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As she did so, the emperor raised a finger. A eunuch came to kneel beside him. After that, all Briar saw of the man was two hands offering something wrapped in bright yellow silk. The emperor took it, and the eunuch walked away from his master.
“Here is a small token of our friendship,” Weishu said, offering the silk-wrapped bundle to Evvy. She took it and dropped to her knees for the usual Yanjingyi bow. Briar glanced at Hengkai and Guanshi, but neither revealed their emotions. Maybe they know they’ve gotten themselves in enough trouble with the emperor today, Briar decided.
“Rise, Evumeimei,” the emperor said. “Open it.” He was smiling.
Briar stepped forward. He bowed, then motioned to Hengkai’s necklace, which the man had not retrieved. “May I, Your Imperial Majesty?”
The emperor nodded. The general only scowled and looked away. As Evvy carefully unwrapped her gift, Briar scooped the beads from the table. He glanced at Rosethorn, who raised a graceful eyebrow at him. Briar lifted a shoulder to say, “I don’t know” to her silent question of “Why?” He ran the necklace through his fingers, watching Evvy.
She draped the silk over her shoulder. Her gift was something carved in bright red stone. “It’s a cat!” Evvy cried. “A cat, made of cinnabar!”
“Do not handle cinnabar too much with your bare hands,” Jia Jui cautioned.
“I know,” Evvy said, using the silk to turn the beautifully carved cat in her hands. “There’s quicksilver in it.”
“The gift itself is a great honor,” Jia Jui went on, smiling. “Cinnabar symbolizes long life in our magical teachings.”
Down onto her knees Evvy went again. “Thank you so very much, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “I’ll treasure it always, and I’ll remember the lesson that long life and cats are dangerous things.”
The emperor chuckled, as did most of those who could hear, but Briar did not. That bow was starting to annoy him. No student of his should have to grovel to anyone.
“How did you know a cat was perfect for me?” Evvy asked when Weishu told her to rise.
“I heard you traveled from distant Chammur with seven,” the emperor replied. “Will you tell me about them?”
Evvy hardly needed an invitation to talk about her beloved cats. As she described them and their virtues to her imperial audience, Briar inspected the flat, carved wooden beads with his fingers and his power. He wanted to be sure that, should he ever encounter a warrior who wore such a necklace again, he would know exactly what beads to reach for. He did the same with the oak beads on the string, and the gingko beads, memorizing their feel with the Yanjingyi spells sunk into their grain. Then he looked at Mage General Hengkai. The older man had leaned back, away from the halberds, so he could finger the beads wound around one wrist. What deadly secrets were there? Briar wondered. How many deaths did the general carry in all those strings wrapped around his arms? And for whom were they destined?
Couriers arrived for the emperor just when they reached the lily gardens after breakfast. His guests weren’t permitted to know what was in the messages that were so urgent as to take him away from them. He made his excuses and asked Jia Jui to escort them through the beautiful water gardens instead. When they had seen and admired their full share of water lilies, earthbound lilies, trees, flowering vines, beautiful fish, water birds, and carefully landscaped views, the guests returned to their pavilion for a much-needed rest.
Before they retired to their beds, Rosethorn and Briar looked over their new rosebush, which had arrived during the morning. It had been moved into a dark green glazed jar that matched the color of the leaves precisely, a touch even Evvy appreciated. Moreover, the inked Yanjingyi lettering on the inside of the jar’s lip appeared to be instructions to the cats. Even Monster, who had learned only with difficulty that he was not to anoint Briar’s shakkans — miniature trees — sniffed the jar once, sneezed, and stayed away from it. Briar and Rosethorn both sent their power through the bush, finding the traces of Rosethorn’s earlier healing of the mold. Neither of them said it aloud, but they both wanted to ensure the gardeners had not been forced to destroy the original plant.
They were joined for supper by Jia Jui, Parahan, and those of the afternoon’s party who had actually seemed to enjoy themselves. The group introduced the foreigners to some Yanjingyi games and music, then took them to a terrace that looked out over a long body of water. There they fed the giant carp that swam in its waters until an exquisite display of fireworks — colored flowers and trees made of zayao — was set off in their honor. By the time it was over, Rosethorn, Briar, and Evvy were happy to return to their pavilion and their beds.
