There was a bowl of rice with bits of this and that on a table by the window. Knowing it would be a long time until she got fed again, Evvy made quick work of the whole thing and belched when she was done. She even ran her fingers around the inside of the bowl and licked them, just to be sure she had everything. With that seen to, she grabbed her pack and slung it over her shoulders. Others found it heavy, but not her. She had carried it for two years, since Briar had begun her studies when she refused all other teachers. The pack held both her proper mage kit and her stone alphabet, with rocks or gemstones for each letter in its own special pocket. When she traveled, she did not like to be more than an arm’s reach away from it. Only knowing that her things were under the strongest protection spells Rosethorn and Briar could weave had made her comfortable enough to leave them while she was on the palace grounds.
As she entered her sitting room, she was greeted with assorted strange cat noises. Briar had freed the cats from her gate spell and lured them once again into their special carry-baskets with his very excellent catnip. Outside she saw Briar carefully stowing the emperor’s rosebush and his shakkans on the backs of his packhorses. He had given one of the miniature trees to the emperor when they arrived as a birthday present, letting their messenger present it in case the emperor hated it. Evvy was fairly certain that Briar regretted the gift now, since he loved his shakkans like she loved her cats. He had not liked the way that Weishu treated his people and would not like one of his trees in Weishu’s hands.
Rosethorn’s twin packhorses waited outside patiently, their burdens already tucked away in cushioned leather satchels. Evvy found her riding horse, which whickered on seeing her. She swung up into the saddle and made herself comfortable.
“Anytime, Briar,” Rosethorn said, mounting her horse.
“Yes, Mother,” he replied. To his obvious surprise, and to Evvy’s, the normally straight-faced servants tittered behind their hands at his joke. They sobered immediately and bowed as their guide and escorts set off on the road to the Gate of Imperial Blessing.
Evvy sighed happily. They were on their way out of the palace.
That illusion lasted as long as their ride to the gate. Two groups waited for them there. One was led by the Mistress of Protocol. Behind her stood two hostlers. Each held the reins of a string of three horses, all carrying a full burden of packs sealed with the six-toed dragon of the Long Dynasty. The headstall of each horse bore the same insignia.
A captain led a full company of the palace guard. These soldiers stood across the front of the gate, blocking it, spears planted firmly on the ground. Evvy’s skin broke out in goose bumps. They knew! They knew about Parahan!
Rosethorn kneed her horse past their guide. “What is this?” she demanded.
“Evvy, have some tea.” Briar nudged his horse closer to hers. He offered her a flask. In a normally loud voice he said, “I bet you didn’t even eat breakfast.” Softly he added, “Drink some tea and stop looking guilty.”
Evvy obeyed. She eased her horse back until she was next to Monster’s carry-basket. She reached her fingers in and stroked the big animal.
The Mistress of Protocol bowed to Rosethorn. “Forgive me, honored Rosethorn, friend of the emperor,” she said, not meeting Rosethorn’s glare. “This … officer insists that you will not be allowed to pass until each member of your company is inspected. Please forgive the, the inconvenience. You have my deepest, deepest apologies.”
Evvy wouldn’t have thought the Mistress of Protocol could ever be so upset. Just after their arrival this intimidating lady had spent several mornings with them, educating them in the ways of the court. At the time Evvy had wondered if she was carved of the same white marble favored for so many of the imperial buildings.
“Inspect, then,” Rosethorn said. “Except for the three of us and our guide, everyone is palace staff. The guide was approved by palace officials.” She said nothing else as every member of their escort had been inspected top to toe by an armed soldier. Even their baggage was poked, as if the soldiers expected them to be hiding someone in it.
As the guards inspected the pack animals under Briar’s eye, Rosethorn nudged her mount over to that of the Mistress. Quietly she asked, “Is it permitted to inquire why one is being subjected to this degrading inspection?”
The Mistress used her fan to hide her face for a moment, then lowered it and leaned very close to Rosethorn to whisper in her ear. Evvy knew that normally torture would be required to get an extra word from the older woman, but she had a bad case of arthritis. A balm from Rosethorn, and its recipe, had made her life much easier. Very much easier, Evvy thought, if she was willing to give Rosethorn any information.
The captain was returning; the two women separated.
“Done,” the captain said. “They may go.”
The men cleared away from the road. The Mistress of Protocol, badly rattled, presented the travelers with the horses and their burdens, gifts personally chosen by the emperor. Rosethorn said a few diplomatic, grateful phrases.
Evvy admired her all over again. Rosethorn said those things, and she acted as any noble lady might, but when she took a drink of tea from her belt flask, Evvy could see that Rosethorn’s hand was shaking. Given Rosethorn’s nature, Evvy was fairly certain she wasn’t scared, but furious.
Were they looking for Parahan? Evvy wondered, nibbling the inside of her cheek. It’s early, but maybe they know he’s missing. Once they had passed through the last gate out of the palace and were on the long avenue that led into the city, Evvy and Briar rode up to Rosethorn. Their guide had drawn closer as well. “In all my days of service to the imperial palace, I have never seen imperial guests subjected to search upon their departure!” the guide said, indignant. “Did the most honorable Mistress of Protocol hint as to the cause of such extraordinary behavior? The emperor will be furious to learn of this!”
“I don’t believe so,” Rosethorn said, her voice very dry. “He’s missing an even more prized guest.” She pursed her mouth, then said, “Apparently his captive Parahan of Kombanpur has escaped. They don’t know how. His chains — locked — and his cage — also locked — were discovered this morning when they went to take him to his bath.”
“Oh, that’s bad,” Briar commented, his face and voice suitably grave. “His Imperial Majesty won’t like that.”
Admiring her teacher more than ever, Evvy decided to add her bit. She sighed, careful not to overdo it. “He won’t get very far, not with the whole palace looking for him.”
Rosethorn looked at them suspiciously. “Very true. If he’s lucky, once he’s recaptured, no one will say anything about it,” she commented. “No one will want the emperor to know how badly they slipped up.”
Their guide shook his head. “That’s the kind of secret that always comes out,” he said. “But you’re right, they’ll catch him. They have ways. Now, if you will look ahead, you will see the Gate of Lowly Welcoming. They call it that because anyone who is coming from the palace is assumed to be less happy, even upon entering our glorious city. We will be going around Dohan, though, so we will not pass through.”
He trotted on ahead to ride with the leader of their guards. Rosethorn rode for a while in silence, before she said, “We’re going to be in Yanjing two more weeks or longer, if the roads aren’t good. The imperial spy service will have eyes on us constantly to see if Parahan tries to get in touch. There’s no reason why he should. But brace yourselves, all the same.”