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Briar grinned and passed the cart. Every step he took away from Kushi and their last ties to the caravan and the palace made his heart lighter. The Traders had been decent — they always were — and the people traveling with the caravan were pleasant enough to talk to, but it was hard to keep an eye on Rosethorn and Evvy among so many people. Here, too, it would be difficult, but soldiers would not be palace troops, fearing for their lives when the emperor learned that Parahan had escaped. Soldiers here would be bored and uninterested.
He soon caught up to Rosethorn and Evvy. They ate in the saddle while keeping a sharp eye on the pack animals. None of them had much to say. The cart with the sleeping beggar passed them by, but they passed him before too long. He was afoot again. The cart had turned down a smaller road away from the main one. The beggar, it seemed, wanted to go south, but not the farmer who had given him a ride.
More and more of those on the main road turned off it as the day drew to its close. Still, there were plenty of travelers remaining to enter the caravansary near sunset. Here, Rosethorn’s group was not far from the banks of the Grinding Fist River and the high bridge they would be crossing in the morning. The sound of the river’s thunder as it descended from the Drimbakang Sharlog was intimidating, though Briar would have bitten his own tongue rather than admit it.
Briar and Rosethorn told those few fellow travelers who had taken an interest that they could not afford the prices of a caravansary, and they set their small camp up not far from the gates. Briar wasn’t worried about bandits or wild animals here. Other travelers couldn’t afford the caravansary or chose to save money, so the camp outside the walls was a good-sized one. The guards atop the caravansary walls could see them and come to their rescue if there was trouble.
Rosethorn sent Evvy to a nearby stream to fill their teapot and soup pot. The girl returned to tell Briar, “You know that beggar fellow? He’s soaking his feet in the stream. He stinks. I got the water upstream from him.”
Briar and Rosethorn looked at each other. “You could put him downwind,” Briar suggested.
“Go get him,” she growled. “And keep him away from our chickens.”
“Oh, no, no, young fellow, thank you, no,” the beggar said when Briar made his offer. “I won’t bother anyone here.”
“You won’t bother us. It won’t be easy to see in the dark, and you’re off on your own. We’re making soup.” Briar used the voice he called his “best wheedle.” He could get things out of Rosethorn with that voice. “My mother can do very good things with soup. There will be ham in it.”
The beggar, it seemed, was made of sterner stuff. “I know what I smell like.” His lisping, slightly husky voice was gentle in the growing shadows. “I will be fine. Kanzan shower blessings on you and those kind women you travel with.”
Briar returned to Rosethorn, shaking his head.
The night passed quietly. When they woke, Briar returned to the stream for the morning’s tea water. The beggar was gone. A bowl that looked just like one of their own sat under his tree, freshly cleaned. Briar carried it back with the pot full of water.
“I took him a little soup after you went to bed,” Rosethorn said. “That’s all.”
Guards in imperial colors left the caravansary with the rest of the travelers that morning. Those who had camped outside were already lined up at the bridge, waiting for them to unlock the tall gates. Briar, Rosethorn, and Evvy were near the end of that line with a pushy merchant behind them. They waited as the guards looked through many wagons before they finally unlocked the gates and people began to stream through.
“What were you looking for?” Briar asked one guard as he was about to ride onto the bridge.
“Escaped prisoner,” the man said, and yawned. “As if he’d come this way.”
“Gods pity him when the imperial torturers get him,” the merchant in front of Rosethorn said bitterly.
Everyone murmured agreement. Then they rode onto the bridge, where the thunder of the river below drowned out the sound of their crossing.
THE GORGE OF THE SNOW SERPENT RIVER
Company continued to thin as people scattered to other roads. The land now was steep and hilly, with terrace farms on the slopes. Beyond them were mountains. By the map, Briar saw they were in a kind of funnel that would take them into the Snow Serpent Pass. Evvy would have no cause to complain after that. They would be traveling down a gorge through the Drimbakang Lho, the highest mountains in the world.
