Zhegorz did not help. He still insisted on riding beside Sandry, his bony nose in the wind, whatever its direction. His declarations—“I hear the palace”—got to be maddening. The problem was that the empire maintained fortresses along the highway to preserve the peace. Could his palace sounds simply be the conversation of servants of the empire? He couldn’t say. From time to time he would go silent, but he always started up again. The only rest Sandry got from his declarations was if she chose to ride at the back of their group, when she got dust in her teeth. By the time they finally crawled into the overstuffed courtyard of the Blendroad Inn, Zhegorz was shouting his news, drawing stares from everyone who heard them, and Sandry had a headache.
“Zhegorz, will you please be quiet!” cried Gudruny as Sandry rode forward to talk to the innkeeper. “The children are bad enough”—she glared at her crying youngsters in the cart—“and I mean to paddle them if they do not stop it, right now! I will paddle you as well if you cannot act like an adult!”
Briar, too, was covered with dust and headachy with sun, but Gudruny made him smile. “Here I thought she was a mouse,” he remarked to Daja as Sandry passed them. “Seemingly she’s not.”
“I don’t think mothers are supposed to be mice,” murmured Daja. “Maybe that’s what Zhegorz needs—a mother.”
“I hear the palace,” Zhegorz called back to Gudruny. “Plots and betrayal and intrigue.”
“Hear them quietly,” Gudruny insisted. She gave her children one last glare. They at least had heard the tone of their mother at the end of her rope, and fallen silent.
“Clehame, I’m sorry, but we have not a single room. You see how it is—every house in Blendroad is full up for the horse fair,” the innkeeper stammered. He had to talk between two of Sandry’s guards. They would not let him get any closer to her horse. “All who travel the highway this time of year know of the fair. I will turn folk out of their rooms, being as you’re a clehame, but it will cost me guests I depend on every year.”
Sandry rubbed her temples. “No, please don’t do that on my account,” she told him, hating herself for caring about such things when she just wanted a bath. Why can’t I be like other nobles, and demand he look after me and mine right now? she asked herself petulantly. I can’t see Berenene caring if he loses customers or not, as long as she gets a bath.
“Just like a man, to not to offer a solution!” scolded a woman—obviously the innkeeper’s wife—as she thrust her way through the crowd. Reaching Sandry’s fence of guards, she curtsied. “Clehame, forgive my silly clunch of a husband. He’s forgot the Canyon Inn. It’s just ten miles down Deepdene Road.” She pointed to a road that led west. “Truly, it’s far better for a refined young lady and her household. ’Tis small, quiet, not well-known, but well-kept. My sister-in-law owns it. They’ve some guests now, but not enough to fill the house. My sister-in-law is not so good a cook as I am, but no one grumbles about her fare.”
Daja leaned on her staff and looked the woman over. “If this place is such a gem, why isn’t it full?”
“It’s ten miles off, for one,” said the innkeeper, clearly relieved his wife had stepped in. “And it’s more to the noble style and hunters’ style. They’re full when hunt season begins, sure enough, and with the fur traders in the winter, but less so this time of year.”
Sandry had borne enough. Her head was killing her. “Let’s go,” she ordered her companions. “The sooner I lie down, the better.”
One of the guards flipped coins to the innkeeper and his wife. Briar and half the guards followed Sandry, while Daja muttered for Zhegorz to be silent. He obeyed only briefly. Sandry was barely a mile down the smaller road when he cried, “Silks, brocades, swords—I see them on the wind!”
“Because Sandry and her guards are upwind of you, Zhegorz,” Daja told him. “Are you going to behave, or will I have to make you take your drops?”
“I said I’d watch over you,” Zhegorz informed her with dignity. “You should listen when I’m watching over you.”
Daja looked at Gudruny. “Is this what having children is like?”
The maid sighed. “Very like.”
“Hush, or take drops,” Daja ordered Zhegorz. “I don’t care which.”
Zhegorz hushed, falling back to the rear where he could ride with the more sympathetic Briar.
When they reached the Canyon Inn, Daja was relieved to find a very different situation from the last inn. The only other guests were four soldiers on leave from the army, which meant there were rooms for everyone but Sandry’s guards in the main house. Her guards were happy to make camp outside, on the nearby riverbank. The innkeeper immediately took their party over, escorting Sandry to a cool room, clean sheets, water to wash herself with, and quiet. As the others relaxed, Daja lingered in the common room to talk to their fellow guests.
“It’s not as expensive as it is later in the year,” one of the men explained. “And honestly, Ravvikki, my friends and I are glad for the quiet.”
One of the others nodded. “We’re here to fish, explore the river, and forget there ever was a place called the Sea of Grass. That was our last posting. We’re on leave, thank the gods.”
“You’ve come a long way, then,” Daja remarked.
“Thousands of miles, as fast as possible,” one man said reverently, to the rueful laughter of his companions. “And now we’re done. That Yanjingyi emperor is a cruel, hard fellow. We’re hoping our next post is a safe little soldier box in maybe Dancruan.”
“Talk to my brother Briar when he comes down from his nap,” Daja suggested as she got to her feet. “You can trade curses on the emperor’s name. He just got back from Gyongxe this spring.”
The men traded looks. “Saw some fighting there, did he?” the first one to speak asked. “He’s a busy fellow, that emperor. But we may not be around this afternoon.” He coughed into his fist. “We were thinking of riding off to the horse fair this evening for a spot of entertainment.”
“It’s odd,” Daja told Briar later, when he came downstairs. By then, the men were long gone. “They didn’t seem like they were going much of anywhere.” She stretched. “I’m going to practice my staff. Care to swap a few blows?”
Briar grimaced. “When there’s a river and greenery practically on our doorstep, and the little ones sound asleep, so they won’t trail me everywhere? Thanks, no. Go see if one of our guards wants to get his fingers cracked.”
Briar’s wish for solitude was meant to go unfulfilled. He was inspecting a small patch of ferns, wondering if he could get them home if he used one of the small pots in his packs, when Zhegorz found him. The older man knelt abruptly, missing the ferns by an inch.
“You almost killed a plant, Zhegorz. Lakik’s teeth, you got to use your eyes for something other than visions,” Briar said patiently, making sure the moss under Zhegorz’s bony knees was not damaged. “If you won’t watch where you’re stepping or kneeling or whatever, you can’t be following me around.”
“I promised Tris I would look after everyone, but no one will listen,” Zhegorz muttered. “How can I make you listen when the air is full of plots and the wind hung with sights of plotters?”
“Because you keep saying the same thing, and you say it about everyone, old man,” Briar told him. Dealing with Zhegorz required the same kind of patience that dealing with acorns on the ground demanded. All of them clamored to sprout and put down roots, and they didn’t understand that not all of them could. It always took time to get through to them. “You’ve got to concentrate harder and give us more details. And you’ve got to learn to tell what’s a real danger from what’s always there. Imperial soldiers are always there—the empire’s lousy with them, like the fellows Daja was talking to.”