Childe Morgan cm-2

by Katherine Kurtz

  «But Jathan was headstrong, as you know. A week ago, he went into the stables before dawn. He saddled the pony that used to be Brion’s — God knows how! — and took him out into one of the paddocks alone».

  «But that pony was steady», Alyce murmured, stunned, «and Jathan is — was — a good rider…»

  «Aye, he was — for a four-year-old», Kenneth agreed. «But horses are horses, and odd things can spook them at odd times and for odd causes. No one saw it happen». He drew himself up and made himself continue.

  «A little later, when the grooms began their morning duties, one of them noticed the stall door open, and no pony. More annoyed than worried, he went looking for it». He shook his head wearily.

  «He soon spotted it grazing on the far side of the paddock, but something looked…wrong. When he went to investigate, he found the saddle slipped under the pony’s belly and — and Jathan…with his foot caught in the off stirrup».

  A sob caught in Alyce’s throat as she closed her eyes, shaking her head. «Dear God», she whispered.

  «He…must have been dragged for some distance», Kenneth went on reluctantly. «And kicked…several times. He was still alive when they found him, but he — died in the queen’s arms a short time later. The entire court is stunned». He shook his head again.

  «They buried Jathan two days ago, beside Prince Blaine. Brion is still on progress in the north, and has not yet been located. Donal is distraught. I think his heart is broken. But he insisted on coming here tonight. I believe he means to finish what he started at Culdi».

  «Dear, merciful Lady, I cannot imagine what he is suffering», Alyce murmured through her tears. «To lose a second child so quickly — it is hardly three years since Blaine…And Jathan was so young, nearly the same age as Alaric».

  Kenneth gave a stiff nod, acutely aware of the precariousness of life.

  «It’s Alaric he’s come to see», he said quietly. «But he’s asked to see you first. I told him I’d send you».

  «Will you not come with me?»

  Kenneth’s footsteps were as gentle as his voice and his touch as he came and took her hands in his, kissed the palms tenderly. «Not this time, my dear. Go to him. I’ll wait by Alaric’s door».

  Wordlessly she nodded and squeezed his hand, letting him help her drape an additional shawl over her fur-lined over-robe but keeping her face averted so he would not see her tears. But by the time she had descended the tower stair and crossed the rush-strewn great hall, her eyes were dry and she had composed herself to meet the man who waited.

  She rapped lightly on the door to the writing room and entered without waiting for a response, securing the latch before she turned to look for him. She could see an unfamiliar hat hooked over one of the finials of Kenneth’s favorite chair, which was angled to face the blazing fireplace. She stifled a quick gasp of shock as he stood and turned to face her, leaning heavily on a walking staff.

  Even prepared to see him grief-stricken and distraught, she had not expected this. The puissant king who had come to them only weeks before, still powerful and strong, had been replaced by a haggard shadow of that man. His black riding leathers hung loosely on his stooped frame, a heavy dagger on his belt pulling almost painfully at his shrunken waist. His hair and beard had gone nearly all to grey, as had his complexion, and his face was lined by creases and wrinkles that had been mere hints of laughter before.

  His eyes had changed the least: still grey and clear, but more world-weary now, with a starker shadow of grief in their depths. His hands were white-knuckled on the carved staff he had used to get to his feet, but he managed a reassuring smile as he extended one hand for hers and merely clasped it tightly.

  «So, we are quite the pair», the king said softly. «I, pining for yet another lost son, and you, blossoming with the promise of new life yet to be born».

  She attempted a brief, wan smile, but could not gainsay his observation.

  «Sire, I am so sorry to hear of your loss», she murmured.

  «Aye. Three sons have I lost now». He released her hand and sank back into his chair, looking, if possible, even more ashen. «This string of sorrows underlines my mortality, and makes it all the more urgent that you and I complete our final work. Where is the boy?»

  «He is sleeping just now», she replied, a little stunned at his urgency. «Kenneth and I will bring him in a few minutes. I — Sire, you do not look well. Forgive me for saying so, but you make me fear that your need for him might come sooner than either of us had hoped. Is there something I should know?»

  He looked away, not answering, then leaned his staff in the crook of his arm and beckoned her closer, again taking one of her hands as she knelt beside the chair. His eyes sought hers urgently as he searched for his next words.

  «Alyce, can you forgive me for what I’ve done to you and Kenneth and the boy? God help me, if I could have seen some other way, I would have taken it — I tried to — but even I have not been wholly free of choice. I suppose it comes with the crown. Perhaps our children will be more fortunate».

  She glanced at their clasped hands, sharing his sorrow.

  «I did not think the King of Gwynedd subject to any other’s choices».

  «He is», Donal whispered, his eyes closing briefly, as if in pain. «God help him, he is».

  «And what of Prince Brion», she said softly, unsettled a little by his distress. «Is he ready for what is to come? Will he be able to stand in your place when — when you are gone?»

  «As well as any king of tender years, and better than most. But that is why I have come to you tonight, Alyce: to make provisions against that day».

  «God grant that it may be long in coming, then», she murmured. «Alaric is so young. Surely there were others of Deryni blood who could have served you just as well, who have the years already to work the Haldane magic for your heir».

