Battle Magic

9

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.

He did other exercises while Rosethorn and Briar prepared more thorn balls and Evvy more disks of flint and quartz. Off and on they would look up to see him kicking and punching into the air, spinning to kick at the side, or to lash out with a fist so fast it was a blur. Finally he came over to the fire with one of his packs and settled in to sharpen his belt knife.

Rosethorn gave him the cup of tea that was steeping beside her. “This should help those aching muscles,” she explained.

As night fell, Briar drew the line of ponies and mules closer to their camp. Evvy gathered her pack with her extra gate stones and created the enclosure where all of them would sleep. At first, Parahan balked at the thought of sleeping as part of a pile with the others.

Briar waited until Rosethorn went off into the dark to explain about her lungs, and how she needed all the warmth they could give now that they were in colder lands. “We did it sometimes on our way to Gyongxe, when sleeping alone didn’t keep us warm enough. She’d start coughing otherwise,” he explained.

When she returned, and Parahan and Evvy had gone in separate directions for the last errands of the night, Briar had to cajole Rosethorn into sleeping at the center of the huddle that would include Evvy, the cats, Parahan, and himself. At first Rosethorn insisted on taking an outside position with Parahan.

The big man, overhearing as he returned, said flatly, “We need every one of us at their best in the morning, woman. You may sleep on the outside and freeze tomorrow night, if we’re alive and free.”

Rosethorn stared at Parahan for a long, worrisome moment, and then placed her bedroll on the ground. Parahan proceeded to bank the fire. Briar wondered if he ought to say he would pray for the man in the fight to come, or something of the sort. In the end, he simply put his own bedroll next to Rosethorn’s and crawled into it. Evvy chose Rosethorn’s free side and Parahan Briar’s. Rosethorn went to sprinkle her herb circle around the camp, including the ponies and mules. It was something she’d done several times on their way east: create a kind of magical curtain that hid them from any predator, human or animal, that might come by. Once the circle was finished, she murmured her spell over it, and returned to wriggle into her bedroll. Only then did the cats fit themselves into every comfortable spot that they could find.

Briar was drifting off when Parahan said, “Why don’t we take the border at night? If we muffle all our clanking things, we might just sneak past. They’ll expect us during the day. We could avoid a fight completely.”

Briar yawned. “We can’t do it.”

When Parahan spoke, he sounded peeved. “I may only be a simple soldier, not an educated nanshur, but I’m sure if you do it in small words, you can explain it to me in a way I can understand. Why should we not try the strategically far more sensible move of attempting the border crossing by night?”

Briar growled. He was tired and he was worried about the border just like everyone else. “We’re plant mages, oh strategist.”

“Stop it, you two,” Evvy complained.

“Plants require sunlight. Surely even simple soldiers know that,” Briar went on, ignoring Evvy. Parahan might be a prince, and a warrior, but he wasn’t going to bully them into trying something when Rosethorn was not at her best. He also didn’t need to know Rosethorn’s secrets.

It was Rosethorn, of course, who ruined it by telling the truth. “He’s only half lying, Parahan,” she said. “I don’t see as well in the dark as I used to. I was … ill, six years ago. It’s why I speak as I do, and why I have trouble catching my breath the higher we go, and why my night vision is limited.”

“She died,” Evvy said with relish. “Briar and his sisters went to the Deadlands and brought her back, only she left part of her speech and her breath and her sight there as a promise to the White Jade God that she would return.”

Parahan’s voice was shaky when he spoke again. “That’s a story, isn’t it?”

“It is not,” Rosethorn said. “I nearly died of the Blue Pox. We leave in the morning. Now go to sleep.”

That was the end of the night’s conversation. They settled between the banked fire and the picketed mules and ponies, warm with their blankets, cats, and one another. Their night was so undisturbed that Parahan’s only complaint in the morning was that Monster snored.

The road was empty. None of them was happy with that, though they found no other signs of trouble. Eagles and buzzards soared overhead searching for a meal. In the distance they saw a herd of goats moving on a looming hillside.

