"I need my sister," she said. "I don't know what you've heard of her plight . . ."
"I have caught rumors," he said carefully.
"They are lies. All of them. Moria is not Gavril Kitsune's lover. There was never anything of the sort between them. She despises Gavril as a traitor. As for Tyrus, she cares deeply for him as a friend, and he for her. We were all in battle together when Tyrus was betrayed by a warlord and Moria was taken. We presume she is being held captive by Alvar Kitsune. She would sooner kill Gavril than willingly share the same room with him."
That, Ashyn would admit, overstated the matter. Her sister's feelings for Gavril were complex. Rage and hate and hurt and betrayal. She did care for him, though it was not in the same way she cared for Tyrus. But to present such a convoluted picture to Edwyn wouldn't help her sister's case.
"I understand you are close--" he began.
"No," Ashyn said, with some snap in her voice. "If you need to comment on that then you don't understand at all. Until a moon ago, I'd never spent more than a day away from her."
"I do not mean to be indelicate, Ashyn, but you are both in the time of life when the body and mind can be at odds with each other. If she was alone with Gavril Kitsune in the Wastes, as I understand, for many days--and nights--it is possible that something occurred between them and she is too ashamed to tell you."
Ashyn's laugh rang through the cave. "Another girl, perhaps. But not my sister. If anything happened between them, I'd have had a full and enthusiastic accounting of it. For Moria, there is no war between mind and body. They both want . . ." She felt her cheeks heat then, realizing what she was saying in her haste to defend her sister. "The same thing."
"Ah."
"My sister is not shy about such matters. She made it clear to me that nothing occurred." She paced across the cave, Tova at her side, her hand on his head. "I'm sorry if this agitates me, but I'll speak on it no more. My sister is innocent. My sister is in trouble. Whatever else you need me to do, first I must find her, and hopefully Tyrus and Daigo as well. They search for her, too."
"That is a lot to do, Ashyn."
She straightened and turned to him. "It is. If you can help me, I would appreciate it. If not, then I'll take my leave, and you can tell me how to contact you once I've found them."
"I would not let you undertake anything so dangerous without help, child. Let me bring dinner and then we will discuss how to best handle the search."
To help Ashyn understand what they faced beyond the safety of this mountainside, Edwyn explained what had been happening in the empire. It was, unfortunately, what Ashyn feared. Alvar might be banging the drums of war, but he seemed to have no immediate plan to actually appear on a battlefield. While he continued to muster and train troops and to sway warlords to his side, his primary tactics seemed to be lies and treachery and fear-mongering, which suited the clan of the Kitsune, the nine-tailed trickster fox.
Ashyn and Ronan had witnessed this in a tiny, nameless outpost--an inn on the road with a small community grown up around it. Alvar's men had tempted the locals into joining them. Then they'd pretended instead to be imperial guards and beheaded every "traitor" in front of their friends and family, before mounting the heads on pikes. In an empire that had outlawed capital punishment, that had been an unimaginable insult and cruelty to hitherto loyal citizens, and it was not the only such "punishment" visited on similar communities that night. By morning, word was out that the emperor had apparently become the tyrant that Alvar Kitsune's men claimed he was.
"So that is how he's winning troops among the commoners," Ashyn said when Edwyn told her more of Alvar's treacherous deeds.
"No, that is how he's inciting sedition. Alvar Kitsune might have been the empire's marshal, but he was never its greatest warrior. That distinction goes to Jiro Tatsu, and Alvar knows it. Do not expect to see war anytime soon. If at all."
"What?"
"There are ways to break an emperor without engaging him on a battlefield. Ways to divide an empire without ripping it asunder in war."
"Does Emperor Tatsu know this? He's preparing for war, and if that's not . . ." She remembered what the emperor had said, when he first discovered Alvar Kitsune lived.
Prepare for a war unlike any the empire has known.
To Ashyn, that had meant war on a grand and unimaginable scale. But that was not what the emperor had meant at all. He knew what kind of war this enemy would fight.
