"True, which is the real reason I stay in court. It's the only place I can find adequate trainers. Out here in the wilds . . ." Tyrus shrugged. "I'll admit you're quite skilled . . . when your opponent has tusks and bristles."
"I'll wager our boars are tougher than any of your court warriors."
"You wouldn't know, since you've never actually been to court. Despite several personal invitations from your former apprentice."
Dalain nodded. "We're both to blame for the length of the separation. It won't happen again. Which is not a promise that you'll ever see me in court, but perhaps I can send some of Sabre's father's men to abduct you and bring you here more often. Now, the rear gates beckon, and I'll suggest we slip in quietly, speak to my father quickly, and be on our way, before my mother discovers you've arrived and insists you take tea."
FIFTY-FOUR
A warlord's compound was not dissimilar to Alvar Kitsune's camp. It was like a small village, comprised of homes for the lord and his extended family, plus barracks for his warriors and various other buildings for storage and service--armory, kitchens, blacksmith, stables, and so forth.
The fence that surrounded it was meant to act more as a boundary than a barrier. There would be a main gate with towers and warrior guards, but in a region like this, that was mostly for show. No one waged war on the Gray Wolf. His reputation was too fearsome and--equally important--his lands were both strategically and productively worthless, unless the empire suffered a sudden shortage of wood and boar meat.
The rear gate was manned only by a single guard, who didn't even have a tower to stand watch on. There was little need. The gate faced the forest, and the only people who used it were Okami's men, coming back from the hunt and not inclined to ride all the way around to the front.
The gate itself was simply a double door. The men had ridden around to the front, leaving only Dalain, Tyrus, and Moria to slip through this way. Dalain unfastened the gate as the other two climbed off their steeds. One didn't ride into a warlord's compound. That would be as rude as walking into his home wearing shoes.
As they led the horses through, Tyrus and Dalain told Moria what to expect--how many men they had, what services were offered in the compound, which members of the lord's family were at home. Her nerves were eased best with information rather than empty reassurances. Tyrus understood that, and Dalain was astute enough to follow his lead.
"You will eventually have to meet my mother," Dalain said. "I apologize in advance."
"He's joking," Tyrus said.
"Not entirely," Dalain murmured.
"Lady Okami is court-born," Tyrus explained. "She has devoted herself to bringing a touch of civility to these hills, but she is . . . not exactly a timid court lady."
"Tyrus is being civil himself. Possibly because my mother is of his clan. First cousin to the emperor. Even my father ducks when she starts breathing fire."
"They adore her," Tyrus said.
"We have to. She'd devour us otherwise. My mother--"
"My lord!" The warrior guarding the gate had, apparently, not been guarding it too closely. The young man hurried over from wherever he'd been. "Wh-what are you doing here?"
"I live here," Dalain said. "We're only s
topping in briefly to let my father know Tyrus and the Keeper have arrived, then we'll head out again. I trust you'll hold our steeds?"
"Th-they said you were coming in the front. The scouts saw your search party."
"We are not with the search party because we are in a hurry and avoiding my mother. Now, hold these--"
"You ought to go around the front, my lord. Your father awaits you there."
Dalain's gray eyes narrowed. "You interrupt me to say I'm not allowed in this gate? I know we are not quite as rule bound as other clans, but I would suggest a little more respect, boy, at least in the company of guests."
As the young guard stammered, Moria glanced at Tyrus and saw that his hand was already on the pommel of his sword. Daigo backed into Moria's legs and peered about, his tail swishing.
"While the boy's tone was disrespectful," Tyrus said slowly, "perhaps we ought to retreat and go around the front, Dalain."
"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.