The Will of the Empress - By Tamora Pierce Page 0,155

falling back to the rear where he could ride with the more sympathetic Briar.

When they reached the Canyon Inn, Daja was relieved to find a very different situation from the last inn. The only other guests were four soldiers on leave from the army, which meant there were rooms for everyone but Sandry's guards in the main house. Her guards were happy to make camp outside, on the nearby riverbank. The innkeeper immediately took their party over, escorting Sandry to a cool room, clean sheets, water to wash herself with, and quiet. As the others relaxed, Daja lingered in the common room to talk to their fellow guests.

"It's not as expensive as it is later in the year," one of the men explained. "And honestly, Ravvikki, my friends and I are glad for the quiet."

One of the others nodded. "We're here to fish, explore the river, and forget there ever was a place called the Sea of Grass. That was our last posting. We're on leave, thank the gods."

"You've come a long way, then," Daja remarked.

"Thousands of miles, as fast as possible," one man said reverently, to the rueful laughter of his companions. "And now we're done. That Yanjingyi emperor is a cruel, hard fellow. We're hoping our next post is a safe little soldier box in maybe Dancruan."

"Talk to my brother Briar when he comes down from his nap," Daja suggested as she got to her feet. "You can trade curses on the emperor's name. He just got back from Gyongxe this spring."

The men traded looks. "Saw some fighting there, did he?" the first one to speak asked.

"He's a busy fellow, that emperor. But we may not be around this afternoon." He coughed into his fist. "We were thinking of riding off to the horse fair this evening for a spot of entertainment."

"It's odd," Daja told Briar later, when he came downstairs. By then, the men were long gone. "They didn't seem like they were going much of anywhere." She stretched. "I'm going to practice my staff. Care to swap a few blows?"

Briar grimaced. "When there's a river and greenery practically on our doorstep, and the little ones sound asleep, so they won't trail me everywhere? Thanks, no. Go see if one of our guards wants to get his fingers cracked."

Briar's wish for solitude was meant to go unfulfilled. He was inspecting a small patch of ferns, wondering if he could get them home if he used one of the small pots in his packs, when Zhegorz found him. The older man knelt abruptly, missing the ferns by an inch.

"You almost killed a plant, Zhegorz. Lakik's teeth, you got to use your eyes for something other than visions," Briar said patiently, making sure the moss under Zhegorz's bony knees was not damaged. "If you won't watch where you're stepping or kneeling or whatever, you can't be following me around."

"I promised Tris I would look after everyone, but no one will listen," Zhegorz muttered. "How can I make you listen when the air is full of plots and the wind hung with sights of plotters?"

"Because you keep saying the same thing, and you say it about everyone, old man," Briar told him. Dealing with Zhegorz required the same kind of patience that dealing with acorns on the ground demanded. All of them clamoured to sprout and put down roots, and they didn't understand that not all of them could. It always took time to get through to them. "You've got to concentrate harder and give us more details. And you've got to learn to tell what's a real danger from what's always there. Imperial soldiers are always there — the empire's lousy with them, like the fellows Daja was talking to."

"They don't talk imperial," Zhegorz mumbled.

"Belbun dung," Briar said, half-listening. "Green Man bless us, you're a long way from home." The tree beside the one that sheltered the ferns was stocky for a tree, with leaves marked by distinctively silvery undersides. "Zhegorz, have a look. This is a Gyongxe sorbus. Someone had to plant this here. It's not natural to Namorn, though I suppose it would do all right. Soil's a little rich for you, though, girl."

"They don't talk imperial," Zhegorz insisted.

"They're trees, they don't talk at all," Briar replied. "Well, not so you'd hear...."

"Those men. They talked about 'my lord,' and rabbits in traps, and 'beats catching a flogging for tarnished brass'."

"They're imperial soldiers on leave, and their troops are commanded by nobles," Briar insisted, sending his power into