Rosethorn spent an hour going over the rosebush again. Once she was done she had hoped to write to her beloved Lark, back at Winding Circle, but she could barely keep her eyes open.
A day spent with hidden tensions between Evvy and the general, Evvy and that older mage, and whatever else was going on between the courtiers and Rosethorn’s people would do that. The emperor was also the kind of ruler who enjoyed toying with his lords. She would be happy when they left the imperial court and its pitfalls. Rosethorn was asleep as soon as she closed her eyes.
Someone splashed her with heavy, stinking oil. She struggled to shake it off her leaves and blossoms, but the oil clung. Her sisters cried out from its weight on their stems and greenery as the men who cared for them walked between them, throwing this dreadful liquid all over them. The men didn’t even care that they broke twigs and knocked petals off their blooms! The men were usually so careful!
Now they came to fling dry reeds down between their plants, reeds that dripped more of the stinking oil. She didn’t understand. None of them understood.
The rose plants didn’t understand, but the sleeping Rosethorn did. With a cry she thrust her blankets aside and jumped out of bed. She didn’t even remember to put on shoes. Still half asleep, not thinking of Briar or Evvy, she raced out of the pavilion through a back door. The first touch of flame to reeds brought her to her knees on a trail that skirted a willow pond. She lurched to her feet again and ran on as light grew slowly in the sky ahead.
When she reached the rose garden, all of it was in flames. The gardeners had been bound and left at its center: They were done screaming. The emperor and his soldiers watched on horseback from the main path.
The emperor saw her as he turned his horse to ride away. “The plants harbored mold and the gardeners allowed them to do so,” he said, his face calm. “Surely you understand that no imperfection is permitted at one of my palaces. I did tell you.” He looked past Rosethorn. “Slaves will come to escort you back.”
Rosethorn felt Briar put his arm around her shoulders. He had felt her magic, wakened, and followed her to discover what Weishu had ordered done. Once the emperor and his soldiers were out of sight, Briar spat on the path.
They waited together on the edge of the burning garden until the slaves came with a palanquin. By then the roses had burned to the gravel and new gardeners had come to dig up the roots.
THE WINTER PALACE
DOHAN IN YANJING
The next five days were drawn from the pattern of the first. They rose at dawn, for Rosethorn and Briar to pretend friendship as the emperor and his favorites showed them around his prized flower gardens, meditation gardens, and greenhouses. Parahan and sometimes Jia Jui, in addition to Parahan’s guards and a few younger courtiers and mages, would join Evvy. First they would play briefly with her cats, then venture out to visit the emperor’s wild animal collection, his treasure houses, his artisans’ workshops, and his rock gardens. Everyone would gather together for a late breakfast or early midday meal.
After a noon rest, so necessary in a part of the country that was already warming up for summer, Jia Jui would fetch Evvy to show her how the Yanjingyi children studied magic, or Evvy would show Jia Jui what she could do. Briar and Rosethorn retreated to the greenhouse where they and the gardeners would work on the rose they had promised Weishu. There they prod
uced a red-and-yellow-streaked bloom unlike any other in the gardens. The Weishu Rose was resistant to every plant ailment Rosethorn and Briar could think of, including all the molds and funguses known by the local peasant farmers. The blossoms would poison any insects that thought to dine on them, and they would reproduce only from seeds, not cuttings.
They presented the emperor with his rose, and a bush which showed a handful of buds, on their fifth morning, at breakfast. They could tell from his face that he was deeply conflicted.
“Forgive us, that we cannot rejoice more,” he said as a eunuch carried the potted plant away and Weishu turned the single cut bloom that Rosethorn had given him around in his fingers. (Briar had been careful to remove the thorns first.) “Even the scent is perfection. Our heart yearns to learn more of our Weishu Rose, but our duty forces us to leave it behind. We depart the Winter Palace in the morning. Our household will continue to look after you as if we were here, but imperial business calls us away. You will find we have left the three of you certain gifts, in thanks for your learning and company, together with the pack animals you will need to continue your journey. We are given to understand you mean to take ship from Hanjian at the end of the month you call Goose Moon?”
