I've done it before; gone through men to get to their women. Back in the camp, it was... and here, too. Thereis a thrill to that— actually—
When the women saw their protectors going down under Hadanelith's skilled blade, when they realized that there was no one left to defend them—there was a real thrill in that. Could he possibly manage that in this case?
"We can get you all the time of the full Eclipse to do what you want," Kanshin said persuasively. "Think of it—coming in out of the dark like a demon, striking and bringing fear as well as death! Besides, we haven't told you the best part yet!"
The best part? There's something more?
He felt his interest rising, and gave up trying to pretend otherwise. They had him, at least for the moment. He might just as well hear them out.
But he was going to do so in comfort.
He sat down again, assumed an expression of total boredom, and yawned. "All right," he drawled, picking a tone of voice sure to infuriate both of them. "I can't get rid of you until you get done trying to persuade me that you both aren't fit only to be locked away, so you might just as well speak your piece."
But they were neither infuriated nor offended, at least not openly, and Noyoki leaned forward in his chair with an eagerness that made Hadanelith think of a night-heron about to spear a fish.
"It's very simple—" he began.
And before Noyoki was finished with the explanation, Hadanelith was giggling. This could be more fun than ever.
Nine
Skandranon spread his newly-dyed wings to dry in the hot sun, knowing he looked entirely too much like an oversized cormorant hanging its wings out to dry, and waiting for the inevitable sarcastic comments. Aubri would never be able to resist this opportunity.
"You look like a short-necked, crook-beaked, fisher-bird, old crow," Aubri chuckled from his position atop a pile of pillows in the cool of the shaded garden. "Maybe one that ran into a rock because he wasn't watching where he was going. I can't wait to see the size of the trout you'llpull up."
"I am the one with the taste for fresh fish, lazy Aubri," Zhaneel chided. "You are as forgetful as you are slothful." She poked Aubri with a wingtip, then got up and circled Skan, eying him dubiously. "You will be lucky if those feathers dry at all by nightfall, as humid as it is."
"They'll dry," Skan said, with as much dignity as he could muster, given the undignified circumstances. "Drake is good at this feather-painting business. He used every trick there was to make sure I dry out properly. Don't you remember how humid it used to get in the summer, when Ma'ar pounded the camp with thunderstorms?"
Aubri shook his head. "I think you're going about this all wrong. Damned if I know why you want to play the Black Gryphon again. These people already think that you're a murderer—now you're dyeing yourself black and flying around at night? Are you trying to give them morereasons to point fingers at you?"
Skan growled under his breath, while he continued to fluff his body-feathers. Were they sticky? He didn't think so, but until they were dry and he'd had the excess dye rinsed off, he couldn't preen them to find out. "They'll be pointing a lot worse than fingers at me if I'm flying around at night as a whitegryphon," he pointed out. "I've been shot at once already. If we're going to help catch the real culprits, I've got to find out how they're getting at their victims. Drake thinks they're using magic, but I don't think so, or at least, they're not using magic all the time. I may not be the greatest mage in the world, but I can tell when someone has used magic and there's no trace of it."
"You can tell, when magic is working right, you mean," Aubri countered. "Not even Snowstar is relying on what used to work anymore."
Skan just leveled a look of extreme skepticism at him. " Ithink they're somehow sneaking onto the Palace grounds, maybe in disguise, lingering for a while to watch several potential victims, then taking the first opportunity they see. Or else they already live in the Palace, and they're either servants or nobles. Ithink they're outsiders, Drake thinks they're insiders."
He and Amberdrake had hashed out every possible combination of ideas, and they both had their pet theories. Amberdrake thought the murderers were in the Court and using magic to transport themselves from their own rooms to those of the murder victims and back again. It would be a very nice theory, if anyone could find a trace of magic as powerful as a Gate or Pass-through, and if magic was working at all reliably. Skandranon thought they were disguising themselves as servants and sneaking into the Palace complex, then using perfectly ordinary tricks of thieves to climb into the rooms from the outside.
Which is a nice theory if every guard and every servant is conveniently blind and deaf at the time, is what he says. And I must admit there's something rather odd about the idea, because why would a thief who's that good waste his time on something like this? He'd be robbing the Palace bare, then taking the loot off to live in luxury somewhere. Granted, a lot of what he'd take is identifiable, but it'snot that hard to melt down gold.
"I don't know, old bird," Aubri said dubiously. "I think you've picked prey too heavy to carry."
Skan only shrugged. "You can think whatever you want," he replied tartly, "but I've made my decisions, and until evidence comes along to make me change my plans, I'm sticking to them."
"You'd stick to anything with feathers that wet," Aubri retorted.
"Except you, you filthy buzzard," Skan snapped back. "You people put me in charge, and that is the way I am going to approach this."
Judeth chuckled sardonically from the deeper shadows under a low-hanging cascade of flowering vines. "I hate to be the one to tell you this, Skan, but you aren't the one in charge. Amberdrake is."
The words hit him like a pailful of cold water in the face. He almost dislocated his neck, whipping his head around to stare at her.
"Amberdrake is better at coordinating things than you are. You're better at anything that requires action. Anyone who knows you both knows that." Judeth shrugged. "Besides, Amberdrake can keep secrets. When have you ever been able to keep a secret?"
Skan just stared at her, unable to formulate a reply. "And further, when the evidence comes along that shows you're being a foolhardy old feather-brain, risking your life like this, you'll ignore it. We know you, Skan. We know what you're like. That's the other reason Amberdrake's in charge." She examined the leather trim on her black tunic with care, avoiding his eyes. "On the other hand, right now, stupid as it seems to me, he says you know what you're doing and we might as well let you go ahead with it."
Skandranon thought about pretending he hadn't heard her, but that would only prove her point rather than refute it. She's taking Drake as the leader here? Does Drake know this? How could he not? But he didn't say anything to me.
He felt as if he'd been caught in an invisible whirlwind, in the middle of a cloudless sky. Why would Amberdrake do this? And why not even mention it to Skan?
Maybe he didn't think he needed to. Skan had made no secret of the fact that he was tired of being the leader, of making all the decisions. But—it would have been nice if someone had asked him before they arbitrarily decided to give the job to Amberdrake.
"Drake is risking his life as much as I am mine," he said stoutly, as he tried to rearrange his thoughts to cope with the new situation. No point in making an issue of it here and now, but later—