The White Gryphon

"But I thought—" Amberdrake began, confused, "I thought Shalaman had no wife, no children."

"Shalaman does not yet have sons and daughters by a Chief Wife and Consort," the man corrected with a smile, "But he does have them by the ten Priestess Year-Wives of the first decade of his reign, and that is sufficient to the purpose. Year-Sons and Year-Daughters can inherit if there is no heir by a Chief Wife."

"It is not wise to contemplate violence when your potential foe's sons are the men guarding your back, but this is neither the best time or place for a discussion of our customs. Now, let us leave you to your rest."

"Indeed." Amberdrake came back to his mission with a start. "Thank you for being so civilized."

The taller guard smiled again. "At first, you were thought to be barbarians. We who are at Shalaman's side are also his voices in matters that would be improper for him to speak of. All I can say is that you are not barbaric—you are civilized, only different. The time of Change is upon us all—even the Emperor."

Winterhart stormed into the bathing room just as he was putting the finishing touches on his disguise.

"You! You beast! You miserable dog!" she said, picking up the first thing that came to hand—which fortunately was a dish of soap and not the feather-dye. "You bastard!" She flung it at him; he ducked, and it smashed against the wall.

The single act of destruction seemed to run all of her rage out of her. "How could you?" she wailed, turning from anger to tears in a heartbeat. He froze in dismay; he'd thought she understood back there! "How could you saythose things? How could—"

"I could say them because I didn't mean them!" he cried, as her distress spilled over into him. "Oh ke'chara, how could you think I meant any of that?"

"But the things about—you knowI'm sensitive about—" she dissolved into sobs, and he dropped everything he was holding to take her in his arms—leaving behind more shards of glass and pottery in his wake.

The moment he touched her, hewas overcome by the same terrible grief, and for one moment, he could not shut it out. He was so used to leaving himself completely open to her it struck him like a great wave. Close up, close up now or you never will— It was a struggle, but he managed to close up his shields before he was overwhelmed and lost.

Think of her as a client, Drake— get her out of this. It's just hysteria and strain, she was close to laughing in the Audience Chamber, and that was as much hysteria as this is. Besides, she's had all this time to brood on it all, and you know how she makes things worse by brooding! Maybe you knew it was just a sham— but she didn't, not for certain, not at the time of the shock. No matter how much she trusts you, it was a shock and she couldn't be positive in her own mind that there wasn't some truth in what you said to her.

He calmed and soothed her with all the resources at his command, now very grateful that their daughter was nowhere nearby. This was the last way he'd want Windsong to see her parents, and as sensitive as she was, she might very well be affected by it all. Such small things as a child built one reaction upon another.

Gentle deflection while appearing to stay on the subject....

"You handled yourself well, lover. You stood in the midst of the Court and spoke your mind without fear. Now, no one will ever think you are hiding your true feelings. I don't see how anyone could! The breeze we feel tonight should be from their lips flapping!"

Finally he had her laughing again, mostly at the absurdity of the situation, at the shocked and avid expressions he'd seen on the courtiers' faces, at the effect the outburst had invoked in the staid and ma

"They looked as if we'd dropped a muck pile in the middle of the floor," he chuckled. "If this shocked them, I wonder what they would have thought of the tantrums some of Urtho's people used to pull in public?"

"Oh, you've quite driven every thought of the murders out of their minds, beloved," she said as he wiped her face with a damp cloth to remove all traces of tears, then led her back into the bedroom. "You've driven all thoughts of anythingelse out of their minds, at least for the next day or so. It was all they could talk about, and now I know who favors what faction, just by whether or not they came up to sympathize with me or politely gloat at my situation."

"Gloat?" he said. "The ones who don't want you as Consort, do you suppose?"

She nodded as they both sat down on the bed. Sunset had come and gone, and the usual evening breeze had sprung up, driving the stale humidity from the room. "And those very few, mostly women, who really don't believe that you're guilty and who think I'm everything you said about me for deserting you and taking the Necklace." She quirked an eyebrow at him, with just the faintest hint of jealousy. "You have quitea devoted following in some quarters. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if they start showing up at your door, wanting to console you in your deep distress."

"Console me?" he said in dismay. "There are women who feel sorry for me and want to console me?" That was a possibility that hadn't occurred to him and it presented any number of unpleasant and inconvenient possibilities!

"Hadn't counted on that, hmm?" She was smiling smugly now, and didn't bother to hide it—probably in just retribution for what he had just put her through. "Oh, yes, I'm sure they'll be eager to console you, personally and intimately. However, the King's physicians have said you're mad and not to be trusted without a keeper. Theoretically, he has sent one to take charge of you, so no one is going to get in here unless you let him—or her—in."

He heaved a sigh of relief. Trust Shalaman to think of that! He knew his courtiers better than Amberdrake had suspected.

She blinked then and touched his hair as if she had only just that moment noticed it. "What's this?" she asked, startled. "You won't be able to show up in public like that—"

"Not as Amberdrake, but as Hawkwind, Skandranon's bodyguard, there shouldn't be a problem," he told her, and laughed. "Besides, this is a carrier version of the feather-dye. It washes right out again. I won't be able to swim or take a bath in public, but not everyone swims, and these people don't have public baths. I'll just hope it doesn't rain much. Come to think of it, I'd better have a hood with me."

"Why do this at all?" she asked. "We have enough people now. You don't need to go out in public."

"Three reasons." He sat back and stretched his shoulder muscles as he spoke, easing the tension out of them. "Skan should have a bodyguard, and he won't listen to anyone but me. Granted, he doesn't often listen to me either, but at least I have a better chance of getting through to him. Two, if I'm nothere and an assassin comes calling, I won't be killed, and only the assassin would know I wasn't here. So anyone who would accuse me of sneaking out would be the assassin, or have hired one. Three, no one ever pays any attention to a bodyguard, as I just had brought home to me. I might hear or see something you and Skan don't, since you are Personages and I won't be."

She nodded, and added another reason. "Four, you're going crazy here, cooped up in these rooms."

"I hadn't wanted to mention that," he admitted, "But yes. You're right. It's very lonely here."