Moria took a moment to digest it. "So it appears as if mercenaries were responsible for what happened in Edgewood, presumably working with"--she paused--"men of magic. They unleashed the shadow stalkers, among other things."
"Other things?" Ronan said.
"We saw a thunder hawk," Gavril said.
"We fought and killed a thunder hawk," Moria corrected.
She explained. Then Ashyn told them about the death worms.
When Ashyn finished, Moria fixed Gavril with a look. "Shadow stalkers, thunder hawks, and death worms . . . all just coincidentally appearing in the Wastes at the same time?"
"I agreed that the shadow stalkers suggest the arcane arts. But conjuring thunder hawks and death worms . . . ?" He shook his head.
"It would be the same principle, wouldn't it? Raising something that supposedly doesn't exist?"
Gavril paused. "I suppose so. It does seem unlikely the Wastes would be home to two legendary creatures and we see both shortly after the shadow stalkers."
Ashyn tried not to stare. Seeing Gavril and Moria speaking--without insults and barbs--was surprising enough. But exchanging ideas and actually listening to each other's opinions . . . ? Moria rarely did that with anyone other than her sister and father. And Gavril never seemed to do it with anyone at all.
"So the mercenaries appear to be responsible," Moria continued. "They unleash the shadow stalkers, take the children, and herd us here. Why not capture us at Edgewood, too?"
"Because it would have been sacrilege," Gavril said. "They may pretend they don't care about the spirits, but obviously they do."
"Or someone does," Ronan said. "Whoever the mercenaries are working for."
Moria and Gavril turned to Ronan, looking surprised, as if they'd forgotten there were others there.
"He's right," Moria said. "Someone has hired them. Someone who respects the spirits enough not to lay hands on the Seeker and Keeper, but not so much that he fears holding them hostage. So they have us, and they have the children, and they've slaughtered the village of Edgewood. To what purpose? Have they told you?"
Ashyn shook her head. "We've only been here one night, and no one will speak." She did not mention the escape attempt. She told herself this was not the time, but in truth, she didn't wish this moment clouded by the memory.
"I want answers," Moria said, pushing up.
Gavril rose with her. He leaned over, whispering to her again. Ashyn heard enough to make out the gist of it, which was nothing terribly private. Gavril wanted Moria to let him get answers.
"At least allow me to try," he murmured. "If it doesn't work, you can do it your way."
Moria waved for him to go ahead. He bent to say something else. As he did, Moria turned her head to listen and Ashyn noticed the odd way her hair was bound, with small braids at the sides, pulled back with a dark strip of leather. She looked at Gavril, leaning over, one of his braids loose at the end, the tie gone.
Ashyn remembered back in Edgewood, the village girls vying for lovers among the guards. It was not easy to marry into a higher caste, but it was possible, and for the girls of Edgewood, those warrior guards were their best chance of bettering their lives. If they managed to catch one even temporarily, they'd parade trophies like the plunder of war. Most prized of all were beads. If their lover wore braids, they'd persuade him to part with a few and weave them into their own hair.
Ashyn looked at Gavril, at that unbound braid, the strap now binding her sister's locks.
She knew it did not mean the same thing. Her sister was too private a person to ever flaunt a conquest. And yet, was it still a lover's gift? There was something between her sister and the Kitsune. There always had been, even when they were at each other's throats. Now even Ronan saw it, given the way he watched them whisper.
Was he sad to see it? He ought not to be, considering he had a girl in the city. Perhaps, though, he still had feelings for Moria, and she felt no pleasure at seeing him disappointed.
As for Moria and Gavril . . . Ashyn knew her sister was curious about what happened between men and women, and she made little secret of it. But that was a curiosity to be pursued when nothing else required her attention. She would not escape her massacred village, set out on the Wastes with a handsome warrior, and decide it was the perfect opportunity to find out what all the fuss was about.
Yet they had spent five days alone together, in the wake of a tragedy, relying on each other for survival and . . . comfort? Perhaps.
She looked at her sister's hair.
"Yes," Moria said. "It's a mess. Just be thankful I didn't cut it after it almost got me killed."
