CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Thy father and thy mother shall be glad, and she that bare thee shall rejoice.
Proverbs 23:25
Jehana of Rhemuth gave a little gasp as two dark-cloaked figures suddenly materialized in the auxiliary library at Rhemuth. Seated in the window embrasure but a few yards away, Father Nivard beside her and Barrett de Laney opposite them, she had been listening spellbound as the two men, one very young and one very old, engaged in passionate debate over shades of meaning in an ancient poem’s translation—a Deryni poem.
Such colloquia had been going on for the past week, nearly every night. She could not rightly say how John Nivard had managed to make her understand, where so many others had failed, that acknowledging and learning of her birthright was not only permissible but laudable. Perhaps it came of her fascination with Barrett: more than old enough to be her father, but for whom she soon had found herself feeling strangely un-daughterly emotions. Indeed, when she learned that Barrett came regularly to tutor Father Nivard, she had found herself contriving all manner of excuses to be present.
She had told herself she was being foolish—had even confessed her foolishness to Nivard—who had laughed gently and delightedly and assured her that affection knew no difference of years.
“You are welcome to join us, if you wish,” he said. “We meet here most evenings. I know he would be glad of another pupil.”
“He—does not work magic with you, does he?” she had asked—though she still would have come.
“No, mostly we read the old texts—and argue about them!” Nivard had said with a chuckle. “Since I work closely with the king, your son, Bishop Arilan has suggested that I not work mind to mind with—a Deryni from outside the king’s counsels. He and Bishop Duncan have been my teachers of late, and occasionally Duke Alaric. There is no question regarding Barrett himself, of course,” he added, “but as part of the king’s household, I do have access to information that should not go outside it. You do appreciate that, I hope.”
She did, indeed; and the reassurance had answered any lingering hesitation she might have had about further contact with the intriguing Barrett, who was blind yet not blind, and had given up his sight to save the lives of children. She had not yet summoned the courage to ask Barrett directly about the children—and Nivard did not know any of the details—but that snippet of information continued to intrigue her.
Thereafter, she had joined Nivard and Barrett almost nightly, often very nearly until dawn—which came early in full summer. And a few days before, when the sun had surprised them still in the midst of the night’s disputation, Nivard had called a halt to offer up Matins with them, there in the slanting golden sunrise, and given them Holy Communion from a little pyx he had brought, laying out the elements upon her veil, spread upon the altar of the Portal square. Barrett had lit a single candle with handfire; and the golden glory of Nivard’s Deryni aura had flared around him as he reverently gave each of them the sacred Body of Christ. She had wept with the beauty of it—and had shed yet another of her fears for the wonder of discovery.
Dawn was still far distant when Kelson suddenly appeared on the library Portal, Morgan at his side. Nivard rose immediately at the arrival of the newcomers, Jehana somewhat more slowly, both relieved and mortified. Her son’s presence, and on the night following the Torenthi investiture, meant that he had survived—though his presence might bode something amiss regarding specifics; but the fact that he was accompanied by Morgan caused her a pang of acute embarrassment over the way she had behaved toward him for so many years. The pair looked equally surprised to see her there.
“Mother?” Kelson said, stiffening at the sight of Barrett, across from his mother and Nivard.
Barrett, too, had risen, hugging to his breast the scroll from which he and the young priest had been translating.
“Welcome home, Sire,” he said easily. “I have been graced with another pupil during Your Majesty’s absence. Your presence reassures me that you came to no ill in Torenthály, but I hope it does not portend unwanted complications.”
So matter-of-fact a manner disarmed Jehana’s tension, and she came down out of the window embrasure to throw her arms around Kelson, almost limp with relief as she hugged him to her, feeling against her cheek the smooth ripple of her prayer beads on his chest. He had remembered!
