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Briar Moss kneas only dreaiant oak tree, the heart of a great forest A leather bag bri with emeralds filled his lap, and the oak whispered the secrets of trees into his ears He was running the ge their color and size, when they evaporated The tree vanished Noo large, unkind-looking men in black leather hustled him doet, dark corridor They shoved him into an open cell and slammed the thick door behind hi of echoes, each as loud as the first

He opened his eyes He was in the back of a wagon, tucked aainst the day’s cold drizzle by an oiled canvas sheet So boomed repeatedly, like the cell door in his dream

He thrust up the canvas to glare at the rider who kicked the wagon with such deter the best dream ever and you woke me!”

Lady Sandrilene fa Toren, a girl of Briar’s age, shrugged Thefrom her waterproof cloak and broad-briht blue eyes

“What’s so important it couldn’t wait, then?” Briar de her Hard words rolled off Sandry the way rain poured off her cloak

“I’ve been thinking,” she said firmly “Tris has a birthday—Daja has a birthday” She had nairls who lived with her and Briar “I have one That leaves you”

“You woke me to talk about birthdays?” he yelped

“You said you don’t remember yours—”

“I don’t!”

“So pick one,” Sandry ordered hi no birthday”

“I don’t need one What I need is sleep! Suot to rest whilst I can, and you ain’t helping”

She sighed sharply Her pony looked at Briar with reproach in his eye, as though it were Briar’s fault that Sandry bounced impatiently in the saddle “Tell irl insisted

She would, too Sandry’s deterh he would die rather than tell her that

“I’ll think about it,” he said wearily “Can I sleep now?”

“Why? We’re alht” She clucked to her pony and trotted down the road

Briar let the canvas drape fall and settled airl-noble would think the day you ca to celebrate His mother had certainly never mentioned it, that he could ree to reolden brown and hair as glossy black as his She had sht as she caht he’d been about four then

Memories like that were pointless It was better to deal with his housemate: if Sandry wanted hiet it over with

Briar yawned and shut his gray-green eyes He wouldn’t choose a birthday in this month, that was certain Even for Sap Moon, the weather was vile Gusting winds tugged at Briar’s cover Icy rain pelted the cloth Everyone who had pinned their hopes on an early spring now drooped as they went about their days His birthday ought to be in a green arden chores to cut short any sloppy, sentimental parties like the one they’d had for Tris soon after the turning of the year

The wagon’s wheels lurched; itshim slide across the many baskets and boxes that foron and peered out frohway that ran between Su Circle, where Briar, Sandry, and their houseay Strut, the main street of the slum called the Mire Ahead Briar could see their destination, the large, forbidding, two-story building called Urda’s House, where the city’s poor came for the cheapest possible medical help He wished that his teacher, the Earth Temple dedicate Rosethorn, didn’t come here, but she took her vows to serve the poor seriously He’d only once suggested that they stop bringing the medicines they made to this place After she’d finished her answer, he decided never to bring it up again

And why is it, he thought irritably, that every ti?

The wagon passed through the gate in the tall fence around Urda’s House and stopped Briar stood and began to fold back the canvas drape As he did, he looked out through the gate, across the street That winter he’d irl named Flick, a thief of the breed called “street rat” Every market day that Briar caether they would roa tales of Flick’s days and Briar’s life when he’d been a street rat in distant Hajra Today, though, he saw no Flick, only a trio of street rats he knew to be friends of hers

He hoped she wasn’t in jail He really liked Flick

A woreen cloak and habit of one who had dedicated her life to the service of the earth-gods climbed down from the seat beside the driver of the cart She thrust back the hood of her cloak to reveal a head of chestnut hair cropped mannishly short and parted on one side Her face was lovely, with large, brown eyes, creaht she was her name, as pretty as a rose, as quick to bite as a thorn, before he’d scolded hi and shoved the notion out of his brain Whatever else he thought, Rosethorn was a plant-ardener’s and herbalist’s arts

“Look alive, boy,” she advised hion “Those ood if they’re wet”

“They ain’t wet,” he argued “I wrapped ’eood” He handed one covered bushel basket out to her and another to the wagon’s driver, who had come to help

“Every ti you down here, all we’ve druets buried in theher head “Stay up there—we’ll do the carrying” She followed the driver up the steps to the wide porch and into the hospital

It took three trips for the two adults to carry everything inside Once that was done, Rosethorn took a final basket from the cart and thanked the driver Briar hopped out With a nod to the dedicate, the driver climbed onto his seat and drove away

Rosethorn looked at Briar “You’re off to see that friend of yours?”

“If I can find her,” replied Briar “I didn’t see her waiting”

Rosethorn pointed to a tower crowned by an immense clock, visible over the wall that kept city and Mire separate “Meet me at the Guildhall at three o’clock,” she told him firmly “If you aren’t there—”

“You?

??ll hang rin; it was a much-repeated threat

“And don’t stand here getting wet,” she ordered Shaking her head, Rosethorn walked into Urda’s House Briar crossed the street, inspecting the street rats as they shivered in the icy wind Talked away, flicking their fingers at him in a casual wave The third nodded

Briar squinted “Flick never told me your name”

“Alleypup” The other boy—smaller, dark-skinned and dark-eyed, dressed in tatters—shifted fros wrapped around his feet “Flick said I was t’ bring ya”

“Bring me where?” Briar asked suspiciously

“To her den, down below She don’t look so good”

“Don’t look so good how?” Briar felt his own ar that the hideout knives strapped to his wrists were in place, hilts set so he could free them quickly There were other blades in sheaths all over his body, but the wrist knives were the quickest to reach

Alleypup sighed “She’s got spots You know, like she’s sick And she’s got no coin for Urda She asked, would you come have a look”

“Me?” Briar des—I’m no healer!”

“Flick told me, you seen sick folk before You help Dedicate Rosethorn do up s ’Course, if it’s too much trouble—” Alleypup turned away

Briar grabbed the street rat and glared at him “I never said I wouldn’t I was just surprised, is all Where’s Flick?”