Rosethorn bowed. “That is our intention, yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“You will have plenty of time,” Weishu said. “We will ask our priests to pray for your safe journeys by land and sea.”
He rose from his table and they bowed to him for the final time. The next morning, the three mages went to the Gate of Blessed Departures to say good-bye, but the emperor had nothing else to say to them. He did wear his Weishu Rose tucked into overlapping pieces of his armor. They watched him ride off with his mages and guards, each feeling a tremendous amount of relief they dared not express.
Parahan joined them as a brigade of imperial troops and another of archers followed their master through the gate. “Things will be more relaxed with the big dogs gone,” he remarked. “You can sleep as long as you like.”
“What happens to you?” Evvy asked.
Parahan shrugged. “I wait here until he sends for me. If he’d gone to Inxia, like he’d meant to this winter, I’d have traveled with him, but he changed his mind. Where he’s going, he won’t be settled. He doesn’t like taking me places unless he’s certain I won’t be able to escape.”
“Inxia?” Briar asked sharply. “I thought he was fighting with Inxia and its neighbors.”
Parahan shook his head. “Inxia and Qayan surrendered over the course of the winter. I suppose they couldn’t face another summer’s hammering. I can’t say that I blame them.”
“Their gods have mercy on them,” Rosethorn said. “Parahan, will you excuse us? I have some messages to send if we are to leave soon.”
“Of course,” he said. “Shall I bring supper to you, or shall I take you to supper?”
“Supper someplace we haven’t seen,” Rosethorn suggested.
Parahan bowed and sauntered off.
“Race you!” Evvy challenged her teachers. She ran down the forested paths that led back to their pavilion.
“If she thinks I am going to run, she may think again,” Briar told Rosethorn. “I am going to walk with my most wonderful teacher.”
“You won’t say that by the time we’re done packing,” she warned, taking his arm. “I don’t want to waste any time, and no lollygagging from you, young man.”
“I don’t intend to lollygag. If we’re on the far side of the Realms of the Sun in Snow Moon, we stand a good chance of being home within a year. We can do it if we’re in Hanjian by the end of Goose Moon. That gives us plenty of time, if we find a caravan soon.” Briar smiled at Rosethorn as they strolled along. “I’ll move just as spritely as a rabbit. You’ll see.”
“Hmm.” Rosethorn looked up at a hanging willow branch. The edges of its leaves were brown. She did no more than look, but Briar felt it as her magic washed over the tree and dismissed the illness that was creeping into its limbs. “Boy, you flinched when Parahan talked about Inxia and Qayan. Don’t think for a moment that I missed it.”
Briar sighed and steered her onto the shady path. The day was getting hot, and Rosethorn wasn’t wearing a hat. “The God-King was hoping the emperor would spend the summer throwing his armies at those two countries and Yithung in the northeast, rather than at Gyongxe. He won’t like knowing that Weishu now owns Inxia and Qayan.”
“Well, with luck the emperor will turn to Yithung, not Gyongxe. There’s very little in Gyongxe to tempt him after all. And the God-King should know about Inxia and Qayan by now. Or at least he will know, long before you could get word to him.”
Briar knew she was right. There really was nothing more they could do.
For a moment, when they reached their pavilion, Briar thought Evvy was walking away from his bedchamber. Then he decided she’d simply been chasing her lively orange cat Apricot. None of the maids was present to scold if the cats climbed the lacquered cabinets, tables, and chairs. Rosethorn hoisted the cat called Raisin over one shoulder and said, “Start packing,” before she sat down at a table to write messages.
Briar rang the bell outside the pavilion to summon a messenger. The girl briefly whined when she learned she would have to ride to the caravansary where the Traders made camp outside Dohan, but was all smiles when Briar held up a silver coin. While they waited for word, they went into their rooms to nap, pack, or both. Before sunset, their messenger returned with word that a caravan would be leaving for the seaport of Hanjian in three days.
