The mage struck her feet three more times with the rod. In the gaps Evvy fumbled until she had her stone spell again and hung on to it, keeping it not in her mind but in the ceiling above where she could see it. The pain was white-hot in her feet and head. Her throat burned from screaming. Where was the song of the mountains? “Take over, Musheng,” she heard Jia Jui say. “I don’t care to weary my arm.”

That was when she learned that Musheng was not truly her friend.

He struck her for some time. He would stop. Jia Jui would ask questions, and Evvy would insult her. After three stops when Evvy said nothing, not even curses or insults, Jia Jui sighed. “Let her think while I fetch my mage beads. And you two, have someone take you to her room and fetch two of her cats. Preferably the biggest one, that she calls Monster, and the smallest one.”

The two guards followed her out of the room.

Evvy tried to breathe. It was hard. Her nose was filled with snot and the air hurt her throat. The cats. They would hurt the cats in front of her. She remembered the beads she had handled, General Hengkai’s beads, the ones for killing and destruction. Jia Jui had a necklace and bracelets of beads like that. She would use them on Monster and any of the others, maybe all of them.

She thought about pulling down these walls with her power, but she could not do it. Her legs throbbed and burned. Would she ever walk again? She couldn’t stop crying, though she bit her already sore lip to keep any noise from coming out.

Think! she ordered herself. What can you do if you can’t wreck this room and you can’t stop the pain in your feet? How can you escape? How can you stop her from hurting your cats?

She was Evumeimei Dingzai, a stone mage. If she couldn’t turn herself into stone, what if she took herself, her spirit, and put that into one? There would be no one in her body to hurt or to answer questions.

If I was cold and stiff, they would think I was dead, she thought. Not cold like stone. They’d know that was magic and Jia Jui would break my spell. But if they thought I died … There wouldn’t be any reason to hurt my cats if they thought I was dead.

Small pebbles lay in the corners of the room. Evvy found one to her liking. She began to concentrate. Her leg twitched; the wave of pain that resulted made her gasp. She tried again. Against her will she swallowed, making her throat burn even worse. Once more she tried. A noise outside made her jerk in fear: Was Jia Jui coming back? Were the men coming? The noise faded.

Now, she told herself fiercely, now, or you’ll fail and the cats will die!

Her power was a needle, darting across the room and into her particular stone. Her magic followed. With it went her thinking, most of her breathing, most of her heartbeat. Her body stilled and cooled as she found room for herself around each and every grain of rock in her particular sanctuary. She settled into it and rested.

Something sang to her. It was deep and comforting, but it boomed, too, shaking her loose from her hiding place. Her spirit and power flowed toward the singing, shivering to the deep hum beneath the song and dancing to it, too. Following the song, she entered a space that was hers.

Slowly she began to fill it, though it hurt. She knew, and the song knew, that her last hiding place was only temporary. This was her proper shape, pain and all.

Briefly it warmed. The warmth entered some of the places that hurt, making them loosen. Something inside made her wait. She must not rush, though she had no idea why she shouldn’t. The warmth faded. Perhaps she had imagined it, because once more she was cold.

She lay facedown on a lumpy hill. For a while she did nothing else, though the songs called to her. It took time for her body to remember the uses for fingers, arms, and legs. Any attempt to move hurt beyond words to describe it, but she knew that now she had to move.

She groped around her. She felt cloth, icy in spots. There were other, painless feet, stiff feet, stiff arms, stiff heads, all of them as cold as stone. She lay on a heap of corpses.

That was when she cried.

The mountain songs made her stop crying. They had changed. The deepest song spoke of safe caverns no bad soldiers could reach, where no killers went, where no pain could be found. It sang of safety and stones that healed, of water that was so cold it numbed pain.

She had to go to that song. It steeled her to do what was needed, and soon, before the sun rose. Using the sliver of the moon for light she began to tug clothes off the dead bodies around her. There were scarves for her to bind in layers around her poor feet. She found jackets and breeches and more scarves for her head, until she began to warm up at last. Among the bodies of so many adults — she couldn’t count how many — she also found the bodies of children, infants, and animals, including cats.

There was enough light that she recognized all seven of her cats among them. She nearly gave up then and there, weeping into Monster’s fur. She was at Fort Sambachu, and the Yanjingyi beasts had killed everyone. They were going to kill her if they saw her again. Maybe she ought to let them, or maybe she ought to go permanently to stone.

As if the singers knew what she was thinking, the mountain songs grew louder. The deepest song was loudest of all. It demanded that she hurry away from all the death. She must bring her song to the stone heights, to the dwellers inside. They would take her in, their sister of the mountains. They would bring her home.

She rolled down the rest of the cold heap rather than look at any more of it. The soldiers had dumped the dead outside the fortress, behind the rear gate. Evvy reached the little river, where she found a long stick under the trees. It became her staff. After a drink of water, she was able to turn her soles to stone. It was all that she could do for them. The rest of her feet throbbed. Even the scarves she had wrapped around them did not keep them from hurting with every step.