Street Magic

Chapter Six




After leaving the Camelgut den, Briar wondered what to do next. It was nearly midday. They were filthy, smeared with dirt, blood, and less pleasant things. If they presented themselves at the palace – if Briar could even talk Evvy out of her refusal to go there, which he now doubted – the guards would laugh them off Fortress Rock.

"We need the hammam" he told Evvy. "More clothes for you, since we don't have decent clean things for you to put on while those are washed – "

He was talking to the air. Evvy had come to a full stop some yards back. She glared at him, thin arms crossed defensively over her chest.

"Now what?" cried Briar in desperation. "Can't we get through so much as a whole hour without an argument from you?"

"I'm not stealing for you and I'm not laying on my back for you, so don't think for a moment because you're spending money on me – "

"I like them prettier, fatter, and older," snapped Briar. He was privately ashamed that he hadn't guessed she might think this. In her world, his old world, nobody gave anything for free. "And I used to be a better thief than you, too. Jebilu will pay me back."

"I told you, I'm not – "

"Going to the palace," Briar said, overriding her. "I didn't forget. We'll try to find a place where he'll come to meet you. Then arrange whatever you like with him. All right? Are you happy? Can we finish this and get baths?"

Evvy glared at him, but she caught up and stayed in step with him all the way to the nearby souk. Luckily he'd brought extra cash in case he had to bribe the amir's guards. When Evvy couldn't decide between an orange tunic and a lavender one, Briar took both – they were secondhand, after all, and cheap. She ought to have more than one set of good clothes. They also found a black pair of loose trousers and a brown skirt that would fit her. Briar paid for everything, then held the clean and dirty clothes while Evvy slipped behind a curtain to change.

"She ought to have another headcloth or two," the woman who sold the clothes said idly, as if she didn't care if she earned a few davs more. "And a petticoat. She doesn't have loincloths, either. I couldn't help but notice."

Briar looked at her, his mouth curled wryly. "And you just happen to have them."

"Special price," the woman assured him. "Since you're getting several items."

She did finally sell the extra clothes for a lower price than she'd first asked. That was because Briar had learned to dicker from Tris, who knew how to turn a bargain. Even Daja, who was born a Trader, let Tris handle the money when they shopped.

Homesickness. Back in the spring, when Rosethorn had suggested a trip east, with new plants and new uses for them, he had jumped at it. Living in a cottage with three girls and two women, closer to the girls than even a normal boy because they were all in each other's minds, he couldn't wait to get away. The idea of months without Sandry drafting him as a dressmaker's dummy, or Daja going on at table over a new way to work metal, or Tris's swings between lost-in-a-book oblivion and maturing-crosspatch, brought him out of Winding Circle in a flash. He hadn't even minded saying goodbye to Lark. Sometimes Lark was a little too understanding, not to mention indecently aware of the thoughts that went through a growing boy's mind when a pretty novice smiled at him. Rosethorn was uninterested in Briar's changing view of girls who were not his housemates, and her own temper made it impossible for her to be too understanding, ever.

It was only after they'd been gone a week that Briar realized he was listening for the girls' voices, and wondering what they were up to. It was harder to find good books without Tris, harder to get a good round of quarterstaff practice without Daja, and pouring his troubles into Rosethorn's ears wasn't as soothing as it was with Sandry. Sandry would listen solemnly, and sympathize, and tell him how wonderful he was. Briar knew better than to even suggest that Rosethorn treat him that way. He liked his nose – girls admired it. He didn't want to give Rosethorn an excuse to bite it off.

The merchant woman took a loincloth and a headcloth behind the curtain. Soon afterward she emerged with Evvy. The girl was neatly dressed in the orange tunic and black trousers; a brown and orange headcloth covering her ragged hair. "I don't see why you bother," she grumbled.

