"I'm going, too."
Tyrus turned sharply. "What?"
"My priority is always my sister. But you can best search for her on your own, in disguise. I will go to the city to seek information that might help you."
"If you walk into the imperial city--"
"I'm not so foolish as to stroll in and announce myself." She gave him a look, which Tova seconded with a grunt. "But even if I were caught, there are no rumors about me." None at all, which was, admittedly, a little disheartening. She had once again faded into obscurity beside her sister's supposed wild deeds. "I could convince them I was not at the battlefield, that I know not what happened."
"And Simeon? He clearly started these stories to punish you."
"I'm not convinced of that. Part of his reason, it seems, was hurt over my rejection, but there must be more to it."
"Still . . ."
"If it came to it, I would convince him that he'd misinterpreted my rejection. As much as I might hate deception, there are times that warrant it. However, I'm not my sister, Tyrus. I have no wish to defy or tempt fate. I'll quietly gather what information I can, while Ronan tends to his siblings. I will also get word to your mother, tell her you are well."
"I cannot ask you to endanger yourself, for me or my mother--"
"I will if I can. I know you are worried about her. It's settled, then? We part?"
Tyrus gazed out as he considered it. "As much as I dislike the idea--and I suspect Moria would strangle me for agreeing to it--I trust your discretion and your judgment, Ash. There's only one thing I ask of you."
"What's that?"
"Take Guin."
When Ashyn laughed, Tyrus said, "I'm seri
ous. I can hunt for Moria much better if it's only me and Daigo."
"I know," she said. "I will take her."
"I've done something wrong," Ronan grumbled as he shoved his spare tunic into his pack.
"You know you haven't." Ashyn handed him his sleeping blanket.
"See? Even you're trying to get rid of me. I've done something."
She sighed. "Yes, Ronan, you have. I'm sorry, but it must be said. You've committed a grave offense. You wouldn't go back to check on your brother and sister until Tyrus put his boot to your arse."
His brows lifted at her choice of words. Just because she rarely used strong language did not mean she did not know it. In fact, she'd wager her vocabulary for profanity exceeded his own. That's what came of extensive reading . . . and growing up around warriors and traders.
"You know Tyrus is right," she continued. "You ought to check on them, and you want to check on them. You just needed . . ."
"A kick in the arse?"
"Exactly." She rolled dried fruit and meat in a cloth.
"He's making a mistake," he said.
"Perhaps."
"There's no perhaps about it, Ash. How will you survive without me?"
Her brows shot up.
"Will you steal for your supper? Will he? I'm sure Guin would try, for a lark, but she'd be more likely to end up with twenty lashes than food."