Gavril's father left with him. They hadn't been long gone before the old woman came to check Moria for injuries. Sure enough, she discovered several gouges and rising bruises where Halmond had grabbed her. As the healer tended to those, she muttered under her breath in her own language. When one of the guards dared stick his head in, she snapped at him as if he'd been the one to attack Moria. When he hesitated, she motioned lifting food to her mouth. He nodded and withdrew.
"I'm all right," Moria said.
The woman kept grumbling. She pointed emphatically at the gouges and then stalked to the fresh pile of clothing she'd brought. She held up a new shift and shook it at Moria.
"I'm fine," Moria said. "Truly, I'm--"
The woman jabbed a finger at the shift and gave Moria a look as if to say, If you're fine, where's your old one?
"I will be fine," Moria said. "Halmond didn't do anything." Except humiliate her. Make her feel helpless and powerless. Remind her that she wasn't the Keeper of Edgewood here. She was just a girl.
The door opened again, and the young guard carefully pushed in a food tray, as if he didn't dare set foot inside. When he tried to leave, the old woman barked something at him. He clearly didn't understand the words, but he caught the meaning well enough and paused.
The healer looked at the food. Then she made a few gestures to the guard. He seemed to take a moment to understand, then nodded as he withdrew.
The old woman set the tray in front of Moria and glowered at her, as if she was going to stand there and watch her eat every bite. Moria looked down at the plate. Sticky rice, a steaming pork bun, and dried persimmons. A simple peasant's meal, but better than she'd had in five days. She set on the fruits first, devouring them as if they were honey cakes. When the guard entered again, he had a pot of tea, a pear, and an apple. The old woman grunted her approval and, this time, waved that he could come in and set them on Moria's tray.
He did, keeping his gaze down.
"Thank you," she said.
"Whatever you need, my lady," he said. "You only have to knock."
"I'd like my daggers back."
His lips twitched in a smile. "Except that, I fear."
She was about to let him leave when she caught sight of the ink on his arms. Stylized dogs.
"The Inugami clan," she said. "There was one of your family in Edgewood."
"Orbec. He is--was--my uncle."
"Gav . . . Lord Gavril has told you what happened to him then?"
"He has."
Moria wanted to ask exactly what Gavril had said. It was not, she suspected, the truth. But she heard her sister's voice, telling her to hold her tongue. To be cautious. She'd not win allies in this place by turning them against the Kitsunes.
The young man continued, "My uncle spoke of you, my lady, in his letters home. He said he taught you to throw a blade."
"He did."
A faint smile. "All the more reason why I'd not return yours. I know my uncle's skill."
"He was an excellent teacher and a warrior who died with honor. When I was brought here, I had two daggers. One was his. I took it to return to his family, but I haven't gotten the chance. If you want it, ask Lord Gavril. He'll see it's returned to you."
"Thank you, my lady."
The young man withdrew. When he was gone, the healer nodded, as if pleased that Moria had been so courteous. She motioned for Moria to eat while she examined her wounds.
The healer grumbled when she reached Moria's ankle, though it was in no worse shape than it had been down in the cell. Perhaps in the better light, it simply looked worse. The old woman bound it as Moria knelt, eating. Then she pointed toward Moria's foot.
"Walk."
Moria li
fted her brows. The woman's accent was so thick it was sometimes hard to tell when she was attempting words in the common language.