The Guild of the Cowry Catchers, Book 1: Embers, Deluxe Illustrated Edition by Abigail Hilton

“The Sea Watch administers the ships. A journey to Maijha
Minor or any other place you wish to investigate must to be
coordinated with the Sea Watch. I expect you to work together.”
    Gerard shut his eyes. He had not thought that
far ahead. He felt suddenly tired.
    “ Try to get along with Silveo,” said
Morchella. “I realize that you find him distasteful, but he has his
uses. Learn to exploit them. Silveo can be made to do almost
anything once you know how to steer him. You, on the other hand,
are a delightful enigma.” And she leaned up on her tiptoes and
kissed him. Gerard thought for one panicked moment that she was
going to kiss him on the mouth, but she only touched her lips to
his forehead in a vaguely maternal gesture.
    Then she brought her lips down to his ear in
a way that was not maternal at all, tickling his skin with her
breath. “Now, you need to go home and love your minstrel girl and
sleep. You lost your temper this evening because you are exhausted.
Go home, Gerard. I’ll be watching over you.”

Chapter 9. Mine
    The High Priestess of Wefrivain is a
mysterious, but stable figure for most of her subjects. She is
ageless—as beautiful and terrible as their grandfathers remembered
her. Some believe that there have been a long line of High
Priestesses, each chosen in great secrecy. They point to the fact
that she does not often appear in public, and some say that her
appearance has differed over time. Others claim that she is
deathless—a personification of the will of the gods, not a true
person at all. A few claim that she is a wyvern shelt, although
those who have worked with her closely swear she is a grishnard.
Her life and work are surrounded by secrecy, and while her Sea
Watch or Police may perpetrate atrocities, these acts are rarely
attributed to the Priestess, who is supposed to spend most of her
time in communion with the gods. The minstrels of the old school
(of whom very few remain) call her a servant of the Firebird. This
is curious, as the wyvern-gods of Wefrivain have completely
eradicated all monuments to that ancient deity.
    —Gwain, The Truth About Wyverns
    Alsair met Gerard on the Temple steps. “I’ve
never seen a wyvern pick up a shelt that way. I thought perhaps
they’d sacrificed you.” He nosed Gerard this way and that, as
though to make sure he was all in one piece. “Lamire came out
looking like he’d just eaten a live eel, which gave me a bit of
hope.”
    Gerard sighed. “Silveo probably hates me more
than ever for earning him a reprimand from the Priestess.”
    “Oh? Does our silver tadpole fear something,
then?”
    “Loves and fears, I think,” said Gerard. “But
neither will stop him from trying to kill me after what I said on
the deck of the Fang in front of his officers and crew. I
should not have lost my temper.”
    Alsair shrugged. “I wish I’d said it for you.
Don’t worry; I’ll kill him before he gets another shot.”
    Gerard took a fistful of Alsair’s ruff. “No,
you won’t. You’ll stay out of it. Please, this is already too
complicated.” He was feeling more and more confused by the
Priestess’s behavior, and he hated feeling confused. Perhaps I
am just tired. He’d slept less than a watch last night, and it
was already late. Thessalyn would be worried.
    Gerard told Alsair the gist of what had
happened in the Temple as they flew back to the inn. He did not say
anything about Morchella’s kiss.
    “We have to go to Sern?” whined Alsair. “With
those conniving sea rats?”
    “ You don’t have to go,” said Gerard.
“In fact, I’d be pleased if you’d stay and help Thessalyn settle
into the house.”
    “Oh, no. No offense to your lady, but my
place is with you—now more than ever.”
    “I don’t need you to protect me, Alsair.”
    The griffin made a mock whimper. “You wound
me!”
    Gerard refused to be drawn. “Silveo has an
order not to kill me. He has no such order about you.” Or, he thought with a chill, about