds are blistered over, new skin is forming quickly. Half of his face is mottled with fresh scarring and one eye remains shut, but the other is just as sharp as ever, glinting brightly. “It’s all very demeaning,” he says, lips turned down.

Baltisse tsks. “I swear, if I could be sure I’d never hear your whining again I’d lay down and die,” she snaps. “But I fear your thoughts would follow me to the afterlife. Now, hold still.”

“Allow me to relieve you both,” Dawsyn says. “I need your help, Baltisse.”

The mage eyes her warily, but continues her ministrations. “Yes, you said. And what exactly do you intend to do with your magic? I assume a grand plan has dawned on you.”

Dawsyn looks at her head on. It is not a grand plan, but it’s not nothing. It isn’t wandering uselessly in the woods willing a grand plan to fall from the sky. “I want you to teach me to fold.”

Baltisse finally stills, the sponge in her hand dripping over Esra’s shoulder. Her irises swirl, and though her tone is grave, Dawsyn senses something like excitement exuding from her. “Folding is for mages,” she says.

“So is healing,” Dawsyn counters, looking over to Esra. “But I managed that.”

“I do not know if you have the capability,” Baltisse adds.

“But you think I might,” Dawsyn nods. “And if I can, then it will be another way to transport people off the Ledge.”

“So youdohave a plan?”

“Not… entirely,” Dawsyn says. “But I will.”

Baltisse grins, then looks back to Esra. “Will you need my help getting dressed?”

“Leave me here, girls. And do me a favour? Leave the door open as you leave. Maybe convince that handsome Ledge boy to walk by.”

“Hector?” Dawsyn asks.

“He has eyes like the ocean, does he not?”

Dawsyn grins. She is, and not for the first time, immensely grateful that he lived. “Perhaps he could help you dress?”

“A fine idea.”

“Don’t humour him,” Baltisse says, walking by her. “Come with me.”

Baltisse takes her to a clearing. The sun shines unimpeded to the earth and Dawsyn feels her face heat almost instantly as they step into its glare.

“Must we do this in the sun?”

“You’ll grow used to its bite,” Baltisse says. “It is not as sharp as yours.”

Baltisse rounds on her when they reach the clearing’s centre and gestures for Dawsyn to hold out her hands. The mage takes Dawsyn’s palms into her own, examining them closely. “Does the iskra continue to seep out?”

“When I’m… bothered.”

“And when you’re not?”

Dawsyn deliberates for a moment. “It is dormant. I feel it hiding away, as though it… cowers.”