The White Gryphon

loud.

Only one thing can have put that particular expression on his face.

“Oh, gods—” Amberdrake exclaimed. “Not another—”

He did not have to say anything more. Leyuet nodded grimly, and sat down in a carved wooden seat as if he were exhausted.

He probably is. This is very, very hard on him.

“We discovered it not long ago, but it happened last night, and I’m certain there will be more folk than I who will recall that Skandranon was flying at the time,” the Truthsayer said through clenched teeth. “This is the insidious part; whoever is behind this must know where the two of you are at all times now, and makes the murder appear to be the work of the one without an alibi at that time. He must be learning from his mistake the first time.”

“I would be surprised if he were not,” Amberdrake said, and ran a hand through his hair. “Can I assume that our killer left evidence pointing to Skan?”

“Are marks of a gryphon’s claw enough?” Leyuet countered, but now with an odd and ironic air of triumph. “This victim appeared to have been clawed to death by something that came in by way of the open door of the balcony.”

He’s holding back something, Amberdrake realized—but also realized that he should allow the man to reveal whatever it was in his own good time. One does not force the conjurer’s hand. It isn’t polite, and it spoils the trick for everyone, especially the conjurer.

“And Palisar isn’t beating down our door?” Skan said in surprise—obviously the gryphon hadn’t seen what Amberdrake had. “I am astonished! How have you kept him muzzled?”

“He kept himself muzzled,” Leyuet told them, and fished in the capacious sleeve of his robe for something, the sleeves that every Haighlei seemed to use instead of pockets or pouches.

Ah. Now we have the moment of revelation.

He found whatever it was he was looking for, and held out a silk-wrapped trifle in triumph. Whatever it was, it was about the size of a human finger under the wrapping of black silk.

No one touched it, and Leyuet carefully undid the folds of silk from around it. The last fold fell away, revealing a bit of wood.

Very hard, dark wood from the look of it—and very skillfully carved into the shape of a gryphon’s talon. By the rough bit ending the third “knuckle,” there had been a weakness in the wood the carver hadn’t noticed, and it had broken off.

“Well!” Amberdrake said, picking the thing up with a bit of silk between it and his fingers, and holding it up to the light. If there were any traces of the carver’s identity still on it after contact with so much blood and pain, he didn’t want to muddle them by leaving his own traces. “So Palisar is finally convinced?”

Odd. Something about the carving seemed familiar, but he just couldn’t place it.

“He couldn’t explain that away,” Leyuet countered, with a grim smile. “He’s had temple mages on it, and so far they’ve found nothing, but he thinks the problem is with them and not the claw; you know how magic is these days. By evening their spells could suddenly go right again.”

“Hmm.” Amberdrake put the claw back in Leyuet’s hand, wrapped again in the insulating silk. “Does anyone else know?”

Leyuet shook his head, and tucked the betraying bit of evidence away again. “Not even the temple mages; Palisar told them nothing. Only the King, the Advisors, and now you know where it was found.”

This is important. This might be just what we’ve been hoping for. “Suppress it,” Amberdrake decided instantly. “Let it leak that the victim was clawed to death by something like a huge lion. It isn’t going to hurt anything at this stage if Skan goes back on the list of suspects, and if he doesn’t—then a rumor just might spread that I’m a mighty mage and can call up demonic creatures to murder my enemies at a distance.” He smiled grimly himself. “The latter rumor might help keep me in one piece. If people think I can call up demons, they may think twice about attacking me on their own.”

Leyuet nodded; Skan must have told him about the arrow at Morning Court. “The King is coming here to discuss this in a moment, as soon as he can free himself from his guards. Technically, he is coming to have a private moment with Winterhart—”

“Which is an excellent excuse for conferring with all of you,” said the King from the door into the gryphons’ garden. “No one will dare intrude on the Emperor and his affianced.”

Shalaman’s baritone voice and steps were full of the vigor and energy of a man many years his junior, and he