"Your hair?" Ronan said.
"Did I mention the talons on that thunder hawk?" she said. "They liked long hair."
Ronan moved closer. "You truly killed it?"
"Gavril struck the fatal blow."
Ronan started to ask for more, but Ashyn cut in. "So your hair, that's why it's pulled back like that."
"Yes, he"--a wave at Gavril, now at the door, talking to the guard outside--"wouldn't let me cut it and risk angering the spirits. So I made him figure out an alternative."
That explained the strap then. Expediency. Which Ashyn should have known--while she thought it quite romantic to wear a lover's beads, her sister was far more practical. Still, there was something between them. . . .
Gavril came back. "We'll have an audience before sundown."
"Thank you," Ashyn said.
Gavril nodded, but Ashyn could tell he was waiting for a response from her sister. Moria grumbled about the wait, but she didn't blame him or try to do better, which Gavril seemed to recognize as a sign he'd done well. He walked to Daigo and bent to examine the wildcat's wounds.
"We should get water for these," he said. "One is oozing a little."
Ashyn retrieved a bowl of water and helped Moria clean Daigo's wounds. She took a closer look, too. Gavril was right. One showed signs of infection. The surrounding flesh was hot to the touch. Yet the wounds were otherwise healing well. She'd keep an eye on it.
As they finished their work, Ashyn gestured to the bowl. "Daigo isn't the only one who could use some cleaning. There's a tub in back, and they'll bring all the hot water you want."
Her sister opened her mouth, but Ashyn cut her off. "Yes, I know you consider it a waste of time under the circumstances, but we have time to waste. You ought to spend it getting rested and fed."
"And clean," Gavril said. "You could use the bath, Keeper."
"No more than you, Kitsune. Did you notice I've been sleeping upwind?"
He shot his fist at her. Moria only laughed. It was a good sound to hear. Ashyn went to ask the guard to bring water. When she returned, Gavril was following Moria into the bathing room.
"Um, there's plenty of water," Ronan said. "You don't need to share."
Gavril gave him a hard look. "As the water is not yet here, I'm clearly not taking any liberties. I simply wish to speak to Moria."
"Then speak here."
More of that expressionless stare. "I don't know you, and I would prefer not to share my thoughts with you." He turned to Ashyn. "No offense meant to the Seeker."
"None taken," she murmured. "Go on."
Gavril closed the door behind them.
Forty-one
Guards came shortly after Moria and Gavril had bathed and changed into fresh clothing. Before they arrived, Ashyn and Moria finally had a chance to talk. Yet they discussed nothing important, nothing about all the things they ought to be talking about--Edgewood, their father . . . Ashyn had raised the subject of their father, but Moria had only asked how she was coping.
Gavril had spent the time prowling. Pacing the room, checking everything, trying to look through the battened windows. Which meant Ronan had to do the same, lest it seem as if he was content to wait for rescue while the warrior found it. Ashyn wanted to tell him to sit. Just sit. They already knew there was no way out, so leave Gavril to it. But she knew it would do no good.
Then the guards came and escorted them through the village. Now it was Ashyn's turn to look all about, getting a fresh picture of Fairview, should they have an opportunity to escape. Ronan did the same, but Gavril and Moria kept their gazes forward. Empty gazes, each lost in thought.
There was, Ashyn admitted, nothing to see. Even Tova and Daigo didn't show more than cursory interest in their surroundings. The village was locked up tight. This time, no one even opened a window to peek out.
An entire village held captive. How was it even possible? True, Fairview didn't have a garrison, but they had guards and able-bodied men. Women, too, would fight, if their homes and their men and their children were in danger.
There was no sign that the capturing force was simply too large to conquer. She'd seen perhaps a dozen mercenaries. She could hear the spirits whispering, but as always their messages were vague and unhelpful.
The guards led them into the village hall. It was a simple affair--just a long, whitewashed building. As they passed through the doors, she saw Barthol, the big leader of the mercenaries, and his confederate, the small man, Fyren. There were also four guards--mercenaries, all of them, she was sure, like the men who'd escorted them here. And the governor. He was the only one sitting. She presumed it was "his" chair, an ornate one big enough to hold his weight. But he shifted and fussed, as if he couldn't get comfortable. Then he saw them and went still.
