Empire of Night

by Kelley Armstrong

  Ronan shrugged. "Equally likely either way."

  Which was the only answer he could give, and the one she expected. She'd asked in hopes of starting conversation, but he lapsed into a silence that forbade small talk. She waited until he rose to wash his hands and then followed him.

  "He said to wait at the inn until he arrives," she said. "Which sounded simple, but now that we're getting close . . . Should we stay at the inn or make camp nearby?"

  "We'll figure that out."

  They bent to wash their hands in the stream and refill their water skins.

  "Are you angry with me?" she asked.

  "Of course not, Ash. I'm just tired."

  "Perhaps we ought to have made a quick stop in the city. Quickly. I know you truly wanted to check on--"

  "They're fine."

  "But you--"

  "I'll be there soon enough."

  They began walking back to the campsite.

  "Once I'm with Tyrus, you'll go back to the city," she said. "You ought to stay there a few days to be sure everything is all right. You'll feel much better when you return, knowing that they are safe at home."

  He nodded and seemed ready to let silence fall again, but as they reached camp, he cleared his throat and said, "I ought to tell you now, Ash. I'm not returning."

  "What? You said . . ."

  He crouched by the campfire. She stayed standing. She wanted to say, You are angry with me, but that was arrogant, to think he would change his plans so drastically because of her.

  "I understand," she said carefully as she lowered herself cross-legged to the ground. "You're worried about Aidra and Jorn. That your aunt will make them steal for their keep. You've done enough, and you should go home to them. I don't know if Tyrus can presume upon Lord Okami to borrow money to repay you--"

  "I don't care about that."

  "Well, he will, obviously. As soon as he's able, he'll pay. I know it won't compensate for--"

  "It was never about the money, Ash. I wanted--"

  He swallowed the rest and rose to poke at the fire.

  "What did you want?" she asked.

  It seemed as if he wasn't going to answer. Then he said, "Caste. I wanted caste."

  She hesitated as she remembered he'd been trying to talk to her about caste outside the stables, before they heard the accusations against the prince. "A higher one, you mean?"

  "What caste am I, Ash?"

  "I don't know. Your family were warriors, and I'm not sure what the demotion is when that's stripped. It seems to vary, so I haven't wanted to ask."

  "You wouldn't want to be rude." He crouched beside her. "You're correct, it varies. Warriors can be demoted to artisans or to farmers or merchants. It depends on the crime. If it's serious enough . . . My family backed the wrong heir to the imperial throne. Before Emperor Tatsu's reign. It was considered high treason."

  "So you're merchant class then." She managed a smile. "Like me."

  He shook his head. "You're not merchant class, Ash. You're--"

  "My father was, so I am, too. That's what Moria always says. The empire can raise us up, but we owe it to our ancestors to recognize where we come from."

  "Which is very pious. At least, in your case. With Moria, I suspect she's just being contrary." Ronan settled in, sitting, his legs extended to the fire as he stretched out beside Tova. "High treason is the worst crime. There is one punishment worse than being exiled to the forest. Your family can have their caste stripped altogether."

  It took her a moment to realize what he was saying. "You mean you . . . you have no caste."

  He smiled wryly. "You were about to say I was casteless, and decided there must be a better way of phrasing it. There isn't. When I said I wanted caste, I meant exactly that. A caste, not a higher one. I am casteless. Like the girl you met on the way to the city. The one taken by the slavers."

  Ashyn remembered the girl. Belaset. They'd been captives together and helped each other escape. Then Belaset had demanded Ashyn's mother's ring in payment. Ashyn hadn't given it, of course, and she had been shocked and hurt by the demand. At the time, Ronan had tried to help her understand. The girl was casteless, rejected by her family because of a deforming skin condition. Belaset would do what she could to survive, and her demand was neither an insult to Ashyn nor a failure to recognize that Ashyn had assisted her.

  When Ashyn had told Ronan that the girl was casteless, she'd admitted she didn't know quite what that meant. She'd heard of it, in books, of course. The casteless were the lowest of the low, shunned by the goddess, the ancestors, and ordinary people alike. They were beggars and slaves, and in books they had always done something terrible to deserve their fate. But Belaset had not. Nor had Ronan.

