A warlord’s compound was not dissimilar to Alvar Kitsune’s camp. It was like a small village, comprised of homes for the lord and his extended family, plus barracks for his warriors and various other buildings for storage and service—armory, kitchens, blacksmith, stables, and so forth.
The fence that surrounded it was meant to act more as a boundary than a barrier. There would be a main gate with towers and warrior guards, but in a region like this, that was mostly for show. No one waged war on the Gray Wolf. His reputation was too fearsome and—equally important—his lands were both strategically and productively worthless, unless the empire suffered a sudden shortage of wood and boar meat.
The rear gate was manned only by a single guard, who didn’t even have a tower to stand watch on. There was little need. The gate faced the forest, and the only people who used it were Okami’s men, coming back from the hunt and not inclined to ride all the way around to the front.
The gate itself was simply a double door. The men had ridden around to the front, leaving only Dalain, Tyrus, and Moria to slip through this way. Dalain unfastened the gate as the other two climbed off their steeds. One didn’t ride into a warlord’s compound. That would be as rude as walking into his home wearing shoes.
As they led the horses through, Tyrus and Dalain told Moria what to expect—how many men they had, what services were offered in the compound, which members of the lord’s family were at home. Her nerves were eased best with information rather than empty reassurances. Tyrus understood that, and Dalain was astute enough to follow his lead.
“You will eventually have to meet my mother,” Dalain said. “I apologize in advance.”
“He’s joking,” Tyrus said.
“Not entirely,” Dalain murmured.
“Lady Okami is court-born,” Tyrus explained. “She has devoted herself to bringing a touch of civility to these hills, but she is . . . not exactly a timid court lady.”
“Tyrus is being civil himself. Possibly because my mother is of his clan. First cousin to the emperor. Even my father ducks when she starts breathing fire.”
“They adore her,” Tyrus said.
“We have to. She’d devour us otherwise. My mother—”
“My lord!” The warrior guarding the gate had, apparently, not been guarding it too closely. The young man hurried over from wherever he’d been. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I live here,” Dalain said. “We’re only stopping in briefly to let my father know Tyrus and the Keeper have arrived, then we’ll head out again. I trust you’ll hold our steeds?”
“Th-they said you were coming in the front. The scouts saw your search party.”
“We are not with the search party because we are in a hurry and avoiding my mother. Now, hold these—”
“You ought to go around the front, my lord. Your father awaits you there.”
Dalain’s gray eyes narrowed. “You interrupt me to say I’m not allowed in this gate? I know we are not quite as rule bound as other clans, but I would suggest a little more respect, boy, at least in the company of guests.”
As the young guard stammered, Moria glanced at Tyrus and saw that his hand was already on the pommel of his sword. Daigo backed into Moria’s legs and peered about, his tail swishing.
“While the boy’s tone was disrespectful,” Tyrus said slowly, “perhaps we ought to retreat and go around the front, Dalain.”
“Certainly not. Whatever foolishness—”
“Dalain!” a voice boomed. “Bringing our guests in the back door? Hasn’t your mother taught you better than that?”
A figure rounded one of the buildings. It was a big man, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a fur cloak that Moria recognized as a wolf hide. His long hair was completely gray, though he couldn’t be out of his fourth decade. His hair had been turning that color since he was little more than a boy—hence the name the Gray Wolf. As for why it started graying early, there were many stories, and Moria knew them all. Most were tales of encounters with horrific monsters that Okami had miraculously survived, the experience so terrifying his hair turned even as his blade stayed true and strong. Ashyn said it was simply because his family always grayed early, Goro Okami just more than most. Ashyn had no imagination.
As Moria watched the big warlord approach, she could believe the tales more than she could any scientific explanation. She’d sooner take her chances with another fiend dog than face Goro Okami in combat. He was grinning now, his arms open in welcome, which only made him look more like a wolf, fangs bared as he swooped down for the slaughter.
“Tyrus, good to see you back. You’re staying more than a few moments this time, I hope. And you rescued your maiden, I see. Moria of Edgewood. And that”—he pointed at Daigo—“that is a grand hunting cat. No wonder our hounds are whining.”
Despite the effusive welcome—or perhaps because of it—Moria stood her ground and glanced anxiously at Tyrus. His hand still brushed his sword as he watched Lord Okami’s approach. His expression was guarded, but Moria saw traces of apprehension mixed with something worse—grief and pain as waves of unease emanated off the one person in the empire he had truly trusted.
“My lord,” Tyrus said stiffly. “I fear we only stopped in to tell you we were on your lands. As you have doubtless heard, Moria’s sister is at large, and we’ll take our leave now to search—”
“She’s only been gone since last night, and these hills are as safe as a mother’s embrace. I’m told she has an armed guard and, of course, her hound. We’ll get you out there as soon as we can, with my best hunters and hounds. In fact, I plan to join the search myself. First, though, food and drink, baths and fresh clothing. Come with me, and we’ll get you ready to head off into the wilds again.”
Moria noticed the figures of warriors, appearing behind their lord, seeming to come from all directions, slinking up like a pack of wolves, fanning out behind their leader. She struggled not to reach for her dagger as Daigo choked back a snarl.
