“What were you looking for?” Briar asked one guard as he was about to ride onto the bridge.
“Escaped prisoner,” the man said, and yawned. “As if he’d come this way.”
“Gods pity him when the imperial torturers get him,” the merchant in front of Rosethorn said bitterly.
Everyone murmured agreement. Then they rode onto the bridge, where the thunder of the river below drowned out the sound of their crossing.
9
THE GORGE OF THE SNOW SERPENT RIVER
Company continued to thin as people scattered to other roads. The land now was steep and hilly, with terrace farms on the slopes. Beyond them were mountains. By the map, Briar saw they were in a kind of funnel that would take them into the Snow Serpent Pass. Evvy would have no cause to complain after that. They would be traveling down a gorge through the Drimbakang Lho, the highest mountains in the world.
Briar kept a keen eye on the people around them, knowing that Evvy was too busy looking at the stones beside the road. The others were commoners by and large: an occasional priest on donkey-back, merchants on mules or horses followed by servants, peddlers, farmers, and the occasional beggar. Two days after they had crossed the bridge, Briar saw the man he had come to think of as their beggar again. They overtook him around mid-morning, when a large wedding party left the road to cross the river. The beggar was seated by the road, digging a stone out of the wrappings on his feet. Successful, he rose and hobbled off, leaning on his tall staff.
“He moves fast for someone with a bad back,” Rosethorn murmured.
“Maybe he’s used to it,” Briar suggested.
Suddenly she stiffened. “Look at his neck.”
The rags the beggar wore for scarves had come undone. The morning’s stiff breeze blew them onto the hillside. He was struggling to climb after them when Evvy galloped uphill to grab the flyaway rags. She had learned some riding tricks in their two years of travel, and she loved to show off.
Like Rosethorn, Briar was staring. The beggar’s neck was as dirty as the rest of him. What his dirt could not cover was the shackle gall around his throat, the kind of scar that would come from years of wearing a metal collar.
As Evvy rode over to the beggar with his neck scarves, Rosethorn murmured, “Without the pack he carries …”
Briar replied, “Could the long hair be a wig? It’s a good one.”
“The rags on his feet and hands could be as much to cover scars from his chains as to keep him warm,” Rosethorn added. “But the blind eye?”
“Oh, that’s easy,” Briar told her. “This beggar we knew, back when I was with the Thief Lord, he would take the white lining of eggshells. He’d cut pieces of it to the right size, then punch a hole in them with a pin to see out of. It made me go all over goose bumps to watch him put them in his eyes, but he made money. It’s the beggars that have something wrong with them that get the coin.”
“Let’s invite this one to supper,” Rosethorn suggested.
“Let’s. I’d like to know what he’s doing out here.”
Briar kept an eye on the beggar all that day as they progressed along the road. There were no inspections. It seemed that those who were hunting for the emperor’s missing captive did not think he would be heading west.
Yet again they camped outside a caravansary. The beggar was the only other person there to use the well and fire pits set up in the shelter of the wall. Briar started supper and Evvy saw to the animals while Rosethorn went in search of him. By the time Briar had a thick, hearty soup bubbling over the fire, Rosethorn returned triumphant, the beggar in her wake.
Briar looked at them. “What, you aren’t towing him by the ear?”
Evvy frowned. “Howcome you always do that to us and not to him?”
Parahan gave Briar and Evvy a sheepish look and a wave. His big satchel had lost its cover of rags and revealed itself as a couple of packs. These he put by the fire, as well as his staff, before he went to the well with an empty bucket. Once he filled it, he began to wash. The wig came off; the eye coverings came out. Rosethorn sent Evvy over with a cloth and a jar of soap. By the time Parahan joined them, all that remained of the beggar was his robes. He sat downwind of them to correct for the scent of his clothing.
“I don’t understand,” Evvy complained, once they had eaten enough hot food to be pleasant to one another. “Why are you going the same way we are?”
“It’s simple enough,” Parahan told them. “A man has to eat. I haven’t a copper to my name, and if I try to go home, I doubt that I’ll get there. I imagine my uncle has his spies out looking for me by now, or he will soon. Weishu will pay him to get me back this time, to show the Yanjingyi nobles that no one can thwart the emperor and get away with it.”
Evvy shuddered. “If it looks like the emperor will get you, kill yourself first.”
Parahan nodded. “I have seen what he’s done to others. Trust me, if I know I cannot escape, I will not let myself fall into Weishu’s hands a second time.”
“And the eating part?” Briar prodded.
Parahan shrugged. “Gyongxe will be hiring fighters soon. The temples have plenty of money and treasure from pilgrims. I’ve seen the list of the jewelry my family has sent to the temples so the priests in Gyongxe will pray for my ancestors. They can afford me. I may be rusty, but I used to be considered a good warrior. It would have been even nicer if I could lead troops, but I’ll take what I can get. They won’t know I used to be a general.” He grinned at Rosethorn. “Maybe you’ll put in a good word for me if I don’t make it to the temples dedicated to my own gods?” Less cheerfully he added, “I imagine I’ll be able to give you a demonstration of my skills at the border.”
“What do you mean?” Evvy had been about to serve herself another bowl of soup. She sat back down instead. “What about the border?”
“He’s planning a war with Gyongxe,” Parahan replied. “You don’t think he’s left the border with the remaining eastern pass wide open, do you?” He looked at Rosethorn. “What I don’t understand is why you people are here. Why didn’t you just send some magical message to Gyongxe and go home as you planned?”
“Just because we have magic doesn’t mean we can fly,” Evvy told him scornfully. “And even if we could talk through plants or stones, there’s no one in Gyongxe who could hear us!”
Rosethorn raised a finger in admonishment. “That we know of.”
Evvy rolled her eyes. “Yes, teacher. I have to be precise, teacher. That we know of. And even if we could, Rosethorn swore vows, so she has to go to help, and we’ll be yujinon dung if we’ll let her go without us.”
“Do I want to know what yujinons are?” Parahan asked, chuckling.
“No,” Briar assured him. “Not with it being night and all.”
The big man looked at Rosethorn. “You shouldn’t have brought them.”
She rubbed her temple with her fingers. “You have my permission to send them back.”
Parahan looked at Briar and Evvy, taking a breath to speak. He hesitated when he saw the blazing light in their eyes and the hard set of their mouths. “You saw only one of Weishu’s armies.”
“The God-King is our friend,” Evvy said. “Dokyi is our friend. Rosethorn is going, which means we are going.”