Briar wriggled to sit up, not caring if his leg hurt. This was one thing he could do for her, after he had left her behind for the torturers. “Evvy. Evvy, give me that pack. The one with the embroidered lucky ball on the left strap!”

She groped and handed it to him without raising her face from her knees. Briar fumbled with the straps. “Look here. See what some Yanjingyi kaq had when our fellows raided their camp!”

He pulled out her alphabet. Since she still hadn’t unfolded, he placed the rolled bundle on the tops of her slippered feet.

Evvy parted her knees to peek. Then she whispered, “No …”

“Yes,” Briar said.

She pushed her legs out flat and reached for the heavy roll of cloth. Her fingers trembled as she undid the ties that held it shut. There were more than twenty-six pockets in the cloth, since jasper, obsidian, jade, sapphire, moonstone, opal, and quartz came in many varieties. Evvy stroked each and every sample, tears on her cheeks.

“Evumeimei?” Luvo asked. “Why do streams run down your face?”

“She has her alphabet back,” Briar replied for Evvy, who was too overcome to speak. Then he had to explain what an alphabet was, and what writing was. By the time he was done, Evvy’s crying was over and the army had reached the walled town of Melonam.

They waited in the sun for a short time before Jimut rode back to find them. “They want to leave the wounded here and press on,” he told Briar. “Rosethorn said to give you this.” He handed over a small vial.

Briar knew the medicine as soon as he smelled it. It was one of the quick-heal potions they used only when things were desperate.

If they’re going to leave me here with the rest of them that are hurt, that’s pretty desperate, he thought. And I don’t want to be left!

Before he could lose his nerve — there was a reason these medicines were seldom used — he slit the wax on the cork, yanked it free, and swallowed the contents of the vial. For a moment he felt nothing. Then the flames came roaring up his throat to set his teeth, tongue, eyeballs, and nose on fire. He stuffed one arm into his mouth to keep from screeching and forced himself to stare at Melonam’s walls. That was a mistake. The stone walls were painted with four-headed orange gods with boars’ tusks. In their hands they gripped spears tipped with jawbones. Looking at Briar, they stuck out their tongues and waved their weapons.

Briar covered his eyes with his free arm.

“Briar?” Luvo asked. “Why do those gods of the plain wave to you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Briar mumbled. Then he realized what the rock had said. He uncovered his watering eyes and blinked at Luvo. “You can see them? You can see them moving?”

“Why would I not see the gods?” Luvo inquired. If Evvy heard their conversation, she gave no sign of it. She had moved down to the tail of the wagon, where she sat with her alphabet. She was taking each stone from its pocket and pressing it first to her lips, then to her forehead, before she put it back.

“I thought I was just imagining things,” Briar mumbled. Then he had to explain what “imagining” meant, though he wasn’t certain, in the end, that he got his meaning across.

“Gods are too important to be left to the imagination of meat — humans,” Luvo observed. “These paintings are a door to the local gods’ homes. For some reason they believe that you can see them, so they mock you.”

“I understood the mockery part,” Briar admitted. “What is that thing you keep saying and correcting? Meat what? Is it an insult? I suppose it is, or you wouldn’t keep changing to ‘humans.’”

“Formerly I thought of animals, birds, insects, and humans as ‘meat creatures,’” Luvo explained patiently. “It distresses Evumeimei. She asked me to use the word humans for those of you who waste two of your limbs and put all of your weight on the other two.”

Despite the pain in his throat, Briar sighed. “We don’t waste what we do with our hands. You think your orange gods over there would be so bright if they didn’t get their colors touched up now and then by painters? Those are humans who spread color at the end of little stick tools they hold in their hands,” he said hurriedly, before Luvo could ask what a painter was. “We couldn’t fight the emperor’s soldiers if we didn’t have hands and weapons we made with them.”

“Neither could he fight you,” Luvo said.

Briar made a face. “True enough. But Rosethorn and I make medicines with our hands that help the wounded to heal. We also help plants to grow with them.” The medicine’s fire died away and, with it, the pain in his leg.

Jimut, who had left Briar to drink his medicine, now returned at the trot, leading Briar’s riding horse. The gelding was saddled and ready.

“Forgive me,” he said, “but General Sayrugo says those who cannot ride will be left here. We are two days from the capital. It is under siege by the imperial army. And Princess Soudamini says that Evvy must stay here, too. A battleground is no place for a child. She said that, not me,” he said hurriedly after a look at Evvy.

Evvy jumped down from the wagon. “Oh, no,” she snapped. “I’m not getting left behind. Not after what they did to me. Jimut, where is she?”

Jimut whistled to a passing soldier. “Take Evvy to Her Highness, will you?” he asked the man.

“Evumeimei?” Luvo called. “Shall I go with you?”