“There were complications,” Morgan confirmed, as Kelson comforted his mother, “but for the most part, the outcome was favorable.” He glanced past Kelson and Jehana at Nivard, who only smiled faintly and rolled his eyes, clearly in reference to Jehana. Kelson, meanwhile, was drawing back from his mother, wiping glad tears from her cheeks with a callused thumb. Only then did it register that she was not wearing her customary white robes, but a gown of forest green, with her auburn hair plaited in a long braid over one shoulder. She looked years younger than when he last had seen her, hardly a fortnight before. What—or who—had made her take up her life again, and put aside her widow’s weeds? Surely not the young priest, who was hardly older than himself.
“My son—I worried so!” she whispered.
“And prayed, I’m sure,” he said, with a touch to the beads around his neck, “which no doubt gave me strength. I’m fine—and Liam is fine. He did wonderfully. And Count Mátyás saved the day for all of us. His brothers had plotted to betray Liam during the transfer of power, but Mátyás managed to insert me into the investing party. It’s a very long story, but Mahael is dead. Unfortunately, Teymuraz escaped. That’s the only part of the day that didn’t go exactly according to plan. Liam is now our ally, along with Mátyás, and there will be a lasting peace with Torenth.”
Jehana was laughing through her tears as she listened; Nivard looked very pleased. Barrett’s hairless head was bowed over his scroll, nodding slowly, a faint smile on his lips.
“Well done, indeed, Sire,” he murmured. “This is news for much rejoicing. Shall I leave you now?”
Kelson drew his mother into the circle of his arm, glancing at Morgan and then at Nivard. Barrett’s reaction suggested that he had not known of the day’s outcome—which meant that the Camberian Council, at least as a body, probably did not know. Arilan and Azim did, of course, having been present, but Kelson had no idea how information was transmitted among the members of the Council—though Azim had told him others would be there. Much as the Council were a frequent source of annoyance to him, it was in everyone’s best interests if they learned of this as soon as possible.
“You may leave if you wish, my lord,” he said. “I apologize if I interrupted your tutorial. But perhaps there are others with whom you will wish to share this news from Torenth.”
Barrett raised the emerald eyes, appearing to look right at Kelson.
“Thank you, Sire.” He handed the scroll to Nivard with a nod, then took the young priest’s arm to steady him as he moved forward and stepped down from the window embrasure, though he moved unerringly toward the Portal square as Morgan backed off and Kelson and Jehana moved aside.
“I bid you good night, Sire, my lady,” he murmured as he stepped onto the square—and at once disappeared.
To Kelson’s surprise, his mother hardly blinked. Quite illogically, he found himself wondering whether the elderly scholar could possibly be responsible for her transformation. Still amazed, he turned his gaze back to Nivard.
“Father, would you please go and fetch Nigel and Aunt Meraude—and Rory,” he said. “I have some additional news that will concern all of them.”
Nivard laid his scroll on one of the seats with a nod of agreement and departed immediately through the Veiled doorway. Morgan, with an appraising glance at Kelson, moved to follow.
“I’ll wait in the next room,” he said, just before he, too, ducked through the Veil and disappeared.
As soon as he had gone, Jehana turned to hug Kelson again, laying her head against his shoulder, now trembling a little.
“Darling, I’ve been so foolish, all these years. This past f
ortnight has been—quite indescribable. I don’t even know where to begin!”
“Then, let’s wait until we have more time,” he said, hardly able to believe his ears. “I’m delighted, I can assure you, but you were the last person I expected to see here with Father Nivard and Barrett. I have other news for you, however, that I think—I hope—will please you even more than your news pleases me,” he went on, as she drew away far enough to look up at him in question. “Mother, I’ve finally chosen a bride.”
Joy mingled with disbelief and confusion on her upturned face.
“You’ve . . . chosen . . . Well, who is it?” she blurted, searching his eyes.
“Cousin Araxie.”
She blinked at him, hardly able to take it in.
