“I can’t do anything more to look for Skan,” he told her quietly, drawing her back over to her seat under the trees. “Why don’t you tell me about your troubles? I may not be able to help, but at least I can provide a sympathetic ear.”
She let him lead her there passively, and sat down again with a sigh. “It is nothing I had not known about when I came here,” she said wearily. “It is just that I had not known how it would affect me until I saw Winterhart with the Necklace.”
“Winterhart?” he said, puzzled. “What—” But the question was answered by her woeful expression before she could even say a word. “Oh, my very dear! You have gone and fallen in love with Shalaman, haven’t you!”
She nodded, a tinge of color creeping over her cheeks. “A dreadful confession for a kestra’chern, to say she has fallen in love with her chief client.”
“I did with mine—” he objected, but she waved the objection away.
“Winterhart was not the King,” she pointed out. “And you were not in Haighlei lands. It is assumed here, among the Haighlei, that a true kestra’chern is a precious thing, too precious for any one person to have to himself. Yet the King’s Consort obviously could not—well. I am caught in a double bind, you see.”
“And it would be bad enough that you love him, but he is also in love with you, I suspect,” Amberdrake hazarded. “Ah, now a great deal makes sense. That was why he thought he was in love with Winterhart! It was really a reflection of his true feelings for you!”
She nodded. “Your lady is very like me in many ways, and he had every reason to believe that she was accessible to him. I have not let him know of my feelings, and I suspect that custom has made him deny his. As flexible as my King is, he is surprisingly custom-bound.”
He let go of her hands and reached out to hold her instead. She did not resist at all but rested her head on his chest with a sigh that conveyed more heartbreak than all the tears in the world.
“I was able to manage when there was no serious contender for his affection,” she said softly into his collar. “But when he offered Winterhart the Necklace—oh, it hurt, it hurt! It stabbed me to the heart, and I could scarcely bear to stand there and smile, and pretend to be glad! And even now, although I know it is all a sham, I cannot bear to stay in the Court for very long and watch her in the place of Consort-To-Be at his side!”
“One way or another, in two days it will all be over,” he reminded her, with a stab of pain and fear in his own heart, as he wondered just how it would all end. With laughter and triumph—or in bloody war?
“But the situation will still remain,” she replied, every word an unshed tear, a whispered fragment of pain. “One day soon, he must take a real Consort, and I know this now, as does he. I will bear it because I must—but, oh, my friend, I shall walk from that moment on upon knifeblades, with spears in my heart until the day I die!” He stroked her hair, unable to arrive at a satisfactory answer for her.
“I wish that I had a magic means of helping you,” he said at last. “If there were a kestra’chern of your skill available to take your place, do you think—”
“I do not know,” she said, but sadly. “It has never happened before that an Emperor took as his Consort a kestra’chern. I suspect he could order it to be so only at the Eclipse Ceremony.”
So much hinges on that damned Ceremony! he thought bitterly. Even the barest hope of happiness for Silver Veil! “I cannot promise anything,” he said at last, “but I will do what I can to help you, as you have so often helped me. Perhaps—perhaps, if everything works out properly at the Ceremony, there may be a solution for you as well.”
“But you must not tell him of my feelings for him!” she insisted. “You must not! It is bad enough now, but it would be worse for both of us if you do! Loving in silence is misery, but loving, knowing the other loves, and remaining parted is twice the misery! I have seen it happen all too often that way.”
Sadly, so had he. “I swear it,” he pledged her. “Yet I also swear that I will do what I can to remedy the situation, if a remedy can be found.” He cupped her face in his hands, kissed her forehead, and smiled into her eyes. ‘“I might even offer my own services to the Emperor,” he said, only half in jest. “Then, at least, there would be a substitute for you. You often said that I am the one pupil who is your equal.”
“You surpass me, and beware lest I hold you to that,” she murmured, but she managed a wan smile. “And meanwhile—I shall consult with Leyuet. There may be something that the Spears can do quietly to help search for Skandranon.”
“Thank you.” He took her hands again, squeezed them gently, and stood up. “I must go back to Zhaneel before she begins plucking her feathers. I will let you know if we learn anything.”
“And I, you.” She smiled up into his face, this time with more feeling. “Odd, how we can forget our troubles in the troubles of others.”
“Isn’t it?” he responded.
She escorted him to the door of her suite herself, and let him out with another embrace.
But the moment he left her presence, all the fears for Skan and for their entire precarious situation came back a hundredfold. He hurried back to the gryphons’ quarters, half in hope, and half in fear.
Zhaneel was where he had left her, but her muscles were the tiniest bit less tense. “I have spoken to Kechara,” she announced before he could ask anything.
“I think she understands the concept of shields, and she is going to look for them. Snowstar is to show her one, and he will teach her to break in if she can. He thinks that she should be able to, especially since these people do not know as much about mind-shields as we.”
He heaved a sigh of relief. At least that was one bit of good news in all the bad.
“So now we wait,” she finished, with tired and worried resignation.
“Now we wait,” he confirmed. “But—we also hope. After all, isn’t he the Black Gryphon again? And hasn’t the Black Gryphon always been able to return, no matter how harsh the odds?”
She nodded. And that seemed to be all the answer she needed, at least for the moment.
Ten
Amberdrake paced the floor of the gryphons’ suite, surrounded by the rest of the White Gryphon contingent, who were fretting and worrying each in his own fashion. While he knotted and untied a length of satin rope, Zhaneel preened her feathers with exquisite care for each one—preening to the point where she was doing them damage around the edges. Judeth sharpened a knife; by now, it must be the sharpest knife on the continent. The rest of her Silvers were following their leader’s example, including Aubri, who sharpened his claws. And Winterhart braided, unraveled, and rebraided the fringes of her sash.
It had been two days since Skan’s disappearance, and in all that time Kechara had not been able to contact him.
What she had been able to do was to learn what longdistance mind-shields “tasted” like, and how to break or bypass them. That had taken her a day, and Amberdrake was astonished what she had learned in so little time. He had not thought she had the mental capacity to learn anything in so short a time period, much less something fraught with so many sophisticated concepts.
She had been searching for mind-shields since dawn, and systematically getting past them. Most of them, predictably enough, were crude things, masking only the minds of those who were Gifted and had shielded themselves against the outside world. Some had been put in place over temples or the minds of Haighlei priests, which again was not surprising, given how these people felt about Mindspeaking in the first place.