The bleakness of the vision — of the life — she had just proposed made Briar’s breath catch in his throat. She wants to break Evvy to the rein like a, a horse, he realized, suddenly furious. Battling his temper, knowing he would kick himself for it later if he opened his mouth now, he rested the larch on its original earth and met the woman’s large, dark eyes squarely. “My lady, if you bought this tree because you thought I would force Evvy to live with you in exchange, I’d better take it home,” he said, his voice flat. “She’s settled with my teacher, Pahan Rosethorn, and me. We’re headed to Yanjing in the long run, and we’re going to take Evvy back to her home province when we do.” They’d discussed no such plan, but Briar thought it might give this high-and-mighty pair an excuse to back off before things got truly ugly.
Lady Zenadia sat up straight and planted her feet on the ground. Bracing her hands on her thighs, she asked in a cold, chilly voice, “Do you think to defy me, boy?”
Briar didn’t even blink under her hard stare. “Shall I take the larch home, my lady?” he inquired, rather than answer so foolish a question. Of course he was defying her. He would do it with pleasure and an overturning of all her carefully raked and planted greenery, if it came to that. It was time she learned that people who came from poorer homes were not toys to play with.
Moments that felt endless passed as she silently tried to break his gray-green gaze with her dark one. Jebilu actually shrank back in his chair. Finally the lady flapped a hand in disgust. “No. I have purchased that tree, and I will keep it.”
For a single copper dav he would have taken the larch home anyway, but caution stopped him. Whatever he might think of Lady Zenadia and her dealings with humans, she had very fine gardeners. They would tend his tree well. No doubt she would even hire another miniature tree expert to serve only her. Also, he had made the bargain, and registered the sale with the keepers of the souk. He didn’t want to get a reputation for bad dealing.
The conversation, at least as far as he was concerned, was over. He quit the staring contest and returned to the larch. Eventually the lady and Jebilu discussed about events and people Briar had no interest in. He worked carefully, not allowing his fury to distract him from making sure his charge would flourish. At last the larch was settled and eagerly drinking the water he’d given it, wriggling its roots around to fit its new dish. Briar cleaned up, stowing everything neatly, then shouldered his bags.
A black silk purse had appeared on the wall beside the larch. Briar opened it and counted its contents, aware that Jebilu and Lady Zenadia watched him. All of the money was there. He poured out the coins and put them into his bags, leaving the silk purse empty. He wanted nothing of this female other than his rightful payment. He bowed to the lady and to Jebilu, then walked away.
On the way out, he stopped once more at the arch that offered the best view of the big garden, looking at its plants and trees with a careful eye. There was freshly turned earth near the bases of two trees, a prickly juniper and a short-leafed cedar, he saw.
What do they feed you? he asked them silently. What makes you grow so well in such tired ground?
They still had no words for it. Briar shook his head wearily and followed his guide to the servants’ gate.
12
As he loaded the donkey and mounted his horse, all Briar could think of was home. Visions of soup, fruit, maybe a roasted cook-shop chicken floated before his mind’s eye. A bath would be good, too. He wanted the scent of the lady’s house off his skin. He didn’t know why, but the place had given him the crawls. It was as if he’d been asked an important question while he wasn’t listening.
I don’t want to know the answer, he told himself as he nudged his horse through the gate. I’m no Sandry, forever wanting to solve the world’s troubles, or Tris, poking about for secrets. Daja has the right of it: keep business to yourself and your clan, and get on with life. There’s no point in sticking my neb in things around here.
He held to that policy of godlike detachment right up to the moment when the gates closed behind him. It was then that he saw five Vipers squatted in the small, unsheltered bay in front of the tradesman’s entrance. One of them was the dimpled girl Ayasha he had flirted with the day the Camelguts joined the Vipers.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling.
She got up and came over, smiling to show her dimples. ”Pahan Briar, you certainly get about.” She lifted her skirt above her knee, showing him a round, tanned and ruddy leg free of blemishes. “See what good work you do?”
Briar looked — she had very pretty legs, particularly without sores from scratched flea bites — but his heart wasn’t in it. He also didn’t like the silver ring and garnet in her nose. Did that mean she was expendable to the Vipers, like Douna?
“Why are you here?” he asked again. “This isn’t Viper ground.”
Ayasha shrugged. “She sent for us and we came, wagging our tails like good puppies. Will you be here for the Festival of First Rains? It’s at the next full moon, and I haven’t got a partner for the dancing.”
Briar didn’t hear her invitation. The knowledge that the lady had summoned the Vipers in broad daylight — and they had come — burned him like acid. Would she step in if they were picked up by the Watch? Would she care if any of them rotted in the prisons of Justice Rock for being in a part of town where gangs were not welcome?
Fury raced through Briar’s veins. He dismounted, wrapping the horse’s reins in one hand. The donkey, its lead rein tied to the horse, grumbled and dropped a pancake of dung on the dirt before the lady’s gate. The horse did the same.