"By my poxed ancestors," Fyren said, sliding forward. "They truly are alike in every way." A chortle. "Or every way I can see."
Ronan stiffened beside her.
Fyren continued forward. "Feast your eyes on this, my brothers. Can you imagine both of them in your bed? I know I can."
He leered. Moria reached for her waist and stopped as Fyren pulled a dagger from his belt.
"Looking for this, pretty one?" He twirled it, metal flashing. "A lovely blade. I thank you for it."
Moria lunged. Ashyn didn't have time to react--didn't even have time to see what truly happened. She heard Fyren let out a grunt, saw the blade swing, only to stop abruptly. Fyren twisted to see who had him by the arm. It was Gavril. He plucked the dagger from Fyren's fingers and handed it to Moria. She thanked him. Ashyn looked at the mercenaries. They all stood watching, as if amused.
Gavril pushed Fyren aside. The smaller man reached for his sword, but before he could pull it out, Moria had her dagger at his throat.
"You've been bested," she said. "Don't embarrass yourself further by pulling a blade on an unarmed man."
Snickers now, from the others.
"The girl is right, Fyren," Barthol said. "Step back."
"You aren't going to let her keep it, are you?" Fyren said.
Barthol shrugged. "I don't see the harm. It is but a dagger."
And one dagger would not help them against so many. Leaving it with Moria was more a statement than a concession--even if they were armed, they could not escape.
Ronan moved forward. "As long as you're handing out weapons, I had a blade--"
"You'll get them when you leave. Which will be soon."
"Leave?" Moria said.
"Yes, I know, you just got here," Barthol said. "I'm sure you'd love to stay, but we need you to take a message to the emperor."
A moment of silence. Moria broke it. "What message?"
Barthol took an envelope from under his jacket. "A sealed missive for the emperor's eyes only. If the seal is broken or tampered with in any way, we'll find out. We have eyes in court."
"Then get them to deliver your message."
Gavril shifted as if he knew why they wouldn't. Ashyn did, too. She had read enough stories about the court to realize that Barthol was referring to spies, who would never reveal themselves by handing notes to the emperor.
"Would you rather stay here?" Barthol asked Moria.
"I'd rather know what the blazes is going on."
Barthol laughed. "Quick with your blade and quick with your tongue. I'd be inclined to make you an offer of employment, Keeper, if I thought you'd entertain it. The message is for the emperor only. However, because it might speed your steps, I will share part of it with you: the stakes. Fail to deliver this note--or tamper with it--and every child from your village dies."
Silence. Even Moria didn't speak.
Barthol continued. "What you saw in Edgewood was only a demonstration. If the emperor does not agree to our demands, this lovely town--and all its people--will suffer the same fate."
It was Ashyn who found her voice first. "You mean the . . ."
"Shadow stalkers. Yes, that's what they were. They wait just beyond the town walls, as the good governor can attest."
The governor looked as if he might be sick. Fyren walked over and kicked his leg. "Come now, old man, tell the children what happened."
"It was . . ." The governor swallowed. "A traveling party. A few warriors and their families. The shadow stalkers set upon them at dusk. Our people were . . ." He paused now. "Taken from us."
"Now, governor, be truthful," Fyren said. "We didn't take them. We brought them back. Right here to Fairview. The next night."
The governor grabbed the sides of his chair, as if he might launch himself at Fyren. Two armed men stepped forward. The governor lowered himself and turned to the captives.
"They brought them, as shadow stalkers, to show us what they had become. To show me what my son and his family . . ." He could go no further.
"But you have other sons," Barthol said. "With other families. And you will continue to have them if these children do as they are told."
Ashyn watched her sister's hand grip her dagger hilt, so tightly her knuckles whitened. Gavril tensed, as if ready to stop her. Ashyn knew he wouldn't need to. Her sister's blue eyes blazed hate, but she was not foolish enough to attack.
