His brows rose. "A seal?"
"A family crest, I believe." She took the paper from her pocket, smoothed it, and showed him. "I am curious."
"Curiosity is what lets a young mind grow and keeps an old mind young." He peered at the paper. "Yes, it does appear to be a family crest. A secondary seal, if I'm not mistaken."
"Secondary?"
He waved her to accompany him into the stacks of books. A few other scholars--old and young--glanced up, but only briefly, before returning to their studies.
"A noble family's primary crest bears its emblematic beast. As such, it is easily identified." He waved to a wall hanging, showing a dragon circling on itself. "The Tatsu crest. There is no mistaking it." They continued walking. "However, there are times when the family wishes to send a message that is not immediately recognizable to all who see it. So they have secondary seals."
Which made perfect sense, given the nature of this particular missive.
"I myself am not familiar with the secondary crests, but there's someone here who will know. The old master of the library."
He led her to an elderly man sitting at a long table, transcribing a crumbling text onto new pages. The younger man cleared his throat and then gave a slight bow when the old man looked up.
"Master, this is the Keeper of Edgewood. She brings a family crest that she wishes identified. It appears to be a secondary one."
"Oh?" The old man's gaze settled on Moria. "The Keeper of Edgewood. I heard you were in court. Welcome." He began to rise stiffly from his low seat to bow, but she stopped him and he settled back with a grateful sigh. "Thank you, my lady. My old bones prefer the shape of a cushion these days. Now, you bring me a crest?"
She handed him the drawing. As he took it, he reached for his looking glass. Then he glanced at the page and set the glass down again.
"I have no need of that," he said. "I've seen this one often enough, though not in many a summer. Where did you--?" He stopped himself and smiled. "Ah, yes. I heard you came with the Kitsune boy. Did he have it on him?"
The old man didn't seem to expect an answer, and Moria wasn't sure she could have given one, her heart was pounding so hard. Finally she managed to say, "It is . . . the Kitsune crest?"
He nodded. "A particular one, for a particular man. The boy's father. Marshal Kitsune."
Fifty-four
As Moria stumbled from the library, no one came after her, so she presumed she had thanked the library masters and said good-bye, but she could not remember doing so. Nor could she remember how she got out the door or, moments later, how she arrived in the gardens.
The man who sent the letter was Marshal Kitsune.
No, that was impossible. Someone else was using his seal. Pretending to be the man who'd perished in the Forest of the Dead.
He had perished, hadn't he?
When Gavril came to Edgewood, the villagers had wondered what to tell the boy of his father. Should they mention that they recalled him? Should they not? Then there was the matter of the body, which had not been found. They feared Gavril would discover that, and it would only make matters worse for the boy, knowing his father's spirit roamed the forest, trapped between worlds. So they'd decided to lie. They'd told him his father was at rest. It was a small kindness he deserved.
But the body had not been found.
Because there was no body to find?
Again, impossible. You could not simply walk from the Forest of the Dead. Even if you managed to make it to Edgewood, you would be seen by the guards. No man could escape his fate.
Not even one who had been, arguably, the most powerful man in the empire? She had seen Gavril's reception among the city guards. He had not been nearly so respected in Edgewood, where many were too young to have served under his father. But there had been those, like Orbec and the commander, who'd treated Gavril with deference and respect. Honor, duty, and loyalty--the tenets of the warrior code. Loyalty to one's lord. One's warlord. And the warlord of all warriors was the marshal. Whether Marshal Kitsune had been disgraced or not, there would be men who would risk their own exile in the forest to help him escape it.
Marshal Kitsune wasn't merely a warrior either. She remembe
red Gavril at the campfire in the Wastes, arguing that the raising of the shadow stalkers did not seem the work of a sorcerer. Eventually he'd allowed that it might be, but they both knew it was--it could be nothing else.
Her stomach clenched so hard she doubled over and had to grab a bench for support.
Does Gavril know? He must.
But he'd said he didn't recognize the seal.