"The emperor must rally his troops and prepare for battle," Edwyn said. "If he does not, then that is the moment Alvar would indeed strike. Emperor Tatsu must be ready for war, and yet prepare himself to fight a very different battle on much less familiar terrain. I do not envy him the task. I only trust he is up to it."
As do I.
After that, Edwyn explained his plan for them. Moria would have fought it tooth and nail, because it involved sitting and doing little while others took action. But in the end, Ashyn recognized her limits. She was no warrior. Tova would protect her with his life, but he was not a battle dog or a tracking hound. She had no idea where to begin hunting for Moria. Ashyn herself was both easily recognizable and easily mistaken for her supposed-traitor sister. And Ronan was here, deathly ill, and she did not know these people well enough to leave him in their care.
Edwyn said he would send scouts to make contact with those he knew in the imperial city and elsewhere. They would seek news on Moria and Tyrus, and in the meantime, Ashyn would stay where she was, while Edwyn prepared her for the dragons. That was the important thing. Alvar Kitsune might be lying low for now, but he would make a move soon. Edwyn was sure of it.
"Traitorous sorcerer that he is," Edwyn said after he took a drink from the waterskin. "He'll keep to the shadows for as long as he can. Alvar Kitsune plans to lead the emperor on a terrible chase, horror and destruction in his wake. But this dragon knows this fox, and Tatsu's trying to run him to ground rather than launching his army to an empty battlefield. When we bring Jiro Tatsu an actual dragon . . ." Edwyn smiled. "That is when things will change."
"Will one dragon truly make a difference?"
"In battle? It would help, but it would not guarantee easy victory. What matters here, child, is not the beast itself but the symbolism."
Ashyn nodded. "The dragon has woken dragons. The goddess has chosen her champion."
A smile crinkled his face. "Your mother would be so proud of you."
"Can you tell me about her?"
That smile broadened, lighting his blue eyes. "With pleasure, child." He passed a plate of dried persimmons. "When she was a child, she used to . . ."
TEN
Ashyn blamed the dream on the talk of young men and women and the yearnings of the body. While her sister was much more aware--and interested--in those yearnings, Ashyn was not unfamiliar with them. Nor, if she admitted it, did she find them unwelcome. Yet it was certainly uncomfortable and confusing when she'd find her gaze lingering on a young man she would never consider romantically interesting, because unlike Moria, Ashyn could not fully untangle the two. She wanted someone she could kiss and, yes, more, when the time was right, but she also wanted someone she could talk to, laugh with, and love, and the thought of one without the other confounded her.
That night, she dreamed of being curled up on a sleeping pallet, another body beside hers, lean-muscled and hard, her fingers running over his nakedness, exploring as she kissed him and as he whispered in her ear, telling her how much she meant to him, how much he cared for her, how he'd always cared for her, and she was whispering back, telling him not to talk so much, not now, that she wanted him to kiss her and to touch her and--
She woke then, at some noise or disturbance, hearing herself make a sound not unlike Tova's growl as she pulled the blankets back up and tried to snuggle back into the dream, that delicious dream. It was the first time she'd ever experienced such a thing, though she remembered Moria talking about similar dreams, and she remembered how she herself had felt stabs of confusion
and relief and envy, all rolling together--confusion because she didn't quite understand, relief because she suspected she would not enjoy such dreams as much as her sister, and envy because, well, because she might not enjoy them as much as her sister. But now, having had her first, all she wanted to do was return to that dream, and it made her ache and sigh and struggle to reclaim it, to find him again. For there was no question who he was--it was not some mysterious figure haunting her dreams. Her heart and her desire never changed, no matter how often she might fervently wish they would.
Ronan.
Always Ronan, much to her dismay when she woke and recalled the dream. But for now, lost in that warm fog of half sleep, she had no problem admitting to herself who it was, and envisioning him there, in her blankets, enjoying the dream, feeling the heat and the--
"My lady?"
Now Ashyn did bolt upright, as Tova growled and rose from her side. A figure appeared in the entrance to the small cave where Edwyn had put her for the night. It was a young man, and all she could see was his outline. A little under average height, but well-formed, with tousled curls, and her first thought was Ronan. She blamed the dream, because Ronan would never call her "my lady." She was Ash, unless he was annoyed, and then she was Ashyn.
