The Legends of Camber of Culdi Trilogy

by Katherine Kurtz

  Even the teaching brethren of the Order were slowly recalled from their posts and sent to safety. As the summer wore on, those few schools still staffed, at least in part, by Michaeline teachers found those men being replaced, seemingly at random, by brothers and priests of other, human orders. Reassignments were quietly arranged by Jaffray and Bishops Cullen, Trey, and Descantor, who also managed to “lose” the records of several small but strategically placed houses which might later become places of refuge.

  Camber himself stayed in Grecotha through the summer, Joram running interference with Father Willowen and the rest of the cathedral chapter while Camber continued to work with Rhys, Emrys, and Queron on discovering how Rhys’s talent might be passed on to other Healers. But try as they might, they could not isolate the function well enough to teach it. Though Emrys and Queron were probably the most skillful Healers of Rhys’s acquaintance, neither could offer him a solution.

  Meanwhile, there was Revan to consider. Revan’s uncertain position kept matters in a perspective of ongoing urgency, which was complicated by the fact that no one of the Camberian Council had seen or spoken to him since his flight from Sheele at Eastertide—though they knew approximately where he was. Everyone assumed that his cover was still intact—else they would have heard of it—but no one knew for sure.

  In addition, it became increasingly likely that for Rhys’s plan to work, he was going to have to carry it out himself. They might never find another Healer who could learn; and against that eventuality, Rhys must begin easing himself into a working relationship with the exiled Revan.

  Accordingly, on one hot afternoon toward the end of August, Rhys and Evaine made their way to the Willimite encampment in the hills above Valoret, dull as mice in the greyed russet firze of common folk, with bright hair darkened to nondescript dust-tones by the art of Deryni illusion. They were careful to be diffident and wide-eyed as they approached the Willimite perimeter, a properly meek peasant couple who had come to seek out a holy hermit. Their going among the Willimites was a somewhat risky venture, for the martyred Saint Willim had been a victim of Deryni ill use, and his adherents believed Deryni to be the Devil’s own spawn, deserving a suitably terrible fate unless they recanted their detestable heritage; and there were known to be several “reformed” Deryni who lived lives of penitence among them and might Truth-Read suspicious strangers in defense of the brotherhood. Rhys and Evaine must be careful not to arouse the wrong kind of attention.

  “Your pardon, good sir,” Rhys murmured, with a tug at his cap as he approached the first man he saw. “I wonder if you could tell me where I might find the holy hermit who is said to live in these hills.”

  The Willimite, a weathered and emaciated-looking man, looked over the colorless couple with an appraising eye, noting their shabby clothing and the woman’s obvious pregnancy, then relaxed a little and favored them with a thin smile and a slight bow over piously-folded hands.

  “A holy hermit, y’say? Well.” His voice held the clipped lilt of the Mooryn highlands. “Can ye perhaps be more specific? We have several holy men among us—and all are sworn to resist the evil of the godless Deryni, curst be their souls!”

  “Oh, aye,” Rhys murmured, nodding earnestly and making a gesture of agreement with one hand. “The man we seek is a youngish man, they say. He walks with a limp, like the young heir. They say he used to be the servant of a Deryni house, and that he ran away. They say, that he has—visions—and that the Lord favors him greatly, and that—his touch brings luck to them as he esteems.”

  The Willimite nodded self-importantly. “Ah, that would be Brother Revan. ’Tis said his former master killed his sweetheart—and the master a Healer, and all!—and after that, young Revan went a little strange.” His voice took on a tinge of genuine awe.

  “But he’s touched by God, he is! Everyone says it. He has speech with a great stone on the mountain top, and it tells him what to preach. He says a great doom is coming upon the Deryni—that many will be slain—and the only ones that might be saved are those who repent of their evil ways. He says the Lord will reveal how some Deryni might be spared, if they approach the throne of heaven with humble and contrite hearts!”

  Evaine, who had pretended to be listening raptly to every word the man said—which she was, though she was also casting out all around them for danger—plucked at the man’s sleeve with awed urgency.