"Because someone did it for me, four years ago. He's always got more clothes than he needs, so he said I'd waste my time giving him more. He told me just do the same for someone else," Briar said. He thrust the hemp bag with the other new clothes at her. "You get to carry 'em, though." He bundled the dirty things under one arm and marched out of the stall before she asked other uncomfortable questions. He wasn't really sure why he was doing so much for her, though what he'd said about Niko, the mage who had clothed him and brought him to Winding Circle, was true. It certainly wasn't as if he liked this rude, impudent brat.

High overhead they could hear the toll of the Karang Gate clock. It was the third hour after noon. "Time and past to eat something," he said as his stomach rumbled. Evvy's eyes brightened at the prospect of a meal.

He followed his nose to a food vendor, where they bought steamed lamb and baked mushroom-onion dumplings. Steamed quinces with walnut and honey stuffing were next. Both of them were pleasantly full when they washed their hands at a fountain and headed back to Briar's.

"How long have you been on the street?" Briar asked.

Evvy yawned. "I was six when we left Yanjing. That was the Year of the Crow," she said. "And this is the year of the Turtle." She calculated on her fingers. "Four years. Maybe nearer three. They sold me when we got here, and I escaped two moons before the Year of the Cat began."

"Who sold you?" Briar asked, before he thought he might not like the answer.

"My parents," Evvy said. "It cost plenty to come west. I was only a girl and the youngest. I ate food my brothers and parents needed. I took up space in the cart, and I couldn't do anything to bring in money." She rattled off the reasons, as if she could recite them in her sleep. "Girls are pretty worthless, even here. They only got two silver davs for me. I saw a boy my age get sold for twice that."

Briar looked down. Despite her matter-of-fact answer, he felt as if he should apologize – not for the question, perhaps, but because that had been her life. Kids came to the street for many reasons, as he knew too well, but at least his mother had kept him, fed him, and loved him until she was killed on a dark street for her cheap jewelry.

Evvy suddenly laughed. "I'll find them someday and show them what slipped through their fingers!" she told Briar. "Even a girl is worth something if she's a pahan!"

He'd grinned, too, until the second part of her argument sunk in. "Girl mages are worth every bit as much as boy mages," he informed her. "Believe me – I've been surrounded by them for four long years, and never for a moment did they let me forget it."

"How did you get to be a pahan?" she asked, curious. "Did you always know?"

Briar shook his head. "I was on the street after my ma was killed. I was four," he explained. "If she'd had magic, we'd have lived better than we did. She wouldn't have been out late the night she got killed, for certain. Anyway, the landlord tossed me. I was on my own a while, till the Thief-Lord picked me up and brought me into the Lightnings. That was our gang." Evvy nodded. "First I learned to pick pockets, because I had the good hands for it. Then they taught me climbing, and thieving inside. The third time we were caught, I was maybe ten. You know the law."

Evvy made a face. "Third arrest, hard labor for life."

It was Briar's turn to nod. "I had the two X's on my hands, so they gave me the docks. Scraping barnacles until it killed me. But this Bag was there – "

"Bag?" she asked, confused. In Chammuri the term had no special meaning.

"Money-Bag. Takamer. Leastways, I thought he was a takamer, he dressed so nice. Niko, he was. He took me. The magistrate had orders to give him anybody he wanted. And Niko brought me to Winding Circle in Emelan."

"Where's that?" Evvy wanted to know.

Talking was thirsty work, so Briar got them each an apple. As Evvy bit into hers he could see she was missing teeth. He hoped Jebilu would help her keep from losing the rest. "It's northwest of here, on the Pebbled Sea. That's where I moved in with Rosethorn, and her friend Lark." He went on to tell her of the three girls who had also come to live there. Together he and the girls had learned that their powers were so well hidden, so much a part of the natural world, that even Tris, whose magic was the showiest of all, had been passed over by other mages.

