I think I'd better talk to Drake. Quickly. Besides, the sky is not a healthy place to be at the moment.

Mere heartbeats later, he was backwinging to a landing on Amberdrake's balcony—and Amberdrake, much to hissurprise, was pushing his way through the curtains to meet his early-morning visitor.

The kestra'chern looked as if he hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, either. His eyes were red and a little swollen with a hint of dark circles beneath them, his long hair was tangled, and the loose robe of rich, multicolored silk was something he had clearly just pulled on when he heard Skan's wings outside his bedroom.

It's a good thing that Winterhart sleeps as deeply as she does, or I'd be in trouble. She hates being wakened too early. At least Drake will put up with it.

He made one of the better landings of the last several months, at least, touching down gracefully and sending Amberdrake's hair whipping around his face with the wind from his wings.

"Drake, we have more trouble," he said shortly, as Amberdrake looked up at him, with one hand absently rubbing his temple, a sure sign the kestra'chern had a headache. Well, there were a lot of headaches in the Palace this morning. "Look." He held out the arrow, and Amberdrake took it. "Someone thinks foreigners make great targets, especially flying foreigners. That could change, though. Walking targets in silk robes might be next on the target range."

Amberdrake chewed his lip thoughtfully, his brows knitted with worry. "Meant to warn, or to strike?" he asked, coming straight to the point.

"To strike, unless they were counting on my being able to dodge it," Skan told him bluntly. "The thing is, you don't get out of the way as well as I do, especially if you're on a balcony or in a corridor. We might want to rethink this plan of ours; Winterhart isn't going to be very happy with me if you end up full of holes."

You're not a warrior-hero, Drake,he thought silently, willing the kestra'chern to be sensible. You were never meant to be on the front lines. You don't have to do this if you don't want to. Don't pretend to be something you aren't.

"If I become the chief suspect, I can keep to my rooms," Amberdrake pointed out reasonably. "In fact, if I become the chief suspect, I'll have a good reason to keep to my rooms. The others will be here in a few days; I'll have guards enough then to keep me safe, don't you think?"

"You can never have enough guards," Skan muttered, but he nodded reluctantly. "I want to go on the record as thinking this is a very bad idea, though," he continued. "You aren't and never were a fighter, no matter what most of the Kaled'a'in are. You never got any closer to the front lines than the Healers' tents. You haven't got a fighter's instincts. I—"

"Skan, you forget what I was before I was a kestra'chern," Amberdrake interrupted softly. "I haven't been sheltered from violence my entire life. I weathered the flight from Ma'ar's troops as a boy, I weathered the war with his army, and I managed to do all right on the journey into the West. And I may not be a fighter, but I've kept myself in shape the whole time."

If that remark was supposed to annoy the gryphon, it fell wide of the mark. "I've gotten myself back in shape, too, Drake," Skan said, just as pointedly. "I make a better target than you. I'm not human, and I am a fighter, with plenty of practice at dodging whatever is thrown or shot at me."

"You make a much more conspicuous target than I do, and I'd say that disqualifies you," Amberdrake snapped, then looked contrite. "I'm sorry; I'm short on sleep and on tolerance, and this hasn't helped. I promise, I will be verycareful, but this thing is too important not to take some risks in order to get it solved. Is that enough?"

Skan closed his eyes for a moment, trying to quell the sick feeling he had in the pit of his stomach when he thought of pulling that same arrow in his talon out of Amberdrake. Odd. I was always the one who went charging off into danger, and it never bothered me like this. But put Drake on the line of fire—The sick feeling rose to his crop, and he fought the nausea down. Is this how my friends felt about me? I can't stand the idea of him being in danger! I not only want to protect him, I want to keep him out of it!

Yet wasn't it Amberdrake's right to decide what he did, what he volunteered for? I certainly didn't need anyone telling me what to do with my life, and I'd have resented anything Drake did to "protect" me. And he is right, damn him. These murders are going to wreck everything with the Haighlei and may send us into a war neither side can win if we can't solve them.

"If you aren'tcareful," Skan said savagely, through a clenched beak, "what this enemy of ours does to you will be nothingcompared to what I' lldo to you if you get hurt!"

"Fair enough." Amberdrake ran a hand through his long, tangled hair, and smiled wanly up at Skan, who glowered down at him. "As long as I'm awake, why don't you tell me everything you said to the people back home, and what they said to you. The less Winterhart knows, the better, and I don't want to worry Zhaneel, but Ineed to know what you've ordered. If I'm going make a target out of myself, the least you can do is keep me completely informed."

Of all the nerve!Skan folded his wings tightly, and gave Amberdrake a nasty look. "That's not fair, Drake," he growled. "That's blackmail."

"So it is." Amberdrake nodded agreeably, then pulled his robe more tightly around himself, folded his arms, and leaned against the wall. It constantly amazed Skan how the man could look so attractive even when he was disheveled. "You might as well talk because I'll continue to make you feel guilty until you tell me what I want to know. I'm very good at it—as you very well know."

Damn him. He is good at it. All he has to do is put on a certain expression—or drop the right word or two. He could have been my mother.

Skan growled wordlessly and gave in. "Mostly, I told themwhat was going to happen. If they're going to insist that I'm their leader, then in a situation like this one, damn if I'm not going to get arbitrary."

Amberdrake nodded as if he had expected something of the sort. "And who were 'they'? You mentioned Judeth; who else was in on the conversation?"

"Judeth, Snowstar, Vikteren, Aubri. That was the most Kechara could handle over the distance, and she simply repeated to me what Judeth and Vikteren were saying rather than relaying their mind-voices." He tilted his head to one side. "I put Snowstar in charge of White Gryphon, taking my place indefinitely. He didn't like it, but he agreed. Vikteren is staying, too. Judeth and Aubri are coming here themselves."

I think Snowstar guesses I plan to put him in charge permanently. I'm no leader— and I think once people get used to deferring to Snowstar in this emergency, they won't have any more trouble deferring to him ever again. I suspect he'd have been made the Kaled'a'in k'Leshya Clan Leader if Lionwind hadn't been so charismaticand capable.

"Your idea or theirs?" Amberdrake asked, raising an eyebrow in inquiry.

"Theirs mostly, but—hell, Drake, we've worked together before, and I'd rather have them than some green gryphlet who thinks I'm only a legend." He turned away from Amberdrake for a moment and gazed back north, in the direction of the settlement. All that was visible past the buildings of the city and Palace were trees, but his heart knew where home was, and he wished he could be back there now.