Briar stretched himself above the grasses, searching for the beads wrapped around the mages’ throats and wrists. He could not tell if the general was also a mage, as General Hengkai had been. He could only sense the wooden beads. In his magical vision they hung in midair, shaping three necks and three pairs of arms. He gripped his power for just a moment, then flooded the beads with it.
The willow beads shattered, breaking the strands around the mages’ necks and arms. The oak beads sent roots shooting into the ground. The grasses told him that the horses had gone frantic at the sudden appearance of fast-growing trees. They reared and flailed at everything around them. The mages were thrown to the ground. At Briar’s command the grasses seized the mages, weaving around their throats. Strangling would teach them to kill little girls!
His rage fed strength to the grasses. They grew and tightened like rope.
That’s it! Briar told the grasses. Don’t give way for an instant!
Rosethorn was calling him. He refused to go. He wasn’t going to leave just when he was paying the Yanjingyi beasts back.
Then he got that bad feeling, the sense of fingers wrapped around his body’s real ear. The fingers twisted. Only one thing would make that pain stop. Slowly, so he wouldn’t frighten his grasses and oak trees, he retreated across the field and back into the body that hurt with Evvy’s loss.
He opened his eyes. Rosethorn released his ear after an extra hard flick with finger and thumb. “What if we’d had to escape?” Rosethorn demanded. “Do you know how many mages get trapped away from themselves?”
“You never said anything before,” he muttered, rubbing the sore ear. He wondered if the grasses had succeeded in killing those mages.
“It wasn’t a danger with you before.” Rosethorn sighed. “Revenge is as bad for the one practicing it as it is for those it’s practiced upon, Briar.”
He didn’t agree. She probably has to say such things because she’s a dedicate, he thought, gulping tea from the flask at his belt. But I ain’t no dedicate, and I’m going to get me a piece of the empire.
He looked to see what other damage he could do.
The enemy was fleeing, or rather, those who were in good condition had fled already. Those who remained swayed in the saddle or sported arrows in their own bodies or those of their mounts. Some were on foot, fighting back to back as they tried to hold off the Gyongxin warriors.
All across the ground between the road and the remainder of the Yanjingyi troops lay the fallen of both sides: horses, the wounded, and the dead. The Gyongxin healers were driving their wagons around the troops in the road and out onto the field.
Briar shook his head. “I won’t do it. They killed Evvy.”
“All of them?” Rosethorn asked.
“They killed other people here, too.”
“How many of them were given a choice about it?” she asked him. “You know the emperor. How many of them have families in Yanjing who would be punished if they refused to serve in the army? Besides —”
“I don’t want to hear besides.” He sounded like a kid even to himself.
“The more of them that have decent treatment here, the more of them will know that Weishu’s is not the only way. The more of them will realize that these people are not monsters.” Rosethorn dismounted and unbuckled her saddlebags. “You don’t have to come,” she said. “I’ll understand.” To the woman who had guarded her from the Yanjingyi mages’ spells she said, “Mila and the Green Man bless you, Servant Riverdancer.” The shaman pressed her hands palm to palm in front of her face and bowed. Rosethorn turned to her slinger and thanked him as well. He offered to take care of the horse. Rosethorn nodded, then proceeded out onto the battlefield.
Briar sighed. He could look after the Gyongxin wounded. That wouldn’t make him feel as if he betrayed Evvy’s ghost.
“Do you know what wagon has my mage kit?” Briar asked Jimut.
“The part with your medicines?” the older man inquired. He patted the bags behind the saddle of his own horse. “Right here.” He handed them down to Briar, who took them and went in search of the small army’s healers.
The soldiers raised big infirmary tents where the healers could work, then fetched empty barrels and filled them with water. Those who did not bring the wounded into the tents gave the injured horses a merciful death. They then dragged the animals’ bodies to the side of the battlefield opposite that where they laid out the human dead. Cooks set up outdoor kitchens for soup and tea for everyone as the rest of the camp was built around the healers’ tents.
