Valdemar Books

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Silver Veil would make such a Queen—and she loves him. Why can't he see that? Oh, damn. Let me get this settled first. A little matter of a murder accusation—I'll deal with hearts and minds later.

  "All you did was to be yourself," he repeated. "And that was just a temptation that was too much for the Emperor to resist. I understand his desire, and I can hardly blame you if I can't blame him!"

  She sensed his sincerity, even if she could not share his thoughts, and she managed a tremulous smile.

  "The problem is—" he hesitated a moment, then said it out loud. "The problem is, it does appear that Shalaman was perfectly willing for me to stand accused of murder so that his way was clear to take you as his wife."

  Makke's face turned gray, but both Zhaneel and Winterhart nodded. Zhaneel's hackles were up, and Winterhart's jaw clenched.

  "The obvious answer is to demand Leyuet's services in Court," he continued, but Winterhart interrupted. And not, as he might have supposed, with angry words about the Emperor.

  "You have to be careful not to imply in any way that Shalaman was using the accusation as a way to obtain me," she pointed out. "You can't even let other people make that implication. If anyone besides Leyuet suspects him of dishonorable intentions, he'll never forgive us."

  Oh, that is the lady I love—thinking ahead, seeing all the implications, even while her own heart is in turmoil! He felt better with every passing moment, more alive than he had in years—the way he had right after the Catastrophe, when every day brought a new crisis, but she was there to help him solve it.

  "Even if it all simply slipped his mind in the excitement, people could still suspect that if I act in public," he replied, thinking out loud. "If he was operating with those intentions—he'll become our enemy for exposing him. And if he wasn't, well, when people put facts together and come up with their own suspicions, however erroneous, wouldn't he lose face with his own Court?"

  Winterhart nodded as Zhaneel looked from one to the other of them. She toyed with the necklace as she spoke. "It is almost as bad for the Haighlei to lose face as to be dishonorable, and while he might not become our enemy over his own mistake, he isn't going to be our friend, either." Winterhart frowned. "But we can't simply leave things the way they are!"

  "If he is disgraced before his own people, might he not even declare war upon us in an attempt to show that he did not want Winterhart after all?" Zhaneel hazarded, her eyes narrowed with worry. "Oh, I wish that Skandranon were here!"

  I'm just as glad he's not. He's more than a bit too direct for a situation like this one.

  "In any event, if we do this in public, and everything came out well, we still must have Makke's part of the story—and that makes her a conspicuous target for anger," Amberdrake said, as Makke nodded and turned even grayer. "I can't have that. And we have to remember something else—there is someone out there who wants all of us dead or gotten rid of, and if we take care of this in public, he'll only try again to do just that. The next time he might be still more clever about it. As long as we don't know who our enemy is, we can't guard against him without just going home."

  Winterhart clasped her hands together in her lap, around the cup of tea, and Amberdrake pretended not to notice that her knuckles were white.

  "You are saying that we can't do anything, then?" she asked tightly. "But—"

  "No, what I'm saying is that this can't be public. I spoke at length with Silver Veil, and she gave me another piece of advice—'That which is unthinkable in public is often conducted in private.' Is there a way, do you think, that we could get Shalaman alone, without any witnesses to what we say to him?"

  "I don't see how," Winterhart began. "He always has bodyguards with him, even when he gave me the Necklace and the Lilies—"

  Makke cleared her throat, interrupting Winterhart, and all eyes turned toward her.

  "A bride-to-be accepts her betrothed's proposal in her own house," she said carefully. "She does so in private. This is an old custom, and one that dates back to the days when the Haighlei were barbarians, and occasionally kidnapped women they wished to wed. By making the groom come to her, alone, she prevents being coerced into acceptance."

  "So—if I sent a message to Shalaman saying I wished to see him here, alone—" Winterhart began.

  Makke nodded. "He would assume that you were going to accept the Necklace, and he would send away his guards, arriving at your door unaccompanied. He would, of course, expect that you would be alone as well." She coughed delicately. "It is often said that there are many children whose births come at intervals that are easily calculated back nine months to the date of the bride's acceptance...."

  "Would now be too soon?" Winterhart said, blushing furiously. "I—I wouldn't want to seem too forward."

  "I suspect," Makke replied, with a hint of her old spirit, "that our King is pacing the floor, hoping that you will find it impossible to sleep until you have answered him."

  Winterhart smiled, but it was a tight, thin smile. "So I shall," she said. "So I shall...."

  Skandranon, predictably, arrived just at the moment when they were about to send that carefully worded message to the King.

  "I was on the roof," he said, looking at all of their tense faces with puzzlement. "I was waiting for Kechara to contact me. I was concerned that there might be an off chance that there was someone capable of sensing mind-magic at work within the Palace."

  "Why go on the roof?" Amberdrake asked.

