“If you wish,” Tavis replied tersely. “And there’s no particular need to be gentle. I don’t feel anything—except that, sometimes, I think my hand is still there, and that I can almost touch things with it.”
Queron nodded. “A fairly standard response to an amputation. Battle Healers often run into that sort of reaction. There’s sometimes phantom pain, too, as if the missing limb or part were still there and injured.”
Emrys, slipping deep into his Healer’s mode, laid his hand more firmly on Tavis’s arm, signaling for Rhys to come to his side and share the probe. As Rhys obeyed, Queron, too, touched his fingertips to Tavis’s arm and eased into the linkage. After a moment, all three men opened their eyes and broke the contact.
“This is quite amazing,” Emrys said. “I’ve not seen that kind of thing except in people born that way. The ends of the bones have fused, and the musculature has redistributed as if it were meant to be that way. You have also managed somehow—and don’t ask me how—to bring your blood level back almost to normal.” He glanced at Rhys. “Are you certain he lost as much blood as you thought he did?”
Rhys shrugged. “Not certain, no, since I wasn’t there when it happened, or even for the first hour or two thereafter. But his condition last night seemed to indicate a greater blood loss than he shows now. I can’t explain it.”
Puzzled, Emrys turned back to Tavis again.
“Can you explain it?” the old man asked. Tavis shook his head. “Then, will you allow me to read you more deeply? For some reason, your shields are very rigid, Tavis. There’s no need for that with me, your old teacher. I had hoped you would realize that.”
“I—cannot, sir.” Tavis whispered, turning his head away and swallowing heavily. “Please, don’t try to make me do it, either.”
“But, I don’t underst—”
“Then, understand this: they tried to batter down my shields!” he gasped, clutching his arm to his chest once more and plunging both arms beneath the blanket again. “They tried to—to force my mind! Men of our own kind held me fast while they chopped off my hand! They said I was aiding the enemy! Does Javan look like the enemy?”
There was little they could say to that. After making perfunctory apologies, Emrys and Queron were ushered from the room by a pensive and silent Rhys, Camber following wordlessly. The four men said nothing as they returned to Camber’s quarters in the archbishop’s palace, but they discussed the plight of Tavis O’Neill in hushed tones for several hours that evening, joined by Joram and Evaine.
“It’s as if he’s just shut down psychically,” Rhys said. “And there’s a core of bitterness there that’s really making me uneasy. I don’t know what to make of it.”
“I hope that I don’t know what to make of it,” Queron said, after a long pause. “I once saw a case like this when I was still teaching at Saint Neot’s. Do you remember, Emrys? We had a marvelously gifted young Healer’s novice—Ulric was his name.”
Emrys nodded and sighed, then shook his head sadly as Queron continued.
“Well, one day he simply—went berserk. He challenged the novice master to a duel arcane. He’d had almost no formal training in such things, but he defeated and killed the novice master! And the novice master was a high-level adept, a Healer himself and a very powerful practitioner!
“Anyway, the point of similarity is that young Ulric showed the same kind of adamant shielding for some time before he went mad, and there was no way to reach him, psychically. He called us devils and blasphemers and tried to bring down the entire abbey. Emrys put an arrow through his heart, right there in the cloister garth, or Ulric would have destroyed us all. He had turned on his own kind.”
“You think Tavis might do that?” Evaine asked, after a stunned pause. “He’s always seemed so gentle.”
Queron shook his head slowly. “I don’t know, my dear. I’m not certain I want to find out, either. Rhys, I don’t suppose you might feel justified in trying out your little Healing quirk on Tavis, would you? To block his abilities until we’re sure he’s stable enough to handle them?”
“A touchy point of ethics,” Rhys replied. “Besides, it may already be too late for that. We’ve established that cooperation isn’t necessary—and you know he’d never cooperate for something like that—but the odd way his shields are fluctuating, I’m not sure I’d want to try it and risk the possible backlash. Something very strange is going on in that man’s head.”
