It might possibly be, still, that Shalaman knew something that Leyuet did not. He might be aware of some reason why the barbarians would not want Leyuet inside their hearts and souls. But Leyuet would not know that unless he went to the barbarians himself. Only then would his own conscience and honor together be clean.
And I cannot sleep this night until I make them clean.
With a weary sigh, Leyuet turned again, and walked slowly in the footsteps of Winterhart, making his way to her suite in the Guest Quarters. He would tell her what he must. The next steps would be up to her—
And to Amberdrake—for Amberdrake, after all, was the one person around whom this tragedy was revolving, and the one person who had the power to resolve at least part of it.
And all of this so close to the Eclipse. Why do the gods torment and taunt us this way?
Amberdrake’s head and heart were already full of confusion when he walked in through the door of his rooms, although he had been relieved of a considerable burden of fear and tension by his graceful mentor.
Now the problems are not threatening my life—at least not immediately—but oh, the problems we’ve uncovered!
Thanks to Silver Veil, at least now he had the means to prove his innocence; the services of someone called a “Truthsayer” would put an end to any accusations. Unfortunately, now there were greater questions to be answered, for it was painfully obvious that someone in this land wanted the Kaled’a’in dead, discredited, or both. And it was absolutely imperative he find out who and why, and soon. . . .
And all this must be done before their Eclipse Ceremony, or we can bid farewell to any kind of arrangements with the Haighlei for another generation or more!
He was hoping to find Winterhart, sanity, and a tiny space of peace in which to muster his thoughts and come up with some plan of action.
Instead, he walked into chaos as soon as he opened the heavy wooden door.
The servant Makke was sitting on the floor and wailing, her face buried in her hands as she rocked back and forth. Zhaneel—and what was she doing there?—stood over her with wings mantled and hackles up, as if Makke were one of her gryphlets and under attack. Winterhart sat in the chair by the door that the servants used, staring blankly into space, her face white with shock and a crumpled wreath of flowers at her feet.
And the moment he entered, all three of them started, stared at him as if he was one of Ma’ar’s worst creations, then began babbling like a trio of lunatics.
“Forgive me, great lord—I have betrayed you, I have stolen from you—”
“She didn’t do anything, neither of them did anything, it is not their fault—”
“Oh, gods—I didn’t mean to encourage him—please believe me—Drake, please, you must believe me—”
He clapped his hands over his aching temples and shook his head violently. What on earth were they all babbling about? “Please—” he said faintly, over the din, “Please, one of you at a time—”
As if his plea, faint as it was, had been a thunderous roar, they all fell silent at once, staring at him. He knew he felt as if he had walked through the seven hells in his bare feet, but he didn’t think he looked that way!
Unfortunately, the silence was just as uninformative as their babbling had been.
I must look worse than I thought. I must look like I’ve been dragged behind a horse through all the hells of all the religions of the world. They must not have heard . . . they expected me to be Amberdrake the Imperturbable, and I look as shaken as they are, and they don’t know why.
This was clearly no time to fall apart and hope for them to pick him back up and put him together. It was also clear that what had happened to Winterhart, Zhaneel, and Makke was as serious as a murder accusation, at least in their own eyes.
My immediate problem is settled. Come on, Drake, get a hold on yourself, they need you! He took a deep breath, and pulled himself together. I am a kestra’chern, dammit! I was a pillar of strength for others as a profession! If I cannot be a rock of sanity at this moment, I can at least pretend to be sane and calm!
“Easy,” he said, in a calm and soothing voice. “Let’s sit down and get all this sorted out, shall we?” He smiled at Makke. “Now, what’s all this about betrayal?”
In a few minutes, and at the expense of his own nerves, he had a sketchy idea of what had happened while he had been dealing with accusations of murder. He told them, with equal brevity, what had happened at the Entertainment. And there was a feeling of sickness in the pit of his stomach about the betrothal offer in light of what he had learned from Silver Veil, a nauseous unease that warned him that there was danger there he had not ever expected. There was also a rising sense of anger. King Shalaman wanted his mate. He had been struggling to be at peace with the King, and all the while, Shalaman had been coveting Winterhart! Had they all been fools, assuming that because the Haighlei were formal and civilized, they could not possibly be lustful or treacherous? What were Shalaman and his advisors orchestrating?
But he hadn’t even begun to sort it all out, much less get the details from any of the three, when there was a knock at the door. Reflexively, because a kestra’chern was trained to always answer a knock, because it might be someone in grave need, he answered it.
He thought, when he opened the door, that he was either hallucinating or caught in a nightmare. It was Leyuet, the leader of those who administered Shalaman’s justice—the very man who had just accused him of killing a woman in cold blood.
He’s come to imprison me!
That was the first, panicked, thought. But there were no Spears of the Law with the Advisor, which meant he could not have come here for that, at least. But why? And in the name of the gods, why now?
“Ah, Leyuet—” he stammered, trying to think of what the Haighlei protocol would dictate in this situation, “I appreciate that you have come to my quarters, I presume to ask me some questions, but it is very late and this is not a good time—”
“I must speak with you, Lord Amberdrake,” the rabbity little man said urgently, actually stepping forward so that Amberdrake had to move back, and thus managing to get himself inside the door. “I must. My honor, the King’s, and your life may all depend upon this.”
As Leyuet entered, he shut the door behind him, thus preventing Amberdrake from coaxing him out with similar trickery. And at the moment, he did not really look rabbity at all. Haggard, yes—but rather more like a determined and stubborn goat than a rabbit.
Determined, stubborn, and in extreme discomfort. The man was so ill at ease that he radiated it; even Winterhart stared at him with narrowed eyes as if she sensed it, and she was not as Gifted with Empathy as Amberdrake.
“You must listen to me—it is exceedingly important that you understand what I am and what my duties are,” Leyuet blurted out, and then launched into a detailed explanation of what a Truthsayer was and did—and that his position as Advisor and Chief of the Spears of the Law was strictly secondary to his vocation as a Truthsayer.