She rolled onto her back, staring up at the dark sky, feeling the fire's heat against the top of her head. Gavril reached forward and she felt a faint tug on her hair. She tilted her head back to see him moving her hair away from the fire pit.
"Before it catches alight," he said.
"See? It's a menace. We may have escaped a thunder hawk, but ultimately, we will perish . . . killed by my hair."
A chuckle. He settled in again, and silence fell, broken only by the snapping of the sparks and the crackle of burning wood. When the clouds shifted, stars lit up the sky, brighter than they'd ever seemed in Edgewood.
"I know you're curious," Gavril said after a while. "About the sorcery. You're trying very hard not to ask about it."
"Given how difficult it was for you to admit to it, I can hardly imagine you'd welcome questions."
A few moments of silence. Then, "What I said yesterday, about the rumors of my father, how his enemies used that against him: it was true."
"Except that they weren't mere rumors."
She heard his boots scrape the rock as he shifted. "That we can do sorcery? Yes, that was true. But they said he stole babies from their cradles, Moria, and cut out their hearts in dark rituals. Murdered children. Defiled women. Mutilated warriors. All the worst that has been said of sorcery, they accused him of doing to further his fortunes. The same rumors have dogged my family since the first Kitsune became a warrior. Is it any wonder we deny having powers? Admit to anything, however simple, and the rest would be presumed true as well."
"So you use it for nothing more than lighting fires and closing wounds?"
Silence. Her tone had been curious, not accusatory, but clearly he seemed to have taken it that way. When she glanced over, though, he didn't seem angry or offended, just contemplative.
"There is . . . more," he said. "I haven't the skills or the training for it, but there are more . . . martial applications." He moved to look at her. "It is a skill we are born with, Moria. A gift from our ancestors. Like caste. Would you argue that a man born a warrior should not lift a sword against an unarmed enemy because it gives him an advantage?"
She considered that as she stared into the night sky. "But if your enemies do not know your skills, is that not unfair? If you are a warrior, other men see your blades and know not to challenge you or they'll taste your steel."
He said nothing for a long while. Then, "Perhaps. But we do not hide our sorcery by choice."
"True."
He paused, as if he'd been preparing to add further arguments.
"Will you learn more?" she asked.
"Yes. My training has been . . . slow. My mother blames sorcery for my father's exile and wouldn't allow my uncles to train me. So they did it in secret."
"Against her will?" She looked back at him.
He shrugged. "I am my father's only son. To deny my abilities would be an insult to our ancestors."
She flipped over. "His only son?"
"You did not know that?"
"No. I was a child when your father was exiled. When you arrived, I only recall my father saying you were the child of Marshal Kitsune's third wife. I presumed you had older brothers. Your father was not a young man."
"True, but he was not blessed with fertile wives."
"Oh, so clearly it was their fault. All three of them."
He gave her a stern look. She reminded herself that in the warrior code, there was only one thing more important than loyalty to one's emperor: filial piety. To suggest that a man's father lacked virility was to ask for a drawn sword and spilled blood.
"I'm sorry," she said.
He shrugged and leaned back, getting comfortable again. "I'm hardly an expert in such matters. I was told that his first two wives could not bear children, so he wed my mother. I'm his only son. Only child, as well." A sidelong glance her way. "Which may suggest you're correct about my father being the problem, but I did not ever say such a thing."
"I still apologize."
He dipped his head. "Thank you."
"You were his only child, then. I can see why your mother would want to protect you." She paused. "And why your uncles would wish you trained in their ways. You must have been close to your father. I suppose I hadn't realized that. An only son is much different from a late-born child to a third wife. You must--" She stopped. "Now I am being too curious. I'm sure your father is not a subject you like to discuss."
"I . . ." He stopped and stretched out on the rock. Daigo grunted as Gavril rested his bare feet against him. "I do not often discuss it. In court it is a subject best avoided. To most citizens, I am the son of a traitor. My father still has supporters in the army, though. Warriors who swear he did not flee that battlefield. To them I am the son of a martyr. Neither position is . . . comfortable."