“Do we just give up, then?” Camber asked. “Rhys, he’s in a potentially very dangerous position, not only for himself, being the only Deryni in the regents’ household right now, but for us. If he should become sufficiently disillusioned with us, that he’d side with the regents—why, with Tavis working for them, the regents could sniff out Deryni no matter where they went.”
“Not if I can teach someone how to block Deryni powers,” Rhys replied.
“But who are you going to teach? That’s just the point. Emrys, Queron, God knows, you’ve tried—but suppose it can’t be learned? Rhys, can you really go out and work with Revan? Are you prepared to make the necessary sacrifices? And even if you are, there’s no way of ensuring that our manufactured cult will catch on. Besides, we’re only talking about a few Deryni to be protected that way. They can’t even be the best of us, because the best and best trained must stay aware to transmit our heritage to our children!”
With a surprised gasp, Queron sat back in his chair and stared at Camber. Emrys, ever-calm, shook his head in disbelief and laid his hand on Camber’s arm.
“Alister, Alister, don’t you despair on us!—you, who are usually the rock of calm and courage. Do you truly think that no one else can learn to do it?”
Camber leaned his forehead on the heels of his hands and wearily shook his head. “I don’t know. Forgive me, Emrys. It’s just that all of us have been fighting for so long, in our own ways, and the situation seems to get worse instead of better, with each passing day. And I think I have raised a valid question: if we block the best to save the best, who will teach the children? Oh, we were as mad as your Ulric to even think it might work!”
Chilled, Rhys reached across to touch Camber’s shoulder, at the same time reaching out with his mind.
Courage! You must not do this in front of Emrys and Queron! Or, is it your intention to tell them everything?
With a mental start, Camber jerked himself back into psychic focus, forced himself to look up slowly at Rhys. God knew, it was not his intention to tell the others everything. They thought Camber long dead, and a saint; better they remain thinking so. But Rhys was right. If he didn’t get hold of himself, he was going to end up revealing everything in spite of himself.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, bowing his head again. “Lord, help Thou my unbelief. Perhaps it will work. Maybe some other Healer? Maybe Oriel? Rhys, could he have been responsible for Tavis’s recovery?”
They discussed the possibility, though Rhys, who had worked with Oriel, had detected nothing in the young Healer which should have made him special from any other Healer. Nor could Oriel have returned without being seen.
They did not discuss the suspicion that Prince Javan might have had a hand in things. And especially, they did not discuss what had happened that other night, when Javan might, indeed, have gained the power to do what they were beginning to suspect.
Javan, too, wondered increasingly about that night, and about the strange link he seemed to have formed with Tavis, but he did not mention either one directly, when he spoke with his brothers that evening. He had taken supper with Tavis earlier, but by tacit agreement, neither had mentioned the events of the night before.
But when Javan joined Alroy and Rhys Michael just before evening prayers, to report on Tavis’s progress, he did turn the conversation to what they remembered about the night their father died. Alroy’s recollection was no better than Javan’s own, however, and Rhys Michael could not be induced to take any of their discussion seriously, being preoccupied with the setting up of his toy knights
. Alroy was interested in Tavis’s progress, and was glad to learn that he was doing better, but he preferred not to talk about the attack.
“But, we’ve got to talk about it,” Javan whispered, drawing his brother into an alcove near the fireplace. “He was attacked by Deryni! Deryni cut off his hand—a Healer’s hand, Alroy! My Healer! What if he’d been one of your friends? Then you’d do something!”
“Well, what could I do?”
“You’re the king! You could order their arrest!”
“But, Javan, I don’t even know who they are! Besides, I’m only the king in name. If the regents don’t agree, I can’t do anything.”
“Then, get them to agree!” Javan argued fiercely. “Listen, you told me yourself that there had been reports in the council about bands of young Deryni bloods running around and molesting people. These men who attacked us could have been from one of those bands. They were nobly dressed. But this time, they maimed a member of the royal household. And Rhys Michael and I might have been killed or maimed, too! Can’t you do something?”
