battlefield.
Briar sighed. He could look after the Gyongxin wounded. That wouldn’t make him feel as if he betrayed Evvy’s ghost.
“Do you know what wagon has my mage kit?” Briar asked Jimut.
“The part with your medicines?” the older man inquired. He patted the bags behind the saddle of his own horse. “Right here.” He handed them down to Briar, who took them and went in search of the small army’s healers.
The soldiers raised big infirmary tents where the healers could work, then fetched empty barrels and filled them with water. Those who did not bring the wounded into the tents gave the injured horses a merciful death. They then dragged the animals’ bodies to the side of the battlefield opposite that where they laid out the human dead. Cooks set up outdoor kitchens for soup and tea for everyone as the rest of the camp was built around the healers’ tents.
Briar, Rosethorn, Riverdancer, and the rest of the healers labored well past midnight in the chaos that filled the tents. The screams of the wounded were enough to make Briar want to scream himself. To make sure that he didn’t, he bit the inside of his cheek until it bled, then found a piece of rolled bandage to chew on. There weren’t enough medicines to ensure that everyone could have their pain eased. The healers were forced to keep such potions for the unfortunates who had to have a leg or an arm cut off, or a weapon pulled from their bodies. Mage after mage was sent from the tents, worn to exhaustion, while more wounded were brought in or came to consciousness.
Jimut and a number of other people Briar recognized from the road worked in the tents together with the mages and healers, helping to hold patients for stitching or surgery, wrapping bandages, carrying water, and sitting with the dying. Briar even saw their commanders throughout the night. They came to talk to their people and even to fetch water or soup when everyone else was busy.
At last Riverdancer ordered both him and Rosethorn to bed, reminding them through a translator that they had used their power in combat as well as in healing. They needed rest. Their medicines could continue to work without their presence, she informed them tartly, and there was less risk of a medicine collapsing onto a patient.
In his bedroll, Briar was staring at the roof of the tent, listening to Rosethorn’s sleep-breath, when he realized that he hadn’t seen any wounded Yanjingyi soldiers. The other healers must have steered him away from them.
Just as well, he thought. That way I don’t have to make any hard choices.
He felt around until he found Evvy’s stone alphabet by his packs. With his hand resting on it, he slept.
18
UNDER AND ON THE GNAM RUNGA PLAIN
BETWEEN THE TEMPLE OF THE TIGERS
AND THE TOWN OF MELONAM
Under Gnam Runga, Evvy lost track of time. It was hard to remember days without sunlight. Her companions did not help: One counted time in thousand-year chunks and the other didn’t talk. Except for brief stints running and necessity halts, Evvy stayed on Big Milk, even to sleep.
Luvo told her about the coming of the Realms of the Sun and how that slab of land had shoved the edge of what would be Gyongxe higher and higher to form the Drimbakangs, youngest of all the world’s mountains. She told him about Briar, Rosethorn, and the things they had seen as they had traveled east. That seemed to require many more explanations than Luvo’s stories. He found humans mystifying, particularly the human need to take things from other humans, and to put an end to other humans’ lives without the need to eat them. He was also curious about what Evvy had learned to do with stones. She managed to collect a few new stones from the walls and floor of the tunnel, teaching some to produce light or warmth if they had the capability for either.
The tunnel had plenty of strange pictures on the earthen walls, pictures given odd movement by the green fungus that was the sole source of light. Evvy examined the pictures every chance she got at first. She was eyeing one that seemed to be a spindle-legged horse with a bird’s head when she turned to find a creature just like it staring at her.
She screamed. So did the creature. It clattered into the dark on impossibly thin legs, followed by three others that would have been colts if it had been a horse. Big Milk, who was eating one of the heaps of grass that someone had left at intervals, looked at Evvy with a reproachful eye.
“Evumeimei, you must not scream at the deep runners because they are not what you are used to,” Luvo told her mildly. “This is their country after all.”
“Their country?” cried Evvy, clambering onto Big Milk’s back, where Luvo already waited. “It’s a tunnel underground!”
“Underground is where they and their kindred live, unless danger brings them to the surface.”
“The God-King and Dokyi never said anything about horse-birds!”
“Forgive me, Evumeimei, but from what you have told me about your friends, it seems to me they did not tell you the greatest part of the secrets of Gyongxe.”
Evvy sat cross-legged on Big Milk’s broad, solid back and propped her chin on her hands. “No, I suppose not. Please don’t feel insulted, Luvo, but even though you have the most splendid mountains I have ever seen, I will be glad when I leave here. Gyongxe is too strange for me.”
“Would you not become accustomed to things?”
Evvy started on a little braid in Big Milk’s fur. She had made quite a few of them so far out of the yak’s hair and brightly colored threads from her clothes. Luvo had said the giant yak did not mind. Evvy found it was good to focus on braiding in the green-lit gloom of the vast tunnel during those bad times when she might otherwise dwell on the smiling Jia Jui as she raised the rod over Evvy’s feet.
“No, Luvo,” Evvy said. She couldn’t tell him the cold winds would always remind her of the piled dead, or that the jeweled night sky would show her the picture of her cats’ limp bodies. “I’m sorry.” Something scampered by overhead. She bent close to Big Milk’s fur so she wouldn’t see what it was.
The army remained in camp for a day, to give the wounded a chance to rest. After a heated conference and some back-and-forthing of messengers, two companies of warriors took the Yanjingyi prisoners and wounded back to the village they had passed the day before. They could not spare soldiers to guard captives as well as their own wounded on the road. The companies returned well before sunset.
Briar heard all of this from his friends among the twins’ and Lango’s companies. He did not wake until twilight. When he joined them at their cook fire, they hooted at him.
“I overreached, that’s all,” he growled. “I got a little tired.”
“You had best make a decision,” Parahan said, handing him a full bowl.
Briar accepted the bowl and blinked at the big man. “Decision?”
“Fight or heal once the serious battles start. You can’t do both without half killing yourself. Most mages don’t even try,” Parahan said.
Briar frowned. He had always thought mages chose to be healers or war mages because they hadn’t the talent to do both. It hadn’t occurred to him that they might simply be conserving their strength. “But me and Rosethorn fought and then did healing on our way east, when bandits attacked our caravans,” he said. “And Rosethorn fought the pirates back home and then did healing after.”
“I used my medicines when we fought pirates,” Rosethorn corrected him. “I cleaned wounds and bandaged them. I didn’t put added strength into my medicines, not when I might need it for the thorns on the beach.
