Deryni Checkmate

by Katherine Kurtz

  Had he imagined the voice?

  No.

  Then, could the voice have been a mental one? One left by the ancient Deryni masters of Saint Neot's?

  Moving cautiously back to his original position beside the vesting altar, Duncan closed his eyes again and willed himself to concentrate. This time the voice was expected, if no less chilling. And it was definitely in his mind.

  Beware, Deryni/ Here lies danger/ Of a full one hundred brothers only I remain, to try, with my failing strength, to destroy this Portal before it can be desecrated. Kinsman, take heed. Protect yourself, Deryni. The humans kill what they do not understand. Holy Saint Camber, defend us from fearful evil.'

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  Duncan eased his eyes open and glanced around, then tried again.

  Beware, Deryni/ Here ties danger/ Of a full one hundred—

  Duncan broke off the contact and sighed.

  So. It was a message left by the last Deryni to hold this place. And he had tried to destroy the Portal as he lay dying. Had he succeeded?

  Dropping to his haunches, Duncan studied the floor where he had been standing, then drew the dagger from his boot to sweep away the rubble. As he had suspected, there was the faint outline of a square inscribed in the floor, perhaps three feet by three feet. Like the Portal in the cathedral, it had probably been hidden beneath carpeting at one time, but of course that had all been destroyed long ago. As for the Portal itself . . .

  Replacing his dagger, Duncan gently laid his hands on the square and extended his powers, hoping desperately that he would feel the faintly dizzying pressure which would tell him he was on the verge of transfer.

  Nothing.

  He tried again, and this time he caught a faint wave of blackness, of pain, the beginning of the message he had already heard.

  And then nothing. The Portal was dead. The last Deryni had been successful.

  With a sigh Duncan got to his feet and took a final look around, wiping his hands against his thighs. Now they would have to ride to Rhemuth after all. With the Portal destroyed they had no choice. And after that, they would probably have to continue on to Culdi; for Kelson would be journeying there for Bronwyn and Kevin's wedding.

  Well, it couldn't be helped. He would go and wake Alaric and they would be on their way again. With

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  any luck, they should reach Rhemuth by the following night, well ahead of any pursuers.

  The bells were muffled and tolled leadenly as the bishops filed into Saint Andrew's Cathedral in Dhassa. The night was clear, crisp, tinged with new frost, with tiny ice crystals that swirled in the wind as the men gathered just inside the doors. Long tapers distributed by two young priests were lit from a guarded flame within the nave. The flames shivered in the draft which whistled through the half-open doors, danced weird patterns of candle-fire on the dark, frost-touched cloaks of the prelates.

  The men glided down the clerestory aisles to take their places in the choir, two ragged lines of faceless men with fire in their hands. As the muffled bells ceased their tolling, a clerk counted heads unobtrusively, confirming the presence of all whose attendance was required. He disappeared up the darkened nave, and there was a hollow slam as the great doors closed. Three candles moved back down the clerestory aisle on the left as the clerk and two priests joined the others. There was a short pause, some coughing and shuffling of feet; and then a side door opened and Loris entered.

  Loris was in full ecclesiastical regalia tonight. In a black and silver cope, with jewels encrusting the miter on his head, he held his silver crozier resolutely in his left hand as he strode through the transept and turned into the choir. Archbishop Corrigan and Bishop Tol-liver flanked him to either side, with Bishop Cardiel bringing up the rear. A young crucifer carrying the archbishop's heavy silver cross led them all as they passed between the two lines of clergy.

  Loris and his entourage reached the bottom steps of the sanctuary and stopped, bowed respect to the altar, turned to face the nave. As Cardiel moved to the right and took four candles from a waiting monk,

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  he glanced aside at Arilan, his eyes grim. Then he returned to his place at Tolliver's side to give over the candles, passing the flame from his to Tolliver's and on to Loris and Corrigan. When Loris' taper was lit, Gwynedd's Primate stepped forward and drew himself to his full height. His blue eyes flashed cold fire as he swept the assembled clergy.

  "This is the text of the instrument of excommunication," he said. "Hear and take heed.

