“Fear spells, and not just jump-when-a-mouse-squeaks-in-the-dark fear, either,” Evvy cried. “This is really bad puke-on-your-robe fear, and the spell’s eating away at the stone. If you don’t take it off, the stone will go to dust in a year. How many of these do you go through, anyway?”

Silence was her only answer from the general and from the tattooed mage.

“Thought so,” she mumbled. She wiped an eye and went threading through the necklace for other stone beads.

It was not long before the older mage the emperor had called Guanshi Dianliang had to speak again. “She could tell us the stone is useful for the growth of fruit trees, Son of the Gods, and we would not know because she studies the learning of the barbaric west. It is true the mage stones last only so long, but it is the strength of the spells. The most ignorant village fortune-teller knows carnelian is a stone of power and strength, lucky for its color, the blood of dragons.”

“But —” Evvy began, and stopped. Briar watched as Rosethorn, using her arm on the opposite side of the emperor, leaned her head on the table. Her fist was by her ear, their sign to Evvy to stop. With her little finger she sketched a line from her nose to the edge of her mouth, like a wrinkle. It was their sign for “elder.” They’d had to work out a series of signs for Evvy on the road, when her youthful lack of caution started to get her, and them, into hot water.

Evvy saw it. She bowed her head and mumbled, “I’m sorry if I offended anyone, Your Imperial Majesty.” From the way she looked only at the emperor, not at his general or at the angry mage, Briar could tell that she had deliberately not included them in her apology. She placed the beads in a heap on the table. “I was only telling what I know from the stone.”

“I thank you, Evumeimei,” the emperor assured her. “I am delighted and impressed. You have every right — and it is your duty to your teachers and your tradition — to speak what you have been taught. In fact, it would be very wrong of you to speak against your tradition here in Yanjing. We are nothing without respect to our elders and ancestors. You may approach us.”

Evvy glanced at Briar, nervous.

“He wants you to walk up closer to the table,” Briar whispered.

As she did so, the emperor raised a finger. A eunuch came to kneel beside him. After that, all Briar saw of the man was two hands offering something wrapped in bright yellow silk. The emperor took it, and the eunuch walked away from his master.

“Here is a small token of our friendship,” Weishu said, offering the silk-wrapped bundle to Evvy. She took it and dropped to her knees for the usual Yanjingyi bow. Briar glanced at Hengkai and Guanshi, but neither revealed their emotions. Maybe they know they’ve gotten themselves in enough trouble with the emperor today, Briar decided.

“Rise, Evumeimei,” the emperor said. “Open it.” He was smiling.

Briar stepped forward. He bowed, then motioned to Hengkai’s necklace, which the man had not retrieved. “May I, Your Imperial Majesty?”

The emperor nodded. The general only scowled and looked away. As Evvy carefully unwrapped her gift, Briar scooped the beads from the table. He glanced at Rosethorn, who raised a graceful eyebrow at him. Briar lifted a shoulder to say, “I don’t know” to her silent question of “Why?” He ran the necklace through his fingers, watching Evvy.

She draped the silk over her shoulder. Her gift was something carved in bright red stone. “It’s a cat!” Evvy cried. “A cat, made of cinnabar!”

“Do not handle cinnabar too much with your bare hands,” Jia Jui cautioned.

“I know,” Evvy said, using the silk to turn the beautifully carved cat in her hands. “There’s quicksilver in it.”

“The gift itself is a great honor,” Jia Jui went on, smiling. “Cinnabar symbolizes long life in our magical teachings.”

Down onto her knees Evvy went again. “Thank you so very much, Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “I’ll treasure it always, and I’ll remember the lesson that long life and cats are dangerous things.”

The emperor chuckled, as did most of those who could hear, but Briar did not. That bow was starting to annoy him. No student of his should have to grovel to anyone.

“How did you know a cat was perfect for me?” Evvy asked when Weishu told her to rise.

“I heard you traveled from distant Chammur with seven,” the emperor replied. “Will you tell me about them?”

Evvy hardly needed an invitation to talk about her beloved cats. As she described them and their virtues to her imperial audience, Briar inspected the flat, carved wooden beads with his fingers and his power. He wanted to be sure that, should he ever encounter a warrior who wore such a necklace again, he would know exactly what beads to reach for. He did the same with the oak beads on the string, and the gingko beads, memorizing their feel with the Yanjingyi spells sunk into their grain. Then he looked at Mage General Hengkai. The older man had leaned back, away from the halberds, so he could finger the beads wound around one wrist. What deadly secrets were there? Briar wondered. How many deaths did the general carry in all those strings wrapped around his arms? And for whom were they destined?

Couriers arrived for the emperor just when they reached the lily gardens after breakfast. His guests weren’t permitted to know what was in the messages that were so urgent as to take him away from them. He made his excuses and asked Jia Jui to escort them through the beautiful water gardens instead. When they had seen and admired their full share of water lilies, earthbound lilies, trees, flowering vines, beautiful fish, water birds, and carefully landscaped views, the guests returned to their pavilion for a much-needed rest.