The White Gryphon

envoy’s laundry that I have lost. I must be dismissed, for there is no greater punishment for such carelessness, and it is our way that the punishment must equal the rank of the victim. This is—in our law, it is the same as if I had stolen his property. I am a thief, and I deserve no better, surely you must see this.”

“I see nothing of the kind,” Zhaneel said stoutly. “I see only that this is all nonsense, quickly put right with a word to Amberdrake. Unless—” She clenched her claws in vexation; if Makke had already told the Chief of the Servants what had happened, there was no way that Zhaneel could save the situation. “You haven’t told anyone but me yet, have you?”

Makke shook her head miserably. “I have not yet confessed my crime, great lady,” she said, tears pouring down her cheeks afresh. “But I wanted to say farewell to you and to the little ones before my dismissal. Please forgive—”

“There is nothing to forgive, Makke, and I do not want you to report this until you and I have had a chance to speak with Skandranon and Amberdrake—” Zhaneel began, reaching out her left talon to surreptitiously hook the hem of Makke’s robe so that the old woman could not run off without tearing herself free of Zhaneel’s grip. “I. . “

The door to the suite opened, thudding into the wall.

Makke and Zhaneel turned as one, as surprised by the fact that no one had knocked as the fact that the door had hit the wall.

Winterhart stood in the doorway, one hand clutching a wreath of tawny-gold lilies, the other at her throat, convulsed around an elaborate necklace of carved amber lilies and solid gold and bronze sun-disks. Her face was as pale as a cloud, and her expression that of a stunned deer.

She stumbled into the room as Makke and Zhaneel stared, and fumbled the door shut behind her.

“Winterhart?” Zhaneel said, into the leaden silence. “What is wrong?”

Winterhart looked at Zhaneel as if she had spoken in some strange tongue; she licked her lips, blinked several times, and made two or three efforts to reply before she finally got any words out.

“The—King,” she said hoarsely, her eyes blank with disbelief. “Shalaman—”

“What about him?” Zhaneel persisted, when she fell silent.

But when Winterhart spoke again, it was Zhaneel’s turn to stare with disbelief.

“He—” Winterhart’s hands crushed the lilies, and her knuckles whitened under the strain. “He has asked me to marry him.”

* * *

“You must confine us both to our suites,” Skandranon was insisting, to an increasingly alarmed Leyuet. “You must place us under guard, if you will not imprison us.”

Frantically, Leyuet looked around for a higher authority, but the King and Palisar were both gone, Silver Veil had vanished earlier with Amberdrake, and only he and Skandranon were together in this little side-chamber. This, of course, was precisely the way Skan wanted things.

He’s one of Shalaman‘s protocol administrators. These demands are going to send him into a spinning frenzy. He can’t grant them, of course. I already made the bold, dramatic gesture, which forced the King to counter it with a bold, dramatic sign of trust.

“The Emperor has decreed that nothing of the kind is to occur,” Leyuet said at last, forced to rely on his own judgment. “You must not be placed under arrest. Such a thing would be dishonorable. It is impossible to agree to this demand of yours.”

I know, Skan thought smugly. That’s why I made it.

“Are you saying that I am free to move about this Court as I will? That this is what the Emperor wants?” Skan retorted, allowing skepticism to creep into his voice. “That can’t be right.”

“I tell you, it is!” Leyuet insisted, his face now so contorted with concern that it resembled a withered fruit. “You must move freely about the Court—nay, the Court, the Palace, the entire city! This is the King’s decree! This is how he shows his trust in you!”

There is a certain glint in his eyes . . . I think he has finally figured out that this might be a better move on their part than trying to keep us locked up. After all, that didn’t work before. If we actually were guilty, this kind of freedom might make us careless, and give them a chance to trap us, and I’m sure those are precisely the thoughts that are going through Leyuet’s mind at this very moment.