  “Then, praised be the Lord, for what we have heard is true! They say he can even remove the taint from those who have been forced to serve the Deryni—that his touch can make one clean!”

  “Och, aye, he’s a very holy man,” the man returned, a little taken aback at her apparent fervor. “As ye say, he does give blessing to them as ask.”

  “Will you take us to him?” Evaine begged. “Oh, please, good sir. You do not know the weight which has been upon us these many years, forced to live in the village of a Deryni lord. Now we mean to—to run away! But for the sake of my unborn child, I would have us cleansed before we go. I know this holy man’s blessing can wash away the taint!”

  Rhys cleared his throat self-consciously. “My wife—she is overwrought in her condition,” he said faintly, extricating Evaine’s fingers from the man’s sleeve and bobbing his head apologetically. “But we would seek Brother Revan’s blessing, if you would be so kind. Please, for my wife’s sake.…”

  They had managed to gather the attention of several other men and women of the Willimite community as they spoke, one of them a woman with shorn hair and a pinched, lined face who was almost certainly Deryni, though she made no attempt to reach out and probe them. Just to be safe, however, Rhys reached into Evaine’s mind and sprang the triggerpoint, blocking everything else which was not appropriate for the peasant woman she appeared to be. With his hand still on her arm, he caught her slight stumble as she made the transition, then withdrew deep into himself where a casual probe from the woman would not touch his shields. As the first man began leading them on through the camp, the others fell in behind in a little parade, including the Deryni woman.

  They crossed the Willimite encampment, with its motley collection of tents and rudely-constructed lean-tos, then began a steep climb up the side of the mountain. The gorse and felderbloom were parched and sere from the summer’s heat, but a breeze stirred increasingly as they climbed. By the time they had reached a small plateau halfway up the mountainside, the wind was blowing steadily from the east, cooling steamy faces and dispelling the odor of bodies too seldom washed and clothing too long worn. Across the plateau, just in front of the mouth of a narrow cave, stood an almost unrecognizable Revan, with nearly a dozen men and women crouched in a semicircle around him.

  He was clad in an ankle-length robe of some greyish homespun stuff, threadbare and much patched, though cleaner than the garb of most of those around him, and he cradled a twisted staff of what looked to be olivewood in the crook of his left arm. His hair had grown several inches since they last had seen him, and he had a full beard which looked almost blond in the strong sunlight. He was preaching as they first saw him. Gradually his words became discernible as they came closer.

  “The day is coming when those who have walked in darkness must be tried in the forge of the ages, and all imperfections burned away. Even as our Lord foretold, the wheat shall be separated from the chaff, and the good seed from the bad.

  “But I say unto you that even for those who have walked in the uttermost darkness, the Light may yet be seen and known. To him who doth earnestly repent of his evil and renounce the darkness forever, the Lord shall give a sign of His grace. The evil ones shall be changed, the dross refined from the true gold, and the Kingdom shall thrive in the fullness of the Lord’s love.”

  A murmur passed among them at that, dying away as one woman spoke up.

  “But, Master, how can this be? Are you saying that even the accursed Deryni can be saved?”

  “So I am given to understand,” Revan answered, so low that Rhys and Evaine, still approaching
from the path, could barely hear. Rhys checked the assembled group for more Deryni, but there were none; only the one woman in the little band behind them, who still had made no move to use her powers.

  “… been told how this will come to pass,” Revan was saying, “but I have faith that it will be made known to me in God’s time. The Lord of Hosts will do all these things, even as it has been foretold.”

  “Blessed be the name of the Lord!” one of the men murmured, scrambling to his knees and clasping his hands rapturously.

  “Amen!” another cried, following suit.

  A third dropped from his perch on a rock beside Revan to kneel at his feet, face upturned in shining hope.

  “Will you give us your blessing, Master?”

  “Not my blessing, but the blessing of the Lord,” Revan murmured, laying his right hand on the man’s head.