"No, it would not be." She went quiet for a moment, then she said, carefully, "I know my father believed the empire had not done right by your father."
"He was betrayed." He spat the words, laced with bitterness. Quiet rage, too. "Accused of a crime he did not commit. Betrayed by men he thought he could trust, including the one he trusted more than any other, his closest friend, the emp--"
He clipped the word short. "I speak rashly. I apologize."
"You needn't apologize to me. I have no reverence for a man I've never met."
"You should, Keeper." His voice was firm. "Or, at least, have care enough to feign it. You cannot be careless in court. Ever."
"I would prefer not to go to court. Ever."
"I know. And I agree. But I fear, after this, neither of us will have a choice in the matter."
"As long as it's a short visit."
He paused, then murmured, "Yes, let's hope it's a short visit," and they lapsed into peaceful silence again.
Thirty-seven
They had been on the road for five days now. Gavril believed they were approaching Fairview. Moria hoped so. She still worried about Daigo's wounds.
As for Gavril, he'd been a better companion since the thunder-hawk fight. That sense of calm had, for the most part, stayed. He still confused debate with conversation, but if Moria was being honest, that was her preference as well. She had little patience for idle chatter, and a lively discussion kept her entertained on the mind-numbing walk.
It was nearly midday when she spotted it, shimmering in the sun. A city of white.
"Is that . . . a mirage?" she asked.
"No, that would be Fairview. They whitewash the buildings. A beacon for the weary traveler on the Wastes."
"Ah, a fair view indeed." She tried to smile, but her heart pounded too hard. "So this is it, then. If Ashyn--when Ashyn made it through the Wastes, this is where she'd go."
"It is, and she did. You know she did. We saw no signs otherwise, and as you said many times, you'd know if she was gone. She's there--or she was there and you'll have news of her."
"And the children?"
He paused then. "I still . . . I do not see the point in men taking the children."
"Does evil need a purpose?"
Another pause. "If the children were taken, perhaps that proves that what happened at Edgewood was not evil. That the massacre at Edgewood was a mistake, one that could not be reversed but could be mitigated by saving the most innocent."
Even after all they'd seen, he could not accept it. Should she blame him, when she still skirted around the treacherous ice of her father's death?
Gavril cleared his throat. "I doubt the children would be here, though. Those men would push on to Riverside, where the warlord resides. Fairview does not even have a proper garrison."
"I'll worry about the children later. Ashyn will be here." She found her smile then, a blazing grin as her heart lifted. "I'll race you."
She wheeled and took off, Daigo at her side.
"Keeper!"
She turned, still moving. "Yes, only children run. I don't care. You can be mature and walk."
He gestured to the sword hanging at his side. "It's not about matur
ity. Run and I end up with bruises."
She laughed. "Then you must walk, Kitsune." She started to turn away again, then looked back. "Is my face clean?"
"Yes, Keeper. Your face is clean. Your hair is tame. Your clothing looks as if you've been walking for five days in the Wastes, but if you don't stand too close to anyone, you'll be fine."
She made a face at him and took off.
Guards met Moria as soon as she drew close. She stopped running then and walked with all the dignity she could muster, one hand resting on the handle of a sheathed dagger, the other on Daigo's head.
"I am Moria of Edgewood," she called as the guards walked out. "Keeper of the Forest of the Dead."
Like her, they had their hands on their sheathed weapons. Caution devoid of disrespect. Now they dipped their heads.
"Welcome, Keeper."
Gavril walked up beside her.
"I am the Keeper's guard," he said. "From the Edgewood garrison."
He'd pulled on his spare tunic, with sleeves that covered his forearms. As he'd pointed out last night, he could never be certain just how welcome Gavril Kitsune would be.
Three guards had come out at first--two from the towers, and one from inside. Now, the gates opened and four more approached. And when they did, Moria knew something was wrong. A town without a garrison would likely not have seven warriors in the entire community. Also, these new men were not warriors. Yes, they dressed in plain tunics and breeches, and they were clean-shaven, as required of warriors in service. They also wore the traditional blades hanging together on their left side, the dagger above the sword. But there was a food stain on the collar of the smallest man. The large one--a bald, copper-skinned desert dweller--had a tiny tattoo on the side of his neck. A third had shaving-blade nicks along his chin, as if he'd recently cut away more than mere stubble. Small things, which would go unnoticed by anyone who hadn't grown up scampering through a garrison.
