Pasco demanded, eyes alight. It was the next morning, at Yazmin’s school. “By dancing? “That’s the idea,” Sandry told him. Pasco jumped up gleefully. “That will show them!” he cried. “Tippy-feet indeed!” Sandry looked at her hands and smiled. She had thought Pasco might see it that way. “We’re not sure we can do it,” she warned. “I still have to make the net.” “But you will, and IÂ’ll dance it, and we’ll have rats in it. A nice day’s fishing for a Toren and an Acalon, don’t you think?” Sandry grinned at him. “I do think.” Pasco carefully lowered himself into a split, wincing as he completed it. “We can do it,” he told her, his face serious. “You can do anything.” “We’ll see,” she replied. “It may come to nothing if I can’t work that stuff into a proper net. Now settle down. Let’s try meditation.” He did a little better today. Sandry could see his magic did not stray so far from him. It also didn’t flicker as much as it had, which told her that his attention wandered less.