  “The Lord bless you and keep you,” he said, moving on to touch each person’s head, in turn. “The Lord give you peace and rest, and the certainty that you will be with Him, at the day of reckoning. May He forgive you your sins, and bless you, and be gracious to you, and cleanse you of that which troubles you. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

  He concluded by making the Sign of the Cross over them and upon himself, then bowed his head and closed his eyes, one hand on his staff and the other held lightly to his breast. Those who had received his blessing slowly gathered themselves and their belongings and began filing back toward the path, past Rhys and Evaine and their escort. Rhys began leading Evaine forward, but Revan did not seem to see them as he turned and ducked his head to retreat into his cave.

  “Brother Revan, these people have come to see you,” the Willimite called, bowing respectfully as Revan turned to gaze at him. “They are fleeing from a Deryni master, and they seek your blessing before they go.”

  With a weary but patient blink, Revan turned the pale brown eyes on them, no flicker of recognition registering even to Rhys’s watchful study. He peered at them mildly and blinked again, then nodded and beckoned for them to follow as he disappeared into the inky darkness of the cave mouth. The Willimite, with a startled glance at both of them, scrambled after Revan and motioned for the two to follow. The rest turned and went back with the folk who had just left, and Rhys at last dared to release Evaine’s block, giving her his view of all that had transpired between camp and plateau as they followed their guide into the cooler darkness of the cave.

  Inside, as their eyes adjusted to the dimness, they could see that Revan had lit a shallow clay tallow lamp from a piece of kindling on a rude hearth, and was gesturing by its light for the three of them to be seated. Several dingy grey sheepskins lay on the sandy floor around a slab of smooth stone which evidently served as table, and Revan settled on the nearest one as he moved the tallow lamp from hearth to stone.

  “Sit between our brother and sister and pray with me for them, Brother Joachim,” Revan said to the Willimite in a gentle voice. “I sense our Lord’s mission in their presence, though even they may not be aware of His purpose yet. We will pray together.”

  They still could not tell by Revan’s behavior whether he had recognized them or not, but Rhys noticed how Revan’s body now blocked the hearthlight from Joachim’s line of vision, and how Evaine cast a shadow from the brighter light of the cave entrance, so that it, too, never reached Joachim. The tallow lamp, on the stone in front of them, was the brightest light that Joachim could see.

  As Revan held out his hands to them, Rhys on his left and Evaine on his right, both of them knew in that first instant of contact that he had set it up that way specifically for them, so they might ease Joachim under their Deryni controls. He had learned his early lessons well in dealing with Deryni. The pair of them relaxed as Joachim joined hands with them and the linkage was complete.

  “Let us pray to the Lord,” Revan murmured, throwing back his head and closing his eyes. “Let us allow the Holy Spirit to descend upon us and guide us. Wait and watch in silence for the Spirit to come upon us.”

  There was silence, then, except for the sound of gentle breathing, as the four settled into waiting. Through slitted eyelids, Rhys watched the silent Joachim beside him. He reached out with his mind to Evaine and moved with her simultaneously to insinuate controls on the unsuspecting Joachim so that the transition from contemplation to forgetful, oblivious trance would be so smooth as to be undetectable. When it was done, and Joachim’s head had nodded forward on his chest, Evaine gave a great sigh and took Revan’s hand in both of hers, looking at him and shaking her head with a smile.

  “Revan, it’s been too long.”

  “I trust I did right by Joachim,” he said shyly, glancing back and forth between the two of them. “I never dreamed you’d come to me here, out in the open. And when he came with you, it seemed there must be some way to use his presence to advantage.” He glanced doubtfully at the sleeping Willimite. “He can’t hear us, can he?”

  Rhys shook his head. “No, and we can give him some perfectly harmless memories to cover the time we’re here. I don’t know how long we’ll have before someone else comes, though—and there’s at least one Deryni who knows we’re here, though she doesn’t know what we are—so we’ll need to make this quick.”

  “Of course. How can I help you?”

  “We primarily wanted to let you know what progress we’d made, and to see what you’d done,” Evaine replied. “We heard you preaching. It sounds as if you’re on the right track in that regard. Any problems?”