  "I . . . I want to say I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I ought to or . . ."

  "You can. I know you mean well, as always. But there it is. My big secret. I'm casteless."

  "And it was a secret because you feared how I'd judge you?"

  He shook his head. "Not after I knew you. But there are strict rules for the casteless. I should not even be permitted in your company, let alone be with you unaccompanied and share a room with you. Of course, the fact that the casteless aren't branded means you can't tell by looking at me, no more than you could tell a farmer from a merchant, if they dressed alike."

  "Because it's considered the responsibility of each citizen to embrace and communicate their proper caste."

  "Which only a fool does if they don't have one. So, yes, those who know my family know our situation. We're registered as casteless, and that registry is checked each time we might try to take employment, purchase a home, or apply for a trading license. The penalty for falsely representing oneself is exile. With you, though . . . I didn't hide it because I wasn't concerned you'd report me."

  "Does Tyrus know?"

  "I'm sure he suspects. If I'd told him, though, he wouldn't have been able to hire me." He shifted and patted Tova. "My hope was that if I proved myself, he would plead my case with his father and allow me merchant caste. That is looking increasingly unlikely."

  "So you're leaving. I can understand that."

  His head whipped up. "No--I mean, yes, I'm leaving, but only because I don't believe I can be of any further service to either of you."

  They sat in silence before Ashyn said, "I could strenuously argue that we still need you, but if I do, then I pull you away from your family again. There is only one duty higher than one's duty to the empire, and that is one's duty to family."

  "I'm not concerned with duty, Ash."

  "The point remains. We could use your protection, but your brother and sister need--and deserve--it more."

  "My protection?" Now the smile turned bitter. "Ask Guin how she fared under my protection. Ask my--" He cut himself off with a sharp shake of his head and got to his feet.

  Ashyn scrambled up with him. "If you blame yourself for Guin--"

  "I blame myself for a lack of care," he said. "A lack of attention. True, it's not as if I told her to volunteer herself. Nor would I have allowed it if I'd known. But the fact remains. I was careless. As I always am."

  "You are never--"

  He cut her off with a kiss on the cheek. "Go to bed, Ash. It'll be a hard ride tomorrow, and I want to make it to the inn before sundown."

  She watched him walk away. She glanced at Tova, who was watching him, too. The hound looked up at her, as if in question.

  "Ronan?" She jogged after him and caught his sleeve. "Tell me what you mean, that you are always careless."

  He looked at her, and there was such sadness there that she moved forward, wanting to kiss his cheek, to embrace him, to offer some comfort for whatever put that sadness in his eyes. But she didn't move. Didn't dare.

  "You can talk to me," she said. "About anything."

  "I know." He touched her face, one finger tracing a line down her jaw, and he leaned forward, as if to kiss her, but stopped short, turning away, his hand dropping.

  "I'm too tired t
o talk, Ash," he said, his voice soft, gentle. "Another time."

  "I--"

  He squeezed her hand. "Truly, we will talk. Just not now. I'll scout the perimeter while you prepare for bed." He kissed her again, a mere brush of his lips on her cheek. Then he walked away, and she could not bring herself to give chase.

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Ronan hadn't been exaggerating when he'd said it would be a hard ride. They were heading west, toward the mountains. Soon Ashyn was wishing for the empty desolation of the Wastes. At least the lava fields were flat. Toward the imperial city, the land was mixed plain and wilderness, but the woods there were usually sparse, confined to pockets where farmers and settlers hadn't chopped them down. Here, as the population dwindled, there were places where the road seemed barely a scar in the wilderness.

  She could see the mountains in the distance. They reminded her of Gavril. His family had been imperials since before his birth, but they would still have relatives there and allies, too. Did that include allies like the Okami clan, whose compound they were nearing even now?

  Ronan didn't dismiss her fears, but he didn't change his plans either, probably because he had no intention of entering the compound itself until Tyrus escorted them there. They found the inn, made camp in the forest, and then went in for dinner.

