Kelley Armstrong - Sea of Shadows

As Gavril walked back, he leaned over to Moria and whispered, “I asked for a small escort kept at a distance. Otherwise, by dusk, people will be saying we were taken to the court under armed guard.”

Moria nodded. “Good idea.”

The commander gave their packs to guards to carry, and two boys led their horses away. No one asked about the fourth riderless horse.

The commander accompanied them to the gates, talking as they went, mostly to Gavril, though he included the girls. It was idle chatter, yet not meaningless, Ashyn decided as they passed through into the city proper with the commander still at Gavril’s side, still talking to him. It was another statement. So, too, were the actions of other guards, older than the ones who’d first met them, warriors coming out from the gate garrison, welcoming Marshal Kitsune’s son home.

Was it simply a sign of respect for their old leader? Ashyn hoped so. She knew from her studies that no enemy, no plague, no natural disaster was more dangerous for an empire than a schism between its emperor and its army. She’d heard her father and other villagers speak of the current marshal, saying he was not the man his predecessor had been, and she’d heard relief in their voices. He was a competent marshal and nothing more, and that seemed to be the way most liked it.

At least, it was the way the villagers of Edgewood had liked it. For the average citizen, peace was good. She looked at the armed men greeting Gavril. Were they as fond of peace? Did they chafe under the rule of a “competent” man?

The commander took his leave of them at the roadway, and they walked into the city, followed at a distance by the two guards with their packs. There was no need of anyone to lead them. While Gavril knew the way to court, the path was clear—the Imperial Way, now paved with brick, cutting clear through the city, ending at the palace.

It was still quite early in the morning, but the Way was more crowded than the main thoroughfare in Edgewood on market day. Carts and makeshift booths lined the roadway as traders hawked everything from fresh chicken eggs to petrified dragon eggs. Gavril assured Moria that the latter were simply pretty rocks, but Ashyn was certain her sister was making a note to come back later for a closer look.

There was no time for dawdling at merchant carts now. It did not take long for people to see them, and for whispers to snake along the street and spread. Soon it was as if they were leading a victory parade, as onlookers lined both sides of the Way and watched and whispered.

The spirits came, too, those whispers an undercurrent of the air itself. At home, they were mostly just that—an undercurrent, the spirits conversing, rarely to her. These ones were talking both to and about her.

You ought not to be here, child.

Not your place.

Beware.

“Beware of what?” she whispered under her breath.

Everything.

She could tell Moria was hearing the same messages. Her face was tight with annoyance.

“Tell me something useful for a change,” Moria muttered. “We could truly use some help here.”

Beware and be safe, the spirits whispered.

Moria grumbled and Daigo snorted.

The onlookers’ whispers had grown now. Cries of “Bless us, Seeker,” and “Protect us, Keeper,” rang out. When a group of children pushed to the front of the crowd, Moria reached into her pocket and pulled out copper coins, blessing them and throwing them. It was almost instinctive, Ashyn thought, and when the children dove for them, Moria hesitated. Ashyn saw grief flicker across her face, and she knew Moria was thinking of the children of Edgewood.

She caught her sister’s hand and squeezed it.

“You ought not to throw coins here, Keeper,” Gavril said. “I know you mean well, but these are not the children of Edge-wood.”

“I can see that,” Moria said dryly. The children looked as if no one had bathed them in a week, and most wore clothing so tattered that even the thriftiest mother in Edgewood wouldn’t have attempted to mend it. “I’m not sure we can trust the emperor to care about the plight of Edgewood’s children when he apparently has so little regard for those of his own city.”

Ashyn hushed her, but it wasn’t necessary—Moria was wise enough to keep her voice low. When an older child grabbed a coin from a younger one, Moria flipped the bereft little one another, her aim perfect. The crowd cheered.

“Your advice is noted, Kitsune,” she said. “But I will give coins where I choose.”

“As expected,” he said. “You’ll do as you choose and learn your own lessons.”

“Is that not the best way to learn them?”

Gavril shook his head and prodded them to pick up the pace. People continued to join the throng along the roadside. Few ventured onto the actual road, and those who did moved back at a growl from Tova or Daigo.

They were halfway along the road when a voice yelled, “Kitsune!”

Gavril didn’t turn, only letting his gaze flicker that way, as if to reassure himself it wasn’t someone he knew.

“Gavril Kitsune!” the voice called. “Did you meet your father in Edgewood? Does that son-of-a-whore haunt the Forest of the Dead?”

Someone shouted for the man to be silent. Gavril’s hand tightened on his sword hilt, but he kept walking, gaze forward.

“If it was my father, I’d do the honorable thing,” the man shouted. “Drive my blade between my ribs. If you’d like, I can do it for you.”

Moria stopped then, swinging around.

“Don’t,” Gavril said.

Moria didn’t stop, but only because silencing the man wasn’t necessary. Someone had done it for her—with a punch to the man’s jaw. Others had joined in, and a brawl erupted.

The group continued on, but this time they didn’t get more than twenty paces before someone else shouted, “Kitsune!”

Gavril kept walking. This man didn’t settle for shouting from a crowd. He elbowed his way to the front, coming out behind them and jostling the sheath on Gavril’s sword as he passed. In past ages, to knock against a warrior’s sword, even by accident, was an insult punishable by a lethal swing of that blade. Today, such a response broke the empire laws, but the insult remained, and could be answered with a scarring blow.

Gavril turned a cool glare on the man and rested his hand on his blade hilt. For a moment, it seemed the man intended to stand his ground. Then, slowly, he eased back, just enough to let Gavril ignore the insult with a nod and continue on.

Ashyn saw her sister tense as they passed. She also let her hand fall to one of her blades. But the man made no move and said not a word. He simply spat, loudly, spittle landing on Gavril’s arm.

Moria threw her blade so fast neither Gavril nor Ashyn had time to stop her. It sailed under the man’s arm and pinned his cloak to the cart behind him. Then, with a snarl, Daigo ran at him. The man let out a high-pitched shriek, arms shielding his face, but the wildcat simply plucked out the dagger, giving him a disdainful look, and bounded back to Moria. As she took it from him, the crowd laughed and let out a cheer as the man slunk back into the crowd.

“Keeper! Keeper!”

“What’s your name, Keeper?” a young man near them shouted.

Moria sheathed her weapon. “I am Moria of Edgewood. My sister is Ashyn.”

“Welcome to the imperial city, Moria!”

“Ancestors bless you, Moria!”

Gavril sighed as they resumed walking. “So much for a quiet and subtle entrance.”

“If you wanted either, you needed to give her a sleeping draught,” Ashyn said.

Moria rolled her eyes. “The street is lined with people gaping at us. We were hardly passing unnoticed. Gavril couldn’t respond to the insult, so I did.”