She pulled back so fast she nearly fell off the bench. "Don't--"
"Yes, I know." He straightened, anger spiking his voice. "We cannot say that name. We cannot discuss what he did. But you need to speak of it, Moria. It's like swallowing a dagger--it's ripping you apart from the inside. You can talk to me. He was my friend, too."
"If that's what you think, then you were as deluded as I. He told me you were simply someone he grew up with and trained with."
"Which for Gavril is as close to a 'friend' as one gets, as you well know."
"I don't know anything about him. That is obvious."
"No, you do. You know what kind of man he is, and for all his faults, lack of honor is not one of them. Nor is cruelty. Whatever is happening here, it is not what it seems. The Gavril I know would never have condoned the massacre of a village. When he realized what had happened, how did he react?"
I told him and he wouldn't believe it. He said I was mistaken. A foolish child. Then I took him back and he saw the bodies and . . .
She sucked in a breath at the memory, the look on Gavril's face.
"It doesn't matter," she said. "He was playing a role. He told me he was guilty. That whatever I thought he'd done, he had done. Those were his exact words."
"To protect you. Because . . ." Tyrus sighed as she rose. "All right, I'll stop. Deep down, you want to believe he didn't do this, which is exactly why you refuse to believe it. You will not be made a fool. Back to tonight--if you choose to listen in, wait until late. It will be a very long meal."
FIVE
Moria told Ashyn she was meeting Tyrus that night. Her sister didn't question the lateness of the visit. She'd made it clear that she thought the young prince was the perfect remedy for what ailed Moria, and a nighttime meeting seemed to prove the situation was progressing as hoped.
Before leaving, Moria had casually asked Ashyn about the king and sultan. Ashyn said both were minor players. Royalty whose land hadn't been taken during imperial expansion primarily because of their friendships with Marshal Kitsune. In return, both paid homage to Emperor Tatsu, as did most of the border rulers. The emperor had risen to power not by lineage but because of the vital role he'd played in the empire's expansion push. Since then, there'd been only minor skirmishes. An era of peace and prosperity. Which meant, as Moria knew Tyrus worried, that the army was ill-prepared for war.
By the time Moria arrived at the dinner party building, they were clearing the fruit course inside, and she wondered if she was too late. But it turned out the meal was only the opening act. Then came the entertainment. Eventually the troupe of performers left, replaced by courtesans.
There were many women in the palace, most of whom seemed to exist purely to serve the whims and pleasures of the emperor. Two wives, four concubines, and six or seven master courtesans. Moria was somewhat confused about the function of the courtesans.
There were also houses of them in the city. The bards' songs made it clear they were not prostitutes, and yet sex certainly seemed to be part of the "entertainment" they provided. When she'd asked Ashyn for a more detailed description of their function, her sister had turned bright red and stammered meaningless nonsense.
While the palace courtesans were for the emperor's bed, it also seemed they could be lent to guests who had not come with their wives. Rather like fresh clothing, if they forgot theirs at home. At dinner that night, the courtesans sang and played the lute and recited poetry--and flirted. Moria wondered if they were doing more than flirting, but it did not sound like it. Which was rather disappointing. How was one to learn such things, if one had no exposure to them?
As for learning anything more critical, that was a bigger disappointment. While she did not expect the emperor to outright ask who had harbored the former marshal, she thought the subject of Alvar Kitsune would at least come up. Some offhand comment, allowing Emperor Tatsu to study the inebriated and unguarded reactions of his guests. When it did not, she had to accept that Tyrus was mistaken. Love could blind one to a father's faults, and in Tyrus's case, filial piety was more than a duty. Sometimes one's father truly was one of the most important people in one's world. She knew that as well as anyone.
Finally, the dinner came to a close, and the emperor invited his two guests to select a flower to brighten their quarters. That seemed a strange offer . . . until she realized that by "flower," he meant "courtesan." He chose his own companion first and left the two men still deciding. Once outside, he told his courtiers to leave him for the evening and headed to his quarters with his night's companion.
Moria peered along the wall, making sure the way was clear before beginning the journey to her own quarters. She made it past two buildings. Then she heard someone speaking.
"I need you to go back to your quarters," the man's voice said, and she looked about, as if he were speaking to her, but the voice came from at least ten paces away.
She peeked around the corner to see a broad-shouldered man in his fifth decade. Emperor Tatsu, who'd tugged the courtesan into a dark gap between buildings. He released her and pressed a box into her hand.
"A gift for your trouble," he whispered. "Go and enjoy your evening."
The courtesan stared at the emperor, a plaintive note in her voice as she said, "Your imperial highness. I thought . . ."
"No, child. Now go--"
"Have I offended you?" she blurted, then stumbled over herself apologizing for interrupting him.
"You have not offended me," he said. "I had no intention of taking anyone to my quarters tonight. I have business to attend to, and it was merely an excuse to end my dinner engagement. Take your gift and go. Quickly now."
The courtesan didn't linger, but it was clear she would have preferred a night in his bed over any gift he might offer. Which piqued Moria's curiosity. Clearly, given the number of women in the palace, the emperor was experienced in such matters. Was that the cause of the courtesan's disappointment? That she'd miss out on a pleasurable evening? Or was it more a matter of position and favor--that by sharing his bed she'd gain status in the court? It was a fascinating subject, but not one she was likely to better understand anytime soon.
The courtesan hurried off as best she could in platform sandals a hand's-length tall. Voices drifted over from the dining house. One of the guests was leaving, having made his choice from the courtesans. Silk whispered, and Moria glanced down the gap to see the emperor poised at the corner, watching his guest.
A moment later, the King of Etaria appeared, so tightly entwined with his courtesan that it seemed they'd begun the evening's activities without waiting for the privacy of a bedchamber. As they staggered, giggling, past where the emperor waited in the shadows, Moria realized they weren't so much entwined by lust as by necessity. The king was too inebriated to walk alone.