Neither replied, simply dug in their shovels again.
"You're educated children," Toman continued. "Surely you recognize this for what it is?"
"Yes," Gavril said.
"Tell me."
When Gavril didn't respond, Moria looked at him and he nodded.
"It's the traditional execution method for the Tatsu clan," Moria said. "From ages past. I have heard of it . . ."
But never imagined it. Words she found herself saying and thinking so often lately. All the things she'd read in books or heard in bards' tales and never given a second thought because they'd been merely words. However vividly described, words of a thousand deaths did not begin to convey the horror of a single one witnessed.
The stories said that the Tatsu clan used to bury their enemies to the neck and leave them to perish. It was not a violent death, so it seemed merciful compared to the infamous death of a thousand cuts. Now, Moria could not say for certain that she would choose this over any other method.
Toman said, "You know then that this is incontrovertible proof that the emperor has taken his revenge."
"Is it?" Moria said. "Everyone who has read a history book knows this is the Tatsu's traditional method of execution. Anyone could emulate--"
"Do not defend him," Gavril said, his voice low, gaze fixed on the hole.
"I'm simply saying--"
"And I know well your feelings about the emperor, Keeper. As you know mine. He has allowed you to be cast as traitor, and yet you continue to defend him. My father is not the monster here. The man who did that?" He pointed to his mother's corpse. "He is the true monster."
"No," Toman said. "He is a true dragon. At rest, he slumbers peacefully. But one does not provoke a dragon. Not if one has a grain of sense. Our emperor has acted with the brutality and the cunning I expect of a Tatsu. I was glad to call him my emperor this morning. I am proud to call him that tonight."
Gavril threw down his shovel. "He murdered an innocent woman."
"Your mother lost her innocence the day she wed that treacherous fox. Do you wish to blame someone for this, boy? Blame your father. He abandoned her out here with an inadequate guard. That tells the empire how much he cared for the mother of his only child."
"My father cares--"
"Not a whit for anyone but himself, and the sooner you acknowledge that, the easier your life will be."
"Do not taunt him," Moria said to Toman, her voice as soft as she could make it. "Not in his time of grief."
Gavril turned on her. "Don't defend me, Keeper."
"I'm not. I'm showing you a moment of kindness as one who has suffered such a loss herself."
"Your emperor--"
"I do not believe my emperor did this."
"Then you are a fool."
"No, you are the fool, if you continue to believe your father . . ." Moria sighed and stuck her shovel in the ground. "Let's not argue, Kitsune. We'll bury your mother, and I'll say the words to ease her passing."
Moria said the rituals for the dead. Gavril did not mention the fact that they weren't hers to say. The Seeker calmed spirits while the Keeper fought those who would not be calmed. Yet Moria knew the words, and so she said them and prayed the ancestors would understand.
They returned to the wagon and set off. Moria turned from Gavril, leaving him to his grief, sitting in the corner, his knees drawn up, arms around them, gaze lowered. They hadn't gone far before he said, "Thank you."
She nodded, still not looking over, in case that was all, but his boots scraped the wooden floor of the wagon as he moved closer. He lowered himself to sit cross-legged near her. She held out the lock of Kiri's hair and when he hesitated, she tucked it into his pocket. He did not stop her.
"Everything you did back there was both appreciated and undeserved," he said. "In equal measure."
"I did what was right."