Childe Morgan cm-2

by Katherine Kurtz

  Across the table from the three sat Dominy’s younger brother, Barrett, blinded as the ransom price for the lives of several dozen Deryni children when but a new-made knight of eighteen, hardly more than a child himself. It was Michon who had taught him how to see again, utilizing his formidable powers in a manner achieved by few of their race. Of late, he had taken up a scholar’s life, and tonight wore the emerald robes of a scholar of Nur Sayyid, the great R’Kassan university.

  «Greetings to you, Barrett», Michon said, clasping a hand to the blind man’s shoulder as he passed to take his own seat. Seisyll made his way to the chair beside Oisín, nearly opposite.

  «Khoren will be along shortly», Oisín said, taking his seat again when the two older men had settled. He was wearing fur-lined robes of a deep oxblood hue rather than the worn riding leathers that were his customary attire. «I delivered a new mare to his brother’s stud farm a few days ago. He will plead Twelfth Night obligations like yourselves, but I happen to know that he is also much occupied with a rare manuscript that his wife found for him. Were it not for this meeting, I doubt he would surface for days».

  The comment produced an appreciative chuckle from both newcomers, for Prince Khoren Vastouni’s appetite for obscure arcane knowledge was well known.

  «Not another of Kitron’s works?» Seisyll asked.

  «No, earlier than that», Oisín replied, «though he may have provided some of the marginalia. This one is attributed to a Caeriessan sage known only as Zefiryn, and I am given to understand that Soffrid annotated it. If all of this is true, it is a major find».

  The comment elicited sighs of wistful envy, and Michon leaned back in his chair with a feigned look of vexation. «That sounds very like one I’ve been tracking. Perhaps he will share». He glanced around the table. «What of Vivienne?»

  «She sends her regrets», Dominy answered. «This pregnancy is proving difficult».

  «I trust she is in no danger», Seisyll said with some concern.

  «No, but she has been more comfortable», Dominy replied. «But this will pass. She did send me a somewhat disturbing report concerning recent developments within the royal house of Torenth».

  «Is it Prince Nimur again?» Michon muttered, as he took the document she handed him.

  «And his brother Torval», Barrett replied. «More to the point, Vivienne has concerns about their maternal aunt, the very troublesome Princess Camille — or Mother Serafina, as she prefers to call herself, these days. We can only give thanks to God that it was Camille’s sister, and not Camille herself, who married Torenth, else it would be Camille wearing the consort’s crown. As it is, she availed herself of the training to be had at Saint-Sasile and has left her mark on several generations of Furstán nephews and collateral cousins, and not altogether in keeping with the ethical precepts to which we hold».

  Seisyll sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, looking irritated. «I am aware of the background. What is it this time?»

  «Well», Dominy said primly, «we have known for some time that the Princes Nimur and Torval are regular visitors to Saint-Sasile, where they have formed a particularly close relationship with their aunt. She has other students, of course, but Nimur is regarded as being particularly gifted — and ambitious».

  «Yes, yes, this is nothing new», Michon said impatiently. «What has changed?»

  «The focus of Prince Nimur’s interest», Barrett replied. «Reliable rumor has it that he intends to take up the research that brought Lewys ap Norfal to no good end».

  Michon went very still, briefly averting his eyes.

  «There is worse, I fear», Dominy said gently, after a slight pause. «Prince Torval also is heavily involved, of course — the two are all but inseparable — and he has far less good sense than his elder brother».

  «And why is that worse?» Seisyll asked impatiently.

  «Ah», Barrett said. «That, I can tell you. Prince Torval has formed a close friendship with another of Camille’s students: a very accomplished and somewhat arrogant Cardosan called Zachris Pomeroy. He, in turn, is foster brother to another of Camille’s nephews: Hogan, the posthumous son of her brother Marcus. All the Furstáns are dangerous, of course, but Marcus was also the senior male representative of the Festillic line when he died, inheritor of all the Festillic pretensions to the crown of Gwynedd — which made his son Hogan the Festillic Pretender from birth».

