Briar squinted. A new rider watched them from a distance, far enough that Briar couldn’t see what the observer wore or if he carried weapons. He sent his power into the grass roots, reaching for the watcher, but the man wheeled and rode away before Briar’s magic got to him. He glanced at Rosethorn, who shook her head. She hadn’t touched the watcher, either.

Souda whistled sharply. This time she sent two of her soldiers after the stranger. They soon returned. They had lost him.

One of the tribesmen spotted the next watcher; Parahan’s scouts reported a third. By nightfall a total of six watchers had been seen. None had been caught.

“Theirs or ours, do you think?” Briar heard Parahan ask Captain Lango.

The Gyongxin man was grim. “Yanjingyi armor, Yanjingyi spies.”

All the commanders put the soldiers to digging a broad ditch around their camp that night. Rosethorn sprinkled a few seeds at the bottom of the ditch, just in case. They would take the place of abatises if the enemy attacked. A word from Rosethorn or Briar and the seeds would send thorny branches shooting up to surprise anyone who tried to cross the ditch. The only side of their camp not so defended was on a wide pond.

The creation of a tighter camp seemed to make the soldiers feel more like one army. When Briar volunteered for guard duty, he found himself trading nods of greeting with tribesmen, temple warriors, and Realms soldiers who had the same duty. One tribesman even offered Briar a chew of betel nut, though Briar politely turned him down. He thought orange teeth might ruin his appeal for girls at home in Emelan.

Staring at the stars, he realized that the constellation called the Herdsman was starting to rise over the horizon. He picked out the ancient hero’s head and earring, his shoulders, his belt, and the one visible arm with its sling, ready to drive a rock straight between the eyes of the Lion of Shaihun. It was one of Evvy’s favorite stories. On their road east, she had insisted on pointing out the Herdsman every night she could see it.

Briar’s eyes filled as he looked at it. He wiped them on his sleeve.

I’m not going to get all weepy every time I see a shepherd with a sling, he told himself. That’s not fair to Evvy. And this country has herders with slings everywhere I look.

Then he frowned. It was hard to shoot a seed ball from a crossbow. The archer drew the string until the head of the bolt almost touched the stock, leaving scant room to tie the ball. A seed ball was too light to go far on its own, but a sling could throw a seed ball if the ball were weighted somehow.

Briar looked at the earth under his feet. There were stones in it. He picked one up and tossed it in his hand.

Rosethorn took his place when the guard changed, sending him off to bed. Once he pulled his blankets up around him, Briar slept without dreams.

He woke in the morning to a normal camp. No one had tested the sentries. While Jimut grumbled about it as he brought tea for Briar and Rosethorn, Briar was just as happy. He prized his sleep.

He helped Rosethorn to do up the laces on her cuirass and greaves; she returned the favor. Both of them settled their carry-bags full of seed balls over their chests.

Briar nearly collided with Jimut when he walked out of the tent. His aide was bringing the dumplings called momos for their breakfast. “Do you know anyone who is good with a sling?” Briar asked him. “Someone who can put a rock close to a reasonable target.”

Jimut shrugged. “I can,” he replied, offering momos to Rosethorn as he emerged from the tent. “I helped my father and uncles with the herds before I decided to be a soldier. When I hunt for the company I save arrows with my sling.”

“Would you start carrying one with you?” Briar asked. “I’d like to be able to work at more of a distance.”

Jimut frowned, and then bowed. “Of course.”

“I think I would like a slinger, too,” Rosethorn said. She ruffled Briar’s short hair, which was starting to grow out. “Clever Briar.”

Briar pulled a tuft of hair out to see how long it was. “I need this cut.” He was strict about keeping it an inch long. That way it never curled and it dried fast.

“Just don’t let the emperor’s barbers do it,” Parahan said cheerfully. “They could make a mistake and take your whole head.” He turned his beak of a nose into the wind from the east. “I smell battle coming. It’s about time.”

“Savage,” Rosethorn told him.

“We are civilized about wars in Kombanpur,” Parahan replied. “We study long and hard for them so we do not dishonor our enemies by giving them a bad fight.” His dark face went a shade darker. “And we do not kill their little girls.”

“I wish every warrior was as tidy about it as you,” Rosethorn said.

“I wish some little girls I know were here to help fight,” Briar said. “They’d give these muck-snufflers a lesson they’d never forget.” He saw some likely looking stones and bent stiffly to pick them up. It was hard to do in armor.

“We use what we have,” Rosethorn told him. “It will be enough.”

After breakfast the small army set forth once again. Souda had placed their three companies in the middle of the march. “If we’re attacked, I want regular soldiers in the middle,” she explained to Rosethorn and Briar as they rode along. “We worked out that the temple soldiers will bring the supply animals up with us and guard them in the event of a fight. The tribes will ride into the enemy flanks. If we hold here at the middle, we might just make a battle plan of it.”