“But—wasn’t she going to—”
“—marry Cuan of Howicce,” he finished for her, grinning. “No, she isn’t! Good Lord, if you knew how many times I’ve gotten that reaction!” He shook his head as he hugged her close again. “I like her very much, Mother. It was Rothana who suggested the match, just before I left for Torenth—practically ordered it, actually—but I find myself having to admit that we do have a great deal in common. Araxie and I discussed it when I stopped at the Ile, on the way to Torenth, and Bishop Arilan witnessed a private betrothal, with only her family and Dhugal and Morgan present. Rothana—apparently has been encouraging this for some time. The alleged relationship with Cuan has never been anything but a blind; he’s in love with his cousin Gwenlian.”
She was shaking her head in wonder as she gazed at him, her hands resting on his arms.
“Kelson . . . I hardly know what to say. Araxie is a darling girl, but I—know how much you cared for—for Rothana. . . .”
“And still care for her, deeply,” he murmured, ducking his head. “But I’ve had to do some hard thinking in the past few weeks. Something that Richenda said, about Rothana always being meant for the religious life after all—and you know she’s been with the Servants of Saint Camber for the past three years.
“Now she means to found a school, to see that our people are trained to the responsible use of their powers—and I’m going to give her a site here in Rhemuth for it, though she doesn’t know that yet. It’s ignorance that has caused so many of the problems between humans and Deryni—not the magic. Somehow I feel that I can say that to you now. Mother, what happened while I was away? To see you with Father Nivard and Barrett . . . with Deryni . . .”
Jehana ducked her head shyly, a flustered smile on her lips. “I—don’t think there’s time to tell you right now, son,” she whispered.
“I think you might show me . . . ,” he ventured, lifting her chin to gaze into the green eyes.
She had the grace to blush, shaking her head gently, but her gaze did not shrink from his. “Not yet. I’m learning, but I’m not ready for that.”
“Then I won’t press you,” he said with a happy sigh, hugging her close again. “Meanwhile, you should know that I’ll be bringing Araxie and Richelle and Aunt Sivorn here in the morning—and the rest of their family. There were—a few complications, because of the escape of Count Teymuraz. Which reminds me: With Sivorn to help, do you think that you and she and Aunt Meraude can manage to put together three weddings?”
“Three?” She drew back to look at him in blank astonishment.
“Well, yes.” Smiling, he took her hand through the crook of his arm and led her up into the window embrasure to sit, briefly acquainting her with the developments regarding Rory and Noelie.
“The Carthmoor succession, and Albin’s place in it, is the only remaining sticky point in that arrangement,” he said in conclusion. “But I hope, in light of all the other developments, that Nigel will come around now.”
“Ah.” A grin came upon her face, the likes of which Kelson had not seen in years. “Well, I can tell you that Meraude and I managed to lay some groundwork for that, while you were gone.”
“Have you?” he replied.
But the sound of voices in the next room precluded further exploration of that topic for the moment, since almost at once, Nivard poked his head through the Veil with a nod of apology.
“They’re here, Sire,” he said cheerfully. “Do you wish to come out, or shall I bring them in here?”
“We’ll come out,” Kelson said, rising to take Jehana’s hand. “Perhaps you could keep watch here, by the Portal, in case someone comes through early.”
“Of course.”
The reunion with Nigel, Meraude, and Rory was ebullient; their reaction, when he linked with Nigel and Rory, a mixture of awed disbelief and relief.
“We’ll be bringing the ladies through before first light,” he said, reverting to speech for Meraude’s benefit. Jehana had gone to her while Kelson briefed the two Haldanes, whispering excitedly, and Meraude looked astonished. “For now, I’ve told them they may bring only what they can carry. Morgan’s Rhafallia will be sailing at dawn, and will bring what’s ready now—they’ll stop at Coroth to collect his family—and Létald’s ship will follow with the rest in about three days, as soon as they arrive from Beldour.
“But I’d like to see the ladies settled in their quarters before the castle starts stirring. Though I’m feeling bold enough to bring them through the Portal—because I have little choice, under the circumstances—I’d rather not call attention to the way they arrived.”
He grinned as he glanced back at Nigel, who still looked a little stunned.