  Revan gave a sour grin. “None that two Deryni can help me with, I fear—unless you’re wanting to become the first two object lessons in our little scheme.” He glanced at Rhys. “Is it to be you, then, or have you managed to teach anyone else?”

  “So far, no,” Rhys replied. “We still have hope, however. How soon do you think you’ll have to start producing results? I’ll make the sacrifice if there’s no other way, but if you can hold off, I still hope to find you another Healer.”

  With a low chuckle, Revan shook his head. “I think I can stall a bit longer. The Lord’s ways are historically slow. Besides, I haven’t yet told them what to expect, so I can really do just about anything. My notoriety is only now beginning to spread beyond the immediate area. And once the winter comes, things will slack off. It’s going to be grim up here, once the snows start.”

  “We’ll try to stay in touch,” Rhys agreed. “You think you can hold off until spring, then?”

  “I think so. What about you? Do you think you’ll find somebody?”

  Evaine sighed. “That is anybody’s guess right now. But, we’re losing precious time. Rhys, did you want to do a quick probe, just to make certain everything is still as it should be? We shouldn’t keep our friend Joachim under for much longer.”

  “Right. Will you watch him, please, and keep a probe out for strangers?”

  As Evaine shifted her attention to the still slumbering Joachim, Rhys laid his hand on Revan’s shoulder and gave a nod. For reply, Revan simply closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, instantly locking into a deep rapport with the Healer. The exchange took only seconds, as Rhys plunged deep and read detailed memories of the background Revan had thus far forged as prophet and sage, testing also the limits of the safeguards which he and Evaine had given Revan against casual probing by other Deryni. The camouflage held, undetectable unless one knew precisely where to look.

  With another deep breath, Rhys emerged from trance, steadying Revan with his hand as the younger man followed a heartbeat behind. Evaine grinned at both of them, then held out her hand to reestablish the link.

  “Someone is coming up the path—not our Deryni lady, though. Let’s slip back into character, Brother Revan.”

  With a nod, Revan bowed his head once more and half-closed his eyes, feeling the support of Rhys’s and Evaine’s hands to either side.

  “The Lord of Hosts be praised, for He has given you the courage to leave the ways of darkness and se
ek a new life,” Revan murmured, glancing at the two of them, once more the slightly wild-eyed evangelist. “Joachim, you have done well to bring me these two lost children.” Joachim lifted his head with a slight start at the sound of his name. “The Holy Spirit has spoken in my heart and doth vouchsafe to give you peace, my children.”

  “Then, we may be free of the Deryni taint, Master?” Evaine whispered, staring at him almost glassy-eyed. “We may receive your blessing?”

  “Not my blessing, but the blessing of the Lord of Hosts,” Revan said, releasing their hands and lifting his to rest on both their heads. “Bow your heads and pray for His blessing and protection, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

  “Amen,” came their whispered response, all humble peasant folk now, as Joachim looked on with awe.

  “Go now, in peace, to love and serve the Lord,” Revan said gently, dropping his hands to pick up the tallow lamp before it should be overturned in their passage.

  As he stared into the flame, not moving from where he sat, the two of them got up, followed by Joachim, and stumbled out of the cave. Others were waiting outside, but Joachim bade them sit and wait, explaining that the master was tired now, but would come to them shortly. As he moved among them, himself seemingly transformed by the apparent sanctity of the man he had just left, Rhys and Evaine made their quiet way down the path and out of the Willimite encampment. They met no more Deryni.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  There is no healing of thy bruise; thy wound is grievous.

  —Nahum 3:19

  Rhys’s and Evaine’s visit to Revan was not entirely reassuring, despite its apparent success. True, Revan had met the challenge of surviving alone in the dangerous and even deadly company of the Deryni-hating Willimites, but they could not put aside a vague sense of disquiet at how easily Revan seemed to be assimilating his developing role as savior and seer. Revan had not yet realized the full potential of the power he might someday direct but, when he did, would he be able to resist the seductive lure which such power presented? For that matter, would any of them be able to control what they were creating? Though it seemed advisable for a religious movement to arise from their efforts, if Deryni were to be spared as a result, suppose it got out of hand, as “Saint” Camber had?