Briar, Rosethorn, Riverdancer, and the rest of the healers labored well past midnight in the chaos that filled the tents. The screams of the wounded were enough to make Briar want to scream himself. To make sure that he didn’t, he bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, then found a piece of rolled bandage to chew on. There weren’t enough medicines to ensure that everyone could have their pain eased. The healers were forced to keep such potions for the unfortunates who had to have a leg or an arm cut off, or a weapon pulled from their bodies. Mage after mage was sent from the tents, worn to exhaustion, while more wounded were brought in or came to consciousness.
Jimut and a number of other people Briar recognized from the road worked in the tents together with the mages and healers, helping to hold patients for stitching or surgery, wrapping bandages, carrying water, and sitting with the dying. Briar even saw their commanders throughout the night. They came to talk to their people and even to fetch water or soup when everyone else was busy.
At last Riverdancer ordered both him and Rosethorn to bed, reminding them through a translator that they had used their power in combat as well as in healing. They needed rest. Their medicines could continue to work without their presence, she informed them tartly, and there was less risk of a medicine collapsing onto a patient.
In his bedroll, Briar was staring at the roof of the tent, listening to Rosethorn’s sleep-breath, when he realized that he hadn’t seen any wounded Yanjingyi soldiers. The other healers must have steered him away from them.
Just as well, he thought. That way I don’t have to make any hard choices.
He felt around until he found Evvy’s stone alphabet by his packs. With his hand resting on it, he slept.
UNDER AND ON THE GNAM RUNGA PLAIN
BETWEEN THE TEMPLE OF THE TIGERS
AND THE TOWN OF MELONAM
Under Gnam Runga, Evvy lost track of time. It was hard to remember days without sunlight. Her companions did not help: One counted time in thousand-year chunks and the other didn’t talk. Except for brief stints running and necessity halts, Evvy stayed on Big Milk, even to sleep.
Luvo told her about the coming of the Realms of the Sun and how that slab of land had shoved the edge of what would be Gyongxe higher and higher to form the Drimbakangs, youngest of all the world’s mountains. She told him about Briar, Rosethorn, and the things they had seen as they had traveled east. That seemed to require many more explanations than Luvo’s stories. He found humans mystifying, particularly the human need to take things from other humans, and to put an end to other humans’ lives without the need to eat them. He was also curious about what Evvy had learned to do with stones. She managed to collect a few new stones from the walls and floor of the tunnel, teaching some to produce light or warmth if they had the capability for either.
The tunnel had plenty of strange pictures on the earthen walls, pictures given odd movement by the green fungus that was the sole source of light. Evvy examined the pictures every chance she got at first. She was eyeing one that seemed to be a spindle-legged horse with a bird’s head when she turned to find a creature just like it staring at her.
She screamed. So did the creature. It clattered into the dark on impossibly thin legs, followed by three others that would have been colts if it had been a horse. Big Milk, who was eating one of the heaps of grass that someone had left at intervals, looked at Evvy with a reproachful eye.
“Evumeimei, you must not sc
ream at the deep runners because they are not what you are used to,” Luvo told her mildly. “This is their country after all.”
“Their country?” cried Evvy, clambering onto Big Milk’s back, where Luvo already waited. “It’s a tunnel underground!”
“Underground is where they and their kindred live, unless danger brings them to the surface.”
“The God-King and Dokyi never said anything about horse-birds!”
“Forgive me, Evumeimei, but from what you have told me about your friends, it seems to me they did not tell you the greatest part of the secrets of Gyongxe.”
Evvy sat cross-legged on Big Milk’s broad, solid back and propped her chin on her hands. “No, I suppose not. Please don’t feel insulted, Luvo, but even though you have the most splendid mountains I have ever seen, I will be glad when I leave here. Gyongxe is too strange for me.”
“Would you not become accustomed to things?”