“We’ll discuss details when I come back,” Kelson went on. “For now, once we get the ladies settled, I want you to convene a special meeting of the privy council at noon. Don’t tell them why; don’t even tell them I’ll be there.”
Nigel nodded.
“And Aunt Meraude, Nigel will explain what I’ve told him and Rory. I know it’s a lot to take in, for all of you, but today’s events have helped me understand how I’ve been needlessly crippling myself in several areas. If our new allies in Torenth have learned from us, we’ve learned equally from them. I think a lot of things are about to change—and for once, it’s for the better.”
He glanced at Morgan, who had been listening quietly against the door.
“Shall we?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Then shall ye do unto him, as he had thought to do unto his brother: so shalt thou put the evil away from among you.
Deuteronomy 19:19
They brought Araxie and her family through in the next hour, assisted by Azim and Létald himself, passing them through the Veiled doorway and lodging them in the state apartments already set aside for their expected arrival in a week’s time. In that predawn hour, their passage aroused only passing notice by the occasional guard nearing the end of his watch and a few sleepy servants already stirring to draw water and light fires for the day. Accompanied only by Father Nivard, each of them cloaked and carrying a bundle—and with the four wide-eyed half-siblings of Araxie and Richelle in the party, all of them under ten—the new arrivals were assumed to be, at most, another contingent of Mearan visitors arriving early for the wedding in a fortnight’s time.
Kelson himself remained out of sight in the library, lest his own early arrival invite comment before he had met with his council. He sent Rory to fetch Duncan. Morgan and Dhugal he sent after Létald, with instructions to continue on to Beldour, report to Liam and Mátyás, and oversee the departure of the remaining Gwynedd contingent to return home. They would return in time for the council meeting at noon. When they had gone, only Azim remained with the king in the little library annex.
“I shall return to Horthánthy and then to Beldour, in case my assistance is needed in either location,” Azim said to Kelson, watching him closely. “If I may, I shall share the location of this Portal with Mátyás and Liam-Lajos; a direct link to you would be helpful.”
Kelson nodded. “Agreed. Especially in these next days and weeks, communication will be vital. I shall make certain someone is always nearby. Perhaps Father Nivard will not mind sleeping in t
he library for the next few weeks.”
“A prudent measure. There are many of Deryni blood at Létald’s court, of varying degrees of competence, so it may be that Mahael and Teymuraz had agents there. If so, it is likely that our passage will have been remarked, even if they are not yet aware what happened today in Beldour. When I have consulted with Létald, I shall go on to Beldour to assist Morgan and the others in making certain that the Tralian ships depart immediately for home. Mátyás has promised to have his weather-workers conjure a fair wind to speed them to Horthánthy.”
“How long will that take? The journey, not the conjuring.”
“Perhaps three days, if they sail by night as well as by day. Meanwhile, we shall see if Teymuraz makes an appearance at the Ile.”
“And if he does?”
Azim’s black eyes narrowed. “Let us simply say that a very dim view will have been taken of his actions today, and he will be dealt with.”
“By the Council?” Kelson asked.
Azim merely looked at him.
“What if he doesn’t go to the Ile?” Kelson persisted.
Azim glanced away briefly, his gaze flicking over the outline of the Portal.
“Be assured that wherever he does surface, he shall find himself a pariah,” he said softly. “Beyond that, I beg you not to ask.”
Despite his absolute trust in Azim, Kelson found himself suppressing a shiver.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall ask whether you have any further recommendations regarding my immediate actions, however.”
“You have a marriage contract to negotiate between Rory and the Ramsay girl,” Azim replied with a faint smile. “Between that and the practical considerations for accommodating two Mearan weddings, you will have your hands quite full. And while there will be no opposition to your own marriage, there are still formal documents to be drawn up, in addition to all the physical preparations for a royal wedding and the coronation of a consort—which must be done privily, until the others have been accomplished. Fortunately, you will find that many of the arrangements for the first celebration can be carried over for the second.”
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