"More experience tracking humans?" Moria said with a smile.
"I admit nothing, little Keeper. I only say that my tribe are excellent trackers and that with my assistance, even Dalain cannot botch this too badly."
"You have a high opinion of yourself," Gavril said.
"I do. Thank you. Now, if you are reassured that we're not preparing to flee into the night . . ." She flicked her fingers. "Away with you. We are talking."
"I wished to ask about Tyrus." Gavril cleared his throat. "The fight . . . It was . . ." He straightened, that cool look returning. "He is as impetuous as the Keeper, and his actions often as ill-advised. Taking on three warriors was madness, and while he did not seem injured . . ."
"Tyrus is an excellent swordsman," Sabre said, straight-faced. "Or so I've heard."
"Yes, I know he is," Gavril said impatiently.
"Do you?" Sabre's brows shot up, that wicked look returning.
Gavril scowled. "Of course. We were sparring partners for many summers."
Sabre choked on her laugh as Moria tried to keep a straight face, failing miserably, and joining Sabre as Gavril's scowl deepened.
"I don't know what you both find so amusing," he said. "If you're suggesting I was a poor match, while I am clearly no longer on his level, Moria knows my prowess is--"
"Stop," Moria said, holding up her hands. "Please. Stop that sentence there. Now, you were asking whether Tyrus is well. Sabre has assured me he is, and I will refrain from adding that you've forfeited the right to show concern about his well-being."
"You did add it."
Moria turned to Sabre. "I appreciate all the news you have brought."
"You are most welcome, my lady."
"Moria, please."
"I have one more task to carry out before I go, Moria." She turned to Gavril. "You may leave us."
"I may . . . but I will not."
"Ignore him," Moria said. "I do. As much as possible."
"I do not blame you. He seems very ill-tempered. Traitors ought to be more charming or they'll never woo anyone to their side." She turned to Gavril. "Is your father more charming?"
"I do not wish to speak of my father."
"I don't blame you. I ought to thank you, Gavril Kitsune, for teaching me a valuable lesson. I may bristle at hearing my father called a bandit, but at least he has never betrayed the empire. Nor massacred innocents. Nor--"
"Enough," Gavril said, between his teeth. "I have no illusions about my father, and you waste valuable resting time cataloging his crimes to me. Tell Moria what you need to tell her and be gone."
"He is a very poor host," Sabre said.
"You have no idea how poor," Moria said, looking at Gavril.
"Finish your business," Gavril said. "Quickly."
Sabre reached under her cloak and took out something. In the darkness, Moria could only make out that it seemed to be a strip of cloth. Then Sabre opened her hand, and Moria saw a red silk band with tasseled ends. Tyrus's name was embroidered across it.
"That's . . ." she began, and her breath caught. "Tyrus's amulet band." His mother had given it to him. It was an old custom--long out of fashion--but he wore it faithfully, tied around his upper arm.
"He wanted to give it to you before you left," Sabre said. "But he lost consciousness. He asked me to bring it to you."
"No." Moria reached out quickly and closed Sabre's hand around the band. "Return it to him. Please. He ought to be the one wearing it. Especially now. It will protect him."