The White Gryphon

She had dressed very carefully for Morning Court, and the transformation she had undergone while he was asleep was amazing. She looked spectacular.

The amber silk gown she wore had been altered slightly; enough to make it into something of a compromise between a northern costume and Haighlei robes. Bands of geometric applique in white and gold had been applied to the wide sleeves and the hem, although there was no matching band at the collar the way a Haighlei costume would have been adorned. Instead, the gold and amber Betrothal Necklace took the place of such a decoration. Her hair had been put up in an intricate arrangement of braids with one of the Lion Lilies nestled in the front, and she wore bracelets matching the Betrothal Necklace around her wrists and a belt of amber plaques carved in lions' heads at her waist. She looked like a statue of marble and golden amber, and not human at all.

Some of the strain she was under showed in the serene expression she wore; the worse she felt, the more like a statue she looked.

"So it's official?" he asked, as she sat down on the side of the bed beside him. "Is that where the bracelets and belt came from?"

She nodded and sighed, fingering the heavy gold of the bracelets. "The rumor is that I have abandoned you for your terrible crimes, even though nothing has been proved against you yet. I, of course, have said nothing. We've already taken enough of my belongings over to the other suite that it will look credible—and I took Windsong with me, too. Or, to be precise, I moved her into the nursery with Tadrith and Keenath." She eyed him apprehensively as if she expected him to object. "She'll be safer there, in case this person gets the bright idea to go after the children."

His stomach turned over at the merest suggestion that harm could come to their daughter. Gods. That was a possibility I didn't want to think of. I'd better warn Skan.

He smiled wanly, though, and tried to make light of the situation. "Well, at least I'll be able to sleep late in the morning, now, and she'll have her two playmates from the moment she opens her eyes. Frankly, I pity anyone trying to get in at her—especially if they're trying to get past Makke."

He meant it as a joke, but she only raised an eyebrow, and said quite seriously, "So do I. There's more to Makke than you think."

He raised his own eyebrow. One mother recognizes and trusts another, I suspect. I must remember never to underestimate maternal protectiveness. Or Makke, for that matter."So, from now on, officially you are no longer associating with me." He couldn't help the feeling of depression and abandonment that gave him, though he tried not to show it. That was the one part he really hated about all this. He'd been alone for so very long, and then found Winterhart—he'd never thought he'd have to face an empty bed again.

Now she dropped her mask of serenity. From the bereft expression in her face, she felt the same as he did about any kind of separation—

That gave him a perverse kind of comfort. It made him feel better, knowing that she would be as lonely as he, it made him feel needed and valuable. Did she know that? She might.

It was a good thing, though, that she was a consummate actress. He knew her, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would never betray how she felt in public. She had managed a much more difficult task in her past—of completely hiding who and what she was from people who might have recognized her.

And it is just as well that I am as certain of her as she is of me, or when we met in public I would have terrible doubts.He laid his hand on hers as her eyes darkened with unspoken unhappiness. He sensed her heart growing as heavy as his own.

She squared her shoulders and tried to shake her mood off with brave words, as he had known she would. "It won't be forever. And at least if I have to avoid you in public, things can be the same in private." She bit her lip, and he tightened his hand on hers. "In case you are curious, Shalaman has been very sweet, attentive, and entirely brotherly. I doubt anyone else has noticed the difference, but he treats me as if I were a sacred object, and not for such profane hands as his."

"And you are conducting yourself as if you were not only his affianced, but had lost all faith in me." He smiled as she nodded, comforted no end, as much by the fact that she knew to give him that comfort as by the words themselves. "That has to be feeding right into our nonfriend's plans. The more he can sow dissension in our own ranks and make us avoid each other, the more chance he has of implicating all of us in one or another of these murders."

Well, the worst was over; the actual acknowledgment of the separation, the physical fact of it. He found his mind was working again, thinking of possible parameters, now that the emotion was out of the way. In a curious way, he realized that he was enjoying this, despite all the danger, implicit and real, despite the artificial rift between him and his beloved. Skan might be the strategist, but hewas turning out to be a more than adequate coordinator.

And speaking of that—he should change the subject. Thinking of strategy and tactics would keep both of them from becoming too depressed by their personal thoughts. "Skan Mindspoke with Judeth and some of the others last night. Judeth is coming, along with nine of the Silvers, instead of the diplomatic experts that were originally supposed to join us."

She pondered that for a moment, tracing a pattern on the bed with her fingers. "That's not a bad idea, but I wish we dared have some mages among them. Well, it's not possible, since we don't dare offend Palisar; he's just marginally on our side at the moment, and if we had a mage—"

"He'd probably make up his mind that we'd somehow had the mage working the killings, and never mind what the Truthsayer said." At her nod, he felt a great deal of satisfaction in his reading of the third Advisor. "How does he feel about the Consort-To-Be?"

She laughed, but without real humor. "He'll put up with me, but only because this isn't real. He really doesn't like us very much. I think we disturb him."

"And I think I need a bath." Amberdrake rose, and headed for the bathroom, gesturing for her to follow. That was one place where they were sure to be left undisturbed even by servants. "I believe you are right," he said, as he slid out of his robe and lowered himself into the bath that had been prepared for him with a little shock at the feel of the cool water against his skin. The tub was sunk into the floor, and Winterhart sat next to the head of the tub to talk to him. These people preferred cool baths over hot; not surprising, given the climate. "Silver Veil told us that the Haighlei both crave and fear changes. I think Palisar is probably the representative of the Haighlei who are most afraid of change—and Leyuet represents those who are somewhere in the middle. The Emperor himself probably represents the Haighlei—the fewHaighlei—who would welcome changes."

"And Silver Veil?" she asked. "How does she fit into this pattern of change and denying change?"

"Silver Veil is change itself, but hiding within a changeless package." He was rather proud of himself for such a poetic simile, but she made a face and splashed water at him.

He shook the drops out of his eyes, ducked under the surface to rinse his hair, then came up with a new thought.

"I'd like to keep the real identities and purpose of our new 'diplomats' secret even to the Emperor," he continued, combing his clean hair with his fingers. "The only outsider I want to tell is Leyuet—since he's in charge of the Spears, we'll need him to cooperate with Judeth, and he'll have no reason to do that unless we tell him what she is."