High Deryni

by Katherine Kurtz

  “Who volunteered the services of the Council to mediate a Duel Arcane for Wencit of Torenth?”

  Shocked silence. Uneasiness. Astonishment. The seven looked among themselves aghast, as though wondering if their colleague had lost his sanity.

  “I asked a question and I expect an answer,” Arilan repeated, his hard eyes sweeping the seven. “Who authorized the mediation?”

  All eyes turned to Stefan Coram, who slowly rose.

  “No one has approached the Council about a mediation, Denis. You must be mistaken.”

  “Mistaken?”

  Arilan stared at Coram in surprise, shock quickly yielding to suspicion as Coram’s bland expression did not change.

  “Oh, come now, don’t act so innocent. Wencit of Torenth has many faults, but stupidity is not one of them. Not even he would dare to make a claim like that unless he could back it up. Do you dare to tell me that you know nothing about it?”

  Tiercel sat back in his chair and sighed, a scowl creasing his handsome features. “Stefan speaks for us all, Denis. There has been no communication from Wencit regarding any matter, much less a Duel Arcane. You know that I side with you and the king. I would not lie to you.”

  Arilan forced himself to relax, willed his hands to be steady as he rested them on the edge of the table and sat back in his chair. If Wencit had not approached the Council, then…?

  “I begin to see,” he murmured, his gaze softening as he continued to scan the Council. “My lords, ladies, you must forgive me. It appears that we—the king and I—have been the victims of an audacious hoax. Wencit tells us that there will be official Council arbitration of the duel, hoping to lull us into a feeling of false security. Then he appears at the duel with only his three—or, no. He and his chosen three appear at the duel with four additional men impersonating a Council arbitration team. He does not know that I am a member of the Council, or even that I am Deryni. And how could Kelson be expected to know the members of the Council by sight? Until a few hours ago, he didn’t even know about us. Treachery, treachery!”

  The Council was still in shock, ill-accustomed to dealing so quickly with matters so grave as this. It had been years since the authority of the Council had been openly defied. The older members still could not believe that such a thing was happening, though the younger ones were beginning to assess the implications. Tiercel, who had spoken before, glanced at his colleagues and then sat forward thoughtfully.

  “Denis, who is named in Wencit’s challenge?”

  “Somewhat unusually, it is to be a four-way Duel Arcane,” Arilan replied. “Wencit, his kinsman Lionel, Rhydon, and Bran Coris, on Wencit’s side. With Kelson would be Morgan and McLain and, presumably, myself. Wencit did not name us specifically, but there is no one else.” He paused. “But I do not intend to fight Wencit where there is treachery involved—not under his terms, at least. I claim Council protection for myself and my colleagues. The protection of the real Council.”

  Barrett cleared his throat uneasily. “I fear that will be impossible, Denis, though I regret it for your sake. Not all of those whom you have named are Deryni.”

  “They are not all full Deryni,” Arilan conceded. “However, all of them are being obliged to function as full Deryni. Do you object to Morgan and McLain still?”

  “They are still half-breeds!” Vivienne snapped. “How could you expect that to change? We cannot alter our ways to suit your convenience.”

  “Lord, give me patience!” Arilan struck the table with the flat of his hand and lurched to his feet. “Are we so blind, so fettered by rules, that we must perish because of them?”

  He slipped from his place at the table and strode vigorously toward the golden doors, pausing in the archway as the doors swung back from him.

  “I shall return momentarily, my lords. Since I am challenged, I claim your duty for myself and I claim it for my new allies—my Deryni allies. I think it’s high time you met them!”

  With that he turned on his heel and stalked from the chamber, leaving a stunned Council in his wake. Seconds later he was striding back through the giant double doors, three others following closely behind him. Gasps accompanied Arilan’s arrival, along with murmured words of indignation. Laran started to come to his feet in protest, but then thought better of it as Arilan’s gaze touched his and scanned the rest of the Council. Arilan stopped behind his chair and waited until Kelson, Morgan, and Duncan had ranged themselves uneasily behind him. Only then did he address the Council.