Briar kept a keen eye on the people around them, knowing that Evvy was too busy looking at the stones beside the road. The others were commoners by and large: an occasional priest on donkey-back, merchants on mules or horses followed by servants, peddlers, farmers, and the occasional beggar. Two days after they had crossed the bridge, Briar saw the man he had come to think of as their beggar again. They overtook him around mid-morning, when a large wedding party left the road to cross the river. The beggar was seated by the road, digging a stone out of the wrappings on his feet. Successful, he rose and hobbled off, leaning on his tall staff.
“He moves fast for someone with a bad back,” Rosethorn murmured.
“Maybe he’s used to it,” Briar suggested.
Suddenly she stiffened. “Look at his neck.”
The rags the beggar wore for scarves had come undone. The morning’s stiff breeze blew them onto the hillside. He was struggling to climb after them when Evvy galloped uphill to grab the flyaway rags. She had learned some riding tricks in their two years of travel, and she loved to show off.
Like Rosethorn, Briar was staring. The beggar’s neck was as dirty as the rest of him. What his dirt could not cover was the shackle gall around his throat, the kind of scar that would come from years of wearing a metal collar.
As Evvy rode over to the beggar with his neck scarves, Rosethorn murmured, “Without the pack he carries …”
Briar replied, “Could the long hair be a wig? It’s a good one.”
“The rags on his feet and hands could be as much to cover scars from his chains as to keep him warm,” Rosethorn added. “But the blind eye?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Briar told her. “This beggar we knew, back when I was with the Thief Lord, he would take the white lining of eggshells. He’d cut pieces of it to the right size, then punch a hole in them with a pin to see out of. It made me go all over goose bumps to watch him put them in his eyes, but he made money. It’s the beggars that have something wrong with them that get the coin.”
“Let’s invite this one to supper,” Rosethorn suggested.
“Let’s. I’d like to know what he’s doing out here.”
Briar kept an eye on the beggar all that day as they progressed along the road. There were no inspections. It seemed that those who were hunting for the emperor’s missing captive did not think he would be heading west.
Yet again they camped outside a caravansary. The beggar was the only other person there to use the well and fire pits set up in the shelter of the wall. Briar started supper and Evvy saw to the animals while Rosethorn went in search of him. By the time Briar had a thick, hearty soup bubbling over the fire, Rosethorn returned triumphant, the beggar in her wake.
Briar looked at them. “What, you aren’t towing him by the ear?”
Evvy frowned. “Howcome you always do that to us and not to him?”
Parahan gave Briar and Evvy a sheepish look and a wave. His big satchel had lost its cover of rags and revealed itself as a couple of packs. These he put by the fire, as well as his staff, before he went to the well with an empty bucket. Once he filled it, he began to wash. The wig came off; the eye coverings came out. Rosethorn sent Evvy over with a cloth and a jar of soap. By the time Parahan joined them, all that remained of the beggar was his robes. He sat downwind of them to correct for the scent of his clothing.
“I don’t understand,” Evvy complained, once they had eaten enough hot food to be pleasant to one another. “Why are you going the same way we are?”
“It?
?s simple enough,” Parahan told them. “A man has to eat. I haven’t a copper to my name, and if I try to go home, I doubt that I’ll get there. I imagine my uncle has his spies out looking for me by now, or he will soon. Weishu will pay him to get me back this time, to show the Yanjingyi nobles that no one can thwart the emperor and get away with it.”
Evvy shuddered. “If it looks like the emperor will get you, kill yourself first.”
Parahan nodded. “I have seen what he’s done to others. Trust me, if I know I cannot escape, I will not let myself fall into Weishu’s hands a second time.”
“And the eating part?” Briar prodded.
