The taste of copper is heavy on her tongue, and its scent floods her mind. It rings as though it's being pounded into exquisite shape.

"Daja!"

Sandry's hand is suddenly on her shoulder.

Daja blinks. "Don't you hear that?"

Sandry's brows pull together into a frown. "Hear what?"

Daja looks around, searching for support, but Tris merely reclines further into the thatched roof, dreamy and distant. Thief-boy, on the other hand, does pay attention; he gives her a look that suggests, plainly, that she's insane.

None of them heard it.

Oh.

Right.

She remembers now. She has magic. Maybe she only learnt about it a few days ago, but she does have magic. And now, yes, Daja recognizes the call for what it is; Mother had once nearly had hysterics, when she almost fell off the ship for no apparent reason, because they hadn't known the siren call of the beautifully worked steel that had fallen overboard.

"You nearly walked off the roof," Briar says.

Daja believes that.