Daigo began to growl. Not loudly, but she could feel the vibration. Gavril started to step in front of her before stopping himself. He moved behind her instead, so close she could feel his sword hand on his hilt, brushing her back.
The big bald guard waved at the gates. "Come, Keeper. Fairview welcomes you."
"No," Gavril said. "We'll not be stopping. The Keeper wished merely to greet Fairview and bless it. We're pressing on to Riverside."
The smallest man stepped forward. "Fairview wishes to welcome the Keeper. This is a rare honor, and we would like to celebrate."
"I fear that is not possible," Moria said. "I beg the forgiveness of Fairview's spirits, but we have urgent business in Riverside." She dipped her head. "I'll take my leave."
She turned, Gavril and Daigo moving with her. The small man lunged into their path, sword drawn. Gavril swung around her so fast she didn't realize he'd even moved until she heard the clang of steel. Gavril's sword knocked the small man's hard enough that Moria swore she heard the man's wrist crack. He held his blade, though, smacking it back against Gavril's, both stepping forward, swords crossed.
"Lower your weapon, Kitsune," the biggest man rumbled. "I know who you are. My scout spotted you before you hid your ink."
The others surrounded them, blades drawn, all pointed at Gavril. Moria's hands flexed on her sheathed daggers, and she felt Daigo tense. Seven armed men against one young warrior, one even younger Keeper, and a wildcat. In a fight for their lives, the odds would be worth taking, but until then . . .
Her hands relaxed on her blades and she whispered, "Gavril . . ."
"Sheathe your sword, Kitsune," the big man said. "Do you wish to begin a sword fight with the girl in the middle?"
"The girl is a Keeper." Gavril took a deep breath and lowered his blade. "Remind your men who she is and the disrespect of pulling steel on her."
"My men are not good with respect," the big man said. "But they will not harm your Keeper. Our lord wishes her safe, so she will be safe, as her sister is."
"Ashyn?" Moria said in spite of herself. "You have Ashyn."
The big man smiled and she caught a flash of silver teeth. "She is a guest of Fairview. Now come along inside."
"No." Moria lifted her chin. "Bring her to the gates. I will see her before I enter."
The small man stepped past Gavril, who rotated, gaze locked on him.
"Is that how it works, girl?" he said. "You give us orders?"
"I will not enter until I see--"
The small man's blade shot up. Gavril leaped forward, and she saw his sword arm swing out, and was about to shout a warning, tell him not to provoke them with his blade, but there was no blade in his grasp. He'd caught the man's sword with his bare hand.
"You do not raise your weapon against the Keeper."
Moria stared at Gavril's hand. Blood seeped through his fingers as he held the blade. Her heart pounded. A warrior's sword was unbelievably sharp--new ones were tested on dead men, and a blade that could not pass through at least two cadavers with one slice was discarded. With a twitch of that sword, Gavril could lose his fingers. She stepped forward, touching his back, but he kept his gaze locked with the other man's. Gavril pulled the blade down, then he released it.
"Warriors." The small man spat to the side. "It's a wonder they haven't all died out from their own reckless stupidity." He turned to Gavril. "You think you're brave, boy, but all I see is a coward hiding behind a girl. Hiding who he is." He nodded at Gavril's covered arms. "Or are you ashamed of your family?"
"I am not. I stand here only as the Keeper's guard. That is my duty: subsuming my own identity until she is safe."
"How noble." The man sneered and spat again. "Warriors."
The big man stepped forward. "Do you still insist on seeing your sister before you'll enter, Keeper?"
Moria straightened. "I do."
He whispered something to a man near him. The man loped off into the village. Moria and Gavril waited in silence. When the man returned, leading two women with hoods hiding their faces, the true guards stiffened. The big man shot them a look, and they dropped their gazes and shuffled back.