Parahan shrugged. “Gyongxe will be hiring fighters soon. The temples have plenty of money and treasure from pilgrims. I’ve seen the list of the jewelry my family has sent to the temples so the priests in Gyongxe will pray for my ancestors. They can afford me. I may be rusty, but I used to be considered a good warrior. It would have been even nicer if I could lead troops, but I’ll take what I can get. They won’t know I used to be a general.” He grinned at Rosethorn. “Maybe you’ll put in a good word for me if I don’t make it to the temples dedicated to my own gods?” Less cheerfully he added, “I imagine I’ll be able to give you a demonstration of my skills at the border.”
“What do you mean?” Evvy had been about to serve herself another bowl of soup. She sat back down instead. “What about the border?”
“He’s planning a war with Gyongxe,” Parahan replied. “You don’t think he’s left the border with the remaining eastern pass wide open, do you?” He looked at Rosethorn. “What I don’t understand is why you people are here. Why didn’t you just send some magical message to Gyongxe and go home as you planned?”
“Just because we have magic doesn’t mean we can fly,” Evvy told him scornfully. “And even if we could talk through plants or stones, there’s no one in Gyongxe who could hear us!”
Rosethorn raised a finger in admonishment. “That we know of.”
Evvy rolled her eyes. “Yes, teacher. I have to be precise, teacher. That we know of. And even if we could, Rosethorn swore vows, so she has to go to help, and we’ll be yujinon dung if we’ll let her go without us.”
“Do I want to know what yujinons are?” Parahan asked, chuckling.
“No,” Briar assured him. “Not with it being night and all.”
The big man looked at Rosethorn. “You shouldn’t have brought them.”
She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “You have my permission to send them back.”
Parahan looked at Briar and Evvy, taking a breath to speak. He hesitated when he saw the blazing light in their eyes and the hard set of their mouths. “You saw only one of Weishu’s armies.”
“The God-King is our friend,” Evvy said. “Dokyi is our friend. Rosethorn is going, which means we are going.”
Parahan sighed. “Then we should sleep. It’s always better to go to war if you’ve had proper sleep.”
They offered to rearrange things in the morning so that Parahan could ride, but he was far too tall for the ponies, and he protested that his dignity forbade his entering Gyongxe on mule-back. With his packs redistributed to the mules, his stride was long enough that they were able to keep pace with one another without losing too much time. They left before dawn so none of those who had seen any of them the day before would suspect that the tall man walking alongside Rosethorn was the same bent beggar they had passed during their own journeys.
The four also improved their pace simply because there were ever fewer travelers. By the time the sun dropped behind the looming mountains and the evening cold set in, they were alone.
There was no caravansary when they decided to make camp, only swaths of ground left bare by those who had stopped in the same places before them. Considerate travelers had left piled wood and stacks of dried dung for campfires. Rosethorn chose a spot with its own stream, well situated against a stony cliff that protected them from the wind. Even with summer on the way, the Drimbakang Lho got cold at night.
Parahan disposed of his stinking rags. From one of his packs he produced the same general sort of tunic and breeches they wore. He hadn’t been able to get boots that would fit him, he said, so he donned long socks and sturdy leather shoes from the same pack. Evvy set the gate stones and released the “chickens.” Once they were out of their “crates,” the cats took on their normal appearances. Parahan, caring for the ponies and mules after his change of clothes and a cold wash, shook his head in amazement. “And these are Trader spells?” he asked.
Evvy scowled at him. “They’ll cook you and eat you if you tell,” she said, repeating an old lie about Trader habits.
“I’m old and stringy,” the man replied. “Don’t be cranky, Evvy. I thought you liked me.”
“That was before you got us into this mess,” she grumbled.
“The gods would have found another path for us to enter this mess,” Rosethorn said as she stirred the pot. “Can’t you tell fate when it bites you?”
“No,” Evvy and Parahan said at the same time.
“She has to talk like that,” Briar said. He was mixing and baking flatbread on a heated rock. “She took religious vows and everything.”
