Gavril gave him a baleful look. "Does it appear as if I slept? I would ask that when we resume our journey, she walks behind the wagon so I may get some sleep."
"You'll sleep well soon. I hear the emperor's dungeons are very quiet . . . in between the screams of the tortured."
Another called the leader, hailing him as "Toman." The leader walked off. Moria glanced about. They were still surrounded by a half-dozen bandits, eating and drinking and resting yet keeping an eye on them.
"I could not--" she began, whispering without looking Gavril's way.
"I know. Well played."
"You do need to drink. Perhaps if I soak dried fruit and conceal it--"
"No."
"But you must--"
"They'll not let me die. Spare no thought for me. Nor will I for you. That is safest."
Moria moved a few steps away and crouched to finish her meal. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gavril glance over, and a couple of the bandits laughed.
"You might beg her for a scrap," Toman said as he returned.
"I need none," Gavril said stiffly.
"Good. Because you'll get none except from her. Now let's talk about your father."
"I'd rather not."
"Oh, but you should be so proud of him. It takes a strong man to survive the Forest of the Dead. And then to come back and wreak vengeance by murdering hundreds of innocents? The actions of an honorable warrior."
"Whatever the warrior code might say, my father realizes it is impossible to fight treachery with honorable deeds. He was betrayed by the empire itself. If citizens must fall in his war, then they ought to consider the choices they ma
de, supporting a monster on the imperial throne and allowing a hero to be exiled."
"Pretty speech, boy."
"I do not make pretty speeches. Only plain ones, ringing with truth."
The advantage to an impassive demeanor, Moria reflected, was that one was not expected to infuse any speech with passion or even emotion. Gavril spoke the words with monotone conviction, and the bandit leader studied him for any sign of dissembling, but Moria knew he'd find none.
"Your father is no hero," Toman said finally.
"That is your opinion. I trust you will see the error of it before he takes the imperial throne. Otherwise . . ." Gavril met the leader's gaze with a cold stare. "You will regret it, as will every citizen who stands between us and--"
The bandit's slap rang through the quiet, the blow hard enough to make Gavril stumble back.
"Apologies, my lord," Toman said. "I had to make you stop. You were talking madness."
"You asked me to speak of my father."
"Let's change the subject. Your mother."
Now there was a slight stiffening in Gavril's back before he composed himself and said, "What about my mother?"
"Where is she?"
Silence.
Toman continued. "I had much time to think, riding through the night, and I realized my gift to the emperor is incomplete. He will reward me handsomely for you two but . . ." He shrugged. "There is a limit to what gold can buy, and there are things I want that I cannot purchase. I have wives. Three. Not that they know there are three of them, of course," he said with a smile. "More important are my eight children. What they need most is a better life than a bandit can provide. I want a pardon for my crimes and land for my families."