  "'Whereas Alaric Anthony Morgan, Duke of Corwyn, Master of Coroth, Lord General of the Royal Armies and Champion of the King, and Monsignor Duncan Howard McLain, a suspended priest of the Church, have willfully and repeatedly defied and scorned the dictates of Holy Church;

  "'And whereas said Alaric and Duncan have this day slain innocent sons of the Church and threatened sacrilegious murder on the person of a consecrated priest of God, forcing him to witness vile and heretical acts of magic;

  " 'And whereas said Alaric and Duncan Have caused desecration to the shrine of Saint Torin by their use of forbidden magic and caused its destruction, and have repeatedly used such forbidden magic in the past;

  "'And whereas said Alaric and Duncan have shown no willingness to confess their sins and amend their ways;

  '"Now therefore I, Edmund Loris, Archbishop of Valoret and Primate of Gwynedd, speaking for all the clergy of the Curia of Gwynedd, do anathematize the said Alaric Anthony Morgan and Duncan Howard McLain. We sever them from the bounds of the Holy Church of God. We expel them from the congregation of the Righteous.

  "'May the wrath of the Heavenly Judge descend upon them. May they be shunned by the faithful.

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  May the Gates of Heaven close before them and any who would aid them.

  " 'Let no God-fearing man receive them, or feed them, or give them shelter from the night, on pain of anathema. Let no priest minister to them when living, nor attend their funerals when dead. Cursed be they in the house, cursed in the fields; cursed be their food and drink and all that they possess.

  " 'We declare them excommunicate, cast into the outer darkness with Lucifer and all his fallen angels. We count them among the thrice-damned, with no hope of salvation. And we confound them with eternal malediction and condemn them with perpetual anathema. So let their light be quenched in the midst of darkness.' So be it!"

  "So be it!" the assembly chanted.

  Taking his taper in front of him, Loris reversed it end-for-end and cast it to the floor, snuffing out the flame. And then, in unison, the assembled bishops and clergy followed suit.

  There was a clatter of falling candles like hollow blocks, and then blackness as the lights died.

  Except for one candle which burned still, guttering defiantly against the tiles.

  And no one could say from whose hands the light had fallen.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave: the coals thereof are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.

  Song of Solomon 8:6

  "CATCH ME if you can!" Bronwyn taunted.

  With a flirtatious wink, she raced off down the garden path with" her golden hair flying, blue skirts whipping seductively around her long legs. As she bolted, Kevin made an initial attempt to grab her arm, missed, then bounded off after her with a de* lighted laugh. His sword clanked against his boots, threatening to trip him with every step, but he paid little heed to that minor detail; merely steadied the sword with a hand on the hilt as he chased her across the grass.

  The day was fresh, the sun gently warm, and Bronwyn and Kevin had just returned from an early ride in the greening hills outside Culdi. Cavorting in the garden now like a pair of mischievous children, they ran and dodged among the trees and statues of the formal gardens for nearly a quarter of an hour, Kevin the pursuer and Bronwyn the hunted. At length Kevin managed to tr
ap Bronwyn behind a small fountain, wagged a confident finger at her and chuckled as they circled round and round.

  It was Bronwyn who finally broke the impasse.

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  Sticking out her tongue in a defiant gesture, she began to dart for safety, only to slip on tbe grass and stumble to one knee as she cleared the fountain. Kevin, pressing his advantage, leaped to her side and threw his arms around her, carrying her to the ground with his weight as he bent to steal a kiss. As she relaxed in his arms and her lips parted under his, he almost lost himself in the heady ecstasy of the moment. Until he heard someone clearing his throat meaningfully behind him.

  Kevin froze and opened his eyes, knowing he was caught, then ended the kiss. As he pulled away from Bronwyn, he saw her eyes widen slightly as she looked over his shoulder, and she suppressed a giggle. Then he was looking up at the face of his father. Duke Jared was smiling indulgently.

  "I thought I might find you two here," his father said, noting Kevin's sheepish grin. "Stand up and greet your guests, Kevin."