Alroy sighed and looked at his twin sourly. “Javan, you’re not making it any easier for me. You’re only a boy, just like me. We can’t change the world.”
“You’re not a boy, you’re a king!” Javan snapped. “And if you allow this kind of thing to continue, next time it may be you they’re attacking! At least ask the regents to do something. They hate Deryni. They should be more than willing to round up some so that Tavis can check them out. He’s certain he’d recognize them again, you know.”
Alroy drew himself up straighter and looked at his brother. “He would?”
“Of course.”
“Ah, but would he tell us?” Alroy asked. “He’s Deryni, too, after all. Would he betray his own kind?”
Javan’s jaw took on a tight set. “He’d betray those who mutilated him,” he said softly. “Believe that!”
Alroy seemed to think about that for a long time. Then he slowly nodded.
“Very well. I’ll ask them. But don’t expect any miracles. They’re not all that fond of Tavis anyway. They’ve only let him stay because you made such a scene about it.”
“They’ll see another scene or two, if they don’t do this,” Javan muttered under his breath. “I want the men who did this to him, brother! And I want them to suffer the same fate as they cast on Tavis—before I have them killed. They must learn that no one trifles with the servants of the royal House of Haldane!”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
For the elements were changed in themselves by a kind of harmony.
—Wisdom of Solomon 19:18
The Camberian Council met several nights later, with Emrys and Queron in attendance, as well as Davin and Ansel and Jesse. The only topic was Tavis.
“Well, I still think you’re overestimating the seriousness of the situation,” Gregory said. “Tavis O’Neill is a conscientious Healer and a good friend of Prince Javan. He protects the boy from the regents. Even if he isn’t one of us, he’s a Deryni in the heart of the castle. If we needed him, I feel certain we could call on him.”
“You feel. Ah, but do you know for sure?” Camber asked. “That’s the real question. Right now, it’s been nearly a week since the attack, and in all that time, Tavis has not let himself be read, other than on a purely physical level. His shields are so strong that I don’t think anything or anyone could get through except by force—and that could destroy him.”
“Drugs are a possibility,” Rhys volunteered. “If everyone is as worried about what he’s planning as it appears, I suppose I could find some excuse to slip him a doctored cup and force the rapport.”
“It’s certainly tempting,” Camber replied. “I question whether you could ‘slip’ it to him, the way he seems so suspicious of us lately, but the longer we wait, the stronger he seems to get and the less likely you probably are of succeeding. What does everybody else think?”
“I think it’s a damned-fool notion!” Gregory replied. “Tavis is not a traitor, he’s a victim. Unless you know something about this case that you’re not telling us, I don’t see why all of you are so concerned.”
Evaine, sensing the direction the conversation could go if not headed off immediately, sighed and shook her head.
“We know he’s a victim, Gregory. But he’s still close to the princes, especially Javan. And today we learned that one of them—and we have to assume that it’s Alroy, though Javan probably put him up to it—one of them persuaded the regency council to start hunting down those bands of Deryni bravos. Jaffray, why don’t you tell him what happened in council today?”
Jaffray nodded.
“Evaine is right. The king was not present today, but Tammaron presented the idea. The story now is that the attackers were really after the two princes, but settled for Tavis, since they couldn’t get at the children. Naturally, it’s said that Tavis will help to identify the attackers—which, no doubt, he will. If I’d gone through what young Tavis did, I shouldn’t doubt I’d want my revenge, too.”
Jebediah, who had been out at the Michaeline commanderie at Argoed for the past week, traced one of the golden inlays of the table with a scarred forefinger.
“It sounds to me like we need someone to keep an eye on Tavis better. It’s too bad all my men have been cashiered from the guards. The royal household is going to be moving to Rhemuth this summer, unless I miss my bet, and a well-placed guard could really keep us posted.”
“A human?” Evaine asked. “That’s the only one who would be acceptable, for Tavis would be able to detect another Deryni. But a human sworn to our service would also be detectable, if Tavis became the least bit suspicious.”
