Parahan’s face lit. “Rosethorn?”
Briar nodded.
It was almost noon when Captain Lango’s people rode through the gate on their way north. Briar went to the twins, whose companies were next. “I’ll meet her and catch up with you,” he said. “I think she’ll reach the river crossing by midafternoon.”
Parahan beckoned to Jimut, who came forward with saddled horses. “I have a fresh mount for her,” Jimut said. “And you do not go without a guard.”
Briar was too nervously eager to even consider an argument. After everyone said their farewells to the chief priestess and the temple commander, Parahan’s and Souda’s companies rode out the north gate. Briar and Jimut went south together with the squad of ten warriors that Parahan had insisted upon. Before they left the temple behind, Briar stopped and said good-bye to the orange stone tiger, ignoring the odd looks of the soldiers.
They walked their horses down to the river to wait and ate the meal they had cajoled out of the temple cooks. Two of the soldiers stood guard, watching north and east, while the others rested and talked. Briar paced the riverbank. He had no idea of how he was going to tell Rosethorn about Evvy. The idea of doing it made his stomach twist.
Clouds were spreading across the sky when Briar saw a flash of green — real green — atop the road that led into the Drimbakang Lho. He yipped, then clenched his hands so tightly his nails bit into the tattoos on his palms. The blooms and stems of his tattoos, swiftly turning into roses of every color, protested his grip. He apologized, silently. The enemy was supposedly gone from the area, but he and his companions had agreed to be cautious. Making noise at the sight of Rosethorn was not anyone’s idea of cautious behavior. Instead he leaped up and down, waving frantically. He stopped only when she raised an arm to indicate she had seen him, and urged her mount to a trot.
They met on his side of the bridge, where she swung off her horse and hugged him very hard. She smelled to him of pine, wood smoke, and the chamomile she used for headache tea. He saw no sign of that nasty leather pack she had carried away with her. She looked like his good old Rosethorn, fixed on the here and now. Her brown eyes were sharp as she looked him over.
“What is it?” she asked. “Your eyes are puffy. You look like you’ve been dragged backward through a bush. Tell me.”
“Evvy,” he said, and his throat closed up.
Jimut took charge of her horse. Rosethorn guided him to the riverbank, where they sat. Once he could speak again, Briar told her about the letter and Evvy’s stone alphabet. Then he held her. For too short a time they mourned.
“We should go,” Briar said hoarsely at last. “We have to catch up with the supply train by dark, just to be safe.”
Rosethorn went to the river and soaked two handkerchiefs in the cold water. She wiped her face with one and gave the other to Briar. A light rain had begun to fall. “At times like this it’s hard to be a good dedicate and to trust in the gods that all things happen for a reason,” she said, her voice hoarse. “She had such a hard life. I feel that the gods owed her something better for longer than she had it.” She looked at her handkerchief and twisted it dry. “Since I never get an answer from the gods, I shall have to work my frustration out on Weishu and his armies.”
Briar nodded. She had put his rage into words. They would make Weishu pay.
Rosethorn put her arm around him as they walked over to the others. They were already mounted up. Jimut passed her the reins of the fresh mount they had brought for her. The one she had ridden this far was with their spare horses. Rosethorn stopped briefly to give him a handful of oats, then swung into the saddle on the fresh horse.
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
“Then how would you ever trust me, boy, or I you?”
“I’m not your
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.
