She gives him a small relieved smile, flips her spellbook to the right page and slides it over into the light for him to copy from.  "For your question... Abadar teaches that the true price of something is solely what someone will knowingly pay for it."  There's a rote quality of recited catechism to it even through her accent, not the enthusiasm of a zealot spotting a potential convert. 

"Were I desperate enough and without other prospects, I should have traded you my second circle for your first, and not accounted myself cheated thereby."  Her smile twists a bit.  "Or, a truly proper Abadaran wouldn't begrudge you it.  I am a fallible mortal and make no promises."

He pages to Rope Trick and turns his spellbook around for her to see. "The commander loves Abadarans, I think his best friend's the insurance adjuster who comes round once a year, but I don't really get it."

She rummages in her satchel for charcoal and another leaf of scrap paper, and starts sketching.  "I could quote you scripture if you wish, my father was very devout, but- I suppose people find it more meaningful when they can see Abadar's hand at work improving their circumstances.  I've been fortunate compared to some, but... gains from trade have not been an unmixed blessing.  If I had to pick only One I would incline more towards Nethys."

"That's how I've been leaning too these days, though He's not tapped me with anything useful for it yet."

"That's part of what I like about Him, really, He doesn't- make bargains with you, or the church doesn't imply bargains?  He's just- there, it doesn't matter to Him how you live your life."

"That's appealing?"

Eyeroll.  "To one who was raised to be a very proper Abadaran and- didn't?  Very appealing."  She seems about to ask something, then thinks better of it.  Sketch sketch.  "...this here, this is the planar interface?"

"That part and also this part, I don't keep it all together."

"Ohhh...."  She frowns at the page, tilts her head, sets down the charcoal to move her hands through the air over it, 'visualizing' how a spell would come together on that scaffold.  "Oh, I see now- and then when you hang it-" and she can happily chatter away with shop talk which this margin is too underspecified to contain until both their spells are copied, someone interrupts them, or Grec changes the subject back to something that isn't magical theory.

Why would he do that.

It's truly an inexplicable desire but her party never wants to hear about topology, she's very glad to have found someone more sensible. 

Other fort wizards drift over eventually to see if they can get in on this. Some of them are women.

Khalida has, actually, met other female wizards before: her first teacher was a laundry-wizard's widow, carrying on the trade for those families both wealthy enough to pay extra for a woman to come do the small household magics and insecure enough for the conspicuously strict seclusion to be worth it in expectation.  There's two she's seen visit the little branch temple of Nethys nearest their usual tavern, although they won't speak to her.  It's not the kind of neighborhood that gets foreign adventuring parties but she met a Galtan refugee couple once, both of them wizards, stretching their coin with the cheapest available lodgings before making their way upriver.  And of course everyone has heard of Nefreti Clepati, who's an exception to everything.

She has never, on the other hand, seen this many in the same place at once.

She can continue talking magical theory with the larger group at first, with scarcely a pause, and if any of them want to trade spells she can write out a list of the ones she's willing to swap, carefully organized by circle so she doesn't embarrass herself again.  But soon the group gets bigger and multiple people are talking at the same time and the women wizards (!!!) are prettier than her and she forgets to pay attention to her vowels and her accent goes from thick to incomprehensible and she doesn't realize until someone is staring at her and they probably all think she's a weird stupid hick-

Every word of Taldane flees her head in an instant.

Khalida covers her mouth with a hand, then both hands, and suddenly (and for the first time in years) wishes she had a veil to hide behind. 

(She's pathetically easy to read.)

"What," says the woman wizard who's staring at her, "all I asked was if you wanted Shield Companion? It doesn't look like you've got a familiar but some of them hide."

Headshake.  Still with both hands over her mouth, still looking like a started rabbit.

"No-  no familiar."

"Dangit, that's my only weird one."

"I apologize."

Deep breath, then another.  Put the sentence together before starting it, one word at a time.

"I think, I perhaps am not still recovered fully from, our journey."  

(No, godsalldammit that's the wrong order, fucking Taldane adverbs-)

"Well, get out of her way," says Grec, when this fails to immediately clear a path for her.

"Thank you.  I hope we may speak again tomorrow?"  The textbook phrases fall together easily enough; she gives a grateful smile to Grec and a smaller apologetic one to the cool older prettier wizard she maybe just offended, collects her notes and her spellbook and flees.

The little party doesn't emerge again until dinnertime, now all in suitable loaner coats (Khalid's is a little big on her, but she's turned the sleeves up).  They stick together as they collect their bowls of stew and find a table; Khalid is still a bit subdued, and Tariq slings an arm around her shoulders and glares indiscriminately in a manner more possessive than protective.  Omar is watchful but not visibly worried, letting Noor sit on the table and again making sure she gets her fill of meat before he eats any.

The commander arrives and does his channel for the frostbitten and training-accidented and generally weary people who flock around him and then drifts past their table. "How are you finding your stay so far?"

"Good!"  Tariq booms.  "Is very good, not dead snow.  We thank you food."

"And we appreciate the Endures. Do you have an updated estimate of how long you will be staying?"

Tariq raises an eyebrow at Omar, who confirms something, and there ensues a spirited not-quite argument in Osiriani, from which fact it can be inferred that no, they do not.

"Well, you're welcome as long as you require the hospitality of the fort and as long as I don't need to further cut personnel."