She slapped his head lightly. “I smell impudence.”

Once she had tied Briar’s armor for him, she gave him one of the cloth bags she had prepared while he slept like a statue the day before. “I was able to bring some of our thorn plants to full seeding growth to stock us up again. I wasn’t exhausted as you were. Of course, I didn’t send my magical self halfway to Yanjing and try to fight a battle that way.”

“Complain, complain, complain,” Briar muttered as he tucked the bag into the sling he hung over his chest. She knew he had spare rocks and squares of cloth in it, as she did in hers. They could create more thorn balls in the saddle if all remained quiet this morning.

“No, caution, caution, caution,” she retorted. It was an old argument between them. “We aren’t invulnerable, and you won’t avenge Evvy if you’re dead as well.” She turned away. “I don’t want to tell Lark I lost you.” The absence of Evvy throbbed like the loss of a tooth. The loss of Briar would be so much worse. If anything happened to him that she could have prevented, she didn’t know how she would live with it. Jimut poked his head into the tent. “If the honored prebus will come out, I will pack you up,” he said cheerfully. “Their Highnesses want to ride soon, and we’re at the front today.”

Once they were packed up and riding, Rosethorn found herself near the very head of their group where Parahan and his guards rode. She had Riverdancer, her translator, Briar, and Jimut for company. Souda and the western chief called Glacier Cracks each took fifty volunteers and split off, Souda going east, Glacier Cracks riding west. They were scouting to see if they could find any stray Yanjingyi raiders. They had promised to catch up with their northbound comrades sometime during the afternoon.

Rosethorn heard Briar and Jimut sigh enviously as they watched Souda go. “Don’t be so eager to find battles,” she warned them, not wanting to mention the soft grumble she heard from very far in the north, near the ceaseless temple horns and gongs of Garmashing. “There will be enough for everyone eventually.”

“This is just march, march, maybe a squabble, healing, and then more marching,” Briar explained. “Why don’t they just settle down and fight?”

Parahan overheard. “Why should they, if they can tire us out first?”

Rosethorn, who had been through a few large battles, didn’t tell Briar she was just as happy to put off the next one. She knew he would think her spiritless. He was young.

They halted to water the animals and to eat a midday meal, albeit a cold one. Glacier Cracks and his people returned halfway through the afternoon. They had found an empty village and a fortified temple with its gates locked and armed warriors on its wall. They had not seen any sign of the enemy between the road and the Tom Sho River.

Rosethorn and Riverdancer, through her translator, struck up a conversation about healers’ spells. Rosethorn was getting some interesting ideas from the shaman. The conversation also distracted her from the nagging question: Where were Souda and her fifty riders? Had they found trouble east of the main road? Troops on their way to join whatever was making that noise so far ahead?

The afternoon dragged. The sun inched down with no sign of the eastern group. With the wind blowing from the north, the pesky leftover effects of the Treasures gave Rosethorn no sign of whether there was an army in the east or not.

She was better able to hide her fidgets than were Briar and Parahan. The men of Souda’s company who had not gone with her grew even testier with the passage of time. Leaving the column to ride back to the water barrels, Rosethorn saw that the healers were preparing for wounded, piling their supplies on the sides of their wagons so they could lay a few of the injured flat. Refilling her water flask, she noticed how very quiet everyone was, even the tribal warriors. The temple soldiers had prayer beads out and were softly chanting as they marched.

When she rejoined Riverdancer and her translator, she saw that several Kombanpur warriors were talking with Parahan. One of them waved his arms and shouted.

“They want to go search for the missing. Lord Parahan says they’re fools to ask.” Jimut translated the Banpuri for them. “He says if the lady and her people are taken, any searchers will be captured, too.”

The sun’s edge had touched the distant peaks when Rosethorn saw Riverdancer look to the east. A hill stood between them and anything that might be going on, but when the shaman reined up, Rosethorn did as well. Within a moment everyone heard the drawn-out blast of a battle horn, not one of the Gyongxin horns.

“Jimut?” Briar asked.

“Enemies!” Jimut said, reaching for his crossbow. “Er — do you want me to use a sling?”

Rosethorn shook her head. If the enemy came over the hill, or even around it, their chances were too good that the balls would roll back to the Gyongxin troops. “Not this time, I think,” she said. “Too risky.”

Briar could see what she saw. “What, then?”

“Off the road on the left,” she told him. “We’re healers today.” She turned and waved her arm over her head to let the columns of Banpuri warriors know she wanted an opening in the road, a split in their numbers. Slowly, with perfect discipline, they opened a corridor for her.

To the east, soldiers galloped into sight along the shoulder of the hill. These were their people, clad in the earth-colored tunics of the western tribes or the armor of the Realms of the Sun and Gyongxe. Some of them barely clung to their saddles. Others were riding double.