The White Gryphon

that one of us is doing this by magic—at least people would think twice about trying to attack one of us, then.”

“There is another problem,” Leyuet interjected, “One that we had not needed to consider until this latest killing, which points so clearly to Skandranon. We are nearing the Eclipse Ceremony, and we simply cannot make a public decision then on your status as allies while there is such a specter of guilt hovering over you!”

The King nodded. “Now that is true. We cannot make a decision without either declaring your innocence as determined by the Truthsayer, or finding the real killer.”

Amberdrake shrugged. “Surely it can wait a little longer than the ceremony—”

“Oh, no,” Shalaman said forcefully. “And if we do not make the decision then, we cannot do so until the next ceremony. Everything must be resolved by the Eclipse itself, or—well, at the very best, you will all have to remain here as virtual prisoners until we catch the real murderer, and then return to your city, and we will have to make at least a token effort at evicting you.”

Skan sat up straight at that. “What? No one ever said anything about that! How token?” he asked.

Shalaman’s expression was not encouraging. “Blood spilled on both sides, to satisfy honor,” he said. “Deaths, perhaps. Obviously, I cannot now wed Winterhart to make you my allies without the declaration; that was the only way the question could have been resolved. As you would not be allies, and would be occupying our land without permission, you would have to pay for your presumption in personal currency. I am sorry, but unless we have instituted a change, we must uphold the old ways. If I do not do this, I have no doubt that some of my courtiers will take their own private armies and do it themselves. We are not a peaceful people by nature; it is only our law that makes us so. Every chance to make war within the law is eagerly seized upon.”

Amberdrake groaned and buried his head in his hands, his heart sinking. In all of his worst nightmares, he had not thought that the Haighlei would react this way! It wasn’t logical!

Then again, our logic and these people seem to have very little in common. Now I understand why Leyuet and Silver Veil kept emphasizing the Ceremony. I hadn’t realized that it was quite such an imperative. . . .

Oh, well. I work better under pressure, or at least I can look that way. Calmness in a crisis fosters trust, even if only by contrast.

He raised his head from his hands, and saw that everyone in the garden looked as discouraged as he felt.

He took a deep breath and rearranged his own expression. If Winterhart could pretend convincingly to be estranged from him, he could pretend convincingly to be optimistic.

“We’ll worry about that after the Ceremony,” he said, firmly. “Unless we concentrate on one thing at a time, we’re bound to feel overwhelmed. Right now, the thing to concentrate on is catching this fiend!”

Leyuet’s gloomy face brightened as he projected a cheer he did not feel. The King slapped his shoulders heartily, and Skan cocked his head to one side, as if he was holding back a question he’d decided not to ask.

Like whether or not I’m still sane. Or whether I know something I’m not telling all of them.

Perhaps he wasn’t sane—but he knew he was right in this. They had to keep their minds focused on catching the murderer, and worrying about the approaching Ceremony would only distract them from that purpose.

“Like any good commander, you see to the heart of the matter and work from there, Amberdrake,” Shalaman said, his cheer restored. “So—let us plan our next actions, so as to bring this villain to his knees the sooner!”

Hadanelith leaned forward, threw the wooden claw on the kitchen fire, and chuckled as it burned. Noyoki had mentioned this morning when they all met at breakfast that his magics were coming to him with greater ease now—and perhaps that had been in an effort to compliment Hadanelith for his work in creating as much blood-born power as he had. But the explanation might also be that enough time had passed since the last mage-storm that magic power was resuming some of its old pathways, and if that was the case, the Haighlei mages would soon be discovering that fact. While Hadanelith was no mage himself, he had made it his job to find out as much as he could about the spells that “lawkeepers” used to hunt down criminals. No amount of scrubbing would get blood-contamination off a murder weapon; only burning would break the link between it and the last victim.

So that lovely carving must go, consigned to the flames along with every other souvenir that Hadanelith still had in his personal possession. There was that other carving, of course, but that was not his problem. If Kanshin didn’t take the proper precautions, that was Kanshin’s lookout.

The cheerful bonfire fit in with his feeling of celebration, though, and did not invoke any kind of sense of loss. Everything was going so well!

He sat back in the cook’s favorite chair and watched the flames crackle merrily. The cook and all of her underlings pointedly ignored him, but he didn’t mind. They weren’t worth bothering about, and they were all Kanshin’s slaves, so they wouldn’t go running off to tell someone what he’d done. Even if they told Kanshin, the thief wouldn’t care.