  As Kevin scrambled to his feet and gave Bronwyn a hand up, he saw that Jared was indeed not alone. Jared's seneschal, Lord Deveril, and the architect Rimmell were with him—Deveril restraining a smile, Rimmell deadly serious as usual—as were Kelson, Deny, and the red-bearded Duke Ewan, one of Kelson's council lords. Kelson, wind-blown but contented-looking in his scarlet riding leathers, smiled and nodded acknowledgement as Kevin and Bronwyn bowed, then stepped aside to disclose a seventh visitor— a small, wiry man with dark features and flamboyant rose and violet garb who could only be the great troubadour Gwydion. A round-bellied lute was slung over the musician's back by a golden cord, the fretted fingerboard worn satin-smooth by much use. And the troubadour's black eyes glittered attentively as he studied the young couple.

  Kevin glanced at Kelson and returned his grin. "Welcome to Culdi, Sire," he said, brushing the grass

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  from his clothes and including the others in his greeting. "You honor us with your presence."

  "On the contrary, it is Gwydion who honors all of us, my Lord Kevin," Kelson smiled. "And if you would but introduce him to your lady, I believe he might be persuaded to give us an impromptu recital this afternoon."

  As Gwydion bowed thanks to Kelson, Kevin grinned and took Bronwyn's hand.

  "Bronwyn, I should like you to meet the incomparable Gwydion ap Plenneth, of whose prowess with lute and song you have already heard. Master Gwydion, the Lady Bronwyn de Morgan, rny betrothed. It was she who, on your reputation alone, insisted I persuade Alaric to let you come,"

  "My Gracious Lady," Gwydion purred, doffing his vibrant rose cap with a flourish and bowing, his long sleeves brushing the grass. "For a glimpse of such rare beauty, I should have risked even the ire of your lord brother." He bent low to kiss her hand. "Forgive me if I stand speechless in your presence, wondrous Lady."

  Bronwyn smiled delightedly and lowered her eyes, a faint blush of color staining her cheeks. "Methinks this minstrel has a courtly air about him, Kevin. Master Gwydion, would you indeed consent to play for us this afternoon? We have waited long to hear your tunes."

  Gwydion beamed and made another sweeping bow. "I am yours to command, my lady." He gestured expansively. "And since this garden is so wondrous fair, and betimes a fit setting for the songs I would play, may we not avail ourselves of the bounteous nature of the Lord and tarry here awhile?"

  "Your Majesty?" Bronwyn asked.

  "He came to play for you, my lady," Kelson replied with a smile, folding his arms across his chest as he watched her delight. "If you wish it here in the garden, then here it shall be."

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  "Oh, yes!"

  With a short bow Gwydion gestured to the grass beside the fountain and invited his audience to sit. As he unslung his instrument and sat on the edge of the fountain, Kevin removed his riding cloak and spread it on the ground. Bronwyn sank down on the plaid and curled her feet under her skirts contentedly while Deny and Deveril and Ewan made themselves comfortable. Kevin started to take his place beside Bronwyn, then saw Kelson trying to catch his eye and gave his place to his father. As Kevin and Kelson moved slowly away from the group, Gwydion strummed a chord and began delicately tuning his instrument. His audience listened with rapt attention as he told of the song he would sing.

  Kelson glanced at the group assembled on the grass, then turned back to Kevin again as they walked. His face was serious, thoughtful, as he addressed the older man.

  "Have you heard aught from your brother these past weeks, my lord?"

  His manner seemed casual enough, but Kevin felt his body go tense, forced himself to control his apprehension. "You speak as though you have not either, Sire," he said evenly. "Has he not been with you?"

  "Not for the past week and a half," Kelson said. "Ten days ago we received certain information that Duncan was to be suspended and called before the ecclesiastical court in Rhemuth. There was nothing we could do about the suspension, of course. That is a purely religious matter, one between Duncan and his superior. But all of us—Duncan, Nigel and I—were in agreement that he should not stand before the court."

  Kelson stopped and studied the tips of his black leather boots before continuing.