Jebediah nodded thoughtfully. “That’s true. And if we used a human, and gave him sufficient protection to escape detection, he’d be little use for reporting back.” He sighed and thought a moment, then raised his head again. “Rhys, how about your little trick? What if we were to send in a Deryni with his powers blocked?”
Joram raised one cynical eyebrow. “Same problem. If his powers are blocked, how would he be any better than a human? We could set up a link and monitor him from here, I suppose, and that could be useful if he could remember what he was supposed to be watching for—but if he could remember that, then it could also be read by Tavis.”
Davin raised his hand tentatively. “Maybe we just need to take a bit of a chance, then. Surely Tavis O’Neill has better things to do with his time than to read every paltry guard who comes into the royal service. For that matter, you could send your man in with his powers blocked initially, then remove the block after he’s established as a trustworthy member of the household.”
Camber nodded. “Now, that I like. Good thinking, Davin.” He glanced at the others. “Of course, the next question is, where do we find someone suitable? He’s almost got to be someone unknown, but he also has to be someone who can be trusted with the knowledge of this Council. That narrows our choices considerably.”
“Aye, it does, that,” Jaffray agreed. “Queron, Emrys, any ideas from your connections? Queron, is there someone within the Servants of Saint Camber who might do?”
Queron shook his head. “There are few Deryni within our ranks, Your Grace. And the few who are have not the martial training to carry off such a deception. The idea of recruiting such a man from cloistered ranks is a good one, though.” He turned toward Emrys. “Perhaps one of your Gabrilite novices, Emrys? Or you, Jebediah? Even better. How about some young Michaeline trainee?”
It was Jebediah’s turn to shake his head. “Those of sufficient training were in public positions too recently. No, what we need is a highly trained Deryni from outside those ranks.”
“How about me?”
It was Davin who had spoken, and all eyes turned toward him in astonishment. Evaine started to shake her head, a horrified look on her face, but Davin held up a hand and swept them all with his gaze.
“No, listen. It’s perfectly logical. I have the martial training, I’m asso
ciated with this Council, and I—”
“And you’re instantly recognizable wherever you go, Earl of Culdi,” Camber interrupted, shaking his head vehemently. “No, I won’t hear of it.”
“Pardon me, Bishop Alister,” Davin said softly, “but it isn’t entirely up to you. Uncle Joram, didn’t you once tell me how, after my father was killed, my grandfather placed your shape and Rhys’s on two of the servants, so that you could escape to rescue Prince Cinhil?”
There was a low whistle of amazement from Gregory, and several sighs around the table, as Joram slowly nodded. Camber, controlling his apprehension only with great effort, could see the pulse beating wildly in his son’s temple.
“Didn’t you tell me that, Uncle?” Davin repeated softly.
Slowly Joram forced himself back into control, willing his hands to relax from their white-knuckled grip on the edge of the table, swallowing once, taking a deep, calming breath.
“Yes, I told you that.”
“And you, Uncle Rhys,” Davin continued. “You were there. You experienced it, too. And I’m sure that Aunt Evaine must know how to do it.” He glanced from one to the other of them, trying to read their reactions.
“Don’t you see? It’s the perfect solution. One of you puts a shape-change on me, and Rhys temporarily blocks my powers. You give me a false identity as a human soldier, newly recruited to the guards. No, even better, you actually snatch a guard who’s just been assigned to the royal household, and I take his place. Then, after I’ve established myself, Rhys removes the block and I report regularly through a prearranged contact—Jaffray, perhaps. Or maybe a psychic link. It’s the perfect solution, I tell you.”
As the young man eagerly searched all their faces, Gregory glanced at Joram.
“Well, can you do it?”
“No.”
“Joram!” Evaine chided. “Of course you can.”
“But I won’t. It’s too dangerous,” Joram replied stubbornly. “I know it was necessary then.” And other times, too, his further thought echoed in her mind. “But it’s too dangerous now. What if he’s found out? He’s your nephew, too, Evaine.”
Camber the Heretic Page 29
