“You are entitled to a Truthsayer to establish your innocence, Lord Amberdrake,” Leyuet finished, his insides clearly knotted with anxiety, if the state of Amberdrake’s own stomach was any indication. “Furthermore, as an envoy, you are entitled to the services of any Truthsayer you may wish to summon. It is serving no purpose to conceal from you that I am one of the best of my kind. If I declare you innocent, there can be no doubt of it.”
Since Silver Veil had already gone through an even more detailed explanation of a Truthsayer’s abilities and duties, Amberdrake saw no reason to doubt him. She had not recommended Leyuet by name—
But the hints she dropped were certainly specific enough that I should have made the connection already. Amberdrake nodded, aware that there was a lot more going on in Leyuet’s mind and conscience than the Advisor wanted to admit—or be questioned about. The important thing was that he had offered his services, of his own accord. Silver Veil was of the opinion that the effectiveness of a Truthsayer was affected by whether or not he was bringing his gifts into play reluctantly, and she had warned him that he must find a Truthsayer who brought himself to his task with a whole heart. Leyuet, obviously, had made up his mind that he was not going to be reluctant.
Best not to question further. I do not want to know what he does not want to reveal.
“Leyuet—my Lord Leyuet—thank you for bringing this information to me, and so generously offering yourself as my Truthsayer,” Amberdrake said, making sure that he projected sincerity and profound gratitude into every word. “Rest assured, your services will be called for shortly, perhaps even tonight—as it happens, the kestra’chern Silver Veil gave me identical advice, although she did not suggest you, specifically, and if anyone questions me I must in all honesty say that I ask for a Truthsayer on her word.”
He had said precisely the right thing. Rather than taking offense, Leyuet visibly relaxed when Amberdrake said he would be giving Silver Veil the “credit” for advising him.
He doesn‘t want anyone to know he came to tell me the same things as Silver Veil. I think perhaps I’ll ask her why later.
“I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am that you have a true friend like The Silver Veil in this Court,” Leyuet said, fervently, “And I will remain awake for a while yet, if you think you may wish to call upon me tonight—it is not that late—we would all still be watching the Entertainment under other circumstances—”
He broke off, embarrassed, as if he realized he was babbling.
There is a great deal of babbling going on tonight. “I believe that will be the case,” Amberdrake told him, gravely. “And I thank you in advance for going to such lengths for me.”
“It is nothing more nor less than you deserve,” Leyuet protested, opening the door and letting himself out quickly, as if he feared Amberdrake might want to question him further. “It is only my duty; it is only what is right. I bid you good night—for now.”
And with that, he gratefully took himself out. Amberdrake had the feeling that if it had been within the bounds of propriety to run away, he would have.
There is something that he doesn’t want me to ask about, and I would bet that it has to do with the King’s proposal to Winterhart.
He turned back to the three anxious faces that were, at least, a little less anxious for hearing Leyuet’s speech.
“Now,” he told them, “let’s get comfortable. The garden, I think—we’re less likely to be overheard there. Makke, would you go fetch Gesten and have him bring us something to drink that will help keep our nerves I steady? We have a great deal to sort out, and we must find a way to do it in a way that will keep anyone from being hurt.”
When Makke rejoined them in the garden, with Gesten and a tray of strong tea and another of sugar-cakes, he ordered her to remain. “You have a part in this, little mother,” he told her, patting a seat beside him and smiling at her as she took it, timidly. Gesten went around the garden lighting the insect-repelling lamps and candles. “Let us begin with the lost clothing, for that is what brought me to such a terrible accusation. I think you do not realize that you have been betrayed as badly as you believe you betrayed me.”
She bowed her head to hide her face, her shoulders trembling. Odd. I feel steadier now than I have all evening. I wonder why? Was it because he was pretending to be the ever-serene kestra’chern? Or was it because they needed him to be the calm one?
Well, as a servant, she cannot demand the services of the Truthsayer, I suspect. But because the loss of my property is what led to my being accused of murder, I can demand she be examined myself. I think Leyuet will find she did not lose anything—that the missing clothing was stolen, and she cannot possibly be blamed for having clothing stolen by the crafty fiends who have successfully completed four murders!
He sensed Winterhart’s anguish even as his mind raced through plans dealing with his quandary and Makke’s, and he reached out for her hand even as he spoke soothing words to Makke. When the old woman finally raised her eyes to his, he smiled encouragingly at her and turned his attention to his own beloved.
“Amberdrake, I—” she began.
He managed a weak chuckle. “You are as blameless as poor Makke, if you think you somehow encouraged Shalaman to think you were interested in him,” he said, taking a cup of tea from Gesten and pressing it into her trembling hand. “All you did was to be yourself. Dear gods—that was certainly enough to ensnare me, wasn’t it?”
Her manners are flawless, in a Court which values manners and those things that have no flaws. Her mannerisms are all charming. She fits here as well as Silver Veil, and it is obvious even to a fool that she would never do anything that would disgrace her, in the purest sense of the word! Winterhart is surely as exotic as Silver Veil—though why Shalaman hasn’t made this offer to her—well, it might be some stupid caste issue, I suppose. It irritated him to think that Silver Veil might somehow be considered unworthy of the King’s matrimonial attentions, when he was obviously taking advantage of every one of that redoubtable lady’s many talents.
Silver Veil would make such a Queen—and she loves him. Why can’t he see that? Oh, damn. Let me get this settled first. A little matter of a murder accusation—I’ll deal with hearts and minds later.
“All you did was to be yourself,” he repeated. “And that was just a temptation that was too much for the Emperor to resist. I understand his desire, and I can hardly blame you if I can’t blame him!”
She sensed his sincerity, even if she could not share his thoughts, and she managed a tremulous smile.
“The problem is—” he hesitated a moment, then said it out loud. “The problem is, it does appear that Shalaman was perfectly willing for me to stand accused of murder so that his way was clear to take you as his wife.”