Battle Magic (38 page)

Luvo must have said something to the yak. She ambled over and knelt on her forelegs. Impulsively Evvy scratched Big Milk
between her curved horns as she would a cow. She felt a bit better when the yak turned her head and rubbed it against Evvy’s belly.

“I think we’re going to get along,” the girl said. “Now, be patient with me, all right? I’ve never ridden anybody as wonderful as you before.”

“She likes the compliment,” Luvo told Evvy. “Swing your leg over, carefully!”

With a bit of experimenting and a little struggle, Evvy managed to get herself and Luvo onto Big Milk’s back. Then she gave the great yak another forehead scratch and settled her grip into the fur on the animal’s neck. “Now what?” she asked.

Slowly Big Milk straightened one foreleg, then the other. Evvy squeaked, then bit her lower lip to keep from doing so again. She yelped. Her lip was one of the injuries from the fort that was not completely healed.

Big Milk ignored both noises. She set off briskly along the shore of the lake, headed deeper into the cave.

T
HE
T
EMPLE OF THE
T
IGERS
T
HE CONFLUENCE OF THE
T
OM
S
HO AND
S
NOW
S
ERPENT
R
IVERS

It was clear that Soudamini would go half mad before all of the western troops had packed up and ridden north.

“We’ve been through this before,” Parahan told her, an arm around her shoulders. He and Briar had taken her up onto the roof before the westerners could hear her mutterings. “These people don’t fight for a living. Well, perhaps the temple folk do. As the war goes on, they’ll understand the importance of starting the march at dawn, not starting to pack at dawn.”

Souda gnawed a thumbnail and swore to herself in Banpuri.

“Our people are all ready to ride,” Briar said in consolation. He stared toward the distant river, hoping for the slightest hint that Rosethorn was coming. He wasn’t unhappy that the westerners were holding them up.

“They may as well have slept late for all the good it will do us!” Souda replied, her husky voice a soft growl. “Who drew the short straw so we left last, anyway?”

“You,” Parahan said.

“You may as well tell our people to unsaddle their mounts and run some weapons practice,” Souda told her twin.

“Already did,” he replied.

Then Briar felt it, the lightest touch of green. He inhaled and forgot to breathe out, waiting. There it was again. Suddenly his chest hitched and he began to hack, unable to catch his breath. Parahan shoved a flask of tea into his hands. Briar gulped half of it down. When he could breathe properly again, he stretched his power as far as it would go. That touch was a little stronger. It connected to his magic; he knew it like his own.

“I think you’ll be happy we’re last,” he said casually.

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
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.