"Yes, I have the mind-Gift with emotions," he agrees. "And it's part of why I left. They'd take my Gift if they knew I had it; it came late, after the tests had been and gone."

He considers Amberdrake's words with a thoughtful frown.

"I think I know what you mean, but—I was so angry there wasn't room for anything else. It didn't hurt."

Amberdrake looks at him, hard, for several moments. 

"I see," he says finally. "Well, offer remains open. Sometimes our feelings hide in moments of danger, and then return. In any case. I assume your training is little to none, so I also offer that I am practiced and might give lessons. Only do you wish – it appears your Gift is controlled enough and not give trouble. And explains why you are so gentle with young Lionstar, perhaps." Another softening. "He has trust in you. Have not seen him trust many others." Embarrassment, even shame. "His youth was troubled, wish that I had seen sooner." 

And he sits back. "Final question, for today. You are of nobility, and understand your people better than I. If you suggest course of action for our Council, now, I listen, and bring it to others." 

"Well, that's the first time anyone's ever asked me for political advice," he says wryly.

And then, more seriously: "I don't know. I do think—you're right that Lionstar was no threat to them, but I did terrify that priest, and he had good reason to be afraid. Coming after us to silence me... it wasn't right, or lawful, but it wasn't unreasoning either, you follow? And I don't even know if the assassin was sent, or came on their own to protect their friend. It could be that all that happened was one person making bad decisions out of fear and then dying for it. The sort of thing you could start a war over if you wanted one, but I don't think you do."

Amberdrake smiles. "You are a compassionate heart," he says. "And right. We have no want for war. So now, I think I go meet with the Council, and you go to your friend's side. I will call on you if further need." He stands, and claps Sakshemar on the shoulder. "And, no worry that we send you back. You welcome as one of us, and not only for your service to our own. I have no love for Haighlei law on Mind-Gifts." 

When Sakshemar makes his way back to the little alcove-room, he's going to find Lionstar curled up in a ball with his face to the wall, faintly radiating misery. 

He hurries to his friend's side.

"Sorry not here," he says. "Amberdrake want I tell story. Done now."

Lionstar doesn’t say anything at first, just huddles against his friend.

“Can’t think,” he mumbles finally. “I cannot remember!” He’s terrified. “What if...it never comes back?” An entire past life, everything that he is, gone...

Sakshemar hugs him.

"You keep some," he says. "You have notes, I remember things you say. Not all, but some, even if remember nothing. And I think maybe you remember more after you more better."

...This is plausible, but 'after he's better' is in the future, not now, and it's hard to imagine a future existing through the dull sick throb in his head. "Hate it," Lionstar mutters, he's so frustrated he wants to throw something, but the only object within reach is a pillow, which wouldn't be very satisfying. He grabs it and throws it anyway, blinking away tears. 

"Hate this place. Feels bad." He has an inkling that this is the fault of the previous Lionstar, who clearly wasn't fond of his home, for reasons that are just as lost to him as the memory of Urtho's face – no, he can't think about Urtho or he's going to burst into tears and – not safe...

Setting something on fire would be more satisfying but his Gift isn't working, he tries anyway and it makes his head pound worse, why doesn't anything work, even his emotions aren't working, there's no good reason to cry but it's taking every scrap of will to hold it back. "Sorry," he mumbles. 

"All good. Sorry you too," says Sakshemar, hugging him more. "Want calm?"

Lionstar wants not this, he wants to take back the entire last week, but he nods. 

Hugs, and peace wrapping him up like a blanket.

It's better. It's a lot better. His head hurts less when he can actually manage to relax. Lionstar tucks his head against Sakshemar's chest, and maybe cries a little. It's surprising how much it helps. 

And then after a while, a different head peeks through the curtain. It's a woman, older but clearly fit, clad in an official-looking tunic. "I am looking for Sakshemar?" 

He looks up. "I am Sakshemar," he says agreeably.

"My pleasure to meet you. And Lionstar – I'm glad to see you home safe and, well, not unharmed, but at least on the mend. I would speak with both of you, if that's all right."