The man pushed the two women forward. The big man yanked back the hood on one. It was a middle-aged woman.
"Is this your sister?" he asked.
Moria's mouth tightened. "Of course not. My sister is my twin. We look alike. If this is a game--"
"So it is not your sister?"
"No."
The man's dagger shot out. Before anyone could react, he sliced the woman's throat. Moria leaped forward, but Gavril caught her, his hand gripping her cloak, holding her fast. The big man held the woman by the hair, her throat split, eyes rolling as her hands frantically grasped her throat as if she could hold it shut while blood gushed over her fingers.
He's making me watch her die.
Moria tried to pull away from Gavril, but his arm went around her waist now, his lips to her ear, whispering, "No, Moria. You cannot save her."
The big man dropped the woman. Just dropped her, still writhing, still gasping, still dying. He yanked down the hood on the second woman, a girl barely older than Moria, tears streaming from her wild, terrified eyes.
"Is this your sister?"
Moria glared at him as hate bubbled in her gut.
Someday I'll slit your throat and watch you die.
"Will you come in the village now?" he said. "Or do you still wish us to find your sister first?" He stepped toward them, ignoring Daigo's snarl. "She is in there, Keeper. This is but a lesson. I am in command here. You will obey me or you will get another lesson. There is a whole village waiting to help me teach you. Now, will you come?"
She brushed past him and strode toward the gates.
Ashyn
Thirty-eight
Ashyn crawled across the rafters. Dust filled her nose, and her mouth, too, when she forgot to close it. She had to bite her cheek to keep from sneezing. She couldn't even stifle herself with her sleeve. She was dressed only in her shift, so she wouldn't get her clothing dirty and tip
off their captors to their escape plan.
Escape plan was an exaggeration. Escape hope was closer to the truth. Or, if she was being realistic, escape fantasy.
Ronan had come in through the roof. Naturally, their captors had figured that out and plugged the hole. It stood to reason, then, that Ashyn and Ronan would not attempt to escape through there. Except there was no other way out. The windows were battened shut, and after half a day working one free, Ronan had peeked through to see a village warrior there, waiting. Any attempt to distract the front-door guard or lure him inside had been met with derision and mockery. So the only option was up.
Ronan had spent half the night working at roof tiles. Now it was Ashyn's turn. And she wasn't nearly as enthusiastic about the task as one might imagine.
It wasn't merely the low chances of success that discouraged her. She was being held captive, with no idea what fate lay in store for her. Of course she'd escape any way she could.
The problem was Tova. He could not possibly take this route. Earlier, when Ronan came in through the roof, she'd presumed he was going to lead them out some other way. If he'd intended to go back up onto the roof, she never would have followed. Not without Tova. When they'd hatched this plan, she'd said as much, and he'd brushed off her concerns, which made her suspect she was not making an escape route for three. She was making it for one.
She found the spot where he'd been working on the tiles. He had two loose already. She settled herself awkwardly on the rafters and set to work prying off another.
It was nearly breakfast when Ashyn descended, filthy and exhausted, her nails broken, her fingertips aching.
"It's done," she said. "The hole is big enough."
Ronan grinned. "Great. They'll bring food any moment. I heard the morning bell. We'll eat and take what we can. Then we'll go."
"And Tova?"
Again, he waved off the concern with a nonchalance that set her teeth on edge. "We'll figure it out. You should go get dressed." Another grin. "Not that I'd complain if you stayed like that. . . ."
She didn't crack a smile. Didn't even blush. She was too tired, too filthy, and too annoyed. She went into the bedroom with Tova, closed the door, cleaned up, and put on the simplest of the dresses her captors had brought.
Wenda's dresses were still there, shoved into the corner as Ashyn had tried to get them out of her sight. She'd figured out what had happened. Ashyn had been lured to Fairview by a spirit that had apparently possessed Wenda even before they'd left Edgewood. Ashyn cursed herself for not realizing it, but her connection with the spirit world apparently did not extend to recognizing one in a living body. Tova hadn't detected it either.
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