Once they were seated with their meal, Parahan sighed. “Warm feet. I had forgotten what warm feet were like. Now, I need to ask, how are you three fixed if it comes to a fight?” The three looked at him. “Evvy, stay back with the animals. Rosethorn —”
“What part of ‘mage’ did you not understand?” Briar reached into the sling on the ground next to him. Taking out a seed ball, he flipped it to the edge of the firelight closest to the road. It burst, immediately sinking roots into the ground. The vines shot up and out, sprouting their long thorns as they grew, spreading around the ground where they struck. By the time they stopped they were three feet in height and covered a circle of three feet in rough diameter. With no target, the thick stems had formed large curls around one another. Even in the flickering firelight the thorns could be seen. Some were four inches long. Others were two inches long and two inches thick at the base, curled rather than straight like the longer ones.
Parahan, fascinated, got up and started to walk toward the plant.
“Don’t do that,” Rosethorn said as the vines rustled. “They’re still awake.”
Parahan stopped. The vines settled. “You could kill a man with that,” he said, his voice cracking.
“We don’t carry them for toys,” Briar replied. “Don’t be so upset. I only let a couple of the seeds grow.”
“Want to see what I have?” Evvy asked eagerly.
“No,” Parahan said suddenly. “No, I don’t think I do.”
“But you think I’m a kid!” Evvy protested, using Briar’s slang for child. “You don’t think I can help protect us!” Rocks rose from the ground and began to whirl around Parahan’s head.
“Evumeimei,” Rosethorn said dangerously.
“Sorry, Parahan,” Evvy apologized. The stones fell to the ground. “But — you did know we’re mages.”
“I’m not sure I thought about what you three do in terms of war,” he admitted. Sitting on his heels by the fire, he grinned. “We may have an easier time getting past the border than I thought.”
Rosethorn served out the tea. “What do you expect once we’re there?” she asked as she warmed her hands on her cup.
“It’s a small post, from what I learned,” Parahan explained. “If things were normal, we might expect caravans coming through southern Gyongxe in another month, but not this early. Figure no traffic coming from the Gyongxe side. There’s a village that supports the border post on the Yanjing side. They keep perhaps five guards on duty at a time. We’re going to have to fight if they’ve received word to stop anyone from crossing. If they’ve gotten word about you leaving the caravan, or about me, we’ll really have to fight.”
“We might scare them into running,” Evvy said cheerfully, giving Ria a scratch.
Parahan grunted
. “We might, though if they’re imperial regulars, not locals recruited to stand still and look tough, they won’t scare.” He looked at the staff on the ground beside him. “I wish I had a sword to go with this thing.”
Rosethorn looked at him in horror. “You mean to take on armed guards with a staff?”
He wiped his bowl with the bread that Briar had made. “But I have three mages at my back.” He stood and stretched as they stared up at him. Then he bent double at the waist and grabbed his ankles, bouncing a little without bending at the knees. Turning halfway, he put his right leg out in front of him as if he were lunging, and did so until his right leg was at a right angle and his left was stretched all the way out. After he had done that a number of times, he switched his front leg to the left. Rosethorn and Evvy began to clean up, while Briar tried to do similar stretches.
Finally Parahan picked up his staff and pulled one end of it off to reveal a long, slender, double-edged blade. “Not much as a throwing weapon,” he told Briar as he began to spin it in both hands, “but I could jab fish if I was in the woods with no supper on my way south. I tried to stay off the roads, at least till I got to Kushi. When I finally got tired of fish, I tried the beggar disguise. That hurt as much as it helped.”
“I wondered how you did that,” Evvy said, on her way to fetch dung for the fire. “Once I had to go through this tunnel that wasn’t quite high enough for me in Prince’s Heights, where I used to live. It was really long. When I came out I had a terrible ache in my back and my neck.”
“I still do,” Parahan admitted. He got the spear twirling over his head. Stepping well away from Briar, he spun it rapidly down along one side of his body, then up, over, and along the other. As the firelight sparked off the blade, it gave him the appearance of wings.
