They almost lost their advantage at that moment as Shalaman realized how they had manipulated him. But his own good sense overcame his temper, and he managed to do no more than frown at his Advisor as Leyuet came in.
Leyuet made a formal obeisance to his leader which appeared to mollify the King somewhat. Shalaman gestured to the rest of them to take seats, then appropriated the best chair in the room and sat down in it with ill grace.
"I see you have all this planned," he growled, waving his hand at Leyuet. "Continue, then, before I lose my patience. Truthsayer, examine the man Amberdrake."
Good. He's angry. Now to turn that anger away from us and toward whoever is conspiring against us.
"There is only one thing more that I need to tell you, Serenity," he said, very carefully. "But I needed the Truthsayer here to confirm it so that you will believe it. If you would, please, Leyuet?"
The Truthsayer nodded and then knelt upon the floor at Amberdrake's feet, closing his eyes and assuming an expression of intense concentration. As Silver Veil had explained it, Leyuet would not actually read Amberdrake's thoughts as a Mindspeaker might, nor his emotions as an Empath would. She could only describe it as "soul-touching, perhaps, or heart-reading"—that Leyuet would take in what Amberdrake was, with no emotions or surface thoughts intruding, and relate that to the truth or falsehood of what he was saying. As she described it, the act would be far more intimate on Leyuet's part (for Amberdrake would sense nothing) than any Empathic sensing of emotion. It was impossible to lie to a Truthsayer, she claimed. If that was the case, Amberdrake did not envy Leyuet his Gift—
There are more than a few slimy souls I would never have wanted to touch in that way. Ma'ar, for instance, or Shaiknam. The very idea makes me shudder.
"I wish to prove to you why my lady and I are more than we appear. Winterhart and I have a very unusual bond," he said, choosing his words with care. "In our tongue, it is called 'lifebonding.' I have not been able to find the equivalent in yours, but it is a binding of soul to soul—a partnership that completes both of us. What one feels, the other feels as well—"
He continued, trying to describe their relationship in terms that Shalaman might understand, groping through the unfamiliar Haighlei words, until suddenly Leyuet's eyes flew open and the Truthsayer exclaimed with dismay—
"Serenity! These two are loriganalea! Oh, dearest gods—what did you think you were doing?"
The look of horror on Leyuet's face was mirrored in Shalaman's.
What on earth? Why—
Amberdrake had no time for any other thoughts, for suddenly, the Emperor himself, the great Shalaman, was on his knees, clutching the hems of Amberdrake's garment and Winterhart's in turn, begging their forgiveness. Amberdrake had not seen anyone so terrified in ten years. What had Leyuet said?
Amberdrake was taken so aback he didn't know what to say or do next. Leyuet seemed to be completely paralyzed.
Finally it was Skan who broke the impasse.
"Well," he said, in a completely casual tone, as if he saw all-powerful Emperors groveling in front of his friends every day, "I always said you and Winterhart were something special."
Things were very confusing for several long moments. When a greatly-shaken Shalaman—who had by this time lost every aspect of Emperor and seemed to have decided that he would be, for now, only Shalaman the man—was calmed down and assured of both their forgiveness, they finally learned from him and from Leyuet why their reaction had been so violent. In fact, Leyuet was still looking a bit gray about the lips.
"This is a sacred bond," Leyuet said, carefully, so that there could be no mistake. "This is a marriage, made not for lust or for power or the sake of convenience, but made by the gods. The holy books are very plain; interfering in such a bond will bring the curses of the ages upon anyone who tries to break it, anyone who helps to break it and anyone who does not aid the bonded ones. If he who tried to interfere in the bonding is a ruler, the curses would fall even upon the people as a whole. You have done a good thing, Amberdrake, by recognizing this bond and telling us of it. You have not only saved the Emperor's honor, you have prevented the curses of all of our gods and yours as well from falling upon this land."
"You were well within your rights to withhold this knowledge from me," Shalaman said miserably, shaken to his bones. "If I had not the opportunity to obtain your forgiveness, it is possible that the curses would still have come, and you would have had your revenge upon me threefold. It would only have been justice—your withholding of information in exchange for my omission."
