Sausage was better for cats than salted fish. She was very partial to sausage herself. Asa and Monster loved cheese.
Finally Evvy retreated to a bridge that crossed to the far side of the street. Working her way cautiously along the roofs, she reached the closest house to the boy’s. From there it was a piddling two-foot drop to her destination.
No one was in sight among the horde of plants that grew here. Some looked quite strange, but then, she knew nothing of plants. One vine even trailed through the open door to the house. Evvy shook her head, thinking that green things around the jade-eyed boy were much too lively. Then she crouched beside the tray. She opened the folded cloth that lay beside it and began to load it with food to take home.
Like most Chammurans, Evvy thought eggplant was the queen of vegetables. She stuffed a slice into her mouth, savoring the taste. Eating only needed one hand: she grabbed another slice and took a huge bite while she continued to put food onto her cloth.
She didn’t hear the boy come onto the roof. She saw him, though: he raised his hands in the air, holding them palm-out to show he came peacefully. Evvy nearly choked on her eggplant. She dropped the rest of the slice and scrabbled for the corners of the cloth, bundling her food.
“I won’t come a step closer,” he said in calm Chammuri. “I just want to talk.” He knelt beside the entrance to the house and lowered his hands. The plants around him leaned in, forming a green roof over his head.
She eyed him for a moment more. He seemed to be settled. No matter how fast he was, by the time he could actually lunge forward and grab her, she would be gone.
She opened the cloth and dumped the rest of the tray’s contents onto it. One eye on the boy, she retrieved her dropped slice of eggplant, wiped off the rooftop dirt, and stuffed it into her mouth.
“You have to know about your magic,” he went on. “Maybe you can’t see it — most mages can’t. But you must feel something, when you handle stones.”
Evvy hesitated. So the stones that morning — all right, every day at Nahim’s — felt warm in her hands, nice-warm, like kittens, so what? And her den in Princes’ Heights, with all the stones she liked pressed into the rock of the entrance way, had never been invaded, unlike every other squat she knew of. What of it?
He’s a mage. Wouldn’t he know? argued half of her. Mages know things!
He’s a boy, not a man, so he’s a student, not a mage, her street-self replied. Students mess up all the time.
He’s awfully sure, replied her good-girl self.
So are students, the street girl snapped. Right before they mess up.
Quickly Evvy tied up her bundle. She wasn’t about to leave all this food behind. If the boy wanted it for himself, he shouldn’t have left it out here.
“You can’t go on as you have,” the mage-boy continued. “You have to learn how to control your magic, or you’ll get into trouble. Once people know you’re a mage —”
Evvy tucked her bundle into the front of her tunic. Gripping the edge of the next door roof, she swung herself up and over.
“If you come tomorrow, I’ll have more food,” the mage-boy called as she fled.
“Do you think she listened?” asked a quiet voice in Imperial. Briar looked down, into the house. Rosethorn had come back: she stood on the floor below.
“Dunno,” he said in the same language. “She ate. That’s something. She’ll probably perch close by all night to see if I put more food up and lay a trap for her.”
Rosethorn shook her head. “She’s even more feral than you were,” she remarked. “At least you had that gang.”
“Oh, she’s got to be ganged up,” protested Briar. “How else do you survive here?”
The look she gave him was half-vexed, half-amused. “There are plenty of people in Chammur who don’t belong to gangs,” she pointed out.
Briar gently removed the jasmine from his arm. “Not if you’re a kid from Oldtown, I bet,” he replied. “Only way to be safe is with a gang. When people fool with you, they know they’re fooling with your mates, too.” He thanked the vine and sent it to its trellis.
“You manage without a gang now,” argued Rosethorn.
“I’m a mage now,” he pointed out. “Besides, I have a gang. If the girls aren’t my mates, who is? And you and Lark and Niko, Frostpine, Crane — that’s my gang,” he explained, naming the adults who had taught him and his foster-sisters at Winding Circle.
“So what symbol — no,” Rosethorn said, cutting herself off. “I am not going to encourage you in thinking like that. What’s your next move with the girl?”
Briar sighed. “Earth Dedicates say the only stone mage in town is this Jebilu Stoneslicer, up at the palace. I guess I better talk to him about teaching her.”
“Good idea.” Rosethorn reached into the pocket of her habit and produced a metal token. “It’ll take you forever to walk there and back. You remember where we stabled our horses? Get one of them.”
Briar nodded, and accepted the token to show the stablemen. “Thanks, Rosethorn.” He walked by her, then stopped. Not sure why he did so, he turned back and kissed her lightly on the cheek.
“Oh, stop that!” she said irritably, as he’d known she would. “People will start to think I like you if you pull that kind of nonsense!”
Briar grinned. “They already know you do,” he said reasonably. “I’m still alive after years in your company.” He walked away before she could think of a cutting reply.