As the hours passed, the lands ahead on their side of the river began to flatten. By mid-morning they noticed distant fields off to their right and the kind of isolated barns used for sheltering herds and storing hay.

It was almost noon when they crested a rise in the road. Before them a small river had cut a little flat-bottomed valley to the north as it hurried to join the Snow Serpent on their left. A quarter of a mile away and to the north, a walled town stood on the sloping hills that shaped the western side of the valley. Near it were grain fields and herds of the large, shaggy cattle known as yaks.

Where the road and the smaller river met, there stood a guard- and tollhouse. It was built like the local dwellings, two stories tall and curving inward from ground to flat roof. The shutters were open on the narrow windows since it was a sunny day. Ivory plaster covered every chink in the walls. It was bigger than most of the houses and there was a watchtower on the roof. A couple of horses grazed in a fenced-in field at the side of the building. If this place was like others in this area, Briar figured, the stables would be on the ground floor.

One soldier in imperial livery stood by the barrier on the road. Four more lounged on benches on the side of the guardhouse. Briar squinted against the sunlight that shone into his eyes. A flag on the tower snapped in the wind. All he could tell was the color, a bright, imperial yellow. “Border crossing?” he guessed.

Two of the seated warriors rose and took up halberds that leaned against the guardhouse. The other two gathered quivers and crossbows that had been on the ground next to their feet, slinging the quivers onto their backs before they stood to set a quarrel in their crossbows.

“I think so,” Parahan replied.

Rosethorn and Briar double-checked the slings on their chests. Their seed bombs lay ready. Their mage kits were open and strapped tight on the saddles in front of them, in case they were needed. Evvy was leading the pack mules. She had her own cloth sling ready, with disks of quartz and flint ready for use.

“This may be nothing,” Rosethorn cautioned.

They said no more until they were within shouting distance of the guard on the barrier. He was a strongly built older man who kept all of his attention on their small party.

“Hello!” Parahan cried cheerfully. “It must be a dull day for you fellows with no one else on the road!”

“Halt for inspection!” the oldest man shouted back. “In the name of our glorious emperor!”

“Gladly,” Parahan called, not slowing his pace forward. “Only, would you ask your fellows there to lower their crossbows? My wife is in the family way, and they’re making her nervous.”

“Rogue,” muttered Rosethorn.

“Your endearments make me yearn for our nights together, my sweetest,” Parahan whispered.

Briar choked, trying not to laugh aloud, as Rosethorn turned crimson. “How can you joke at a time like this?” she demanded.

“If not at a time like this, when?” Parahan asked.

Briar fingered the cloth balls in his sling, skipping from the killer thorns to the ropey ones. He supposed Rosethorn would want him to use the ropes, though the thorns would ensure that none of these people followed them into Gyongxe. If the emperor was declaring war after all, why should they care if they broke the laws of the border?

But Rosethorn would care if Briar killed anyone he didn’t absolutely have to. He wondered if she’d discussed that issue with Parahan.

“Halt!” shouted the leader again. “Dismount and raise your hands.”

“Is there a problem, sirs? As I have said, my wife is in a delicate condition,” Parahan called. They were crossing the bridge over the lesser river. “Get ready,” he told his companions once they reached the other side. “Stop right here. If we get any closer they’ll win the fight.” He swiftly brought down the top of his staff and removed the cap, sliding the wooden tube into the front of his tunic.

“You answer to the descriptions of criminals wanted by the emperor!” cried the leader. “Put down your weapons, dismount, and kneel!”

The crossbow archers leveled their weapons at their group. Evvy snapped two pieces of quartz into the air. They flew straight at the archers, who threw up their hands to protect their eyes. Their weapons clattered to the ground. Their bolts began to sprout leaves.

The commander shouted an order. The archers grabbed their bows and put fresh bolts from their quivers to the string. The men with halberds ran toward Rosethorn and Evvy, who had moved to the right to deal with anyone who came from the house. Rosethorn whispered something to the cloth ball in her hand and threw it at the spearmen. It burst as it struck the ground, throwing its burden of seeds into the air. Vines that went from thread-like to thick shot from the ground at their feet. They wrapped around the spearmen’s feet and crawled up around their legs.