She doesn't exactly wait for confirmation, though; she glances around, then ducks back through the curtain, and returns with another chair, and sits. "Good. I've spoken briefly with Drake, and we're going to have a full meeting, but right now my main impression is that we really don't need any more diplomatic tensions." She aims a wry look at Sakshemar. "It does help that, er, it wasn't one of our people who killed their man. Anyway, we'll get Lady Cinnabar's advice – she was always a better diplomat than either Drake or I – but I expect we'll draft up a polite but firm diplomat note asking for an appropriate recompense for Lionstar's injuries." 

A pause. 

"Of course, their side lost a life," she says. "Though under our laws – well, it's a bit tactless to say he had it coming, but that's the gist of it. Self-defense isn't murder in our eyes. I did want to check how your people are likely to interpret it." She frowns. "Drake already said he's not handing you over to them so your folk can administer their own justice. Rather complicates things, doesn't it. From what I heard, you're of noble blood and the dead man isn't, which ought to help your case," a flicker of distaste, "but nonetheless, I'd like to check that holding onto you isn't going to start a war." 

"Mm..." he says. "Shalaman of Khimbata not want war with White Gryphon. Very much not want. Some things maybe other king give war for, he not. Hold onto me, not war by itself unless he want. Some other things maybe war, maybe not. War maybe if White Gryphon do—" he makes a face, says something in Haighlei— "I not know word. Lion roar, very loud, tell other lion go away, other lion roar too, both know not fight, but make loud anger noise much? You know this thing? Here, someone dead, not do this. Do quiet, do calm, say want peace. Want things for balance law maybe but want peace. If you talk like you want war, you get it."

"I see. 'Escalation' is the word you're looking for, I believe." She smiles thinly. "We're not idiots, so we won't do it. Hmm. Likely we'll say that we can talk about recompense, but we won't suggest any specifics, and we'll wait to see the reply. My thanks for your advice. Do try to stay out of trouble, please, and avoid ending up in any more situations where you need to kill someone else in self-defense." 

She stands up briskly, takes her chair, and vanishes. 

Lionstar is much less calm and relaxed than he was five minutes ago. "Sakshemar, I am sorry. This is...trouble..." He really, really didn't intend to ruin his fresh start here by accidentally starting yet another war. 

He realizes as she's leaving that he never got around to explaining how Haighlei law sees his killing of the nighttime assassin, but he decides not to chase after her and subject her to more of his barely-intelligible attempts to talk around the gaps in his vocabulary.

"Yes, is trouble," he agrees. "I not worry. Shalaman not want war, Amberdrake not want war, I think not war."

Lionstar is going to have to accept that for now, because trying to reason about it from first principles makes it feel like someone is stabbing him through the eyeballs.

"Good," he says. "Sakshemar, I trust you. Good friend. You do...what needs doing..." Yet again, he's suddenly exhausted for no apparent reason. "Need to sleep," he manages. "You stay?" 

"I stay," he agrees.

And then nothing much else happens before sundown, except for another Healer-apprentice coming in to bring food and pain-medicine and look at Lionstar's head. 

In the morning, a young man with a courier-bag drops off a note which he says is from Amberdrake, who has other important business to attend to. The note is written in the Haighlei script, and explains that the Council has drafted a message. The content is approximately what General Judeth mentioned. Lionstar is badly hurt and has himself done no wrong to the Haighlei, and White Gryphon would like a suitable apology and amends to be made. There's a matter-of-fact admission that Lionstar's attacker is dead at Sakshemar's hands, and White Gryphon 'would be open to discussions of appropriate justice', but they firmly state that Sakshemar is now under their jurisdiction, a fact which is not up for negotiation. 

At the end, Amberdrake adds a request for Sakshemar to either approve of the draft and pass it on to one of the Healers, or to alert him if it needs further work. 

He looks over it carefully. It looks—well, foreign. He pictures his father reading it. He pictures what would happen if this was his father's first sight of the news that he'd killed someone again. Already a matter of international diplomacy before it reaches his ears? He'd be furious. He'd push Shalaman to push White Gryphon on repatriating Sakshemar, not so that he could face justice but so that he could be formally declared to have committed no crime—

He asks that someone tell Amberdrake he has a suggestion about the message and wants to talk about it.

About an hour later (Lionstar is still asleep) Amberdrake arrives. He steps through the curtain; this time, he doesn’t look like he intends to lead Sakshemar elsewhere. He’s thoughtfully brought both of them a hamper of food. 

“You wished to speak?” He rubs his temple and switches languages. “Your tongue will do.”