Evvy was giggling over his tale of the last of Tris's animal rescue efforts, trying to teach a young crow to fly without ever having flown herself, as they reached the house. Rosethorn was up on the roof, carefully urging the beans, corn, and clover plants into another growth cycle. Of all the gardeners in the lands around the Pebbled Sea, Rosethorn was the most successful with these new crops, discovered in the unknown lands on the far side of the Endless Ocean. Briar and Evvy climbed up to join her.

"How were the farms today?" Briar asked, sitting on his heels beside Rosethorn. Evvy perched on the bench.

"The same as the rest." Rosethorn ran a hand through the sack of corn seed she had already coaxed out of the plants. "This land is so tired. They've farmed it for twelve centuries. The farmers do their best to reduce the acid that builds up with too much irrigation, but some have been poor for generations and can't afford what's needed to turn the land around." A single tear oozed out of the corner of each eye. She rubbed it away impatiently. "It disheartens me, to handle dirt that's so tired."

"But these will help," Briar reminded her. "You said the beans and the clover will build up the soil." Get in here, Briar urged some of the nearby plants. She needs you. To himself he added, And she'll growl if I do anything obvious like move plants closer to her.

The plants stretched until they could rest against her. Briar had seen her worse off, but he still liked to ensure that when she was empty of power and hope, her green strength was restored quickly. After her death and revival three years ago, just the thought that she might be weary, or failing, jabbed him into action.

He glanced at Evvy: the girl stared at Rosethorn, mouth agape. Chances were that she'd never seen that much greenery on the move before, between the plants who comforted and the plants Rosethorn tended as they went from shoots to flowering growth under her hands. Of course, how many ever watched to see if plants moved? To most people they weren't alive; they were things, without needs or instincts of their own. Even when humans knew that one plant, set in the wrong patch of earth, would die, or that another would take over, forcing every other plant out, they still refused to accept that plants were living creatures.

After a while, just as Briar was starting to think of a nap, Rosethorn asked, "How did your talk with Stoneslicer go?"

Briar sighed. "We had to change our plans." He told Rosethorn about the day's work, keeping the story short. She didn't care how different people talked or behaved. Only the girls and Lark enjoyed that part of stories.

When he finished, Rosethorn sat down on the roof carefully, ordering the plants back to their proper places. When they let go of her she turned so she could look at Evvy. "So you won't visit the palace, eh?" she asked. She spoke more slowly than she did to Briar. Some people found her speech, with its hint of a slur, hard to follow. "I can't say that I blame you. Palaces are cold and unfriendly, as a whole." Evvy nodded vigorously. Rosethorn looked at Briar. "Well, you'd better ride up there and talk to him. If she's already experimenting, we can't get her a teacher quickly enough." She looked at the western sky. "It's too late now. That's for tomorrow, then, first thing. And when are you supposed to sell trees in Golden House?"

Briar grimaced. "Day after tomorrow. And I have work to do yet. That one fig tree keeps arguing with me."

"Well, go argue back," Rosethorn ordered him with a smile. "You're welcome to stay for supper," she told Evvy.

The girl shook her head. "I have cats," she explained.

Rosethorn smiled. "And they must be fed. But you'll come here tomorrow – around noon, perhaps? We'll know when you can meet with your teacher by then."

Evvy nodded rapidly, making Briar wonder if she would come back. He hoped that she would, after today, but he could tell she wasn't resigned to an unknown teacher. If she didn't come, he would simply have to collect her from her warren in Princes' Heights.

The girl started to climb over the wall, then she stopped, and turned back. "I better get my old things," she told Briar, smoothing a wrinkle from her tunic. "If I go back to Lambing Tunnel like this, they'll think I have money."

"Should have thought of that myself," said Briar, leading the way into the house. Rosethorn had folded Evvy's grayish tunic and trousers and placed them on a stool in the workroom, under a note on a slate: Shake out fleabane before wearing. Briar diplomatically lifted first the tunic and then the trousers, stirring the folds until the herbs dropped to the floor. He left Evvy there to change. When he returned she was gone, her new clothes folded almost neatly and left on the stool. Her sandals lay on top of the pile.

