Meanwhile, the logical part of his mind was still worrying away at the problem of who Hadanelith's co-conspirators were. This is— probably— a suite in the Palace, which means that one of Hadanelith's friendsmust belong to the Court. But who could it be?Unfortunately, Amberdrake had no idea who was quartered where; probably only the Chamberlain would know that. He'd been under the impression that this section of the Palace was about empty. The rooms were not very desirable; they were all too near the outer walls, and the sentries and far-off noise of the city disturbed the nights. There were only a few gardens shared among the suites here, and the entire section was a little too damp during the winter. The only people who lived here, so he'dthought, were those too lowly in status to complain about the rooms they were granted. That seemed to fit with someone of low rank, perhaps exacting revenge for being overlooked and slighted, and finding a shortcut to exalted status as well.
But that didn't mean that someone who was quite highin status couldn't commandeer a suite or two, especially if they were empty. The conspirators' knowledge of the movements of the courtiers seemed to be that of someone familiar with the ebb and flow of the court.
Then there was Hadanelith's assertion that one of his "friends" could take the Lion Throne, which also argued for a high status. Yet, all the King's Year-Sons were in the guard of his fellow rulers, which would make it rather difficult for one of them to be there and here at the same time.
Unless a Year-Son is using magic to transport himself? Oh, surely that would have been noticed! Or— could he have found someone to impersonate him, and crept back here? That's even more far-fetched a notion than the use of magic to transport him. Impersonators are less reliable than magic—
Or were they? He clenched his eyes closed as he thought about Hadanelith impersonating him, closing in on Winterhart, cutting once to the side, again, up—
Pull yourself together, Amberdrake. Think. Think about what you have learned. Lifebonded pairs can feel each other. If she was hurt, you'd feel—
He'd feel sick, he realized with a lurch of his stomach. What if it wasn't fear for himself that was making his hands shake so? What if this was the side effect of feeling his beloved Winterhart die, somewhere far away?
And what if it isn't? Think, Amberdrake— alive or dead or dying, would Winterhart admire you for shaking and hiding? You have to act. No matter what happens to Winterhart or you, you have to act for the good of White Gryphon.
Amberdrake eased the door open a little more; there was still no reaction indicating someone out in the hallway. He turned his intellect back to narrowing down or eliminate possible suspects; he had a particular suspicion of his own, and he devoutly hoped it was wrong.
But the doubt kept recurring— could it be Palisar?It was a horrible suspicion, no matter how you looked at it. It was an unworthy suspicion, because he knew very well he would never have entertained it if Palisar hadn't been so openly hostile to the foreigners. But if the Haighlei had customs and rituals for everything, perhaps the Speaker was prohibited from hiding his true feelings, even if it would mean giving himself away to those he plotted against.
But he kept wondering... for certainly there was no one better placed than Palisar to know everything about the movements of every courtier in the Palace. Who better to know exactly what was going on, and who better to know which courtier was vulnerable and which was not? Add to that the fact that Palisar was a priest, a trusted priest. Who better to ensurethat the chosen victim was alone? If Palisar sent messages to each of the women who'd been murdered, telling them he needed to talk to them alone, wouldn't they have made sure to send every servant off on errands to obey him? He was the King's Advisor, and it might be presumed that the King had a message he wished to send discreetly. He was a priest, and it might be thought that as a priest he had something of a spiritual nature to discuss. Both of those would require absolute privacy.
And he's a mage— there's another thing. If he's anything like our mages, he's been frantic with frustration at the way magic has been rendered unreliable. Our people have tried every way short of blood-magic to bring things back under control, and even Snowstar admitted to me that the temptation to resort tothat is a great one after you've had your spells abort one too many times. What if Palisar has gotten his hands burnt too many times by the storms? What if he didn't resist that temptation to resort to blood-bought power?
Granted, every single one of those arguments could be applied to every single priest-mage among the Haighlei, but still—Palisar disapproved of the foreigners, of change in general, and possessed everything required to be the one holding Hadanelith's leash.
I don't know how the succession goes around here, but as a powerful Advisor, he could have some blood-ties to the King. If he has royal blood, he could see a chance at the throne he wouldn't otherwise get.
Amberdrake touched the door again, easing it open still more. Now it was held ajar enough he could squeeze through it if he wanted to.
Idon't want to, but I don't have a choice.He shivered, and clenched his trembling fingers tightly around the iron bar he carried. Even if Skan made it to the Ceremony in time to stop Hadanelith, if Hadanelith got away somehow, things would be worse than they had been before the Ceremony. It would still lookas if Amberdrake had been the one trying to kill the King.
They're going to want to kill me on sight! The King is going to have orders out to strike first and bring back the body, and I doubt he's going to listen to anything Skan has to say!
Not that Amberdrake could blame him, in the abstract.
What am I doing, just standing here? I have to do something to keep the conspirators from rescuing Hadanelith. Good answer, Drake— and as soon as you magically transform into a squad of mercenaries, it will be no worry at all.
The room began to darken visibly. The last part of the Eclipse must be starting. His time was running out; Hadanelith would strike any moment now! And what if the mages—or mage—wasn't here, but was somewhere else entirely?
For a moment, he panicked, then logic asserted itself. Hadanelith's not predictable enough to be left unsupervised. He was gloating, so he wouldn't see a need to lie. He is insane, but he was never known to lie. He implied they were here, so they have to be here, probably scrying the Ceremony to see when to snatch their assassin back again.
That made good sense. It also meant that he'd better do something now.
Something physical? Against two or more people? Not a good idea. I'm not a fighter. I do know self-defense, but that isn't going to help me attack someone. What do I have left? Bluff?
Well, why not? It couldn't hurt. It could buy time, and as soon as everything is over, Skan can send me help. While I'm bluffing them, they aren't going to be doing anything but watching me. If Skan can catch Hadanelith, the time I buy could give the King's people a chance to shield him against rescue.
Assuming one of them isn't Palisar—He shook his head angrily, with cold fear a great lump of ice lodged just below his heart. If he kept on arguing with himself, he wouldn't geta chance to do anything! Time was slipping away, and the Eclipse wasn't going to delay for anyone or anything.