  The inns they'd visited on the road may have been rough, but they were still intended to host travelers--often noble ones--heading to the imperial city. This particular road ended at Lord Okami's compound. The inn was for tradesmen, but also, Ashyn suspected, for those who might have cause to make such inhospitable land their home: poachers, mercenaries, and brigands.

  The man at the table beside theirs bore the tattoo of a convict from the imperial city. It was two unconnected marks now, but if he committed a third crime, lines would be added to complete the symbol for "swine." The former convict sat at the table with an elderly woman who looked as if she'd stepped from the imperial court fifty summers ago, with white hair reaching to the floor and teeth yellowed from a lifetime of blackening. This was, in short, not the sort of place Ashyn had ever expected to visit, which made it all the more fascinating.

  Ronan had helped her reapply the henna. They'd learned it worked best with a light touch, one that made her look like Moria after a long summer exploring the Wastes with Daigo. Once inside the inn, though, Ashyn wondered if they'd needed to bother. It was colder in this region, with the thick forest and higher elevation, and inadequate ventilation from the blazing fire left the room so smoke filled that she swore she could pull down her hood and no one would even note the color of her hair.

  There were few women in the inn, but the men there--rough as they were--seemed inclined to take as little notice of her as possible, as if to do so might suggest an interest that wasn't safe so close to the warlord's compound.

  Ronan confirmed that. "Lord Okami is known as a harsh man. He tolerates this rabble on his doorstep--even encourages them--because they're valuable allies for a man living in such a wild place. In return, though, they must keep their activities far enough from his lands that merchants and artisans won't fear to travel here."

  Ronan motioned to the serving girl and ordered rice wine. After a long day's ride, Ashyn could see the attraction, but she was better warmed--and calmed--by a pot of tea. The girl brought it with a date-stuffed sweet roll.

  "I'm looking for news from the lord's compound," Ronan said as he handed the girl a generous tip. "The empire is an unstable place these days, and we hoped it would be calmer out here."

  "It is," she said. "The trouble hasn't reached this far."

  He added two more coppers to her palm. "So nothing at all?"

  "Something did happen inside two nights ago. Rumor says men from the imperial city slipped past through the forest. We've seen more activity inside his lord's compound since then. They say his warriors are preparing."

  This was not good. Either the emperor was simply alerting all his warlords . . . or someone in the imperial city had figured out this was where Tyrus would run.

  "Is there news from the city?" Ashyn asked. "The last we heard, they still hunted the traitor prince."

  The girl stiffened. "If you mean Prince Tyrus, then I've heard no news, but I'll warn you to watch your tongue when you speak of him."

  "And why is that?" said a man at the neighboring table. "He is a traitor, girl, and a coward to boot. If the goddess is just, he's rotting in a field somewhere."

  A man from across the tavern strode over. "Prince Tyrus apprenticed under Lord Okami and many here know him. The girl is right. Hold your tongue. He's not had the chance to defend himself. I'll wager his story is vastly different."

  "I'll wager it is, too, because a bastard isn't above lying--"

  The second man hit the first, knocking him almost into Ashyn's lap. Ronan sprang to his feet, grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward the exit as others joined in the brawl.

  "Apparently, I ought not to have mentioned Tyrus," she said as they hurried outside.

  "Apparently."

  When they'd first stepped out, Ronan had warned Ashyn not to rush off. They didn't wish to look as if they'd incited a riot and fled. Nor did they want to lead anyone back to their camp.

  Others had left the inn, too--those not wanting to be caught in the melee. Fortunately, they simply hurried past.

  "Let's go," Ronan said. "Quickly."

  "I thought--"

  "There are two warriors at the inn doors watching us."

  When she made a move, he grabbed her arm. "Don't look over."

  "Presuming they are behind me, I believe I was turning in the other direction, toward the forest, which is where we are headed, is it not?"

  He nodded.

  "I'd suggest you let me storm off, as if we've argued. Then you give chase. That provides us with an innocent excuse for speed." Before he could reply, she took a step back. "Truly? Truly, you blame me for that? I asked an innocent question--"

  "I did not mean--"

  "Did you even hear what I asked? I'll wager you didn't. You were too busy ogling the serving girl and giving her our hard-earned coppers. I've had enough. Find your own sleeping blanket tonight."

