"I understand your anger," Shalaman said quietly in the foreigners' own tongue—shocking Leyuet. The Emperor neverdemeaned himself by speaking the language of another!

Unless, of course, the other was a King in his own right. In one stroke, Shalaman had just confirmed the gryphon's status and changed the rules of the game.

"I understand it and sympathize with it," he continued. "Look about you—you are no longer under any sort of guard."

Skandranon nodded shortly without looking around. Good. He is willing to take Shalaman's word for it.Leyuet let out a tiny sigh of relief, for that was one small obstacle dealt with.

"I know that you have not seen any of ourinvestigations; be assured that they are going on, even at this moment," Shalaman continued. "It is only that all such things must take place within the grounds of the temples.That is our way. That is probably also why you have noticed nothing of a magic nature taking place in the vicinity of the palace."

"Ah," the gryphon replied, a little more satisfied. "Now I understand. I had taken the lack of spell-energy for lack of effort."

"It is an effort," Shalaman admitted. "As you yourself are aware, that event you call the Cataclysm has changed everything for both our peoples. The mages and priests have, thus far, come up with no suspects—but they haveeliminated you, which gives you yet one more voucher of innocence."

The gryphon muttered something under his breath. Both Leyuet and the Emperor pretended not to notice.

" Please,I earnestly ask you, do not bring your foreign mages here," Shalaman continued. "Such an act will only serve to drive a wedge between yourselves and our priests. That would be a bad thing for all concerned."

"Then what canI do?" Skandranon demanded.

"Be patient," Shalaman told him. "Please. You are once again free to come and go as you will in this Court and Palace. You will not be guarded nor watched."

Leyuet wondered if the gryphon realized that Shalaman was giving him tacit permission to go fly off and perform his own investigations.

Probably,he decided. The gryphon is not stupid. If he can master the court dances the way he has, he will be able to read what is not said as well as what is said.

But that would only give him one more personal headache; how to keep the gryphon safe while Skandranon was winging his way everywhere.

The gryphon's feathers slowly collapsed, bringing him down to a more normal appearance. He and Shalaman exchanged several more words, now in calmer tones, and with less vehemence behind them. That was when the gryphon surprised Leyuet yet again by replying to one of Shalaman's questions in the Haighlei tongue, neatly turning the diplomatic tables on the Emperor.

Although all of this was very good, a headache still throbbed in Leyuet's temple when it was all over and the gryphon had gone away, bowing gracefully.

Leyuet did not follow; the Emperor's eyes held him where he stood. For a moment, he feared that Shalaman would summon him to the side of the throne, but once the gryphon was well away, the Emperor only nodded, releasing Leyuet from any further need to dance attendance on him.

Shalaman's nod was accompanied by the faintest of sympathetic smiles, telling Leyuet that the Emperor had noticed the lines of pain about his eyes and mouth. Shalaman was good at noticing things, and was only unkind to his subordinates when need drove him to unkindness.

Leyuet took himself out, quickly. Silver Veil had not been in herAdvisor's position at the throne, and neither had Palisar. The latter was probably in the temple complex located on the Palace grounds, overseeing the magical investigations into the murders. The former must be in her quarters.

This was, for Leyuet's sake, a very good thing, the first good thing that had happened today.

A Truthsayer must always find the truth. A Truthsayer could not be bought for any coin. This was a weighty responsibility; and all those bearing weighty responsibilities went to Silver Veil for solace. That solace was generally notthe kind of physical comfort that the lower classes assumed. Leyuet could have that at any time, from any number of skilled ladies. No, the solace that Silver Veil provided was of another order altogether.

His feet took him to Silver Veil's suite without a conscious decision on his part, purely in the hope that she might not be giving another the privilege of her skills. He had not gone to her in many days, respecting her need for privacy in the wake of the horrifying murders—but now, his own pain and need were too great. The physical pain of the headache warned him of worse to come if he did not have it tended to, now.

Silver Veil's servants answered his knock and ushered him into a room he knew well, a room where the harsh light of the sun was softened by gauze curtains drawn across many windows, where the scents of flowers blended gracefully with those of soothing herbs, where the only furnishings were low couches covered in soft, absorbent fabrics, couches that could also be used for massages.

The colors here were all cool; deep greens and blues, strong, clear colors that accentuated Silver Veil's pale beauty. She entered once the servants had settled him on one of the couches, and had clothed him in a light robe suitable for a massage.

She slipped among the gauze hangings like a slim silver fish through water-weeds, a silver-chased basket in her hands. She put it down beside him, and experimentally touched his shoulders with her fingers.

"My goodness," she said with an upraised eyebrow. "You should have come to me several days ago! Palisar certainly didn't hesitate."

"I am not Palisar," he reminded her.

"No, you aren't. You are Leyuet, who sacrifices his own comfort far too often. Here—" She flipped open the lid of the casket, revealing the contents.

It contained neither massage oils nor treasure, but Leyuet's own secret passion and guilty pleasure: sugar-powdered pastries and cookies.

"Oh—" he said ruefully, in mingled appreciation and concern. "Oh, my dear child, I shall eat these and put on so much weight that my robes will strain across my stomach!"

"You will eat those because a little bird told me you have eaten next to nothing these past three days," she said firmly. "You will eat these because you need them, for the soothing of your spirit, because you deserve them. Besides, they are good for you. I used special recipes. Ido not ascribe to the belief that what is good for you must taste like so much old, dried-up hay."

Leyuet finally broke into a smile, selecting a plump pastry. He held it and devoured it first with his eyes, anticipating the sweet savor, the way that the first bite would melt away to nothing on his tongue, releasing the mingled flavors of almond, vanilla, and honey. He closed his eyes, brought the pastry to his mouth, and bit into the flaky crust, as sugar-glaze broke and scattered over his hand.

It tasted every bit as good as he had imagined, and before he realized it, he was licking the last crumbs from his fingers.

Leyuet opened his eyes to see that Silver Veil was watching him with a pleased smile on her lips, her hands folded in her lap. He laughed.

"Silver Veil," he asked, feeling a warm contentment begin to loosen those knotted muscles in his shoulders before she could even place a finger upon them, "how is it that you always know what someone needs before he himself knows? How is it that you can do the things that are kindas well as the things that are duties, in the face of all obstacles?"