The young man standing in the entrance was Ronan's stature, but Northern in his coloring, with light hair, blue eyes, and skin as pale as her own. She knew him, too. Tarquin, the guard Edwyn had assigned to watch over her cave as she slept.
"Hmm?" she said.
"You called out, my lady."
Her cheeks flamed red-hot, and she was glad for the darkness. "Did I?" she managed to say in as calm a voice as possible. "I must have been dreaming. It has been a very difficult fortnight. My dreams are often unsettled."
"Yes, it did sound unsettled." He lit his torch and ducked to step into the low cave. "I could summon the healer with a sleeping draught."
"No, I am quite fine. But thank you for asking."
He lifted the torch, and she realized she was still sitting up and her bedclothes were . . . less than adequate, having been borrowed from a woman significantly larger than Ashyn. She tugged the blanket up, but not before Tarquin had gotten a good look, and he stopped short, staring even after she covered herself, and continued to stare, as if he'd never seen a girl on a sleeping pallet. She dropped her gaze, trying to be demure, only to discover that she'd dropped it to his breeches, where she could see the proof of his thoughts.
She tore her gaze away as her cheeks flamed.
"I--I'm sorry, my lady," he stammered. "I did not mean to intrude. I only wished to be sure you were well and did not need my assist--"
He stopped there, and when she looked over, his face was as red as hers must surely be.
"I do not," she said evenly. "But again, I thank you for offering."
"Then I'll leave you to your sleep. If you need me--I mean, if you require assist--that is, a sleeping draught . . ."
She tried not to smile as she lifted her gaze to his. "Thank you."
She did smile then, offered it to him along with the thanks, and when she did, he stared again and said, "You are beautiful, my lady." Then his eyes widened, as if in horror, and he said, "I did not mean--that is to say--"
"There is no harm in a compliment. Thank you, Tarquin."
And there was no harm in it. If anything, it was welcome. Ashyn had grown up knowing her looks would not appeal to many young men in the empire. Either she was too pale and odd in her appearance, or she was exotic and desirable because of that and no other trait.
Even when young men in Edgewood did find her looks to their taste, there was another who looked exactly like her, and whose brash and bold personality always outshone Ashyn's quiet timidity. The only young man who'd sought to court her was the scholar Simeon . . . who'd then named her sister and the prince as traitors. Not quite a pleasant memory. So to have a Northern boy tell her she was beautiful? It was a small thing, but it felt warm and comforting, even if her return smile held no hint of invitation.
"I--I'll leave you, my lady," he said, backing up . . . and hitting the cave wall.
She tried not to laugh. "Thank you again, Tarquin. I will see you in the morning and--"
A cry sounded beyond the cave. Tarquin raced out. Tova lunged in front of Ashyn as she pulled her dagger from under her sleeping pallet, grabbed her cloak, and started for the cave entrance. Tarquin stood a few paces outside it, his sword drawn.
Edwyn said they had only a few warriors in their group, and most had gone seeking news of her sister, but he'd kept two behind, leaving one to guard Ashyn. From the way Tarquin held his sword, though, he might be a trained warrior, yet he was not an experienced one. When Tarquin saw Ashyn, standing in the entrance, dagger raised, his eyes widened.
"My lady," he said. "Go back inside. I will handle this."
"I am trained with my dagger." Not untrue, though she'd come to realize she needed much more training.
"Perhaps, but my orders--"
Another cry, and they both went still.
"Is that an animal?" Ashyn whispered. "Or a bird? I'm unfamiliar with this area."
"It does indeed sound like a beast, my lady, and these forests are filled with them. I would ask that you retreat into the cave while I investigate."
"And if it circles past you and comes into the cave?"
He hesitated.
"I will accompany you," she said. "Let me pull on my boots and cloak."
"I truly ought to--"
"Abandon me?"
He paused again, and she said, "Give me but a moment."