  He shrugged. "If that was the case, I didn't want anyone to associate the messages passing between myself and our little gryphon with me. It wasn't our roof, you see."

  They had to explain it all over again to him, which took a bit more time. Amberdrake was a little worried that Skan might come up with another one of his wild plans instead of falling in with theirs. To his relief, Skan was in complete agreement with all of them.

  "I must admit I didn't expect you to go along with this without an argument," Amberdrake finally said, as Skan settled himself into a corner with Zhaneel tucked under a wing.

  The gryphon looked up at him thoughtfully. "Not an argument, exactly," he replied. "More of an addition. It's unethical, of course—but you've had a game played on you that was worse than unethical, and I think this would just even the scales between you and Shalaman."

  Amberdrake winced; whenever the gryphon suggested something "unethical," or something to "even the scales," there was no predicting what he was going to say. Gryphons were carnivores, and they showed it in their ideas of justice and fair play. "Well—what was your suggestion?"

  "Two things, really," Skan said, preening a talon. "The first is the unethical one. You've got a rather formidable Gift in that Empathy of yours. Use it. You know very well you can make people feel things as well as feeling them yourself—so use that. Make Shalaman feel very guilty and in your debt for not exposing him. Shove your sincerity and good-will down his throat until he chokes on them. Make him eat kindness until he has to do us major favors or burst."

  Amberdrake gritted his teeth over that one, but he had to admit that Skan had a good idea. He hated using his powers that way, but—

  But if I'm going to ensure the success of this, I have to use every weapon I have. He's right.

  "And the other?" he asked.

  "Tell him you're lifebonded." Skan finished preening the talon, and regarded him with that direct gryphonic gaze. "From what I've learned, it's unusual here and it's important to these people. Leyuet can probably confirm that to him. I think telling him might just tip the scales in our favor."

  Amberdrake considered that for a moment. "Well, I can't see why it should, but I also can't see how it can hurt. All right, Gesten—are you ready to play messenger?"

  The hertasi nodded tightly. "This is going to need a lot of fancy footwork, Drake, I hope you know that."

  "Believe me," Amberdrake replied grimly. "No one knows it better than I do." He handed the hertasi the carefully worded messages, one to the Emperor and one t
o Leyuet. "We'll be waiting."

  Gesten slipped off, and the five of them arranged themselves very carefully. Makke was off to one side, out of the way. Zhaneel and Skan placed themselves on either side of the door, ready to interpose their bodies if the King should decide to storm out. He would not get past them; they could simply block the door with their bodies, or an extended wing, using no force and no violence. Amberdrake stood beside Winterhart, who was seated on the floor, with the Necklace gleaming on a pillow, arranged in a pattern that Makke said signified "polite refusal." It seemed there were customs for the arrangement of the necklace, which included "angered refusal," "fearful refusal," "wistful refusal," "unexplainable refusal," and so on. There was a ritual for everything.

  "What did Judeth have to say?" Amberdrake asked Skan, to fill in the time. "How much did you tell her?"

  "Oh, as relayed through the little one, she was apoplectic about the murder accusations, of course," Skan said casually. "She wanted us to come home. I pointed out how stupid that would be, and how it might only get us in deeper trouble. Then she was going to cancel the next lot of diplomats; which wasn't a bad idea, but I had a better one. I told her to send us some of the human Silvers instead, ones that can at least go through diplomatic motions and leave the real work to us. She thought that was a pretty good notion, giving us our own little private guards. She wanted to send mages, but I told her that would be a very bad idea and why. She agreed, and started working out the details so things can move quickly and the Silvers can sail with the tide. That's pretty much where things stand."

  Amberdrake had a shrewd notion that wasn't all Skan had told Judeth to do, but it hardly mattered. At the moment, more strategy was required than diplomacy—the kind of leadership of a field commander rather than that of an administrator. Those were, and had always been, Skan's strengths. He was never better or more skillful than when he was alone, making decisions that only a single person could implement.

  He hates being a leader. Now he's in his element. As dreadful as this situation is, it's good for him. And—is he losing weight?

  At least this meant that there would be some skilled fighters showing up shortly, and if worse came to worst, as Skan said, they would have their own little guard contingent. If everything went wrong and they really did have to flee to save their lives—provided they could all escape the city—with the help of several skilled fighters, they could probably make their way across the jungle and back to White Gryphon.

  It occurred to him that they ought to start making emergency escape plans, just in case. But before he could say anything, the sound of footsteps out in the hallway, coming through the slightly-open door, put all of them on alert.

  Shalaman pushed the door open and took three eager steps into the room before he saw that there was a group waiting for him rather than Winterhart alone. His expression was so eager, and so happy, that Amberdrake's heart went out to him—despite the fact that Shalaman wanted him out of the way. Perhaps that was only a sign of how much a kestra'chern he was, that he could always see someone else's side.