Kid's got pluck, Briar thought, remembering how he'd hated wearing any kind of shoe at first. Not one complaint out of her, and I bet they rubbed her feet.

He went up to the roof. "She left," Rosethorn said absently as she trimmed the lively jasmine back. "Over the roofs." Eyeing the jasmine to make sure she'd cut all she needed to, the woman said, "I'd forgotten."

When she didn't continue, Briar nudged, "Forgotten what?"

"Hm?" Rosethorn asked, startled out of her reverie. "Oh, I'd forgotten what stone mages are like. Stubborn doesn't begin to describe them. I should have warned you."

Briar smiled thinly. "That's all right," he told her. "I found out myself already."

Rosethorn snorted. "I suppose you did."



Evvy trotted along the rooftop roads, bound for home. From top to toe she was trembling from the strangeness of it all. It had been such a treat to sit in hot water at the hammam twice that day, scrubbing until she glowed a golden peach color, feeling her hair really clean. If she had just used common sense and gone home after that… But she'd had to see what the jade-eyed –

Briar, whispered a part of herself. He has a name. A plant-name. Calling him something else is silly.

Of course she knew people with names: Sulya, old Qinling, who spoke the language of home, blind Ladu, who warned the street people when the slaving gangs came through. But names seemed more important with – Briar, and Rosethorn. As if the words could change her life.

I don't want my life changed, Evvy thought rebelliously as she crossed a bridge over the Street of Wrens. For a moment she stopped to look down at the passageway that led to the Camelgut den. She would have liked to know how they did, if they had gone ahead and joined the Vipers. She had the feeling that Pahan Briar had disliked their choice, but she applauded their common sense. You didn't survive in Chammur's slums unless you learned to bend before you broke. Strange that a plant wizard wouldn't know that. But that was plants, tricky, rock-cracking parasites that would break apart any stone they got their roots into. They never seemed to realize that sometimes quiet was better. As long as you were alive, fresh chances to fight would come.

Seeing no signs of Camelguts or Vipers, Evvy moved on. She felt unsettled now, even with the city's heights rising ahead, lit a flaming color by the late-afternoon sun. Always before the sight of those towering stone reefs calmed her, made her feel safe: it was why she had come here after running from her master. Let others complain of smells and crumbling walls and ceilings in warrens that had been inhabited for a thousand years. Inside those rock halls and corridors Evvy was safe.

But now she knew why she'd always been safe, and the knowing shook her. She really had magic, and could learn how to make stone like her even more. That couldn't be bad. Stone, unlike people, was constant. It was everywhere, in all its varieties. Who knew what she might be able to do with it, if she knew proper stone magic?

The only problem was that to learn more about stone, she would have to deal with more people on a steady basis than she had in years. Pahan Briar seemed all right, for a plant person, but he wasn't going to teach her. A stranger, one who lived in the palace, would teach her. Evvy wasn't sure that she liked that. What if a real stone mage scorned her for what she didn't know? Pahan Briar just told her what to do, and if she didn't know how, he showed her. He assumed she would keep up. And hadn't she done just that all day? Even when keeping up had meant such strange things, like heating stones, new clothes, and food. She wasn't sure that she liked the sandals, which had blistered the tops of her feet, but the clean cloth had felt so good against her skin, and the food in her belly felt even better.

She pulled her rolled-up headcloth from the front of her tunic, and checked its contents – an entire meat dumpling, and halves of others. She hadn't been able to finish all the food he'd bought. With the salt fish and the leftovers from yesterday's feast, she and the cats would eat well tonight.

Would this stranger mage feed her as Pahan Briar did? Pahan Briar had been a thukdak. He understood about meals. How would a palace man know anything about going hungry and eating scraps until a whole dumpling was a feast?

She clambered down and trotted through the Market of the Lost. Her thoughts absorbed her so much that she never realized a Viper was following her, keeping well back in case she chanced to turn and look around.