  "There was another matter which came to our attention at the same time—one of an even more serious

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  nature than Duncan's suspension. Loris and Corrigan plan to place Corwyn under Interdict. This is their means to retaliate against Morgan and to end the Deryni controversy which has split these Eleven Kingdoms for the past two hundred years—or so the archbishops believe. Under the circumstances, Duncan felt that his place was with Alaric, both to deliver the news of the Interdict threat and to absent himself from the reach of Loris' ecclesiastical court. When Lord Deny left them four days ago both were well, but they were preparing to ride to Dhassa to make direct appeal to the Curia against the Interdict. I have had no word since then."

  Kevin winced. "Suspension and Interdict? Has anything else gone wrong while I've been away from Court?"

  Kelson gave a wry grin. "Since you ask, yes. There's a rebel force rising in the hills north of Corwyn, bent on starting a holy war against Deryni. They, of course, will be immensely aided if the Interdict falls. And Wencit of Torenth will be besieging Cardosa any day. Other than that, everything is wonderful. Your esteemed brother told me to remain calm, to bide my time, not to make any disturbances until he and Morgan can get back to advise me. He's right, of course. Despite my rank and power, I'm still too young in many ways and he knows it—I'm being very candid with you, Kevin. But it makes things very difficult, just to sit and wait."

  Kevin nodded slowly, then lookpd casually back over his shoulder to where Gwydion was now singing. He could not distinguish the words, but the melody floated over the still spring air, pure and sweet. He shuffled his feet against the grass, arms folded across his chest, lowered his eyes.

  "I assume the others don't know about all of this."

  "Deny knows everything. And Gwydion suspects what he is not sure of. But the others—no. I'd appre-

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  ciate it if you'd keep it that way. At this point their worrying can't alleviate the situation, and I would not wish to spoil your wedding celebration more than already have."

  Kevin smiled slightly. "Thank you for telling me, Sire. I'll say nothing to the others. And if there's anything I may do to help, you know my sword and my fortune are yours to command."

  "I wouldn't have confided in you had I not known you were to be trusted," Kelson said. "Come. Let's go back and listen to Gwydion. This is supposed to be your celebration, after all."

  "Ah, my lady," Gwydion was saying as they returned, "modesty is most becoming in a woman, but allow me to entreat you further. Lord Alaric has boasted so of your skill wit
h the lute. Will you not send someone to bring your instrument?"

  "Kevin?"

  Before Kevin could respond, Rimmell roused himself from where he had been leaning against a nearby tree and bowed slightly.

  "Permit me the honor, my lady," he said, trying not to let his eagerness show. "Lord Kevin has missed one song already. 'Twould not be fitting that he miss a second."

  "My lady?" Gwydion questioned.

  "Oh, very well," Bronwyn laughed. "Rimmell, Mary Elizabeth knows where I keep my lute. You may tell her I said to let you fetch it for me."

  "Yes, m'lady."

  Gwydion strummed another chord, modulated to a minor, and ran down a scale as Rimmell strode away. " 'A faithful servant is a true and valued treasure,' " he quoted, caressing the strings and surveying his audience with a contented smile. "And now, while we wait, I would endeavor to sing another song—a love song this time, dedicated to the happy couple."

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  ,He rippled off a few introductory bars and began to sing.

  Strains of Gwydion's new song echoed in RimmeH's hearing as he hurried across the palace courtyard. He had not wanted to leave Bronwyn there listening to love songs with Kevin; there were few enough times when he could be in her presence and watch her without being obvious. But he would never have a better chance than now to place the charm Bethane had given him. At this time of day Bronwyn's ladies would be finished in her rooms for the next few hours. And the next person to enter once he left was sure to be the lady herself.

  As he bounded up the steps to die terrace level and Bronwyn's chambers, he pressed his hand against his chest and felt his heart pounding, felt the reassuring pressure of the pouch Bethane had given him the day before. In a few hours it would all be over and Bronwyn would be his. He could hardly believe it was really happening.

  He hesitated and glanced around self-consciously before entering the chamber, for he had been told to look for Mary Elizabeth; but no one had seen him approach. Nor was there anyone in the room itself. He spied Bronwyn's lute hanging on a wooden peg beside the bed, but he ignored that for the present. First he must find a place to leave the crystal. Somewhere that Bronwyn would not notice until it was too late and the charm had worked its spell.