Evvy stood. “We should all stay here in Gyongxe. Me, Rosethorn, and Briar. Till it’s over. Till he’s beaten.” She turned and fled the room.

Rosethorn took a breath. Evvy’s courage hurt her heart. “Wait a moment, Briar, Luvo. Don’t let her think we’re chasing her,” she said.

When Parahan spoke, his voice was cracking. “I wish I had the bravery of that little girl.”

Souda rose. “We will find such bravery for our own, or not, God-King, but we will fight for you. You will never regret taking us in.”

The boy looked up at her. “Make no mistake, Princess, Prince, it was the gods of Gyongxe who wanted you here.” He looked closely at each of them, and then at Rosethorn and Briar. “All of you. I am grateful, don’t think I am not, but the gods brought you here for a reason. It may take a long time or a short one, but sooner or later the gods of this land always have their way.”

When Briar and Rosethorn returned to their room, Evvy had brewed a pot of calming tea and was drinking some. She poured out cups for them. One corner of the room was crowded with the products of their day’s work: kegs upon kegs containing one or two thorn balls each, ready for the catapult, and bags of barley seed, ready to sow. Briar was thinking of burying some thorn balls in choice places before the gate as a way to welcome the imperial army when he felt the overwhelming need to sleep. Evvy and Rosethorn were already abed. Rosethorn’s light snore sounded from the other side of the barrier that gave them all privacy.

He could barely keep his eyes open. “Luvo, do you sleep?”

“Not as you do,” he heard the rock creature say. “Were I to sleep, it would be for centuries, and I would be reluctant to wake.”

“Oh. I s’pose this is different.” Briar had a jaw-splitting yawn overtake him. He curled up in his blanket. “G’night, Luvo.”

He didn’t hear Luvo’s reply. He slept deeply.

The big cats of the Temple of the Tigers nudged Briar, holding him up as the priestess’s cub tried to nibble his hair. He saw Discipline Cottage, his home. Lark was throwing his belongings out into the dirt. Rosethorn and Evvy floated downriver among other bodies, their eyes missing. Briar struggled to wake up, but he couldn’t. The emperor’s young mage, Jia Jui, stood in the air, a glowing set of beads in her hands. Briar fell, landing in a field full of the dead. Sandry, Tris, and Daja were standing on its edge, but when he pleaded for them to help him find Rosethorn and Evvy, they turned and walked away.

No matter how he struggled to wake, the nightmares went on and on. He called up dream plants and wove them into screens to shut out the view of ugly things, but they withered in his hands or collapsed when he held them up.

Just as he thought he might go mad, a rude hand poked his shoulder. A real rude hand. A voice shouted, “Wake up! No tricks! You’re a prisoner of our glorious emperor, and if you try anything, we’ll cut the girl or the woman!” The same rude hand pulled him from his bed onto the floor.

THE GOD-KING’S PALACE

GARMASHING, CAPITAL OF GYONGXE

Weishu looked glossy and pleased, seated on the God-King’s throne. He did not look like a man who had been fighting for weeks. Briar stared at the flagstones, wondering if there was dirt under them, and plants. Don’t try it, he warned himself. You’ll get someone killed. The God-King’s audience chamber was ringed with Yanjingyi archers, each with a crossbow pointed at a captive. The mages who flanked the throne had beads ready in case their foes among the captives got any ideas.

Like a vision from his ugliest nightmare, he saw that Weishu held a chain with the God-King at the other end. The boy sat on his heels two steps below the throne, his face unreadable. He showed no signs of a beating. Either the kid had gone along peaceably, Briar thought, or Weishu realized that hurting the God-King was a very bad idea.

Briar shook with rage. Parahan, Soudamini, and Sayrugo were badly beaten. Rosethorn had a bruise shaped like a hand on one cheek: If Briar had been awake when that happened, the one who dealt it to her would be dead.

“My good friends,” Weishu said in tiyon. “Did you enjoy your sleep? It lasted for three days. I trust you will forgive me. I had to travel for some time to sit in this splendid chair, and I did not wish you to wake until I could greet you. I hope you are not too stiff.”

“Where are my priests and priestesses, please?” the God-King asked. “The heads of the temples should be here.”

Dokyi, Briar realized. Is he dead?

“They are locked in their temples and still slumbering, boy,” Weishu replied. “I will not have this discussion interrupted with more religious babble than necessary.” He raised his right hand and beckoned with his fingers. “Hengkai, get them on their knees,” he ordered, his voice no less friendly.

The general walked out of the shadows behind the throne to stand at the emperor’s right. He held a rope of mage beads in one hand. He’d lost weight since that breakfast in the oak grove. Briar was interested to see a bright gold band of metal around the man’s neck. How could he command an army if he was one of Weishu’s slaves?

Hengkai looked over the prisoners assembled in front of the dais. When his eyes lit on Briar, and on Evvy nearby, he spread his mouth in an ugly grin. He rolled a pair of beads between his fingers. They weren’t wood: Briar checked them instantly, though he didn’t mean to try anything that might vex the emperor.

Suddenly Briar felt pressure — on his shoulders, head, and hips. The pressure grew and grew. He wasn’t sure when it got to be too much. One moment he was standing; the next he was on his knees. He looked around in panic. Rosethorn and some of the shamans were still up, including Riverdancer. Then they, too, were forced down. Only the mages had knelt. The guards beside Parahan, Souda, and Sayrugo shoved them or kicked their shins to force them down.