“I can’t think of anything so bleat-brained as to insult me at just this moment,” Briar remarked. “But then, you Vipers lost the clever race a while ago, didn’t you?”

Any reply she might have given was lost in a thunder of sneezes. Her eyes were swelling shut; from her gasps, Briar realized her throat was swelling, too. “I suppose I don’t want to kill you,” he decided. “At least, not like this. It’s not exactly fair.”

Slipping off the saddlebags slung over his shoulder, he touched one of the many outer pockets of his mage kit. It opened, letting him remove a corked glass vial. As he wriggled the cork out, he made sure the rose stems were wrapped securely around the Viper’s arms and legs. He then reached over them to dab one droplet of oil from the vial beneath her nose, and two more on each eyelid.

She gasped, an open-throated effort that filled her lungs. Her eyes slid open, the swelling down, though they continued to water. The sneezes stopped. His all-allergy oil was powerful: it could relieve symptoms for over an hour until Briar or Rosethorn learned what caused the allergy and blended a medicine that would help with that alone.

Once the Viper could breathe, Briar requested the rose bush at her back to produce four more of the very large buds near her head. As they swelled with growth, he asked, “Why spy on Evvy?”

“So we know where she is,” the Viper replied sullenly. “Our tesku means her to join us sometime.”

“Why?” Briar wanted to know. “She’s just a kid.”

“She’s a stone mage,” the Viper said. “She can say where jewels are hid, what’s garbage and what ain’t. We could be the main gang in Chammur with a stone mage.”

Briar folded his arms. “When the Thief-Lord wanted me for his gang, he asked me first. He said I’d get food and nice goods and mates to watch my back,” he informed her. “All of my mates were invited, and told why it was good to be in that gang. You, the way you do it, you don’t want a mate. You want a slave. She’ll never gang with you. I’ll make sure she doesn’t.”

The girl’s mouth curled. “You want us to court some little slant-eyed rat from Princes’ Heights? She ain’t even Chammuran!”

“I don’t want Vipers courting her at all,” Briar replied coldly. “You don’t know how to act. And if I see you around here again, you’ll think this” — he signaled to the rosebuds, which burst into flower around the Viper’s face — “is a token of my love.”

The slight amount of oil he’d given her wasn’t enough to counteract the pollen from the huge flowers and the surrounding bushes. She sneezed so hard Briar thought she might sprain something. Clear mucus poured from her nose.

Briar asked the plants to free her. He stood aside as she fled the roof, sneezing and stumbling over things she couldn’t see with her eyes pouring tears. He kept her dagger.

8

Rosethorn heard Briar out, her slender brows coming together with an almost audible click when he repeated how Jebilu had dismissed the influence of Lightsbridge and Winding Circle. She served up midday in silence, opening her mouth only once, to call Evvy to the table. The girl had arrived that morning, while Briar was gone. Rosethorn had made her bathe, change into clean clothes, and help to harvest the new corn crop on the roof. That Evvy had obeyed didn’t surprise Briar. It took a stern spirit to defy Rosethorn.

The woman ate in silence while Evvy pelted Briar with questions about the palace. The white stone walls of Jebilu’s room, what were they made of? Were the inlays on the walls also stone? Did the people press such inlays into the stone as she did stones in the walls of her squat? What did the mage’s pastries taste like — and what did Briar mean, he hadn’t even tried them?

“Enough,” Rosethorn said, throwing down her napkin. “Aren’t stones quiet?”

“But I’m not a stone,” Evvy replied, “I’m a stone mage.” Her cheerful grin didn’t even flicker under Rosethorn’s admonishing look. Briar decided maybe Evvy’s head was stone, and that was how she could resist his teacher’s emphatic personality.

“You two wash up,” Rosethorn ordered, getting to her feet. “I’m off to have a word with Master Stoneslicer.”

“I’d like to come,” Briar wheedled. He wanted hear what Rosethorn said to the fat mage.

Rosethorn shook her head. “Dishes. Then you’re going to teach her something.” She pointed to Evvy. “Don’t let this time go to waste.”

“But I can’t!” protested Briar. “I’m a kid, not a —”

“Teach her to meditate,” Rosethorn said firmly, cutting off his arguments. “And to get her power in a tighter grip. Don’t forget to put a circle of protection around you both when you do it, either. Uncontrolled stone magic won’t do my beans or your miniature trees much good.”

Briar winced. “Thanks for reminding me.”

“Don’t mention it,” Rosethorn said. “And get to work.” She strode out of the house, her face set.

“Is she going to eat Jooba-hooba?” Evvy wanted to know. “She looks like she’s going to bite him, at least.”

“No — if she bit him, he’d die,” Briar informed her.

“And his name’s Jebilu. Learn it. He’s still going to be your permanent teacher.”

Evvy shrugged.