The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,104

we ran for it, Rosethorn and Evvy and me. That's when we met Luvo, on our way to warn Gyongxe. Luvo's this . . . creature, Zhegorz. He lives with Evvy now."

"The Mother Temple of the Living Circle," breathed Tris. "It's in Gyongxe. The one all the other Circle temples look to. Their first and oldest Circle temple."

Briar nodded. Zhegorz slid down the side of the bed so he, too, could sit on the floor and lean against the bed. It seemed to be his way to comfort Briar. Chime, who had spent suppertime around Tris's neck, now glided over and settled into Briar's lap. He stroked the little creature, feeling her cool surfaces against his palms.

"So we fought our way into Gyongxe, and then we fought the emperor, and then we came home," Briar whispered, closing his eyes. "The pirates was nothin' to it, Coppercurls." In his distress he had slipped back into the language of the streets he had left seven years before. "The whole countryside was afire, or so it seemed. The dead... everywhere. The emperor's army filled the roads for miles, and they didn't care what they did to folk in the lands they marched through. So sure, I dream about it all the time. I'll be fine."

"You'll be seeing a mind healer when we get home," Tris said firmly. "I've heard of this. People who have been through some terrible thing, it leaves scars where no one can see. The scars hurt, so they dream, and they snap at people for doing things that seem silly compared to the horrors. Sometimes they see and smell the thing all over again."

"So I'm just some boohoo bleater, looking for a mama because I have bad dreams?" Briar asked rudely, though he didn't open his eyes. "Looking for a handkerchief everywhere I go so folk will think I'm tragic and interesting?"

"If the scars were on your flesh, would you even ask me those things?" retorted Tris.

There was a long pause. At last Zhegorz said hesitantly, "She's right."

"She 'most always is, when it comes to other folk," replied Briar softly. "I got off lucky. She's being nice right now." Inside the magic they shared, he said, I missed you, Coppercurls. With you there, we might've conquered Yanjing.

She looked down, her thin swinging braids not quite hiding her tiny smile. She waved a hand in awkward dismissal.

Briar waited until he was sure of his command over himself before he looked at Zhegorz. "So don't you worry about being at Landreg House, you hear? It's just for six more weeks or so, and then we take the road home."

"But the city," whispered Zhegorz, his eyes haunted. "The roads. The chatter, and the visions. The headaches, the gossip, the lies, the weeping—"

"Stop that," Tris said sharply. "We've talked about you working yourself into swivets."

Briar rubbed his chin in thought. "He's right, though," he remarked slowly. "He's going to be out in the wind, with all the talk it brings. I remember you, as jumpy as a mouse on a griddle for days, when you started getting a grip on what you were hearing. And it's worse for the old man, here, because he's crazy to begin with. You were just a little daft."

"Well, we certainly can't leave you here," Tris drawled, looking at Zhegorz. "And Green Man knows potions or oils won't work for long. And you can't wear my spectacles for the scraps of things you see, because my spectacles are specially ground for my bad eyes. It's too bad it isn't a matter of a living metal leg, or living metal gloves ... living metal spectacles?"

"Maybe like nets?" suggested Briar. "To catch visions in?"

"Or sounds. No, that's mad. Perhaps. Let's go see Daja," Tris said.

"Daja will do something mad?" asked Zhegorz, now thoroughly confused.

Tris sighed. "Daja can make spell nets of wire, and she can make a leg that works like a real one. She was even crafting a living metal eye, once. Maybe she can think of something in living metal to help you."

*

Briar and Tris were both dozing on Daja's bed as the smith finished the pieces they had decided might serve their crazy man best. Zhegorz himself sat on the floor by the hearth, watching Daja work.

For Zhegorz's ears, Daja had fashioned a pair of small, living metal pieces that looked like plump beads pierced by small holes. Once they were done, she wrote a series of magical signs on them under a magnifying lens, using a