ELEVEN
The other caves were silent. There were perhaps four of them, in addition to the one with the dragon skull. The settlement was hardly a village--simply caves in the mountainside big enough for temporary lodgings, which meant they were spaced far enough apart that Ashyn could not even see the other entrances. A cry would bring Edwyn and the others, she'd presumed, but the cry they'd heard had not. Did that mean they could not hear well enough, sleeping in their caves? Or that they'd heard and recognized the sound as a harmless animal? The high probability of the latter is what kept her from suggesting they call for aid. They would investigate first.
The night had gone quiet. Unnaturally quiet, she realized when both she and Tarquin stopped simultaneously, and without their footfalls she could not hear anything. Goose bumps prickled along her arms, and when Tarquin resumed walking, she stayed where she was, surveying the silent forest.
It ought not to be silent.
She'd encountered such a quiet wilderness once before. The Forest of the Dead.
Tarquin turned. "My lady?"
"It's too quiet," she said.
He looked about and frowned. "It is night, my lady."
"And it is always this silent at night? It was this silent earlier?"
He tilted his head as if listening. "I can hear water, my lady. And the creak of trees in the wind."
"But beasts? Birds?"
"I saw an owl at dusk. Perhaps that is what made the cry. I heard one a few nights ago, and it was a terrible shrieking sound. The owls in the North are very different. As is the silence. You've not heard quiet until you've been out on the ice, my lady."
It was too silent. But Tarquin didn't realize that, just as none of the villagers of Edgewood had thought the Forest of the Dead unnaturally silent. It was Ashyn. She sensed . . .
What do I sense? Spirits?
She continued after Tarquin as she sent up a silent and polite query to the spirits, in case that was what she sensed. They did not answer. Beside her, Tova was looking about and walking so close his fur brushed her cloak. He sensed it as well.
She recalled the trip from the imperial city, when they'd discovered mummified monks possessed by spirits. She'd detected something then, too. Was it the same? In a way, yes. A disturbance in the second world. She'd felt it even before the possessed monks, when she'd first encountered the shadow stalkers. This was the same . . . and
yet not the same. Interesting.
Another manifestation of Alvar's magics? Or was she overly quick to jump to that conclusion?
"May I take the torch, Tarquin?" she asked. "So you may be ready with your sword?"
He handed the torch over wordlessly, and Ashyn lifted it high as she walked, peering into the dark forest for signs of shadow stalkers or anything else. When a bat flitted overhead, she ducked with a yelp and Tarquin spun so fast she was nearly impaled on the tip of his sword. They both stumbled to apologize, and then laughed, softly.
"Continue," she said. "I will be more careful."
"As will I, my lady."
Tova harrumphed and glanced back toward the caves, as if wishing they'd brought someone more experienced on this excursion. Ashyn made a face at him. She'd relaxed now, seeing the bat, proof that the forest was simply quiet, perhaps from the lateness of the day. She knew from her reading that many supposedly nocturnal creatures were actually crepuscular, most active at twilight and dawn, so the deep night would be quieter.
Yes, she was overreacting. It was not only Moria who let her imagination run away with her these days. She truly ought to--
A scream rang out and Ashyn fell back, Tarquin leaping in front of her, his sword at the ready, the blade quivering slightly. The sound stopped. They both turned in its direction.
"Someone is hurt," Ashyn said. "Just over there."
Tarquin looked toward where they'd heard the sound, then back at the caves.
"It is farther to return," she said. "It sounded as if a woman was being attacked. If whatever did so--human or beast--sees us fleeing . . ."
"It will give chase," he said grimly. "And yes, if we can help her . . ."
He started forward, motioning for Ashyn to stay at his back. When another scream came, he broke into a jog with Ashyn at his heels. Tova ran into the lead. The hound leaped over a bush as another scream came, so close she swore she felt it. She raced forward, almost passing Tarquin before he picked up speed to stay ahead. Tova had disappeared. Ashyn strained for some sound of him, some--
The hound growled. And something growled back. Tova snapped and snarled and there was a clang like metal, and in Ashyn's mind, she saw a sword. She ran, passing Tarquin now and barreling through the thick brush until she could see Tova's pale fur ahead, and she pushed into the clearing where he stood and . . .
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