  “My lords and ladies, I hope you will indulge my seeming unorthodoxy in bringing these men here, but you have forced me to it. If I am to be drawn into public combat, forever jeopardizing the standing I once enjoyed in the human community, I must claim the ancient protections. The same holds true for my colleagues here, since a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. All of us must be equally assured of the benefits of your protection.” He glanced behind him.

  “My lords and ladies, I have the honor to present Kelson Cinhil Rhys Anthony Haldane, King of Gwynedd—your sovereign lord. Also the Duke of Corwyn, Sir Alaric Anthony Morgan, King’s Champion. And lastly, Monsignor Duncan Howard McLain, His Majesty’s Confessor and now, it appears, through the hideous treachery of Wencit of Torenth, Duke of Cassan and Earl of Kierney. His father, Duke Jared, was executed by Wencit today.”

  “What?” someone murmured.

  “Each of these gentlemen is at least half-Deryni by our standards,” Arilan went on, “to be counted full, since your declaration at our recent meeting.” He turned to glance at the three. “Sire, my lords, I have the somewhat dubious honor to present the lords and ladies of the Camberian Council. Whether they continue to live up to its glorious heritage remains to be seen.”

  The three newcomers made cautious bows, and then Morgan inclined his head toward the bishop.

  “Excellency, may I have leave to ask a few questions?”

  “Surely—”

  “We will ask the questions, sir,” Vivienne interrupted imperiously. “Who gavest thee leave to approach this Council?”

  “Why, my Lord Arilan did, my lady. Am I to understand that this Council speaks for all Deryni?”

  “It is the bastion of the old ways,” Vivienne replied coolly. “Dost thou, a half-breed, dispute our ancient customs?”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow in surprise and turned wide, guileless eyes on the venerable lady. “My lady, I certainly do not. If I am not mistaken, your ancient customs were at work last fall when our Lord King fought the Lady Charissa. Without the tempering force that I am led to believe that this Council wields, His Majesty might not have gained the time to discover his talents. There is good reason to be proud of him.”

  “Certainly there is,” Vivienne said irritably. “Young Haldane is a worthy descendant of our race. On his mother’s side is pure Deryni ancestry, though hidden for many years. On his father’s side, he descends from the great Haldanes whom the Blessed Camber chose to restore to glory, inheritor of the fruits of the Great Discoveries. By combination of his birth, we count him as one of us. He has always had the benefit of challenge protection, even if he did not know it. He shall have it again, as shall Lord Arilan. The Council stands by these two.”

  “And myself? Duncan?”

  Vivienne’s reply was somewhat tempered by regret. “Thou art both born of Deryni mothers, of full sisters in the blood, and as such shouldst be dear to us. But thy fathers were human—which makes thee outcast.”

  “But what of their powers?” Tiercel asked eagerly, breaking in on Vivienne without hesitation. “Morgan, is it true that you and McLain can heal?”

  The question elicited immediate silence as every face turned toward Morgan. He looked long into the eyes of Tiercel de Claron, then let his gaze slip across the others of the Council. There was anticipation there, some eager and some dread, and Morgan suddenly became uncertain just how much he wished to disclose about his newly discovered talent just yet. He glanced to Arilan for guidance, but the bishop ga
ve no sign.

  Very well. He would take the initiative on his own, try to put the Council on the defensive, let them know that, half-breed or not, Alaric Morgan was a man to be reckoned with.

  “Can we heal?” he repeated softly. “Perhaps later I shall tell you about that. For now, I would ask again of my and Duncan’s status. If, as we have been led to believe, the two of us are subject to full challenge, by right of our maternal inheritance, may we not also claim the right to challenge protection? If I and my kinsman are liable only for the peril, and not the protection, of our blood heritage, where is the much-vaunted Deryni justice?”

  “Do you presume to question our authority?” Coram asked carefully.