“Well, I mean to shift our things to the caravansary as soon as we’re packed,” Rosethorn said firmly. “That will give us the chance to get to know the people we’ll be traveling with.”
That night Parahan took them to a small pavilion set on a pond. There they were cool and comfortable listening to night birds and watching floating lamps on the water. By the next night almost all of their belongings had been carried away to be loaded onto horses for their dawn departure. Parahan had the palace staff bring them simple foods, and he rose to leave them as soon as they were finished.
“I know you will want plenty of sleep tonight,” he said as the servants withdrew. “And I am not one for long good-byes.”
Rosethorn took his hand in both of hers. “Mila and Green Man bless you,” she told him. “And may Shurri Flamesword see you home in victory one day.”
Parahan kissed her forehead. “You played the part of the agreeable traveler well, but wildflowers don’t last very long here. I am glad to see you escape.” He clasped Briar’s hand, then Evvy’s, in a jangling of chains. Crouching in front of Evvy, he tweaked her nose. “I wish you could have met my sister Souda,” he said with a smile. “You two are much alike.”
Evvy flung her arms around his neck. “I hate it that you’re his captive!” she whispered in his ear.
“I don’t like it, either, but what can we do? We’re just little cats in his big house full of lions,” he replied.
Evvy let him go and ran into her room, sliding the thin door shut with a bang.
Parahan bowed to them. “May all our gods watch over you on your journey home.” He ambled out of the house, fading into the twilight. Briar listened until he could no longer hear the slightest jingle of chain.
Rosethorn went to bed soon afterward. Briar made certain the cats were all tucked into Evvy’s room behind her magicked gate stones. Then he went to his own bed.
He was drifting off when he thought of Parahan. Gods curse it, I need to sleep! he told himself angrily. We leave at dawn! But there was no denying it; the plight of the man from Kombanpur bothered him. Any other master would have let them buy Parahan from him, but not Weishu. Parahan was some kind of prize. The emperor could give them nine saddlebags full of gold coins for the Weishu Rose alone — and he had — but he wouldn’t sell this one captive. Briar would have traded all of that gold for Parahan, and he knew Rosethorn and Evvy would have done the same.
Dawn, he reminded
himself. We get up before dawn.
Calm thoughts. I’ll be able to wear plain old breeches and a tunic again. I look nice in all the silk robes, true, but there’s nothing for comfort like the clothes Sandry made for me. Great Mila, I’ll be so glad to wear my good old boots instead of slippers, where I feel every rock in my path!
On that agreeable thought he drifted off to sleep.
Something made him pop awake near midnight. He listened, but the pavilion house was quiet. Uneasy, Briar got up and checked Evvy’s room.
The cats were draped over her bed. They had moved to take the space she had left empty. They looked up at Briar.
“When I catch her, she’s dead!” Briar mouthed to them.
Mystery raised a leg and began to wash.
Swiftly he pulled on breeches and a tunic, then slung his smaller mage kit over his shoulder. Boots in hand, Briar crept to the door of Rosethorn’s room and looked in. She was asleep, making the little buzzing snore that he thought was so funny.
Briar sneaked out of the pavilion. There were no servants in the outer rooms or even guards in the street beyond. He put a small bundle of sleep herbs in his tunic pocket in case he met anyone unfriendly on the way, and yanked on his boots. Once set, he began to run, his way lit by a half-moon. He had a very good notion of where she had gone. He should have realized she would not accept leaving Parahan behind, not after she had spent most of five days in the captive’s company.
It took him longer than he liked to reach the Pavilion of Glorious Presentations, where Parahan was caged. That was because he kept to the trees and bushes beside the road, making frequent stops to look and listen for guard patrols. He saw and heard none, which only made him more nervous, not less.
He finally reached his destination. Before he approached his runaway student, he scouted the outside of the long hall. Everywhere else around the perimeter of the large building he found no sign of guards. Inside was the row of hanging gold cages, one of which housed Parahan at night. The hall of cages was easy enough to identify on the outside: It squared into the audience chamber, forming an L in the stone work.