  «Not that old lost cause?» Michon said impatiently. «Lord, will they never let it go? It is nigh on two hundred years since the Haldanes took it back from Hogan’s very distant ancestor Imre, and for very good cause. And how many wars have been fought in an attempt to reassert the Festillic claim? How many lives lost?»

  «Far too many», Dominy said flatly. «And everyone here can recite a litany of the fallen, from his or her own family. But the Festils always were a stubborn lot».

  «Aye, and they have long memories», Oisín agreed. «They never forget a slight».

  «Of course not. They are Furstáns», Seisyll said.

  Scowling, Michon passed the report across to him. «Well, this time I fear that the situation may require some direct intervention». He glanced at the doors, then said, «Perhaps Khoren can shed some light on the question. And here he is at last».

  Even as he spoke, the doors opened to admit their missing member: Prince Khoren Vastouni, brother of the Sovereign Prince of Andelon. By his formal robes of state, he appeared to have come directly from his brother’s Twelfth Night Court, though his disheveled hair suggested that he might have been puzzling over his prized new manuscript. He had left behind his coronet.

  «My heartfelt apologies, brethren», he murmured, sweeping into the seat between Dominy and Barrett. «My eldest niece chose tonight to present us with her chosen husband. It would be an understatement to say that my esteemed brother was somewhat taken aback».

  A frown creased Dominy’s fair brow. «Not Sofiana? Surely she cannot be old enough to marry!»

  Khoren simply sighed and raised an eyebrow. «That was certainly her father’s impression. But as incredible as it may sound, she will attain her majority on her next birthday, six months hence. I know», he added, lifting both hands in deference to Dominy’s scandalized expression. «Fourteen is young to marry, but Sofiana has always known her mind. She avers that she will have none other than Reyhan of Jaca as her consort — and soon. The choice itself hardly comes as any surprise, of course. She and Reyhan have been inseparable since childhood».

  «He is of royal blood himself, as I recall», Seisyll murmured. «Some cousin of the Prince of Jaca?»

  «Aye, there was a daughter of my grandfather’s line who married a grandson of a Prince of Jaca», Khoren replied. «Royal and Deryni blood on both sides, though through the female lines. Still, a suitable match. And they are fond of one another».

  «He was an early pupil of the Duc du Joux, was he not?» Barrett asked. «And I seem to recall hearing that he spent a term or two at Nur Sayyid — though that was before I came. Still, his training should match well with Sofiana’s».

  «There is no doubt of his competence — or hers», Michon said. «I take it that Mikhail gave his consent to the union?»

  «Aye, but they must wait for the formal betrothal until July, when she comes of age», Khoren replied. «The marriage will take place at next year’s Twelfth Night Court. She seemed happy enough with the arrangement, as did Reyhan».

  «I hope, then, that you will be certain she continues her studies during this last year before her marriage», Michon said. «When I had her under my tutelage, she was one of my most promising pupils. I should hate to think that she might fail to reach her full potential because of the distractions of marriage. After all, it is likely that she shall rule Andelon one day».

  «She understands that», Khoren replied. «And I have already spoken with her about the importance of completing her training».

  «I am happy to hear it», Seisyll said. «And speaking of pupils, Khoren, we
were discussing some of the more worrisome pupils of Camille Furstána. Her nephews, in particular, appear to be heading in dangerous directions. And there is another: a Zachris Pomeroy…»

  «Zachris Pomeroy is one of the instigators of this folly», Rhydon broke in, speaking for the first time.

  Every head turned in his direction.

  «You know him?» Seisyll said.

  Rhydon inclined his head. «It would be more accurate to say that we are acquainted; I would not regard him as a friend. He holds lands bordering on my father’s estate. And as Master Barrett has said, he is foster brother to Prince Hogan, who is my friend».

  «Ah», said Michon. «And you do not like him, this Zachris Pomeroy».

  «Whether or not I like him has no bearing on the matter», Rhydon replied. «What they are playing with is dangerous».

  «So it is», Michon agreed. «Just how dangerous, you have no idea».

  As he glanced away, obviously troubled, Dominy gently laid a hand over one of Rhydon’s.

  «Rhydon, are you involved in this?» she asked gently.

