Briar looked at the drizzling clouds, wishing he and Rosethorn had the wide straw hats they usually wore in the rain. Where had the hats gone? East, probably, with the Traders. He hauled himself into the saddle of his own mount.
“Are you up to a trot?” the sergeant in charge of the squad asked Rosethorn. “So we can cover some ground?”
“I’ll keep up,” Rosethorn said. “Don’t worry about me.”
Briar rode beside her, one careful eye on his teacher. He could tell she was upset, but he knew her. To the others she must look as if she were deep in thought. That’s good, he told himself. She hates people feeling bad for her.
For his own part, he had Evvy’s stone alphabet in the sling on his chest, tucked among the seed balls he used for weapons. Now and then he would slip a rock or crystal from its pocket and hold it, reminding himself of what he owed the emperor and his soldiers.
They set a rhythm of trot, walk, trot, rest. They would water the horses, drink tea, check to make sure their weapons were ready for use, and then mount up again. That steady pace brought them to the supply wagons by late afternoon. At day’s end they found Parahan, Soudamini, Captain Lango, and their soldiers. They were raising their tents at the far end of the ground where the western tribes and temple warriors had set up camp. Their friends greeted Rosethorn, expressed their sympathy for her loss, and invited her and Briar to join them for supper.
Free of her temple’s burden, Rosethorn was happy to share a tent with Briar. Jimut saw to the arrangements, placing it to one side of Souda’s far larger tent. While they waited for the call to eat, Jimut also brought out Rosethorn’s packs, which had traveled with their supplies. She and Briar sat quietly, going over what they had.
Finally Briar had to ask. “What was it like?”
Rosethorn sighed. “I can’t say.”
“Wasn’t it just a temple?”
“It was and it wasn’t. I can’t put it any better than that.”
“You could try.”
“Briar, it’s not permitted. I had to swear an oath.”
He knew she meant it. “I hate that, you know. Just once you could break an oath.”
“Then how would you ever trust me, boy, or I you?”
“I’m not your boy.”
In a shocking burst of affection, she leaned over the seed balls between them and hugged him. “You will always be my boy. And you would never listen to me again if I broke an oath.”
“You know Parahan and them will ask.” He hugged her back, and let go at the same time that she did.
“They will have something like the same answer.” Rosethorn sighed. For a moment they were quiet together before she said, “I will be so glad to go home.”
“I know what you mean,” he said fervently. “This country is just too odd, Rosethorn. The paintings come to life and make fun of you —”
“There are mysteries I was never taught in my temple,” she added.
“Statues move around.”
“I hear voices that shouldn’t be there. Emelan is wonderfully ordinary,” Rosethorn said. “We’ll go home, and this place will seem like a distant dream. It has to.”
In the morning word spread through the army like wildfire: The scouts had found plenty of hoof prints on the road ahead and on the ground to the east. The enemy had been here before them. With the news that the enemy had come so close, the westerners were eager to be up and moving at dawn. Their fires were out and their tents packed at the same time as Souda’s and Parahan’s troops.
That day saw the Realms troops and Lango’s company in the middle of the line of march, since they’d had the rear the day before. Briar yawned without letup. He had joined Rosethorn for her midnight worship, knowing she would conduct prayers for Evvy in the darkness. He did not begrudge Evvy’s spirit some of his sleep, not when he and Rosethorn could now burn the proper incense and say the prayers that felt like balm to his heart.
The day was uneventful but tense. They rode by a walled village: Its gates were closed and its people positioned on the wall, armed with crossbows. A small party of villagers rode out to confer with Captain Lango. The commanders of the various portions of their group stopped beside the road to talk while the rest of them rode on. Then they rejoined their people. Immediately scouting patrols were increased, riding in all directions around their small army.
Briar eased up through the soldiers until he rode next to Souda when she returned. “How close to them are we?” he asked.
She frowned at him. “Perhaps you are new to armies. Perhaps you don’t know that it’s not common for commanders to share information with soldiers unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“But you have to share information with your mages, don’t you?” he asked, giving Souda his most innocent look. “It might be something we can work with.”
“You’re plant mages,” Souda replied. “What can — oh, Raiya, give me patience. The riders who came too close this morning are a rear guard. There’s a small army two days ahead of us and moving a hawk’s anus faster than we are, because they don’t have a monkey-spit supply train to worry about! It’s those swine who attacked the Temple of the Tigers, from what the people in the town told Lango. You’d think they’d turn around and give us a nice straight-up fight!” She glared at the open lands on her right, then frowned. “Now who do you suppose that is? Don’t tell me I’m going to get my wish!”
Briar squinted. A new rider watched them from a distance, far enough that Briar couldn’t see what the observer wore or if he carried weapons. He sent his power into the grass roots, reaching for the watcher, but the man wheeled and rode away before Briar’s magic got to him. He glanced at Rosethorn, who shook her head. She hadn’t touched the watcher, either.
Souda whistled sharply. This time she sent two of her soldiers after the stranger. They soon returned. They had lost him.
One of the tribesmen spotted the next watcher; Parahan’s scouts reported a third. By nightfall a total of six watchers had been seen. None had been caught.
“Theirs or ours, do you think?” Briar heard Parahan ask Captain Lango.
The Gyongxin man was grim. “Yanjingyi armor, Yanjingyi spies.”
All the commanders put the soldiers to digging a broad ditch around their camp that night. Rosethorn sprinkled a few seeds at the bottom of the ditch, just in case. They would take the place of abatises if the enemy attacked. A word from Rosethorn or Briar and the seeds would send thorny branches shooting up to surprise anyone who tried to cross the ditch. The only side of their camp not so defended was on a wide pond.
The creation of a tighter camp seemed to make the soldiers feel more like one army. When Briar volunteered for guard duty, he found himself trading nods of greeting with tribesmen, temple warriors, and Realms soldiers who had the same duty. One tribesman even offered Briar a chew of betel nut, though Briar politely turned him down. He thought orange teeth might ruin his appeal for girls at home in Emelan.
Staring at the stars, he realized that the constellation called the Herdsman was starting to rise over the horizon. He picked out the ancient hero’s head and earring, his shoulders, his belt, and the one visible arm with its sling, ready to drive a rock straight between the eyes of the Lion of Shaihun. It was one of Evvy’s favorite stories. On their road east, she had insisted on pointing out the Herdsman every night she could see it.
Briar’s eyes filled as he looked at it. He wiped them on his sleeve.
I’m not going to get all weepy every time I see a shepherd with a sling, he told himself. That’s not fair to Evvy. And this country has herders with slings everywhere I look.