Evvy started on a little braid in Big Milk’s fur. She had made quite a few of them so far out of the yak’s hair and brightly colored threads from her clothes. Luvo had said the giant yak did not mind. Evvy found it was good to focus on braiding in the green-lit gloom of the vast tunnel during those bad times when she might otherwise dwell on the smiling Jia Jui as she raised the rod over Evvy’s feet.
“No, Luvo,” Evvy said. She couldn’t tell him the cold winds would always remind her of the piled dead, or that the jeweled night sky would show her the picture of her cats’ limp bodies. “I’m sorry.” Something scampered by overhead. She bent close to Big Milk’s fur so she wouldn’t see what it was.
The army remained in camp for a day, to give the wounded a chance to rest. After a heated conference and some back-and-forthing of messengers, two companies of warriors took the Yanjingyi prisoners and wounded back to the village they had passed the day before. They could not spare soldiers to guard captives as well as their own wounded on the road. The companies returned well before sunset.
Briar heard all of this from his friends among the twins’ and Lango’s companies. He did not wake until twilight. When he joined them at their cook fire, they hooted at him.
“I overreached, that’s all,” he growled. “I got a little tired.”
“You had best make a decision,” Parahan said, handing him a full bowl.
Briar accepted the bowl and blinked at the big man. “Decision?”
“Fight or heal once the serious battles start. You can’t do both without half killing yourself. Most mages don’t even try,” Parahan said.
Briar frowned. He had always thought mages chose to be healers or war mages because they hadn’t the talent to do both. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might simply be conserving their strength. “But me and Rosethorn fought and then did healing on our way east, when bandits attacked our caravans,” he said. “And Rosethorn fought the pirates back home and then did healing after.”
“I used my medicines when we fought pirates,” Rosethorn corrected him. “I cleaned wounds and bandaged them. I didn’t put added strength into my medicines, not when I might need it for the thorns on the beach. Parahan’s right. We won’t be able to do much healing and fighting at the same time, not once we face real armies. We didn’t do anything like that on the way here.”
“Do you have to choose?” Briar asked.
“Of course,” she replied. “Moreover, I’m sure General Sayrugo will prefer we use our abilities as battle mages. This army is short of them.”
“Not that you’re exactly battle mages,” Souda remarked.
Rosethorn chuckled. “We aren’t what the generals order when they call for battle mages at all. We can’t throw fire, we can’t make things explode, and we can’t send a hundred catapult stones flying through the air at once.”
“Hey!” Briar said, offended. “We can do better things than that!”
“Oh, he’s a man, all right,” Souda said, rolling her eyes. Riverdancer laughed once her translator relayed what the princess had said.
“We can,” Briar argued, grinning. “We can put acres of thorn vines down among the enemy in a flash. We can ask the grasses to tangle the soldiers’ feet and the feet of the horses. We can make their wood useless to them. You’ll see!”
“They will see,” Rosethorn agreed. “And I have a few other ideas. Most of the temple mages and shamans are healers, and they can use our medicines. We’ll help in the tents when we can, but when it comes time for armies, we are battle mages.” She got to her feet and wandered off into the darkness.
Briar returned to their tent to make sure his armor was in order and he had plenty of seed balls ready for the next day, then went over Rosethorn’s things as well. When he began to yawn, he went to use the privy for the last time.
On his way back to bed, Briar saw Rosethorn and Parahan talking in the shadows near one of the supply tents. They stood close together — very close. He squinted, trying to get a better look without going over to them. Something in their postures said they would not welcome an interruption. Then Parahan rested a hand on Rosethorn’s hip.
Briar turned away and briskly walked to his tent. He knew that Rosethorn sometimes slept with people other than Lark. He knew that Lark knew that Rosethorn sometimes slept with other people than her. Rosethorn had done so twice since they had left Winding Circle. Briar simply was never certain how he felt about it. This was the first time he actually knew one of those someones before anything happened.
Why am I surprised? he wondered as he pulled off his boots. They’ve been circling around each other since we met up near the border. And it’s Parahan. If I was damohi, I’d give Parahan the eye myself.