  He shook his head. «I have done only as the Council bade me. Studying with Camille was a way to make the acquaintance of the Torenthi princes».

  «Then perhaps you know them well enough to warn them off this folly», Michon said, «and to warn off their friend Pomeroy as well, even if you do not like him. It can only go ill for any of them who take up Lewys ap Norfal’s line of research».

  Rhydon looked doubtful, resentment in the pale grey eyes. «They are neither of them inclined to listen to the opinions of others, my lord», he murmured.

  «Well, they would be advised to start listening», Khoren muttered. «I cannot speak for the Torenthi princes, but I can tell you that Pomeroy’s activities in the Cardosa area have begun to attract unwelcome notice — and from the Church. I will grant you that Cardosa is one of the few places in Gwynedd where Deryni may be relatively open, but that does not give license to abuse one’s powers — and Pomeroy, in particular, has been entirely too open, of late. Flagrant, in fact. It can come to no good».

  Seisyll snorted derisively and leaned back in his chair. «Camille needs to rein him in hard. She, of all people, is well aware what can happen».

  «Aye, she is», Khoren agreed, glancing at the others. «You did know, I trust, that she was present when Lewys ap Norfal’s final experiment went awry?»

  «Was she?» Dominy murmured, intrigued, as Oisín also leaned forward expectantly and Rhydon raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  «Aye, she was briefly one of his students — and had hoped to be his wife as well».

  «Surely you jest!» Barrett repeated, cocking his head intently. «But she was a princess of Torenth before she took the veil».

  «And he was of princely blood as well», Michon said impatiently, «of the line of the Dukes du Joux. She was one-and-twenty, and very ambitious. But she lost heart when Lewys died — or at least I hope he died, because any existence he might have retained would have been far worse than any death».

  «Did she not also set her cap for you for a time?» Khoren asked gently. «There were rumors for many years afterward. I remember my parents discussing it, when they thought I was asleep».

  Michon quirked a mirthless smile. «She…made it clear that such a match would be agreeable — though I knew that her real motives lay in her hunger for the powers I might help her unleash». He glanced aside wistfully. «It was shortly after I married that she took the veil and became Sister Serafina».

  «And eventually surpassed most of her teachers», Seisyll reminded them, «and became herself a teacher — sometimes of dangerous students».

  «Unfortunately, that is true», Michon agreed. «And while it is, indeed, worrying that the heirs of Torenth may be putting themselves at risk, it is perhaps of more concern that this Zachris Pomeroy may be putting ideas into Prince Hogan’s head. If Hogan should decide to assert his claim to Gwynedd, slender though that might be, it could be disastrous right now, with Donal no longer fit enough to lead an army and Prince Brion still too young. Best if we can delay that folly for at least a decade».

  «There is Duke Richard», Oisín reminded him.

  «Aye», said Seisyll, «he could lead an army. But whether or not he could assume the Haldane powers, I have no idea. Presumably, Donal has made or is making provisions for Prince Brion to do so, in due course, but the prince is young yet. Best if Prince Hogan can be discouraged indefinitely from exercising his very dubious claim to Gwynedd’s crown, and spare Prince Brion the need to meet a magical challenge».

  «Then it appears», said Barrett, «that we must take steps to do exactly that. Khoren, might it be feasible for you to approach Camille about our concerns?»

  «If you deem it necessary», came Khoren’s terse reply. «Geographically, the task logically falls to me. I must warn you, however, that she will see it as meddling. She is not a subject of Gwynedd. Nor are any of her nephews».

  «No, but Zachris Pomeroy is», Rhydon muttered.

  «True enough», Barrett agreed. «But I doubt Pomeroy knows anything of this Council — unless Camille has told him, of course. But I expect she may consider herself outside our jurisdiction».

  «Our jurisdiction is not bound by geography or her pride», Michon said darkly. «Teachers have a moral responsibility to their students. They sometimes forget, in Torenth, that immoderate use of our powers can have serious repercussions. Deryni in Torenth never faced the backlash we endured after the Haldane restoration».

  «What are you proposing, then?» Dominy asked Michon, also glancing at the others.