The Emperor shuddered, his lips pale with strain. "There is nothing I can give you in my entire Empire that can compensate you—"
This was too much. Amberdrake cast a glance of entreaty at the Truthsayer for help, since nothing he had said seemed to penetrate the Emperor's reaction. Leyuet placed a hand upon Shalaman's, keeping him from saying anything more. "It is enough. It did not happen. Amberdrake and Winterhart understand and forgive. They both know—well, enough."
'That is the truth," Amberdrake said hastily. "Remember, we were all caught in a web of deception. The blame should rightly fall on the spider who spun it; let the curses fall upon him."
That was evidently exactly the right thing to say; the Emperor closed his eyes and nodded, relaxing a little.
But Leyuet was not finished. "And you know, my Emperor, that even if Amberdrake were to perish in the next instant, Winterhart would still not be for you, nor for any other man. You may wish to consult Palisar on the matter, but I would say this proves that the gods regard those of White Gryphon as they would the Haighlei, in matters of the soul and love."
That last was said with a certain stern relish that made Amberdrake wonder if the pointed little reminder were not Leyuet's tiny act of revenge for his own mental and emotional strain over this situation. Poor Leyuet. He walked a thread above a chasm, and he survived. I should not be surprised if he garnered more white hairs from this.
Shalaman nodded weakly. "I know. And I swear that I will think of her from this moment as I would my own sister, my own mother, my own daughter—and with no other thoughts in my heart." He shook himself a little, then looked up at Amberdrake. "Now, you will assert your innocence in this matter, and Leyuet will verify it, and I will make this public if there is no other way to prove that you are blameless. Will that suit your plan to trap this plot-spinning spider?"
"It does. But do not reveal my innocence unless there is no other way to save my life," Amberdrake reminded him. "We must make our enemy think that he has us trapped, all of us. He will never make any mistakes unless he becomes overconfident."
We have to think of other things that will make it look as if I am still the chief suspect....
Leyuet assumed his Truthsaying "trance" again, and Amberdrake carefully stated his innocence in all the murders. There was no point in doing this if Shalaman would still be wondering if Amberdrake had anything to do with the other three deaths. "Nor would I harm any other member of your court," he added, "except to bring this killer to justice."
There. I think that covers everything. Shalaman hardly looked at Leyuet, who confirmed everything Amberdrake said in a dreamy, detached voice. Odd; he looked so strained before, but now he actually seems to be experiencing something pleasant! I wonder why?
"Now, for Makke—" Amberdrake brought the trembling woman to sit in front of Leyuet. She seemed to be on the verge of tears, but bravely held them back, looking only at Amberdrake. She seemed to take comfort and heart from his presence, and he put a steadying hand on hers as he knelt beside her chair, out of Leyuet's way.
"Makke, you are the servant and cleaning woman for myself, Winterhart, Zhaneel, and Skandranon, are you not?" he asked in a gentle voice.
She nodded mutely, and Leyuet echoed the gesture. "One of your tasks is to see that our clothing is taken to the laundresses and returned, is that not so?" he continued; she nodded, and Leyuet confirmed the truth of the statement.
; "Now—today, this morning, when you fetched the clean clothing, some of it was missing, correct? Whose was it?"
Makke's voice trembled with suppressed tears. "Yours, great lord."
"And that was before the afternoon recess, when all the Court takes a rest, was it not?"
"Yes, great lord," she replied, a single tear seeping out of the corner of her eye and escaping into the wrinkles of her cheeks.
"When you took it away yesterday, did it ever leave your hands from the moment you received it to the moment you delivered it to the laundresses?" he asked. She shook her head mutely.
"And when did you discover that there was a piece missing?" he asked her.
"When I opened the bundle as it came from the laundresses, in these rooms, great lord," she said and sobbed as she lost her tenuous control of herself. "I am—"
"No," he said quickly, putting a hand on her shoulder to stop her from saying anything more. "Describe the missing piece, if you can."
