“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 seek 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?
Rhys and Evaine reported both their reassurance and their uneasiness to the Council. Jaffray and Davin continued to relay their observations from among the regents and royals at Rhemuth, and the summer dragged on with little expectation of any marked change for the better.
Developments on the Michaeline front did little to ease the sense of impending doom which increasingly permeated their thinking. By mid-September, Jebediah could no longer delay telling his fellow Council members the long-unwanted news: Crevan Allyn was dispersing the Order. Already, most of the brethren had been secretly relocated to places of greater safety. The coming Michaelmas would likely be the last ever at Argoed, their commanderie of the past thirteen years.
The decision had been made a few weeks earlier. With the August redeployment of the Gwynedd army to Rhemuth and Valoret, and scattered regiments constantly on the move elsewhere, it had become clear to the most naive lay brother that the regents were gearing their military strength toward the capability to command all of Gwynedd on very short notice. Castles and garrisons were being invested all over the kingdom, and new keeps thrown up almost overnight. There could be no benign reason for such a state of readiness, when no enemy hounded at Gwynedd’s borders, and the regents had made their feelings about the Deryni-dominated Knights of Saint Michael quite clear when they had purged them from the army the previous spring.
And so, at the beginning of September, Crevan Allyn had begun his final departure from Gwynedd. Most of the nonfighting brethren had already been shifted out of the kingdom but now the rest of his knights went, too, the majority of them retreating to Djellarda, at the southern tip of the Forcinn. One of the petty Forcinn princes feared Moorish invasion, for which there was ample historical precedent, and had promised refuge, additional land, and employment if the Knights of Saint Michael would relocate on his border. In a way, it was a homecoming, for the Michaeline Order had had its beginnings there on the edge of the great desert called the Anvil of the Lord. After the Michaelines had been welcomed into Gwynedd, the little commanderie at Djellarda had been relegated to a minor outland holding of the Order, as the headquarters were moved to Cheltham at the invitation of King Bearand and his successors. Soon Djellarda would be restored to its former status.
Now only a handful of Michaelines remained in Gwynedd, no more than a score besides the three of the Council, spread mostly between Argoed and Cùilteine to suggest at least that the Order still functioned under the Haldane regency. Haut Eirial and Mollingford, never restored to their full strength and size after Imre’s suppression, had been given over to their local bishops in late summer; and the bishops, never ones to disdain gifts of land and buildings, had promptly installed new communities of monks on the abandoned premises. The regents’ officials did not notice that the habits of the occupants had changed, only that bodies still came and went. As Michaelmas approached, the Michaelines were little missed.
The Michaelines were not the only group about whom the regents had made their feelings quite clear, as the summer wore on into fall. Especially in the towns, Deryni continued to bear the brunt of regency harassment in increasingly blatant ways. Deryni nobles were not deprived of their holdings or titles—yet—but new offices and preferments invariably went to non-Deryni. When a Deryni official died in office, or his term expired, he was replaced by a non-Deryni. Deryni artisans and merchants, formerly under royal patronage, found their services no longer required. By early September, there were virtually no Deryni in positions of responsibility in Rhemuth except Archbishop Jaffray and Tavis O’Neill.
The phenomenon of Tavis gave the regents pause to consider. Tavis himself could be pushed only so far, but other Deryni might be more pliable, and more useful, if there were adequate controls to keep them in line. Healers, in particular, could be very valuable, so long as one had ample guarantee of good behavior.
Not all of the regents were in favor of pursuing this line of reasoning initially. Rhun and Ewan, in particular, simply fed one another’s anxieties, where the subject of Deryni conspiracies was concerned. But when they considered further, all of them had to admit that if one wished eventually to be rid of Deryni once and for all, it would behoove one to be able to tell for certain whether a given captive were Deryni or not. Of course, there were drugs which would detect such things, but those would only incapacitate or kill a Deryni, not render him vulnerable to use himself. It took a Deryni to discover a Deryni, to force a Deryni—unless, of course, the methods of force used were not against the Deryni’s particular strength at all, but against more universal considerations.
Accordingly, toward the beginning of September, it was decided to begin a trial program of limited Deryni “recruitment.” Rhun was given the assignment, for it was felt that he would test it most efficiently, being generally suspicious. And so, on a single night in mid-September, he and his captains surreptitiously swept through a score of different hamlets and towns and took to hostage several dozen known Deryni and their families, the women and children to be held against the good conduct of their menfolk. The swoops were repeated for several nights running, until more than fifty new “agents” had been taken. All of the captives were held incommunicado for several days, the men separated from their families and all of them dosed heavily with Deryni-specific drugs so that none might use their powers to attempt escape. They were then offered the terms of the regents’ service.
Within a week, nearly every regiment or other military group of any size had a “Deryni sniffer” attached to its command s
taff, with orders for immediate execution of the Deryni and all his family, no questions asked, if any harm befell the commander. After several recalcitrants, suitably bound and drugged to helplessness, were forced to witness the execution of their families, including children and small infants, before themselves being tortured and killed, the word spread quickly among the remaining captives, and Deryni began to collaborate. The promise of reward, and a kind of tolerance, even induced some Deryni to offer their services on their own initiative, as Hubert had suspected they would.
The very existence of the collaborators was not widely known, especially outside the towns and villages, but it was well enough known to begin driving zealous men to desperate deeds. Perhaps it accounted, in part, for what finally happened on the eve of Michaelmas, near Rhemuth, touching once more on the royal family itself.
The day was sunny and fair, though the nip of fall had been in the air early that morning. All three princes had planned a day of riding and hawking, but that morning a court had been scheduled in Rhemuth town which required Alroy’s personal attendance, so he was not permitted to go.
Hence, they were nine as they rode out that morning: Javan and Rhys Michael; a squire apiece, to see to their lunch and carry the game the party hoped to snare; four guards, including Davin; and a pleased Tavis O’Neill, bearing a gentle merlin on his leather-clad forearm, delighted to find that this was one sport which was not denied him by his loss. Javan, though entitled by his rank to a much more flashy bird, had chosen a favorite kestrel for the day, because she had been his first really well-trained falcon. Rhys Michael did not like birds—they made him sneeze—so he had merely come along for the ride and the opportunity to be out. He and “Eidiard” had struck up quite a good friendship, and the prince, whose passion was horses, had been pestering Eidiard for the past month to begin teaching him some of the advanced horsemanship which Eidiard made look so easy.
They rode throughout the morning, Rhys Michael amusing himself with periodic races with the guards and squires while Javan and Tavis flew their hawks with fair success. By midday, all of them had worked up appetites befitting the enormous amount of food the squires had brought along; so, after some discussion, a suitable site by a stream was selected and the squires set about laying a noon repast. While the guards unsaddled the horses and set them to graze and water a little downstream, Corund jessing their birds to a convenient tree limb, Javan excused himself and disappeared into the trees and brush up the hill. When he returned, a few minutes later, his young face wore a thoughtful expression. Quickly he found Tavis and drew him aside, watching only distractedly as Tavis unlaced the leather hawking vambrace from his left arm.
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