  «I would suggest that we authorize Khoren to approach her unofficially, saying that Pomeroy’s lack of moderation has come to his attention, and it concerns him — and that it is her responsibility, as Pomeroy’s teacher, to rein him in».

  «And the matter of her nephews?» Oisín asked.

  «He should mention that, too», Michon replied, turning his gaze on Khoren. «You need not elaborate on how you have learned of any of this. Let her worry about that».

  «And if she refuses?» Khoren said.

  Michon merely folded his hands before him on the ivory table and sat back slightly in his chair, smiling faintly.

  «You have a plan», Seisyll said.

  Michon inclined his head. «I think we need not go into details just now».

  Dominy rolled her eyes. «You do love to be mysterious, don’t you, Michon? But God willing, we’ll not need your plan. Khoren, are you willing to carry out Michon’s recommendations?»

  «For all the good it is likely to do», Khoren said darkly, «but I suppose it’s worth a try. Meanwhile», he turned his attention to Michon and Seisyll, «I hope you bring us happier news from the court of Gwynedd. Please tell me there were no serious surprises».

  Seisyll smiled like a cat with a bowl of cream. «Nothing seriously worrisome. Sir Kenneth Morgan is now Earl of Lendour for life, de jure uxoris».

  «Is he», Dominy said — a statement, not a question.

  «That is a very interesting development», said Oisín.

  «The appointment is a logical extension of Kenneth Morgan’s past loyalty to the crown», Seisyll allowed. «And it was actually a very shrewd move on Donal’s part, since it puts Kenneth in a stronger position to safeguard Alyce and their son».

  Dominy snorted. «You know I have my doubts about the value of a half-breed Deryni», she muttered.

  «Well, at least we know he isn’t Donal’s son», Barrett said reasonably. «And as for being half-breed, he is only two years old. Let’s give him time to grow, and see how he develops. At very least, he has loyal parents who will raise him to be loyal — and God knows, Prince Brion will need loyal men around him when he eventually becomes king».

  «And Kenneth Morgan is as loyal as they come», Khoren pointed out. «As Earl of Lendour, he will be a strong bulwark to hold that part of Gwynedd against Torenthi incursions».

  «So we shall hope», said Seisyll. «For
now, however, I think I prefer to keep our focus on the students of Sister Camille Furstána, who are not loyal to the crown of Gwynedd, and who may well attempt to overthrow it».

  Chapter 6

  «Moreover, it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful».[7]

  As the festivities of Yuletide wound down over the next week or so, winter promised to settle in with a vengeance. The new Earl of Lendour kept Sir Jovett, his two new knights, and the knights’ sponsors in Rhemuth for a few days, while he drafted instructions to the regents of which he was now head, then sent them back to Cynfyn to await his arrival in the spring.

  Alyce and their son and Zoë settled back into the usual domestic routine for Rhemuth Castle in winter, though the heavy weather curtailed much outdoor activity, and the short daylight hours hampered many indoor pursuits. At least Zoë was there to share the tedium — and Alazais, for a few weeks, though she returned to Morganhall as soon as the weather permitted.

  February was grim, and early March little better. The several months after Twelfth Night were always lean, as folk hunkered down to await the spring. Except for a few hours around noontime, close work like reading, writing, and needlework must be done by precious candlelight or rush-light. The children of the court, including young Alaric, chafed at being kept indoors in the inclement weather, and the older ones brooded over their books and ciphering. In the evenings, huddled before fires in the great hall, music and dancing became staples of evening entertainment for the adults and young people, for these were pastimes that could be enjoyed by firelight and torchlight. Many a child was conceived during those long, cold nights when Rhemuth lay wrapped in winter’s thrall, though Alyce and Kenneth were not so blessed.

  As the winter wore on, the long nights, the forced inactivity, and the monotony of meals eked out from dwindling supplies were beginning to pall on everyone. The fighting men kept up their edge by arms practice in the castle yard or, when the weather turned really foul, by moving their exercise into the great hall. By mid-March, the most hardened warriors were beginning to think even war preferable to the inactivity of the winter.