“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.”