Tyrus found them before they made it back to the others. Ronan had been right that they’d see the camp without further instructions. When Ashyn spotted smoke, she picked up her speed, but as soon as they crested a small rise in the road, she could see it was simply a campfire.
“Why is it smoking so much?” she said.
“I suspect that’s what Ronan meant by something seeming wrong,” Tyrus said. “They might as well send smoke signals to bandits.”
He spurred his horse, and they galloped the rest of the distance, with Tova and Daigo running alongside. Ronan waited ten paces from the camp. The tents were silent and still. There were three of them, just large enough to sleep in. No horses, carts, or other belongings in sight.
“Hello?” Tyrus called as they dismounted.
When no answer came, he waved Ronan in closer. Then he threw open one of the tent flaps. Moria was at his side, her daggers raised, Daigo alongside her. Ashyn stayed back with Tova.
“Empty,” Tyrus said.
He checked the other two with the same results. Ashyn moved in for a closer look. Ronan crouched to enter the nearest tent, then announced, “It wasn’t bandits.”
“How—?” Ashyn began.
Ronan tossed out a full and fastened pack as he emerged from the tent.
“There are packs in these two as well,” Tyrus said. “Untouched.”
“And no sign of blood means it wasn’t wild beasts,” Moria said, stalking around the exterior.
Each tent had a single set of sleeping blankets, laid out as if for the night. Each also had a pack with a man’s clothing in it. While the clothing was not fine—no one would travel in their festival best—it was well made of quality fabrics. They found money in the bags, too. Enough to travel on for many moons. Ashyn suspected the men had been merchants. Her father used to say that after selling his goods, he’d travel as inauspiciously as possible, presenting what seemed like a poor target for bandits.
Tova and Daigo went into the tents next. Tova snuffled about while Daigo gave dainty sniffs, as if both had understood Ronan’s earlier complaint and now were trying to do their part. When neither looked alarmed, Ashyn knew they’d detected no traces of blood.
As the beasts came out of the tents, Tova stopped and lifted his head. He looked toward the woods and whined.
“Split up,” Tyrus said. “Moria, approach from the north, Ronan, the south. I’ll take it straight on. Ashyn? Ride toward the road and call a warning if our wagon draws near.”
Ashyn stifled a sigh. While she didn’t wish to be her sister, there were times when she’d rather be where the action was.
She mounted her horse and moved toward the road. The wagon and guards were still only dots along the horizon. She glanced back at the others as they approached the forest from different angles. When Tova grumbled, Ashyn said, “You can go with them if you like.”
He grunted and lay down, and they both sat by the roadside, casting longing looks at the forest and dutiful ones at the slow-approaching convoy.
A cry sounded from inside the forest. Then the boom of Tyrus’s voice, ordering someone to stay where he was. Running footfalls. The whistle of a thrown dagger. Daigo’s snarl. A shriek. A crashing through the woods. A thump.
Tyrus appeared, his fingers wrapped in an old man’s tunic, propelling him forward. Moria and Ronan followed. Daigo leaped into the lead and spun in front of Tyrus and his captive, as if ready to attack. As Tyrus threw the man down, Ashyn saw he was not as old as she’d supposed. Gray-haired, yes, but perhaps prematurely. He was dressed in a long tunic, as if he’d been roused from sleep and fled, his legs and feet bare and scored with scratches from the forest.
“Enough,” Moria said, loud enough to be heard over the man’s blubbering. “Do you know who holds you captive?”
The man twisted to look up at Tyrus. When he saw the lacquered wood cuirass, he hesitated, likely recognizing it as the armor of a warrior. He took in Tyrus’s clean-shaven face and gleaming, tied hair. Moria cleared her throat and directed the man’s gaze to the bare forearms holding the blade. The man stared. Blinked. Stared some more. Then—
“You are . . . Those are . . .”
“Tatsu inkings,” Moria said. “Imperial Prince Tyrus, son of Emperor Tatsu and First Concubine Maiko, commander of an expedition escorting the Seeker and Keeper of Edgewood. We came across your camp, and we were concerned by what we found.”
“In other words, we’re here to help you,” Ronan said.
“Unless you’re responsible for the disappearance of your traveling mates,” Moria said. “In which case members of the imperial family are invested with the ability to mete out justice—”
“N-no. I did nothing. I was hiding in the forest. We were set on last night.”
“By whom?” Tyrus said.
“I—I don’t know. It seemed . . . No, I do not know.”
“Explain.”
The man said he’d woken in the night at a cry and he’d gone out to see his younger brothers leaving their tents, still in nightshirts and bare feet. They’d been walking toward the road. He’d called after them. One had turned and—
“His face. There was something wrong . . .” He swallowed. “I apologize, your highness. I know it sounds like the words of a madman and perhaps my mind tricked me, in the darkness and the confusion of waking so abruptly.”
“Describe what you saw.”
“It was my brother, yet it was not. His face was wrong, twisted. Ghastly. Like something from a nightmare.”
“Then what happened?”
“I fell back in horror while he turned away and they both kept walking. There were figures on the road. Distant figures, walking. Fearing for my life, I fled into the forest. From the road, I heard marching footsteps. They did not stop. I don’t know where my brothers went.”
To join them, Ashyn thought. They went to join them.
At the tramp of feet, she jumped, turning so fast she forgot she was mounted and nearly slid off. It was only the rest of their group.
“Which way?” Moria asked the merchant. “Tell us which way they went.”
Ashyn watched as the man lifted his finger and pointed in the direction they’d been traveling.
The road to Riverside.
Tyrus released the man. When the merchant saw where they were going, he decided to head out on his own—in the opposite direction. Ashyn didn’t blame him.
Ashyn waited with Simeon while Tyrus and Moria told the counselors about the man. After the conference, Tyrus looked as if a lead-lined cloak had been lifted from his back.
“The counselors agree,” Moria said as she rode to Ashyn. “Given what that merchant saw, we’ve made the proper choice in going to Riverside.”
Ashyn exhaled in relief. The counselors openly supported Tyrus’s decision. Which meant if anything went wrong, the blame would be shared, as he’d been acting with their counsel.
Tyrus allowed Ronan out of hiding, explaining that he was a scout Tyrus had brought along to help with exactly these situations. Ronan would need to keep his swords hidden, but otherwise, he could freely join them as they continued toward Riverside, and whatever awaited them there.