“I beg your indulgence, Lord Okami,” Tyrus said. “And I apologize deeply for any rudeness, but the Keeper is most anxious to find her sister. She’s spent almost a fortnight captive—”
“Which is why she needs a brief respite, even if she thinks otherwise.” He met the prince’s gaze. “I’m afraid I truly must insist, Tyrus. As your host.”
“Father . . . ?” That was Dalain, his voice barely audible, and Moria looked over to see confusion on his face. Whatever was happening here, the young man knew nothing of it. “This doesn’t seem the time to insist on hospitality. Why don’t I gather clothing and food for—”
“No,” Okami said with a low growl. “They’ll come in.” Moria turned sharply. She wasn’t fleeing. Not yet. She had turned to see what lay behind them, but the moment she moved, one of Okami’s men lunged—blade drawn—in Tyrus’s direction. Daigo charged the man and Moria pulled her dagger. Lord Okami yelled something—she didn’t catch what he said, because all she saw was another warrior pulling his sword on her. Then Tyrus was on him, knocking the blade from his hand.
That time, when Okami spoke, she heard him—barking at his men to pull back, threatening to skewer the next idiot who so much as touched his sword. Tyrus was already in front of her, blade at the ready, with Daigo beside him. Dalain was shouting for everyone to stop, just stop, and then—
“Enough,” a voice said. It was not a booming voice or even a particularly loud one, but it seemed to cut through the chaos like a blade through soft butter. “Truly, Goro? I don’t know why I bothered asking you to handle this diplomatically. One might as well ask a cudgel to strike softly.”
Tyrus’s gaze swung to the newcomer. A man stepped past Lord Okami. He had a cloak drawn up, his face hooded, but even Moria went still upon hearing that voice.
Emperor Tatsu tugged down his hood. “Tyrus . . .”
Tyrus took a step back. Both Daigo and Moria swung in front of him. The emperor smiled. “You and my son work well together, Keeper. I’m glad to see you reunited.”
“After I betrayed him and ran off with Gavril Kitsune?”
“Anyone who has spent time in your company would laugh at the thought. Clearly I’m not here to drag my son back to face charges of treason.”
“Is that clear?” Tyrus said as Moria backed beside him. “Forgive me, Father, but I’m not certain it is.”
“Tyrus . . .” Lord Okami said, a touch of growl in his tone. “This is your father. Watch yourself.”
“He is,” the emperor said. “He’s watching himself very carefully, and I’m pleased. I’ll admit I’ve worried that he’d hear the rumor and hurry back to the city regardless. They say filial duty has no bounds, no exceptions, but I’m sure you’d agree that’s not true, Goro. I’d not want either of our sons to bow his head meekly to the executioner’s sword if he thought his father believed him guilty of a false charge.”
“I beg your forgiveness anyway, Father,” Tyrus said. “Given the circumstances, though, you will understand if I’m wary.”
A look passed from Tyrus to the emperor, one that said, however much he loved his father, he knew him, too, and he knew what came first in his life. The empire. As it should be.
“I do understand, son. You should be wary. But as you can see, I did not come with an army to drag you back. It’s just me and Lysias . . .” He motioned to the head of the guards, whom Moria now saw standing to the side. “We’ve come quietly and in disguise to find and speak to you.”
“And the third man?” Moria said.
Tyrus stiffened at the blunt question, his court manners returning, but then he nodded and stepped closer, brushing his hand against hers, telling her to go on. She glanced at Okami and his men, but not a single one gave any indication that they thought her interruption disrespectful.
Moria cleared her throat. “We were told there were three figures following us on horseback. Since it would seem that you only just arrived before us—given the dust on your boots—that suggests you were one of the three. You said you came with only Lysias, though, so who was the third?” A momentary pause before she added, “Your imperial highness,” and Lord Okami’s lips twitched in a smile.
Emperor Tatsu nodded. “Yes, that was us. As for the third party, I would suggest we go speak to him now.” When Tyrus tensed, he said, “No, I’m not leading you into the compound, Tyrus. I can see your gaze moving, however subtly, to that rear gate, judging the distance should you need to flee. This meeting will be held out there, in the forest, where he waits. If you’ll come with me, we’ll share what we both know on the ride.”
Tyrus and Moria looked at each other. Not a word passed between them, but she knew he was thinking the same thing she was. Did they truly have a choice? The emperor might have men waiting outside to ambush them, but they’d rather be out there, with a chance of escape, than trapped inside these walls.
“Only Lysias will escort you?” Tyrus asked.
His father nodded.
Dalain stepped forward. “I ought to come, too, your imperial highness. The, um, land here is treacherous and, uh, it would be wise to have an escort who can help you navigate it.”
Emperor Tatsu smiled, shook his head, and turned to Lord Okami. “Sometimes I think letting you marry my cousin was a very poor idea. She has managed to teach her family the need for pretty lies, but not the art for telling them.” He turned back to Dalain. “You wish to add your sword to Tyrus’s, should this meeting prove less friendly than it seems.”
Dalain’s eyes widened. “Of course not, your—”
“Your loyalty to my son is appreciated more than your loyalty to your emperor. You know Tyrus. You do not know me. Yes, you may come. Now, we’ll take our leave. The day grows short, and there is much to be done.”