Gavril snorted. "Superstitious nonsense. You are as bad as he is, Keeper, with your stories and your--"
She turned sharply on him. "I am well aware that the band is likely little more than superstition. The point is that Tyrus believes it works, and if he believes it helps the ancestors protect him--"
"Then he is all the more likely to engage in foolhardy recklessness."
"No, then he is more confident in his abilities."
"Which makes him more reckless."
"You both make very interesting points," Sabre said. "But I will make another. If Tyrus is sick with worry about you, Moria, and he believes this will help keep you safe, is it not better if he knows you wear it?"
"She cannot," Gavril said. "My father might discover it. Tell Tyrus you delivered it, and keep it safe for him."
"You wish me to lie to an imperial prince?"
"I suspect that offends your sensibilities less than it ought," Gavril said dryly.
"True," she said. "I do not in principle have a problem with lying to an imperial prince. But I will not lie to a friend."
"Nor will I lie to Tyrus and pretend I took it," Moria said.
"It is settled then," Sabre said. "Push up your sleeve."
Moria did and Sabre tried to tie the band, Moria instructing her and Sabre fumbling and cursing, until Gavril said, "We'll be up all night at this pace. I'll do it. I've tied it for Tyrus before."
He crouched beside Moria and tied it. Then he tugged her sleeve over it. When the ends showed, he shoved the sleeve up and wound the tassels through the band.
"With that, I will take my leave," Sabre said. "I'll report to the prince that you wear his band, and he will rest easier." She squeezed Moria's hand. "Take care, little Keeper." And then to Gavril, she said, "As for you, I would say to take care of her, but I'm not sure that is wise."
"I am perfectly capable of looking out for her."
"Not what I mean." Her gaze lifted to Gavril's. "I've said I count the prince as a friend. And anyone with eyes can see the depth of his regard for the Keeper. Watch yourself."
"I've said I'll not harm her nor allow harm to come to her, and I do not require the threat of Tyrus's vengeance--"
"I cannot tell if you are as obtuse as you seem or only play the part."
Gavril's eyes flashed. "I understand you perfectly, and I will take care of the Keeper."
Sabre sighed. "You understand me not at all. Foolish child."
She stood, and they watched her lope off into the darkness. Then Gavril opened his pack and took out dried fruit, fish, and rice balls. Moria did not consider refusing. It would do no good, and regardless of Gavril's promises, she was not convinced she'd get proper meals once inside Alvar Kitsune's camp.
They were finishing the meal when Moria reached for the last rice ball and her cloak fell open, and she realized the ends of the prayer band again dangled past her short sleeve. She gave them an impatient tuck up again.
"This is what I mean, Keeper," Gavril said. "It is not as easily hidden as you seem to think. If my father finds it . . ."
"He'll not."
"I'd rather avoid taking the chance and--"
"Shhh."
Gavril glowered at her. "Don't shush me."
Moria slapped a hand over Gavril's mouth. Before he could wrench it off, she pointed to the east, where she'd seen movement in the long grass. He caught it, too, and then he did push her away, yanking his blade as both of them rose, weapons ready.
Four figures stood in the distance. Four armed men, with swords and cudgels. Not warriors, then, despite the blades.