He was almost finished in the main infirmary when he saw Rosethorn, Evvy, and Luvo were also visiting the wounded. When he was done, Briar joined Evvy. Everyone wanted to meet the girl and the heart of the mountain. He helped those who could to sit up so they might talk with the odd pair. Evvy, so shaky in the bath and in their room, was endlessly patient as she lifted the crystal bear for those who could not sit. Briar realized that Luvo was giving out a soft hum, one so deep that he felt it in the soles of his feet as much as he heard it. It seemed to leave the wounded stronger.

They might have been there all night, except the healer in charge shooed them away so her staff could feed everyone and change bandages. A messenger found them with an invitation to join First Dedicate Dokyi for supper.

Rosethorn and Evvy were glad to see Dokyi. The old man was leaner than he had been when they saw him last, but his gaze was no less sharp as he looked each of them over. He clasped hands with Briar and bowed to Luvo, but he embraced first Evvy, who had been his winter student, and then Rosethorn. “You did well,” he told the woman quietly. “Very well.”

“Thank my horse,” she said wryly, her voice just as soft. “He took me there and back. And if we did so well, why do I still see moving paintings? My errand is over, yes?”

Dokyi smiled. “That effect may remain while you are in Gyongxe, where we sit between the divine and the earthly.”

“Paintings didn’t dance and cavort this last winter,” Rosethorn told him.

“Carrying the burden changed your ability to see the portals. That is what the paintings are.” Dokyi looked at Briar, who was chatting with the temple’s other supper guests, the God-King, Parahan, Sayrugo, and Soudamini. “Though I have yet to explain what happened to Briar.”

“He touched the pack that I carried my burden in,” Rosethorn explained. “We had to tie him to his horse for half a day. He wouldn’t sleep in the temple fortresses after that, though he didn’t tell me why.”

Dokyi grinned. “Ah. That explains why he jumps so. Like you, he now sees the little gods as they really are on the walls, alive in their doors to our world.”

“Are you two going to eat?” called the God-King. “Or do we have to finish all this ourselves?”

Rosethorn had needed a meal like this with friends and very little talk of the war. It was understood by the adults, she was certain, that they would be working on strategies soon enough. Evvy was quiet, not sulky. Something she told the God-King struck him as quite funny; he nearly choked, he laughed so hard. They broke up in a good mood and went to bed early.

In the morning, Briar and Rosethorn found a workroom in the part of the Living Circle temple given over to the use of the Earth temple. There, with pots and earth from the temple supplies, they began to replenish their thorny seed balls. Evvy helped, carrying in jars of water and filling the pots with enough earth to take the seed.

“I do not understand,” Luvo said as he watched them work. “Surely this emperor will go home now that he has lost so many of his people to the fighters of Gyongxe.”

“That is exactly why he won’t stop until we find a way to beat him like a drum,” Briar said bitterly. “He could lose three times as many people as he did and still have plenty more to throw against us. He wants this place. He wants the temples and the God-King’s palace and all their treasures. He wants a hold on all the religions that have temples here. And he won’t take no for an answer. He’s the kind of fellow who will burn a whole garden because one plant is sick.”

“I do not understand,” Luvo replied again.

Briar had just finished the tale of Rosethorn’s attempt to save the rose garden when Jimut arrived carrying two small wooden kegs.

“What are these for?” Rosethorn asked when he set them on the table.

“Well, a slinger who’s a long way off might not get one of your cloth seed balls very close to the enemy,” he said cheerfully. “That’s why I had to go back to my old way of fighting when we twisted the emperor’s tail.”

“It doesn’t seem to have hurt you,” Rosethorn replied with a smile.

“Yes, but I felt bad,” he told her. “Most of my friends never got to see what happens when one of your little balls explodes. And I was, well, I was exploring hereabouts, feeling like I have nothing to do. I just happened to find the wine cellars….”

Briar began to laugh.

Jimut said loftily, “And they have all these empty kegs waiting for transport to the Yanjingyi wine makers, except there’s a war. So I got an idea. What if you put one or two cloth balls in an empty keg and load that into a catapult? A small catapult, maybe, like the ones they have on the rooftops here? The keg will pop when it hits the ground, and your seeds will scatter and grow.”

Rosethorn clapped his shoulder. “That’s a very good idea. Now, go find the First Dedicate of the Water temple and ask her to donate her kegs. I’m certain she will be pleased to do so.”

Jimut stared at her. “I thought you might handle that part.”

Rosethorn sighed in mock regret. “I would, but I am growing thistles so they will give us more seed. Tell her I’m sorry I couldn’t come myself.”

Jimut looked at Briar, who shrugged. “I’m doing the same thing,” Briar explained.

“I’ll come,” Evvy volunteered, “if you think it would help.”

Jimut sighed. “No offense, Evumeimei, but you are not always careful about what you say. I will be in enough trouble when she hears I was prowling in her wine cellar.” He wandered off.