There was a small rug by the window and a large one beneath the bed. Each was only one solid color-one red and the other black-but plush. There was no art on the walls, and the desk had a single quill of red held in a gold inkwell. In short, it seemed that the priestess allowed herself few amenities, but with those few she indulged herself to the hilt. Somehow the mixture of ascetic and feminine gave Kehrsyn a privileged view into Tiglath's personal life and quenched the displaced anger that she had built up.
Kehrsyn took off her rapier, undid her cloak, and placed them on the chair. The added weight made the chair creak.
The bed rustled, and Kehrsyn froze in place. The cover on the mattress shifted, then the dragonet's head popped out and stared at Kehrsyn. She saw nictitating membranes glide over the emerald eyes, then retract again. Kehrsyn held one hand out defensively.
"I have sufferance," she said to the tiny beast. "Tiglath said so. Don't forget that."
The dragonet growled and emerged fully from beneath the covers. Its whiplike tail lashed back and forth.
Fearing she might have to flee, Kehrsyn held up both hands, showing them to be empty.
"I know what you're thinking," she said, "but I'm not here to steal. I'm here… well, I guess I'm here because I hope I'm wrong. But I have to know. You can watch if you want, to make sure I leave everything where I found it, but I'm not going to harm Tiglath, so you'd better not harm me."
The dragonet growled again, then lay down at the edge of the bed, resting its head on its forepaws. Its tail still lashed, but it made no further move to interfere.
Kehrsyn checked the wardrobe first, her soft steps all but noiseless on the wooden floor. Using the keys she'd picked from Tiglath's pocket, she opened the wardrobe with no problem. It held only a few robes, each of identical cut, and one nightgown, which, in Kehrsyn's opinion, was mercifully modest. She sounded the wardrobe for false panels and found one in the base, though the compartment contained only a diary, which Kehrsyn declined to open. After all, she was investigating; she wasn't there to pry. If she found nothing else, she could look it over later.
She replaced everything exactly as she had found it-an old habit from her thieving days, and one that had always served her well-and turned to the bed.
Her search of the bed turned up nothing. The desk, like the wardrobe, contained a few items-a strongbox with some coins and gems, a collection of what appeared to be personal memorabilia-but nothing resembling a long wand of white bone. She skimmed the papers on top of the desk, since they were clearly new. Kehrsyn was not well lettered, and it was difficult to read the priestess's crabbed handwriting, but the bold titles were unmistakable. One, labeled "Temple," looked to have a roster written on it, with question marks, Ys, or Ns next to each name. Another sheet was labeled "Furifax," and yet others had names that Kehrsyn did not recognize. The sheet that earned the most attention was one labeled "Kairsin." She half-smiled at the misspelling, and she glanced over the unfamiliar writing, but her eyes kept returning to the single word circled at the bottom of the page: "TRUTH."
Satisfied, she then sounded the walls of the room carefully, tapping only with the pads of her fingertips to avoid attracting any outside attention. She repeated the same process across the floorboards, moving back and forth until her wrists, knees, and ankles ached. The entire time, the dragonet stared at her with its unblinking reptilian eyes, rotating its slender, sinewy neck to stare straight at its young guest wherever she searched.
With a sigh that was half exhaustion, half relief, Kehrsyn abandoned the search.
"There, you see?" she said to the dragonet. "I'm done. And not a thing out of place."
She dragged herself up into the chair, her joints protesting the sudden change. She stretched her arms up over her head and leaned back, popping her spine to loosen it up. Just as she folded her hands into her lap again, someone knocked at the door.
Kehrsyn froze. Her eyes darted over to the dragonet, who still stared at her, unconcerned.
"Kehrsyn?" Tiglath's unmistakable voice sounded muffled through the door. "Open up."
Bewildered, Kehrsyn moved to the door, and, planting one foot firmly to prevent the door from opening too far, unlocked the deadbolt and cracked it open. She peered through the gap and saw the high priestess looming in the hallway.
"Ordinarily, one does not have to request admission to one's own room," observed Tiglath.
Kehrsyn backed away from the door, letting it swing open as she retired to a spot near the window.
"I had rather expected you'd be more, you know, surprised to see me here," Kehrsyn said.
"I was," said Tiglath. "I got over it."
"What do you mean?" asked Kehrsyn, confused.
Tiglath held out her arm, and the dragonet leaped from the bed, buzzing its wings, and alighted nimbly.
Tiglath kissed its muzzle and stroked its scaly little body, then, as an aside while she petted her creature, said, "Tremor's eyes are my eyes. I see whatever he sees. So while I was surprised to see you enter, I got over it while watching you. Why did you feel compelled to search my room?"
"I had to make sure you weren't behind the attack and the staff and all," said Kehrsyn.
"You don't trust me?" asked Tiglath.
"You yourself said no one is what they seem," parried Kehrsyn. "So because I trust you, by your words I shouldn't. So why did you let me search your room?"
"I wanted to make sure you weren't going to steal anything," said Tiglath as she doted on her pet.
"You don't trust me?" echoed Kehrsyn with a teasing smile.
Tiglath glanced over at her, then turned her attention back to Tremor and said, "I wanted to make sure you weren't going to steal anything."
Kehrsyn's face paled, and her smile vanished in the space between her heartbeats.
"Uh, right," she said as she fished through her sash. "I-I was going to give them back…"
Kehrsyn held Tiglath's keys out to her. Tiglath nodded, seemingly to her pet.
"I know," the priestess said.
"You do?"
"You took nothing," replied Tiglath, crossing over to sit at her desk. "You even left me my secrets." She drew a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "If you'd opened that diary, however," she added, "things would be very different right now."
"Right," said Kehrsyn, who didn't know what else to say, yet felt an acknowledgment was necessary.
"So did you find out what you came to discover?" asked Tiglath.
Kehrsyn sucked in her lips and nodded.
"You don't have the staff," she said.
"Of course not," said the priestess. "It's broken."
Kehrsyn hesitated, wondering how much to divulge. She gritted her teeth, hoping she wasn't about to make a big mistake.
"No," Kehrsyn said, "it's not. What we saw was a decoy. The real one-"
"That was a forgery?" gasped Tiglath.
"Uh, yeah," she said, pulling Eileph's forgery from her sash and showing it to the priestess.
"Now, that is truly remarkable," said Tiglath in wonder, reaching for it.
Kehrsyn didn't let her touch the staff, but showed her the crack running around the center.
"See?" she said. "I had it repaired."
"That's a fine job," said Tiglath, squinting at the workmanship.
"So that means that the real staff was really stolen," said Kehrsyn. "I had to make sure it wasn't you."