  “I question your authority to place our lives in jeopardy because of circumstances which are outside our control, sir,” Morgan replied. Coram sat back and nodded slowly as Morgan continued. “I do not pretend to understand all the ramifications of my inheritance, but His Majesty will assure you, I think, that I have a fair idea what justice is all about. If you bar us from the protection of our birthright and force us to stand against full Deryni who are formally trained in the use of their powers, it may be that you decree our deaths. Surely we have done nothing to warrant that.”

  Blind Barrett turned his head toward Arilan and nodded. “Please ask your friends to wait outside, Denis. This request bears discussion in plain language. I would not expose our inner bickerings to outsiders.”

  Arilan bowed and then glanced at the three behind him. “Wait beside the Portal until I call you,” he said in a low voice. As soon as the doors had closed behind the three, Thorne Hagen was on his feet, pounding his plump hand against the inlaid table.

  “This is preposterous! You cannot grant Council protection to a pair of half-breeds! You heard how belligerent Morgan was. Do you condone that?”

  Barrett turned his head slowly toward Coram, ignoring Thorne’s outburst.

  “What think you, Stefan? I value your advice. Would it be worthwhile, do you think, to summon Wencit and Rhydon here and demand that they answer for what they allegedly have done?”

  Coram’s pale eyes darkened slightly, and his face took on a determined set. “I would be opposed to calling any outsider to this Council chamber, especially the two you have named. Three intruders are more than enough for one day.”

  “Oh, come now, Stefan,” said the red-haired Kyri. “We all know how you feel about Rhydon, but that was years ago. This is an important matter. Surely you can set aside your petty quarrel with Rhydon for the sake of the safety of us all.”

  “It is not a matter of our safety. It is a matter of two half-breed Deryni who now are to be exposed to mortal danger because of their loyalty to their king. If the Council wishes to call Wencit and that other one into its presence, it has that right, of course. But it shall do so without my sanction and without my presence.”

  “You would withdraw from such deliberations?” Vivienne asked, amazement written across her seamed face.

  “I would.”

  “I, too, should prefer not to have Rhydon come here,” Arilan joined in. “He does not yet know me for Deryni, and I would as soon matters remained that way for as long as possible. It could give the king a much-needed edge in the Duel Arcane, since it appears certain we shall have to fight it.”

  Barrett nodded slowly. “That is a valid reason against. And the same argument applies to Wencit’s presence. Does the Council agree? And regardless of your feelings on this matter, what is your will regarding Morgan and McLain? Are they or are they not to be afforded Council protection?”

  “Certainly they are!” snapped Tiercel. “Not only has Wencit impugned the dignity of the Council by daring to present a false arbitration offer, but there are two full humans on Wencit’s side, whose powers are only assumed. They haven’t a drop of Deryni blood. Because of both factors, I say, why not agree to formally arbitrate this Duel Arcane in truth? Let a real Council arbitration team show up at the duel tomorrow and extend the protection to all eight parties concerned. It’s a mere formality anyway, other than to guard against treachery from without. The outcome will depend on the strength and skill of the contestants. We all know that.”

  After a short silence Vivienne nodded her gray head. “Tiercel is correct, even in his brash youthfulness. We had neglected to consider Wencit’s two non-Deryni combatants—and Wencit has affronted the Council by daring to misrepresent us. As for Morgan and McLain,” she shrugged, “so be it. If their side should win, and they survive, it should be ample proof that they were worthy of our protection from the start. We stand on firm ground, regardless of the outcome.”

  “But—” Thorne began.

  “Will you be quiet?” came the retort from Kyri, the other distaff member of the Council. “My lords, I concur with Vivienne, and I feel certain that Tiercel and Arilan will do the same. Laran, what say you? Will your curiosity and your pride permit what has been proposed?”

  Laran nodded. “I will concede any point of order which might ordinarily be violated to permit this. And I hope that they do win. It would be criminal to lose the healing power, if Morgan does, indeed, have it.”

  “A practical rationalization if ever I heard one,” Vivienne chuckled. “Well, my lords? Five of us support this measure. Is there any need for a formal vote?”