As he had hoped, she remembered it in minute detail, and it was obvious to anyone who had seen the bloody fragments that the robe she described and the pieces found with the last victim were the same.
"Good," he said. "Now, simply answer this. Did you leave the bundle anywhere, after you received it from their hands? Did you even leave it alone in our rooms?"
She shook her head.
"So during the entire time when the clothing was in your control, you did not leave it anywhere but in the hands of those who were to clean it?" It was a rhetorical question, but she nodded.
"The woman speaks the truth," Leyuet said tonelessly.
"So—first, the clothing that turned up with the last murder victim was missing from my possession this morning, so I could not have been wearing it," Amberdrake said triumphantly. "And second, it cannot possibly have been Makke's fault that it came into the possession of someone else. She was not careless, she didn't lose anything—it was stolen, and she can hardly be held responsible for the acts of someone who is a murderer, a traitor, and a thief."
Shalaman sighed wearily, and Makke suddenly looked up, her expression changing in an instant from one of despair to one of joy.
"That is so, Emperor," Leyuet said slowly as he shook himself out of his trance. "Though I fail to see why it was so important—"
He stopped himself, flushing with shame. "Forgive me, woman," he said to Makke, with stiff humility. "It was important to you, of course. Not all troubles involve the curses of gods and the fate of empires—but sometimes the fate of empires can devolve upon the small troubles."
Makke obviously didn't understand what Leyuet was trying to say, but she nodded timidly, shrinking back into the chair.
'The question is," Leyuet said, "what do we do with her? I do not know that she should continue as your cleaning woman. Perhaps a retirement?"
Makke shrank back further still.
"If I may make a request?" Zhaneel put in. "Makke is the only one who knows that the clothing was missing. This puts her in danger, if the murderer thinks of it. Could she not be protected if she were here, in our personal train? If she were to be made—oh—" Zhaneel's expression became crafty "—the nurse of my little ones? She would then be in our suite all the time, and under our guarding eyes and talons!"
Leyuet looked dubious. "Is this permitted?" he asked Shalaman. "She is of the caste of the Lower Servants, is not a nursemaid of the caste of Upper Servants?" He seemed far more concerned over the possible breach in caste than by the threat to Makke's life. Shalaman's brow creased with a similar concern.
Hang these people and their ranks and castes!
Skandranon snorted with derision before anyone else could say anything. "At the moment, the servants watching the little ones are from whatever caste takes care of pet dogs and parrots!" he said with thinly-veiled contempt. "This is, I believe, on the judgment of whoever it is that decides who should serve where. I hardly think that they can be of any higher caste than Makke. They are certainly of less intelligence!"
Leyuet looked a little happier. "It is true, Emperor, that there is no description or caste for one who would be a nursemaid to—to—" He groped for a tactful description, and Skan supplied him with an untactful one.
"Nursemaid to the offspring of intelligent animals," he said shortly. "And I don't see any reason why Shalaman can't declare it to be in Makke's caste and give her the job here and now."
"Nor do I," Shalaman said hastily, obviously wanting to get what seemed to him to be nonsense over with. "I declare it. Leyuet, have a secretary issue the orders."
Leyuet emerged from his trance feeling more like himself than he had since the foreigners arrived. His stomach was settled, his headache gone, his energy completely restored.
And it was—it was a pleasure to touch the soul of Amberdrake, he realized with wonder. As noble a soul as Silver Veil—and how ever could I have doubted that? Was he not her pupil? Is he not still her friend? Why should I have forgotten these things?
He did not even express impatience with the amount of time spent on the servant woman, where a few days ago he would have been offended at this waste of his gifts, and insisted that a lesser Truthsayer attend to her.
It would, of course, have been a great pity if anything happened to her, so the female gryphon's suggestion about how to keep her safe was a good one. But it was an insignificant detail in the greater work of this evening. He and Amberdrake between them had managed to engineer all of it without ever having Shalaman's honor publicly called into question.
