Forest of Ruin (Age of Legends 3)

Losing that cloak had physically hurt, like having the last piece of her father wrenched from her grasp.

"They found it near the battlefield," Gavril said. "One of the men who brought you to my father had taken it for his wife. I recognized it and bribed him for its return. I know how much it means to you."

"Yes, it means a great deal. Which makes it valuable, does it not?" She lifted her gaze to his. "A tool to control me?"

Gavril rocked back on his haunches. "Blast it, Moria. I cannot do one kind thing, can I?"

"Because you do not do kind things, Gavril. Even at your best, you do not, and so I will suspect everyone."

He lowered himself, cross-legged, to the ground beside her. "We are embarking on a very dangerous mission, Moria. Together. It will be as it was in the Wastes, where you must watch my back and I must watch yours. Where we must trust each other."

"Trust you--?"

"Within those walls, there will be only two people you can count on. Myself and Rametta. And while Rametta is loyal to me and fond of you, we cannot involve her in the heart of this deception."

"Thank you for the cloak. It is appreciated."

She took it and stretched it out on the ground. Then she lay down with her back to Gavril.

"We need to speak of this eventually, Keeper," he said.

"No, you need merely to provide me with the script for my performance. My life depends on carrying it out. That is all the motivation I require."

FIVE

Gavril had stalked off into the night. Perhaps he was scouting. Perhaps he was performing his nightly ablutions. Perhaps he was sulking. Moria did not care. She was drifting toward sleep when she heard a footfall. It was not the crunch of a rock or the crack of a stick under a misplaced step. Not even the whisper of dry grass. Simply the faint movement of soil beneath a foot. Which meant it was not Gavril, who would make no pains to cover his approach.

Moria pulled her dagger and opened her eyes just enough to peer out. It was a dark night, unlit by stars or moon. They'd camped well off the road, on a barren patch, with the forest at least twenty paces away, making it impossible for anyone to sneak up. Yet someone was, even if the horses didn't stir.

Moria kept her eyes open just enough to watch, and finally she made out a dark shape against the dark night. She shot up, her dagger ready.

"You are far too good at this game, little Keeper," sighed a softly lilting voice.

"Or you need more practice playing it, Sabre."

"True."

The figure moved closer, still bent, until she reached Moria and lowered herself to the ground. A girl of about eighteen summers, with gray-blue eyes; wild, dark curls; and skin somewhere between copper and bronze. They'd met only briefly, earlier that day, under remarkably similar circumstances, as Moria and Tyrus had been making their way to the Okami compound.

"At least I didn't end up flat on my back under your wildcat this time," Sabre said.

When Moria tensed, Sabre's smile vanished, her look uncharacteristically somber. "My apologies, Keeper. That was ill-considered. Perhaps I can acquit myself of the offense with the reassurance that your beast is well. As is Tyrus. They'll wear ruts in the confinement house from their pacing, but they are fine, and they are together. They are safe, as well. I may not be as fond of the emperor as a citizen ought to be, but he would never harm his son nor anyone his son cared for, including a wildcat." Sabre rose to a crouch. "If you wish to flee, your captor is well enough away that we may do it if we act quickly."

When Moria didn't respond, Sabre settled in again. "The fact that you were already remaining here, when he is not, suggests you have no intention of escaping."

"If Tyrus expects--"

"He does not. He hopes you will escape, for your own safety, but he would not in your place and so he does not expect you to. I simply offered to help if you wished to go." Her gray eyes met Moria's. "You make a hard choice, little Keeper."

"I make the only choice."

"There are always others."

"Then I make the only one I can."

"That is a very different thing. You are a fine match for the prince." She smiled. "Or for the prince he has become. You'd not have been a fine match for the silly boy I remember. He has matured, thank the ancestors."

Sabre tilted her head, lips pursing. "I ought to qualify that by pointing out that any admiration I have for the prince is like the admiration I might have for a brother, not for a handsome young man. You've nothing to fear from me there." She leaned down. "And you would do well to play to my ego by expressing relief at that, as if you were genuinely concerned."