Ashyn looked at the governor and tried to imagine--
Her knees quivered just watching the grief on his face, the remembered horror. To see your child returned to you, not dead and not alive, but something far worse. It was beyond--
Ashyn's breath caught. She slowly turned to her sister, but Moria was facing resolutely forward, her chin up, her whole body stiff.
To see your child that way was terrible. And to see your father that way? To run home, certain he was dead, then to watch him rise, to feel the joy of relief, and then . . .
There was something more horrifying than what the governor had suffered. Seeing Moria standing so rigid, holding in her grief and her pain and her rage--now Ashyn understood, and when tears filled her eyes, they weren't for the governor, however sad his plight.
"What say you, Keeper?" Barthol's voice rang through the hall. "Will you take the message? Or would you like to tell the good governor here to bid farewell to the rest of his family? We can take you to tell the children they'll die, too. They'd be delighted to see you. They hold you in such high regard. The Keeper will save us. That's what they said when we told them you were coming."
A round of chortles from the other mercenaries.
Barthol stepped forward. "So, Keeper, will you save them? Or will you tell them to prepare to meet their ancestors--"
"Enough."
It was Gavril, his voice low. Barthol only snorted a laugh.
"Yes, Kitsune. At your command, my lord Kitsune."
Barthol strolled closer. Then, in a flash, he had his dagger at the young warrior's throat. Moria pulled hers.
"Sheathe your blade, little one," he said. "I'll not hurt the boy . . ." He dug the tip of his dagger in, drawing blood. "Unless he interrupts me again."
He lowered the blade and turned to Moria. "So what say you, Keeper? Will you take the message? Or does another village perish?"
Ashyn saw her sister's jaw flex. But her lips didn't open. It was as if she'd been holding herself so still, biting her tongue, that now she could not answer at all. Panic flashed in her eyes.
"Yes," Ashyn said quickly. "We will deliver your sealed missive to the emperor."
Barthol turned, as if just n
oticing her now. He looked from her to Moria.
"Does your sister speak for you, Keeper?"
Moria managed to nod.
"She speaks for all of us," Gavril said. "I will accompany the Seeker and the Keeper to court and protect them and the message."
"As will I," Ronan said.
"Excellent choice," Barthol said, flashing his silver teeth. "You will leave at dawn."
Forty-two
They'd been riding since sunrise with no guards other than Gavril and Ronan. There was no need of more. They were plainly dressed and armed, making them a poor target for bandits. Having no guards also meant there was no one to ensure they went to court. Again, unnecessary. Barthol's threats bound them to their task.
The mercenaries had sent them on a less-traveled road. It was the same one Ronan had marched to Edgewood--they used it for the exiles, so the criminals would pass as few travelers as possible. Ashyn and Moria met none that morning. Then, just past lunch, they'd seen clouds of dust ahead, announcing the approach of a wagon train. Traders, Ronan said--those bypassing villages on the main road, uninterested in their amenities or business prospects.
Other travelers presented a problem--namely that fair-haired twin girls would not pass unnoticed. Nor would a young warrior bearing Kitsune ink. It was easy to hide Gavril's arms. Disguising the girls was harder. They wore their cloaks, with their hair tucked in, hoods tented over their faces. It would still draw attention--there was no need for cloaks in the spring sun of midday--but Ronan said that two hooded girls accompanied by young warriors would be presumed to be headed for the city, likely to one of the courtesan houses.
The real problem was Tova and Daigo. Even the most jaded traveler would realize they weren't simply exotic pets from a far-off kingdom. The best way to handle it was to send the beasts off into the wooded roadside. Daigo was quite willing to go--he'd happily avoid people if he could. Tova was harder to convince--if they were about to encounter strangers, he wanted to be at his Seeker's side, to protect her. Ultimately Daigo convinced him--or drove him off, herding him until they were in the trees, following alongside their girls, keeping an eye on them.
They passed two wagon trains and four carts without incident. When it came time to stop for the night, they found a place far from the road, so no stray travelers would see their fire and decide to join them.
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