Briar trotted his pony forward. The crossbow bolt that came for him dropped to the ground and sprouted roots. The second bolt struck a disk of quartz in midair and fell to the ground. The disk returned to Evvy. Briar didn’t thank her. He had gotten close enough to throw his own ball of seed where he wanted it to go. It landed between the two archers and exploded into thorny growth.

The older soldier, the one in command, had unsheathed his sword and run forward the moment the archers released their second round of bolts. He met Parahan’s spear with his sword, baring his teeth in a growl.

For a moment Briar stared as Parahan blazed into action. The big man reversed his spear. He slammed the butt end up under the commander’s jaw hard enough to break it, then swept it down, jamming it into the side of the soldier’s right knee. The Yanjingyi man’s leg buckled. He slashed sidelong at Parahan, but the bigger man had continued his motion, smacking the staff of his spear hard into the back of the soldier’s head. The Yanjingyi man hit the ground and rolled away from Parahan.

Briar could look no longer. More yells were coming from the direction of the guardhouse. Four soldiers spilled out of it, wiping their mouths on their sleeves or fumbling with weapons. Evvy pitched a ball at the fresh arrivals as if she played at ninepins. It was quartz, the size of both of her fists, and it rolled swiftly across the flat ground toward the new soldiers. They didn’t see it until it reached them and exploded into a number of sharp stone needles.

The four men split apart. Two fell screaming to the ground. They tried blindly to pull the sharp stone slivers from their faces. The third ran toward Parahan and one toward Rosethorn, both drawing their swords. Rosethorn pointed to some of the vines that had completely covered the two spearmen near their bench. The green ropes reached for the swordsman who came at her and grabbed him by the throat.

Briar looked for the mules. Evvy had them on a long rein with one end tied to her waist. Doesn’t she know they could pull her out of the saddle? he thought, panicked. He dismounted and ran back to the animals, who were on the verge of panic. Digging in a pocket, he found the handful of calming herbs he’d put there. Carefully he blew some over each animal’s nose until they had lost that white ring around their eyes. He checked on Evvy again. She was steadfast next to Rosethorn. They waited for the enemy’s next attack, Evvy with a second stone ball in her hand, Rosethorn with another thorny vine ball in hers.

Parahan seized the commander’s sword and dagger and turned to greet a soldier who rushed him, a sword in his fist. The big man was grinning, his teeth bright against his brown skin. The soldier who had come to attack him halted just out of reach, his sword at the ready. Parahan feinted to the side. The soldier was stupid enough to swing that way, bringing his weapon up to guard. He never saw Parahan cut his head off.

Evvy glanced at movement in the windows on the second floor of the guardhouse. Archers hung out of two of them. She reached into her sling and brought out two flint circles, handling them carefully. Briar only had a moment to register their color before she sent first one, then the next, flying through the air just as she had the rounds of quartz. They flew straight at the archers. One circle embedded itself in the archer’s chest. He vanished from view. The other circle struck the second archer as he lowered his crossbow after shooting. His bolt went over Rosethorn’s head and narrowly missed a peacefully grazing mule. The dark circle the girl had thrown hit the archer’s throat. He pitched forward, out of the window, and lay still on the ground.

At last everything was quiet except for the soft roar of the river and a hawk’s distant shriek.

Parahan wiped his mouth on his wrist and groped at his waist for his water flask. It startled him and his companions to see that his belt had fallen off, cut in two by the commander. His flask had gotten trampled at some point. He looked at the women and Briar, confused.

“Wait,” Briar called. He took his own flask over to the big man.

“Thanks,” Parahan said. He set the sword he had taken on the ground, gulped half of the water, and then poured the rest over his head.

“Were they waiting for us?” Rosethorn asked.

Parahan shrugged.

Briar saw sheets of paper flutter under a stone near where the commander of the soldiers had first been standing. He wandered over and pulled them out from under the stone. He couldn’t read the Yanjingyi writing under the drawings on each paper, but the pictures were perfectly clear: Parahan on one; Evvy, Rosethorn, and Briar on the other. He gave them to Rosethorn, then went to make certain that the mules were unharmed.

