Like whether or not I'm still sane. Or whether I know something I'm not telling all of them.
Perhaps he wasn't sane—but he knew he was right in this. They had to keep their minds focused on catching the murderer, and worrying about the approaching Ceremony would only distract them from that purpose.
"Like any good commander, you see to the heart of the matter and work from there, Amberdrake," Shalaman said, his cheer restored. "So—let us plan our next actions, so as to bring this villain to his knees the sooner!"
Hadanelith leaned forward, threw the wooden claw on the kitchen fire, and chuckled as it burned. Noyoki had mentioned this morning when they all met at breakfast that his magics were coming to him with greater ease now—and perhaps that had been in an effort to compliment Hadanelith for his work in creating as much blood-born power as he had. But the explanation might also be that enough time had passed since the last mage-storm that magic power was resuming some of its old pathways, and if thatwas the case, the Haighlei mages would soon be discovering that fact. While Hadanelith was no mage himself, he had made it his job to find out as much as he could about the spells that "lawkeepers" used to hunt down criminals. No amount of scrubbing would get blood-contamination off a murder weapon; only burning would break the link between it and the last victim.
So that lovely carving must go, consigned to the flames along with every other souvenir that Hadanelith still had in his personal possession. There was that other carving, of course, but that was not his problem. If Kanshin didn't take the proper precautions, that was Kanshin's lookout.
The cheerful bonfire fit in with his feeling of celebration, though, and did not invoke any kind of sense of loss. Everything was going so well!
He sat back in the cook's favorite chair and watched the flames crackle merrily. The cook and all of her underlings pointedly ignored him, but he didn't mind. They weren't worth bothering about, and they were all Kanshin's slaves, so they wouldn't go running off to tell someone what he'd done. Even if they told Kanshin, the thief wouldn't care.
But oh, the pure pleasure he got from hearing the latest news from the court, straight from Noyoki's own lips!
Elation made him hungry; he barked an order for fruit into the air, and a slave brought sliced fruit to him directly from the shaking hands of the cook. They might pretend to ignore him, but they didn't dare ignore a direct order. And they feared him; he knew that, and he reveled in it.
He stayed in the kitchen, making the slaves nervous, and eating fruit, until the last of the contaminated objects had been reduced to nothing but ashes in the heat of the bake-oven. Then he stood up and left, overturning the cook's chair with his foot and scattering rinds and cores carelessly before he walked off.
That would teach them not to ignore him!
But the morning's news was too good for a little insubordination to ruin his mood. He strolled back to his rooms, whistling a little, as he contemplated the results of his own genius.
Amberdrake was in the deepest disgrace, of course, and rumor held he was under house arrest. Now most people believed that Amberdrake and Skandranon between them had contrived the murders of their most outspoken foes in the Court, even though the evidence linking them to the deaths was tenuous at best.
So Amberdrake is suffering because he is a murder suspect, and suffering twice because his dear gryphon friend is as much a suspect as he is. He may even be suffering three times over, thinking that the stupid beastmight have decided to do away with some of their opponents in a more direct fashion than simply arguing them down!
He giggled, for that in itself was a sheer delight. But there was more, much more.
Winterhart had broken off publicly with the kestra'chern, declaring that she could not remain bound to one who was tainted with the suspicion of murder. According to Noyoki, her speech before the Court had been short, but passionate, and had taken everyone by surprise. It didn't take himby surprise; Winterhart was a rigid bitch, and proud to boot. She would never stand for even a hint of impropriety, and her own pride would not tolerate a fall in status. He could have predicted this, although he would have thought it would not happen quite this soon.
But once he learned she had made her break, he knew what Noyoki's next revelation would be. She would either find someone of higher rank than Amberdrake to attach herself to, like any other parasitic, leeching female, or she would turn around and go back to the city.
So he wasn't particularly shocked when Noyoki revealed that the King had declared she had accepted his offer of marriage. It had simply fit in with Winterhart's personality.
It had delighted him, though. Amberdrake must have been shattered; Noyoki didn't know his reaction because he hadn't emerged from his suite. Shehad moved out, though, into private apartments, which put the stamp of finality on the rift between them.
He giggled again, as he flung open the door to his room and glided inside, with a grace even Amberdrake couldn't replicate. Oh, Amberdrake must be reduced to emotional shards, now—for there was nothing he could do to get Winterhart back! Not even if against all odds he proved himself innocent could he get her back! She would never, ever choose to return to someone like him, when she was to be the wife of a King!
The greedy little status hunter was probably rolling on her solitary bed right now in an ecstasy of pleasure over her coup and her good fortune.
He would have to find a way to bring her down, too, but without bringing her back to Amberdrake. That would make him suffer even more.
Now— how to go about that? And what to do to her, I wonder?
He sat himself down in hisfavorite chair, the one built into a replica of the little throne he had in his special room back in the settlement. The one with all the delightful surprises built into it....
But before he could settle himself into a good planning session, there was a knock at the door. Frowning, he started to rise, but the door opened before he could get to it, and Noyoki and Kanshin strolled in as though they belonged there.
He glared at them in outrage, and they ignored the glare to appropriate two of the best chairs in the room for themselves. They sat down without even asking if he minded!
Anger held him breathless, which in rum made him speechless.
"You've done exactly as we wanted so far, Hadanelith," Noyoki said, in that supercilious, ever-so-superior tone he always adopted when he spoke to Hadanelith. "The results have been excellent, and Kanshin and I are agreed that you have passed all the tests we set for you."
Tests? Tests? These weren't tests! What is he talking about? The overfed, obnoxious base-born bastard! What does he think he's doing? Who does he think he's dealing with?
"We've selected your next target, Hadanelith," Kanshin said—nervously though. Very nervously. Hadanelith quieted his rage and set it aside. This was odd; he'd never seen the scrawny little thief nervous about any assignment ever before. What could be so difficult about this one?
"Your next victim will be Shalaman," Noyoki said with such careless casualness that it had to be an act.
"Shalaman? The Emperor?" Hadanelith was incredulous, and even angrier than before. He jumped to his feet and faced them both with his fists clenched at his side.
"What have you been drinking? You knowI won't handle a man, I have no interest in them!"
He felt his face flush with fury and outrage. Just who did these two think they were? He'd told them he wouldn't target males—not for that, anyway! There was only one man he'd ever be willing to kill, and only after he'd made Amberdrake suffer a great deal more than he had so far! It would take years, decades, to inflict all the misery he'd planned on Amberdrake's soul!