  She wheeled and broke into a run.

  FORTY-NINE

  Tova shot from his hiding place, caught up, and raced along beside Ashyn when he could, behind her when the forest grew too dense. Ronan took over the lead. They'd barely gone a hundred paces before he stopped her.

  "Enough. We'll not hear them pursuing if we're crashing through the woods."

  She stayed behind him as he cut a silent path through the forest. In truth, she wasn't even certain which direction to go. It all looked the same in here. Ronan seemed to know, though, stepping surefootedly through the dense undergrowth.

  Then he stopped, his arms out to halt her, as if she might barrel past. He tilted his head and peered into the woods. Tova's nose worked madly, as if he too had picked up something but was equally uncertain if it posed a threat. When Ashyn herself listened, she heard only the sound of a small animal scurrying. After a moment, Tova grunted, as though agreeing that's all it was. Ronan didn't look quite so certain, but they started forward again.

  When Ashyn heard the snorting of their horses, Tova went still. Then he started to growl.

  "Mind your hound please, Seeker," said a man's voice. "We wish you no harm."

  Ronan glanced over his shoulder.

  "And do not bolt, please," the man continued. "We can see you better than you can see us. There are more of us. We're better armed, too, I'll wager. Now, come into the clearing so we can speak."

  Ronan tried to stop Ashyn, but she moved past him with Tova at her side. Four mounted riders waited in their campsite. The one in front swung off his steed. He looked to be on the cusp of his second decade. Bronze-skinned and gray-eyed, with wild hair in desperate need of a comb. His clothing was simple, but she recognized the high quality of the fabrics. He wore a fur-trimmed cloak with a sleeveless tunic under it, the
cloak pushed back to reveal his arms, tattooed from wrist to shoulder in wolves with yellow eyes.

  "I am Dalain," he said. "Son of Lord Goro Okami. I believe you were traveling to my father's compound, Seeker?"

  "You are mistaken, my lord. I'm not a Seeker."

  He glanced down at Tova, his brows lifting as if to say, Truly? He smiled. "Your hound might be explained away, my lady, but I suspect if I ask you to lower your hood, your hair will betray you, as do those blue eyes. You are Ashyn, Seeker of Edgewood. You traveled with Prince Tyrus, and you are here to meet with him. So I am here to escort you."

  "And Prince Tyrus?" she asked.

  "He's in my father's compound. I was out on patrol when my father's men found me to say you'd been spotted at the inn."

  "I do not wish to doubt your word, my lord, but as you know, the situation is difficult. I trust the prince and few others. I'll ask that you bring him here before we'll enter the compound walls."

  The young Okami hesitated. As he did, Ashyn motioned behind her back to Ronan.

  Dalain cleared his throat. "I fear I was untruthful, my lady. Tyrus is not at my father's compound--"

  Ashyn turned and ran. Behind her, she heard the clink of Ronan's swords as he leaped to defend her retreat.

  "Wait!" Dalain said. "I can explain. Tyrus was here. He told--"

  Ronan must have lunged in attack. Dalain stopped short. Thumps sounded as the warriors leaped from their horses. A clash of metal. Then footsteps pounded. She turned to see Ronan racing after her. Dalain stood behind him, his blade drawn, as he ordered his father's men to run them down.

  "Go!" Ronan said. "Don't look back. Just go!"

  Ashyn obeyed. Tova did not. He circled back behind Ronan, snarling and snapping, startling Dalain and his men and slowing them.

  "Seeker!" Dalain shouted. "Ashyn! I won't harm your hound. Call him off and listen . . ."

  The young man's voice faded as they ran. A crashing sounded behind them, and Ashyn did look back then to see Tova tearing after them.

  "Why didn't they attack?" Ashyn panted as they ran.

  "Because they are pious men. And because we're in their forest. They think they can run us to ground easily."

  "Can they?"

  "Probably. Just keep going. Once we can no longer hear them, we'll find a place to hole up and think."