Rosethorn remained in the saddle, watching the guardhouse. Once she had looked at the papers, she stuffed them in the sling on her chest and took out more thorn balls, just in case.

Evvy dismounted from her pony. She let the reins trail so the animal wouldn’t wander, then trudged toward the guardhouse.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Rosethorn called.

Evvy looked back at her. “Are you joking? Do you know how long it takes me to knap an edge on those flint pieces so I can throw them just right? I don’t think I’m going to find more flint here, either.” She looked at the fallen archer, gulped, and bent down to pry the dark stone circle from his throat.

Parahan followed and took it from her fingers to wipe it clean on the dead man’s clothing. “Beetle dung. It is flint,” he said. “I’ll get the other one, Evumeimei. You wait here.”

“I’ll go with him,” Briar told Rosethorn. “Evvy, come watch the mules.” He waited until Evvy took the reins before he ran into the guardhouse after Parahan.

The downstairs was empty of animals except for chickens on their nests. Upstairs was the main living room. Midday for the guards sat half eaten on a long table. Pallets were rolled up and stacked in a corner. The archer who had fallen inside lay in a heap on the floor, plucking at the flint circle stuck in his chest.

Parahan killed him with a sword thrust. “We can’t have them reporting who did this,” he told Briar. He retrieved Evvy’s second flint circle and wiped it off. “Perhaps you shouldn’t tell Rosethorn, though.”

Briar grimaced. Rosethorn would not like to hear of the killing of a wounded man, but Parahan was right. “We’d best get out of here, then, before the townsfolk come.”

“Yes, you’re right. Ouch!”

Briar saw that the big man was sucking blood off a fingertip. “Oh, sorry. Those things are nasty sharp.” He took a handkerchief from his pocket and slid the circle from Parahan’s hold. Carefully he wrapped the flint and put it in his sling, but even so, he could see it was cutting through the linen of the handkerchief. Evvy owed him a fresh one.

As they went down the ladder, Parahan said, “I confess, even with their magic, I am … impressed with how strong-hearted our ladies are in battle. Will they need time to calm themselves? We can’t linger — the herd boys will report trouble here to the town.”

When they went outside, they found that Rosethorn had tethered her pony. She had managed to catch one of the horses and saddled and bridled it. From the length of the stirrups, she meant the brown gelding for Parahan. “Are you finished?” she asked them. “Because I would like to put some distance between us and this, now.”

“Yes, Mother,” Briar said. To Parahan he said, “See? She’s calm.” He skittered out of the way when Rosethorn mimed a swat at him. Smiling, Briar took Evvy the flint disk Parahan had recovered. She tucked it into the pocket with the other flint after wiping off the last traces of blood. Briar said nothing to her about the vomit he could see a few yards away. Evvy never faltered in battle, but blood still set her back on occasion.

Moving quickly but without fuss, Parahan resupplied himself from the dead soldiers until he had two swords, a belt, an iron-covered leather jerkin, and leather boots that fit. After testing a couple of the spears used by the Yanjingyi guards, he fashioned a quiver for them and his spear, and slung it across his back. Evvy found a spare water bottle for him. She and Briar swiftly searched the food packs for some kind of midday meal before they swung into their own saddles.

The four of them shared out cold rice balls wrapped in leaves and cold red-bean buns. As they were about to leave, Rosethorn trotted her pony by the open windows and tossed two of her thorn balls inside. Vines began to sprout through the doors and windows as she joined the other three on the road. Chickens erupted from their side of the house, squawking in alarm.

As they moved on, Briar tossed a thorn ball of his own onto the road behind them. In the house, spiked vines were shooting out of the upper windows. Those vines that grew from where dead men lay now crawled over the ground, snake-like, bound to meet their friends in the guardhouse. There was no sign of bodies anywhere. The vines had spread to cover them all.

“They’ll know we were here,” Parahan said.

“Too bad,” Briar and Rosethorn said at the same time.

“I was tired of sneaking around anyway,” Briar added. “Let’s teach Weishu to keep his greedy hands to himself.”