“How long ago did you last see each other?” she asked as the compound walls came into view.
“Too long,” Dalain said. “Almost two summers now. He seemed happy enough in these hills, but apparently, the court holds more attractions.”
“More pretty girls?” she said with a sly smile.
Dalain laughed. “Oh, I suspect so, though he’d hardly dare admit it in front of you, my lady.”
“Actually, I would,” Tyrus said. “Moria finds my past dalliances very amusing.”
“Not amusing so much as understandable,” Moria said. “Even desirable, given that it implies practice, and practice improves skill.”
Dalain laughed louder now. “Very true, my lady. I like the way you think.”
“Just don’t like it too well,” Tyrus said.
“I won’t. I can tell that would land me on the wrong end of your blade, and I’ve heard you’ve much improved since you trained under me. Of course, it would have been difficult to do worse.”
“True, which is the real reason I stay in court. It’s the only place I can find adequate trainers. Out here in the wilds…” Tyrus shrugged. “I’ll admit you’re quite skilled… when your opponent has tusks and bristles.”
“I’ll wager our boars are tougher than any of your court warriors.”
“You wouldn’t know, since you’ve never actually been to court. Despite several personal invitations from your former apprentice.”
Dalain nodded. “We’re both to blame for the length of the separation. It won’t happen again. Which is not a promise that you’ll ever see me in court, but perhaps I can send some of Sabre’s father’s men to abduct you and bring you here more often. Now, the rear gates beckon, and I’ll suggest we slip in quietly, speak to my father quickly, and be on our way, before my mother discovers you’ve arrived and insists you take tea.”
FIFTY-FOUR
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.”