“You helped fight all the way here,” Parahan told her. “And Rana may need you to help defend this place. Just take care of yourself and the cats, so I have my friends to come back to. Will you promise me?”
“All right. I promise.” Evvy grabbed Parahan’s sleeve. “And you look after Briar and Rosethorn? As much as they’ll let you.” She felt a bad quivering in her lip and in her eyelids.
Evvy turned over and buried her face in the pillows. She only looked up, and wiped her wet eyes on her sleeve, when she heard the door close.
That afternoon she had placed her small statue of Yanjing’s god of luck, Heibei, on the room’s shrine. Now she used one of the coals in the hearth to light a stick of incense. Applying that, she lit two more sticks in the jar that already stood on the shrine, then left hers with them. Putting her palms together, she bowed and prayed silently to the plump, grinning god. She knew that Parahan, Souda, Dokyi, and Rosethorn didn’t pray to Heibei, but she didn’t think the god would mind, and Briar always said he would take help from wherever he would get it. She wasn’t sure about General Sayrugo’s gods, but she included her as well. She’d heard Captain Rana’s warriors say that soldiers could always use a friendly god’s attention.
Once she had finished praying to Heibei, Evvy turned in the direction of the Sun Queen’s husbands. She knew exactly where each mountain’s peak rose behind the fort. Now, in the quiet of the room, with the cats settled on the bed without fuss, she even thought she could hear their voices. One of them especially had a kind and musical voice, a low, burring hum. She tried to copy it low in her chest, reaching for that magical sound. On and on she hummed, making a kind of prayer of it, a prayer to the Sun Queen’s husbands to look after her friends.
13
THE PLAIN OF GNAM RUNGA
SOUTH AND WEST, ALONG THE FOOT OF
THE DRIMBAKANG LHO
Jimut roused Briar at a painfully early hour to help him put on his new half armor. Briar donned the sling with his seed balls and other odds and ends himself, not wanting his helper to get in the habit of handling his mage’s gear. Breakfast was hot bread stuffed with spiced meat and rice, something he could eat as the soldiers dismantled and packed up his tent. He drank hot tea with Rosethorn, Parahan, and Soudamini, none of whom seemed to believe in chatter before sunrise. He was drinking a second cup of tea when Rosethorn bent down and lifted the strange pack she had gotten from Dokyi two days before: the thing she had to take someplace that Briar was not allowed to go. She slung it on her chest in place of her own bundle of deadly plant magics and ran her fingers over it, her face thoughtful.
Briar scowled.
“Don’t start fussing again.” She met his eyes. “I took care of myself long before you met me.”
“Carrying something like that?” He tapped the pack with his finger.
The next thing he knew he was flat on the ground. His ears and head rang. Something cold and wet lay on his forehead. Above him the sky was the color of gray silk.
Rosethorn bent over him, her brown eyes rueful. “I had no idea it would knock you down,” she said. “I would have warned you, honestly.”
Parahan knelt beside him. “Are you all right?” he asked. “There was a flash of light and you flew through the air.” He looked at Rosethorn. “We’ll warn the troops to keep away from you and your burden.”
She nodded.
Briar took a breath and coughed. Rosethorn helped him to sit up. Jimut knelt beside him with a flask. Briar hesitated, then drank. It was cold water. “Thank you, Jimut. I believe you would have told me,” he said to Rosethorn. “And you think you are safe with that thing?”
“Safer than you,” she said. Parahan and Jimut hoisted him to his feet.
Souda waited nearby with men who held their saddled horses. Their small army was ready to march.
Briar felt better in the saddle. He didn’t complain when Jimut rode close to him and collected the reins so he could lead Briar’s mount. That seemed like a good idea, too.
It was hard to concentrate on what anyone said, or on anything but the strange pictures that rippled through his brain: lions that seemed to be carved of ice and snow, tiny metal serpents with skulls for heads, and orange fanged gods with flames for hair. Blue goddesses danced on the mountaintops with a different weapon in each of their six arms. A yak whose head was as big as he was tall snuffled in his ear. He had wanted to know what Dokyi had foisted on Rosethorn — what all the secrecy and risk was about. Now it seemed like ignorance might not be such a bad thing. At least, not when it came to that pack. Clearly Rosethorn could carry it without problems, but he thought he would leave it alone.
Briar opened his eyes to full daylight. He found himself at the back of their group with the pack animals and their crossbow-wielding guards. The rest of their numbers trotted ahead. Briar twisted frantically, looking for Rosethorn. That was when he discovered someone had tied him to the saddle.
“You’re back with us,” Jimut said cheerfully. He rode between Briar and an attendant who led a train of supply mules. The reins to Briar’s horse were in his hand. “You are back?” His furry eyebrows inched up toward his hairline.
“I never left!” Briar retorted, annoyed by the question. Then he looked at the sun. It was almost noon. “Did I?”
“Your eyes were closed. You didn’t move. Forgive me,” Jimut said, bowing as Briar yanked at the long scarf that secured him in the saddle. “I didn’t want Nanshur Rosethorn angry if you fell off.” He edged his own mount over to Briar and traded Briar’s reins for the scarf once Briar untied the knot.
“I … was in a mage trance,” Briar announced, trying to recover his dignity. “Don’t your nanshurs have trances?”
“Weeelll, yes,” the older man drawled. “But usually they shake rattles and hum and chant for a long time first to give us warning.”
“Mine caught up with me fast,” Briar replied, thinking quickly. “I had no time to warn anyone.” He looked ahead. “Shouldn’t we be riding up there if I’m to help guard the warriors?”
Jimut looked at his friend, shrugged, and led the way as Briar nudged his own horse into a trot. They picked up the pace to a gallop. A few of the warriors they passed called out jokes to Jimut, suggesting that it was nice of him to join them. Jimut only turned his beaky nose up haughtily.
“I’m sorry,” Briar called. “You should have roused me.”
“I tried!” Jimut replied. “It didn’t work!”
“I don’t normally sleep like that,” Briar said as they slowed. “I really don’t.”
“Whatever Nanshur Rosethorn carries, it must be as strong as the great river Kanpoja — the Thundering Water,” Jimut explained. “You can hear her in Kombanpur from miles away. She comes to us from here in Gyongxe. The hero Ajit Robi fought the Drimbakang demons to set Kanpoja free. He cut a path for the goddess through the mountains, and she leaped from Gyongxe into Kombanpur. All of our great rivers are born from her.”
Briar looked at the tumbling band of the Snow Serpent. “This river is the Kanpoja?”
Jimut shook his head. “Farther west. Along the Drimbakang Zugu and through the Drimbakang Lho. Maybe we will see it, where the goddess’s temple stands.” He sighed. “I have always wanted to see it.”
He and Jimut had just caught up with Rosethorn, Parahan, and the others when they reached a bridge across the Snow Serpent. Here Rosethorn, Briar, Jimut, Souda, the Gyongxin Captain Lango, and two companies of warriors turned off the road and crossed the bridge. A large village several miles up this road had to be evacuated. Parahan rode on to collect people on the south side of the road and ensure they reached safety, while the other Gyongxin captain, Jha, left them to do the same errand on the north side of the road.