Street Magic

Rosethorn smiled thinly. “I forgot to tell you, I wrote to Lightsbridge and Winding Circle. They’ll be sending harrier mages to Chammur, to explain to Master Stoneslicer why he can’t chase other mages out of town. To remind him of the vows he took in exchange for their learning.”

“Good,” Briar said. “Let them sweat him a while.” He fiddled with a piece of flatbread.

A cool hand cupped his cheek, lifting his head so he met her level brown eyes. “What is it, Briar?” she asked in their native Imperial, her voice kind. She stroked the skin under one of his eyes with a thumb. “You haven’t been sleeping. I can see it. Tell me what’s wrong, and we’ll weed it out.” She drew her hand away.

He swallowed hard. Picking up his cup of juice, he turned it in his hands while he thought. She ate a bit, and lay flat on the floor, propping her head on a cushion. He knew better than to think she had forgotten her question. She was simply waiting for him to grow into the answer.

Finally he had it. “I thought Tris was a baby, waking up with nightmares all the time, squalling about those drowned slaves,” he said haltingly in Imperial. “I couldn’t see why she fussed so. They would have died in a normal battle anyway. I mean, I hugged her, but I thought she was just carrying on.”

“But she’s not like that,” Rosethorn commented softly.

“No. I know she isn’t.” He put down the cup without drinking from it. “I’ve been dreaming. I’m back in the garden again, only this time it’s day. All those dead people are out in the sun, just rotting. I keep trying to bury them, so they can be decently under ground, but I can’t empty a big enough hole. And whenever I turn, they’re staring at me. I didn’t even kill them. I never dream about the mute, and he’s the one I did for.” He swallowed hard, rubbing his eyes to stop their burning. “They were the saddest thing I ever saw in my whole life.”

She reached over and gripped his arm firmly. “No,” she told him gently. “The saddest thing would have been if you and Evvy had joined them.”

“I know that,” Briar admitted. “I do. But I keep waking from the dreams. I want to scream, but I don’t.” He put his free hand over the one that held his arm, golden brown hand over ivory wrist. “Will I dream about them forever?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“I don’t know,” she replied. “I have such dreams of my own.”

He let her go finally. She sat up, twisting her head from side to side with a crackle of neck bones.

“They never tell you some things,” Briar said bitterly. “They tell you mages have wonderful power and they learn all kinds of secrets. Nobody ever mentions that some secrets you don’t ever want to learn.”

“All you can do is learn good to balance the bad,” Rosethorn told him. “Learn and do all the good within your reach. Then, if you wake in a sweat, you have something to set against the dream.”

Two days later the caravan to Laenpa rolled out of sight of the flame-colored cliffs of Chammur. They had entered a mountain pass where the stone colors were tan and gray, without so much as a hint of orange. When he realized he’d seen the last of the ancient city, Briar felt as if a weight had fallen from his shoulders.

“Let’s take another route home,” he called to Rosethorn as she rode ahead. “South or north, I don’t care.”

She nodded without looking back. Her attention was on the tumble of dirt and gravel to her right. She was seeking plants she might not know.

Briar’s own search for new growth in ground frequently scoured by floods and avalanches was interrupted by Evvy’s giggle of delight. He dropped back to where she rode, a scruffy student queen on camelback. She reigned from the top of her beast’s hump, Asa and the kittens in an open basket on her right, where she could keep an eye on them, and a traveling desk on her lap. Her stone alphabet was open on it. She showed the slate to Briar. On it she had written the large and small Q shakily.

“Q is for quartz!” she cried gleefully as her camel gave her a reproachful glare. In her other hand she held the surprise Briar had left her for when she got that far: not a single stone but a cloth strip to which six small quartz stones were fixed. “Crystal, blue, rose, green, smoky, and roo-rootle — rutilated!”

Briar grinned up at her. It was fun to make her happy. “You are easily amused,” he informed his student.

“I’m learning to read,” she replied gleefully, fingering her quartzes. “And I’m going to be a pahan of stones. Who wouldn’t be amused?”

“Your camel, for one, if you keep bouncing,” Briar reminded her. “Do you know what things you can do with quartz, young pahan?”

“Nahim Zineer told me some. You can see, you can have peace, it can help for love spells …” She continued to recite. Briar listened contentedly. Listening to his student, he felt as if life were an adventure for the first time since he’d left Chammur. The only drawback was that with Evvy, there was no way of telling what the adventure would be — but that wasn’t such a bad thing. It would put some interest into those long hours on the road east.

He couldn’t wait to introduce her to his foster-sisters. He’d finally met another girl who was every bit as difficult as they were.