And Amberdrake saved us all from the curses of the gods—and on the eve of the Eclipse, too! His relief at that was enough to make him weak in the knees. The disaster that would be—the curses could have persisted for the next twenty years, or worse!
But of course Amberdrake's forgiveness came quickly and readily; that was the kind of soul that Leyuet had touched.
He simply rested from his labor as Skandranon, Shalaman, and the rest worked out what the next moves would be.
"I think perhaps that we should do more than continue to foster the illusion that I am the chief suspect," Amberdrake said gravely. "In fact—Winterhart, if you have no objections, perhaps we should also foster the illusion that you and I have quarreled over this, and that you have accepted the King's proposal."
Leyuet woke up at that. It was a bold move—and a frightening one. He would have been more concerned, except that he had violated custom and Read the King, and he knew that Shalaman had been truly frightened by his narrow escape, and that he would, indeed, regard Winterhart as purely and without lust as if she was his daughter from this moment on.
In the face of so great a threat, the violation of custom is a small matter. Shalaman could not have been permitted Winterhart's company if his heart had not changed.
"I don't object—as long as I can still—" Winterhart bit her lip and blushed redly, and Shalaman laughed for the first time that evening. These pale people showed their embarrassment in such an amusing fashion!
How far down does the red go, one wonders? It certainly crept down her neck and past her collar.
"I shall have Leyuet give you the key to the next suite," Shalaman said indulgently. "Just as the gryphons's suite connects to yours, there is one that connects to theirs. I shall put you there—it is a suitable arrangement for a Consort-To-Be, since the bride must remain with her relatives, and they are the closest you have to relatives here—and it will look as if I am placing the gryphons between you and Amberdrake as a kind of guard upon your honor and safety."
"Meanwhile, we are anything but. I like it," Skandranon said. "Just don't keep us awake at night, scampering through our quarters, all right, Amberdrake?"
Shalaman chuckled at this, as did Amberdrake. So did Leyuet. If the King had been having second thoughts, he would have put Winterhart in the Royal Apartments. All was well.
He relaxed back onto his cushion; his opinion was not needed in this, but he did need to know what they were planning, for Palisar and Silve
r Veil would have to be informed.
I shouldn't be relaxed, he tried to tell himself. This is a perilous and horrible situation. There is a killer among us, a killer who is likely also a traitor, who kills in terrifying and obscene ways. It could be anyone! Well, almost anyone. Four ladies of the Court are dead—I did not know them, but still, I should not be sitting here thinking about being able to enjoy a meal for the first time in days....
On the other hand, there was nothing more that he could do, and his Emperor was acting again like the Shalaman he knew, the warrior, the leader.
And he was seeing a side to the foreigners, especially Amberdrake, that he had never, ever guessed. They had seemed so different from the Haighlei before this moment—alien, tricky, crafty, possibly deceitful.
Amberdrake, in particular, had seemed too opaque to be trustworthy. How could he not have noticed that this very opacity was like Silver Veil's mannered detachment?
I thought that Silver Veil was unique. Is this how all northern kestra'chern are? Oh, perhaps not. Anyone can call himself a kestra'chern, after all. We have kestra'chern who are hardly worthy of the name. And there have been very few even of the good ones who have risen to the rank of Advisor.
But here were two who were worthy of the name and the highest of ranks—Silver Veil and Amberdrake—and an equally brilliant soul, if of a different order, in Winterhart. The strangers had turned out to be not so strange after all, despite their odd ways and their even odder friends, the gryphons.
Perhaps—one day I shall venture to read the gryphons. If they can be the friends of Amberdrake, then I think I should be in no danger of harm....
With a start, he realized that the conference was coming to an end, at least as far as he was concerned.
"You may go, Leyuet," Shalaman said, dismissing him with a wave of his hand. "We have taken up enough of your rest as it is. In the morning, see that Palisar and Silver Veil learn of what we have discussed, but keep it all among yourselves."
Unspoken, but obvious to Leyuet—he should keep to himself the King's near-debacle in the matter of honor.
The white gryphon Page 19