Am I worried she’ll decide to stay here? Because she won’t. She doesn’t love the plants here like the ones back home; she hates the emperor; Gyongxe doesn’t have near enough trees, and I don’t think she’d ever let go of Lark.
He was still trying to decide what his feelings were when he fell asleep.
By the time she left Parahan’s tent at dawn, Rosethorn felt more normal than she had in some time. Evvy’s loss remained an ache deep in her heart, but overall Rosethorn felt as if her body was her own once more, not a puppet that moved at the directions of the Treasures and the priests of the Sealed Eye. For the first time, with Parahan, she had not heard the faint whispers that had been in her mind since she took charge of the Treasures.
He’d been every bit the lover she had hoped, too, humorous and caring, attentive without smothering her. His queen, whoever he chose one day, would be a lucky woman. She sent a prayer up to Mila of the Fields and Grain that he would find someone who could appreciate him.
They had deliberately not spoken of the war all night. Now Rosethorn’s awareness of it returned as she greeted her friends in the camp. Everyone was up and preparing to move, packing the tents and loading supply animals and wagons. Briar must have gone to breakfast, she decided when she walked into their tent. His gear was ready. Only his armor and her own lay out. Her things, of course, had not been touched since she had put them in the tent last night.
She could hear the creaks and groans of thawing ice and snow in the mountains as the thin sunlight warmed everything. Somewhere closer a horse grumbled deep in his chest. She frowned. It seemed too far away to be one of their own horses. Had they sent out scouts, or were these enemy spies? She cursed the day she’d touched the Treasures. The lingering effects made her life so confusing. Namka of the Sealed Eye said they would wear off in time. The problem was that his idea of time seemed to be very relaxed by her standards.
She was struggling with her armor when Briar returned from breakfast. Seeing his knowing smirk and realizing he knew where she’d spent her night, she cocked an eyebrow, daring him to give her sauce about it. Only once had he questioned her right to choose sleeping partners as she wished. They’d had a nice talk about choices being between someone and that someone’s lover, and there had been no more discussion. She had only had to lightly slap the back of his head for foolishness o
nce.
Apparently Briar remembered their talk, because all he said was, “Did you have breakfast?”
“Spicy eggs and rice with that puffy white flatbread,” she said. “I think my eyes are still watering from the chilies.” She shook her head. Her mouth was still burning a little. “It wakes me up better than tea, though. You could have joined us. Parahan and Souda asked where you were.”
Briar shrugged. “We had mushroom pancakes over at Riverdancer’s fire — very nice.” He saw her struggle with the side lacings of her cuirass. “Here, I’ll manage that, and you tie mine.” She lifted her arms so he could see better. As he tightened the woven silk cords he inhaled and murmured, “I smell sandalwood.”
She slapped his head lightly. “I smell impudence.”
Once she had tied Briar’s armor for him, she gave him one of the cloth bags she had prepared while he slept like a statue the day before. “I was able to bring some of our thorn plants to full seeding growth to stock us up again. I wasn’t exhausted as you were. Of course, I didn’t send my magical self halfway to Yanjing and try to fight a battle that way.”
“Complain, complain, complain,” Briar muttered as he tucked the bag into the sling he hung over his chest. She knew he had spare rocks and squares of cloth in it, as she did in hers. They could create more thorn balls in the saddle if all remained quiet this morning.
“No, caution, caution, caution,” she retorted. It was an old argument between them. “We aren’t invulnerable, and you won’t avenge Evvy if you’re dead as well.” She turned away. “I don’t want to tell Lark I lost you.” The absence of Evvy throbbed like the loss of a tooth. The loss of Briar would be so much worse. If anything happened to him that she could have prevented, she didn’t know how she would live with it. Jimut poked his head into the tent. “If the honored prebus will come out, I will pack you up,” he said cheerfully. “Their Highnesses want to ride soon, and we’re at the front today.”