Kelley Armstrong - Sea of Shadows

Ellyn grumbled but allowed that this was reasonable.

“You ladies may take your leave, then,” Tyrus said. “I will escort the young Keeper and Seeker to their quarters. The less time you spend in their presence, the safer it will be.”

Thea and Ellyn withdrew with their beasts trailing after them.

“My apologies for that,” Tyrus said when they were gone. “Things have been… difficult this last moon, which is why my father needed a rest.”

“Problems?” Gavril asked.

Tyrus shrugged. “Tensions. Internally and externally, with mountain tribes. Do not ask me for details.” A flash of a smile. “You know how I hate politics.”

“But you’re good at it,” Ashyn said as they began walking. “You handled that admirably.”

“A bastard must have some head for political wrangling. If not, he risks losing the head he has.”

Another affable smile, as if the prospect of assassination was simply part of everyday life. Moria supposed it was, for him. The children an emperor fathered by official concubines were recognized, like Tyrus. They were raised in the palace as princes and princesses. They received their father’s name and, apparently, modified clan tattoos for the sons.

While bastard princes could not succeed as emperor, they could attain any other high office—even marshal. The problem was that the emperor had several sons by the empress, and only one could succeed him, so the others would need to fight the bastards for court appointments. It was an old joke that emperors bred like rabbits because, like the rodents, so few of their offspring survived. It would not be nearly as amusing an analogy if you were one of those young rabbits.

Tyrus continued, “My place of choice, as Gavril knows, is the battlefield.”

“I saw you practicing,” Moria said. “You’re very good.”

“I had an excellent sparring partner,” he said, with a nod toward Gavril. “But thank you, my lady. You are…” A glance down at Daigo. “The Keeper. Of course.”

“Moria,” she said. “My sister is Ashyn. This is Daigo and that is Tova.”

“Ah, yes. I’d heard the Edgewood twins named their hound and wildcat. They are magnificent beasts.” He paused, sobering. “About Edgewood. You said everyone except the children was killed.”

Ashyn nodded. “We suspect they only spared us because they feared spiritual reprisals.”

Moria snorted. “I think they spared us more because we’re useful. We could get their message to the emperor, and Gavril could help us survive the journey across the Wastes.”

“Across the Wastes?” Tyrus paused. “Yes, of course. If the village was massacred, you had to cross. I cannot imagine…” He shook his head. “Do you know who killed your people? Tribesmen? Sending missives seems very well organized for tribes—”

He cut himself off with an audible click of his teeth. “And that is none of my business.”

“We’d be happy to tell you all we know,” Ashyn said. “We appreciate what you’ve done for us.”

A wry smile her way. “No, I mean it is truly none of my business, and it’s best if I leave it as such. My brothers will already find fault with my involvement. They are always looking for a sign that I take an interest in court politics. I’ll hear the rest of the story when my father does. He ought to be back before dawn.”

“Dawn?” It was not even midday.

“When my father leaves, he doesn’t stay close. It may be nightfall before the riders even reach him. But he will come, and he will come swiftly. You have my assurances on that.”

The court was comprised of two dozen buildings, as Tyrus explained. The Chambers of the Divine were at the back, near the storehouses and the tea garden. “The tea garden is magnificent,” he said. “Particularly now, as the cherry blossoms begin to bloom, but I’ll ask you to stay away from that end for now.”

“So Thea and Ellyn have no cause to complain,” Ashyn said.

“Yes. That seems best.”

He pointed out the Hall of the Eight Ministries—the large building he’d been sparring behind. To the side was a small, lushly landscaped garden, centered about a pond. He left them there on the bridge overlooking the pond while he went in to make arrangements for their visit.

“Will you stay here?” Moria asked Gavril once Tyrus was gone.

“I will,” he said. “They will want my statement on the matter, and they’ll not want to waste time fetching me from my mother’s house.”

Moria nodded. Ashyn wandered along the bridge, leaning over to look at the koi fish sparkling in the clear water below. She continued off the bridge, heading for a collection of unusual rocks arranged beside the pond.

“So Tyrus,” Moria said when her sister was out of hearing range. “You don’t like him.”

Gavril stiffened. “If I gave that impression, I apologize—”

“Stop politicking, Kitsune. There’s no one to hear you.”

“We are in the imperial city. There is always someone to hear us. Remember that, Keeper.” He lowered his voice. “As for Tyrus Tatsu, he is the emperor’s son. I cannot afford to have a personal opinion on him. If you are asking if I suspect him of ulterior motives, I do not. Tyrus is as he appears. When I knew him, he had no interest in politics, and I cannot imagine that has changed. He knows it’s not in his best interests, and it doesn’t suit him anyway. He lacks the guile to compete in that snake’s nest. He is best suited for his chosen profession: a warrior.”

“So he can be trusted.”

“No one here can be trusted, Keeper.” He gave her a stern look. “Remember that, too.”

“I misspoke. Is he honorable?”

A pause. It didn’t seem as if Gavril was considering the matter, but more as if it pained him to speak the words. “Yes,” he said finally. “Tyrus is honorable.”

Moria realized that was Gavril’s problem with the young bastard prince. He respected him. He might even like him.

Which was unacceptable, because Tyrus was the son of the man who had, in Gavril’s eyes, betrayed his father.

They were taken directly into a large chamber, where they were seated on cushions and given food and drink, and then told that the chancellor and one of the three major counselors were on their way. Gavril had warned them to expect a delay— the men would be briefed first, and would not rush, for fear of seeming panicked.

Politically, the chancellor ranked just below the emperor and marshal. He was in charge of all matters of state. Major counselors were the emperor’s advisors. Sending both showed that their situation was being taken seriously.

Gavril and Moria decided Ashyn would speak for them. Letting Gavril do so would be politically dangerous. So would letting Moria, though in a much different way.

There was little need for restraint. When the men arrived, with their scribes and their attendants, it was nothing like their encounter with Ellyn and Thea. The chancellor and major counselor listened to their story with incredulity, but they did not question its veracity. Or, Moria suspected, they did not question that the three young people thought it was true.

Whether the village had truly been massacred by shadow stalkers seemed dubious to them, but clearly a large number of citizens were dead and the children had been taken hostage by mercenaries, who threatened the people of another town. These were events on too grand a scale to be wholesale fabrications.

They had, of course, dispatched fast runners to Fairview to “assess the ongoing situation,” and to Edgewood to “search for survivors.” Moria would argue with neither. Their story was indeed incredible, and the chancellor would be a fool to take it at face value.