  There was no word spoken, and Vivienne glanced toward Barrett with a slight smile. “Very well, my Lord Barrett. It appears that our august colleagues have agreed to take the half-breeds under our protection and to arbitrate the Duel Arcane tomorrow. Are you prepared to carry out your duties?”

  Barrett nodded wearily. “I am. Arilan, recall your friends.”

  With a satisfied smile, Arilan strode to the golden doors, which opened silently as he approached. The three without turned to stare at him with anxious faces, but his expression told them all they needed to know. They entered the room behind Arilan with confidence in their stride, heads held high, no longer quite so intimidated by the Camberian Council.

  “Stand with your colleagues, Arilan,” Barrett said, as the four approached Arilan’s chair. Arilan stopped, Kelson, Morgan, and Duncan gathering around him, and faced Barrett squarely.

  “Kelson Haldane, Alaric Morgan, Duncan McLain, hear the decision of the Camberian Council. It has been decided that all of you have the right to Council protection in this matter, and hence it has been granted. The Duel Arcane shall be arbitrated by Laran ap Pardyce, the Lady Vivienne, Tiercel de Claron, and myself. Arilan, you are to have no further contact with the Council until the Duel Arcane is decided. Further, you will instruct these three in what will be required of them in order to fulfill the requirements of the duel. All shall be done according to the proper ritual, as it was in the beginning. None of you is to discuss what will happen tomorrow with any person now outside the confines of this chamber. Is that understood?”

  Arilan bowed, a formal, stylized obeisance. “It will be done according to our ancient ways, my lord.”

  With that, he led the three out of the Council chamber, back onto the darkness of the Transfer Portal in the antechamber. Though he knew that they were bursting with questions, he would not permit them to speak while in the Council’s precincts, but instead took them back through the Portal.

  But in the first, confused seconds of their arrival, it was as though the preceding minutes had been but a dream. Only the sleeping forms of Nigel, Cardiel, and Warin, the rolled-back carpeting and knife-cut turf were immediate reminders that it had all been very real.

  Kelson turned slowly to stare at Arilan. “It—it did happen, didn’t it?”

  “It certainly did.” Arilan smiled. “And miracles do still occur, it seems. Kelson, if you will draft your acceptance of the challenge, we shall send it off to Wencit right away.” He sighed as he kicked aside the candle stumps and slumped into a chair beside the patch of turf. “The Portal can be covered now, too. It still can be used, if necessary, but there is no further need for direct contact with the ground.�
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  Kelson nodded and moved to a portable writing stand, taking out quill and parchment. “What tone do you wish me to set, Bishop? Confident? Belligerent?”

  Arilan shook his head, “No, slightly apprehensive but resigned, I think—as though you have been forced into this against your better judgment. We do not want him to know we have contacted the real Council or seen through his little scheme.” A diabolical gleam suddenly lit in the bishop’s blue-violet eyes. “In fact, sound abject, frightened but trying to put a brave face on it. When the real Council shows up in the morning to arbitrate the Duel Arcane, we shall see how Wencit likes that!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  “Thus saith the Lord, Behold, I will bring evil upon this place, and upon the inhabitants thereof.”

  II KINGS 22:16

  THERE were many stars as Arilan stared up at the night sky from the shelter of Kelson’s pavilion doorway later that night. Around him could be heard the sounds of the camp settling down to sleep—a sleep that could well be their last: the sounds of horses pulling at their tethers and snorting at the night-fears, of men calling the watch and pacing their assigned areas; conversation sounds, low voices, as the men prepared to sleep. Around Arilan, a ring of torches set in the ground lit the area before Kelson’s pavilion with a hazy, orange glow, but mere fire could not compete with the stars tonight. Arilan thought he had never seen so bright a summer sky. Perhaps he never would again.

  There was the sound of leather-shod feet behind him, and then Kelson was standing beside him, staring over his shoulder to gaze up at the stars also. Bareheaded, and with a simple soldier’s cloak clasped around him, the young king stood silent for a long moment. He, too, felt the spell of the summer night.