  Oh, gods, if only everyone could have everything they wanted out of this situation—But he knew very well that there were never such things as unadulterated happy endings, and that the very best that anyone could hope for here was that hearts would not be broken too badly....

  Shalaman was clearly taken aback when he saw Amberdrake; he stopped dead, and his face lost all expression. In the next heartbeat, his eyes dropped to Winterhart, then to the necklace on the pillow in front of her.

  His eyes went back to Amberdrake, and turned cold. His face assumed an expression of anger. But his words surprised the kestra'chern. "Lady," he said softly, "if this man has threatened you—if—"

  Winterhart raised her eyes to his, as Skan and Zhaneel closed the door very softly and put themselves between Shalaman and the exit. He did not appear to notice anything except Winterhart and Amberdrake.

  "This is my answer, Serenity," she said steadily. No one who knew anything about her would ever have doubted the firm resolution in her voice. "If you think that anyone could threaten me to perform any action against my will, you are very much mistaken. Amberdrake is here because I wish him here, I asked him here, and because I wish to show you that we are of one heart in this and in all else."

  Shalaman's face fell—but before he could react any further, Amberdrake spoke.

  "You desired my lady," he said very gently, without even a hint of threat. "And you did not advise me that I had a right to a Truthsayer when accused of murder. I cannot think but that the two are connected."

  He tried to keep the words neutral, tried to make his statement very casual, but the accusation was still there, and there was no real way to soften it.

  Shalaman went absolutely rigid, as if struck with a sudden paralysis. His face froze except for a tic beside his right eye; he opened his mouth slightly, as if to speak, but nothing emerged.

  Amberdrake sensed a turmoil of emotions—chief of which was panic. And overlaying that, real guilt. And beneath it all a terrible shame. All of his own doubts were resolved; consciously or not, Shalaman had tried to rid himself of his rival by underhanded means and had just been forced to acknowledge that.

  Caught you. Now to soothe you.

  "Serenity," he said swiftly, using his Gift just as Skan had advised, to emphasize his words and gently prod the Emperor's emotions in the direction he chose. "Winterhart is a beautiful woman, full of wit and wisdom and grace. She is a fit consort for any King, and I cannot fault you for desiring her. We are private in our emotions, and you could not know that this was not a marriage of convenience between us."

  "You are generous," Shalaman growled.

  Amberdrake noted the dangerous anger behind that simple statement. Time to turn that anger in the proper direction.

  "I also cannot fault you for falling into a trap that was laid for all of us," he continued with a little anger of his own. "A trap contrived by someone—or a conspiracy of someones—who must be the most clever and fiendish I have ever had the misfortune to encounter. The party behind it—whoever he or she is—saw your interest and did not scruple to use it against all of us."

  Shalaman knitted his brows slightly in puzzlement. "I do not understand," he told the kestra'chern. "What are you trying to say? That these murders are serving another purpose?"

  Amberdrake nodded. "There is someone in this land who wishes to be rid of the folk of White Gryphon. I dare say he or she would not be averse to seeing you come to grief as well, and this person contrived to put you in a situation where you might not see the threat to your honor." There. No accusation, only point out the existence of the threat. "That is why—or so we believe—these dreadful murders have occurred, all of them of people who objected to our presence but were completely loyal to you. That is why—so we conjecture—this person arranged a situation that you would also be entrapped by."

  "So—I have a traitor in my own ranks?" the King asked, his expression darkening to anger, seizing gratefully on the suggestion that his actions had been manipulated by someone else—just as Amberdrake had known he would. It was an easier answer, one that was more palatable.

  Better that than be thought dishonorable, even by barbarians. Interesting. Amberdrake had the feeling that he was finally beginning to understand these people.

  "We believe so. The problem is that we will never find this person unless we lull him into carelessness," Amberdrake told him earnestly as Skan and Zhaneel moved quietly away from the door. "So, before we go any further, that I may clear my name and honor before you, at least, I should like the services of Truthsayer Leyuet—but only in private."

  Again, the King was taken aback. "Why in private? Do you not wish your name to be made clean?"

  Amberdrake shrugged. "We are gambling with more than just my personal honor here," he said philosophically. "To ask for the Truthsayer before the Court would reveal that we are aware of some of what is going on, and I am willing for ot
hers to continue to suspect me if it will help us to catch the true villain. That is more important, and I can abide suspicious glares and the anger of your courtiers to achieve justice for the murders."

  Sincerity, honesty, graciousness... do believe me, Shalaman. It all happens to be true.

  Shalaman nodded cautiously; too much the diplomat himself to take even this at face value.

  "I also request Leyuet's services on behalf of the servant Makke," he continued persuasively. "The reason will become clear when you hear what she has to say."

  Shalaman frowned but nodded again. Gesten—who had left his message with Shalaman only to go fetch Leyuet—knocked in his familiar pattern at that precise moment, and Skan moved to open the door to let the hertasi and the Truthsayer in.

  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?"