  «There was another, as you know», Donal said softly, barely breathing the words. «By now, he would have been very nearly old enough — but he died».

  «I do know, Sire», she whispered, declining to mention the murdered Krispin’s name. «But…could you not enlist the services of some other Deryni?» she ventured, after a beat. «Sir Morian, perhaps. He is said to have served you well in Meara — or so I had heard. Kenneth has told me of his usefulness».

  «Not for this», the king murmured.

  Trembling, he pulled her hand closer to clasp it between both of his and press it to his heart, gazing beyond her into a realm where reality was different and children were not called to do an adult’s work. Rarely had she felt so at peace and so protected, though reason told her that the feeling was illusory.

  They remained that way for several seconds before he eased his caress of her hand to stare down at her again. His eyes held her immobile as she gazed up at him, her heart pounding as though it might burst from her breast, and she could not seem to move, knew herself to be completely at his will.

  But then he blinked and shook his head ever so slightly, leaned down instead to kiss her hand. She felt a constriction rising in her throat as he released her and turned his face away, but she forced herself to push it down as she also pushed herself ponderously to her feet. When he did not speak for several seconds, she cleared her throat expectantly.

  «Shall I bring him now, Sire?» she asked softly.

  «Please do».

  She heard him settling back into the chair as she fled the room.

  * * *

  Kennneth was waiting for her at the top of the landing as he had promised, compassion in the sea-grey eyes as he slipped an arm around her thickened waist and accompanied her into their son’s room, where she summoned handfire to light their way. Alaric stirred in his sleep as they approached his cot, smiling a little as he dreamed. His fine golden hair was tousled and a little damp where it curled against his neck, his face angelic in slumber. Alyce bent and kissed his cheek tenderly, then took a candlestick from beside his bed and passed a hand over the wick, flaring it
to life even as she quenched her handfire.

  The boy stirred again and opened his eyes as she gazed down at him, Kenneth at her side. He looked a little bewildered, and started to make a little whimpering noise, but Alyce held one finger to her lips and shook her head as her husband pulled back the blankets and gathered him up with a reassuring hug. At that, Alaric yawned sleepily and ground a chubby fist against his eyes, one arm going around Kenneth’s neck as he was carried from the nursery in his nightshirt, bare legs dangling. Alyce did not take her eyes from him as she picked up one of the blankets and followed with the candle to light their way.

  In the writing room, the king was still seated before the fire, his carved staff cradled in the crook of his arm. He smiled faintly and gave a nod of approval as Kenneth set the boy on his feet to face him. Alaric seemed bewildered at first, and looked questioningly to his mother as she locked the door and made a slight curtsy before taking a place at the king’s right.

  «Good evening, Alaric», the king said.

  At the boy’s look of uncertainty, Kenneth crouched down beside his son, one arm around him in reassurance.

  «Alaric, you remember the king», he prompted, directing the boy’s attention to the seated man. «What duty do you owe to His Majesty?»

  At once the boy drew himself to attention and made the king a grave and correct bow as he had been taught. In return, the king gave him a reassuring smile and held out his right hand, silver flashing at his wrist as he turned his palm up. Alaric smiled, too, as he laid his small hand in the king’s great, scarred one in perfect trust, grey eyes searching grey.

  «Come and sit beside me, boy. I want to show you something», Donal said, patting the chair and then helping Alaric scramble to a seat half in his lap and half supported by the carved chair arms.

  The boy squirmed a little as he settled into the circle of the king’s arms, for the royal lap was bony, and the royal belt bristled with adult accoutrements of infinite interest to a small child. He started to touch one careful, stubby finger to the great jewel in the hilt of the king’s dagger, but Alyce reached out and touched his forehead lightly, extending control. He subsided at once, settling back in the royal embrace to turn awed, attentive eyes on the king.

  Smiling, Donal reached around the boy and removed a wide silver bracelet-cuff from underneath his right sleeve. A handspan wide, its only adornment besides the mirror-polish of the metal itself was an angular, stylized pattern of running lions, their legs and tails intertwined. Donal breathed several times upon the silver, then buffed it against the fur lining of his leather cloak. As he displayed it then between the thumbs and fingertips of both hands, Alaric within the circle of his arms, the polished metal flashed firelight into the boy’s fascinated eyes.

  «Alaric, this is a very special bracelet», Donal said. «I doubt you’ll ever see another like it».

  Curious, the boy craned his neck for a better look as the king turned the bracelet to show him the three runes engraved inside. Alyce could see him trying to make sense of the symbols, and sensed his frustration as he discovered that they were not the letters that his mother and Father Anselm had taught him. Abruptly she realized that Donal had sensed it, too; knew his faint amusement as he caught her eyes in a piercing glance for just an instant before laying a fingernail under the first sigil.

  «One», the king murmured.

  Alaric went briefly rigid, eyelids fluttering, before his eyes rolled upward and he slid into profound slumber, slumping bonelessly against the king’s chest. Kenneth, who had withdrawn to watch from nearer the fireplace, gasped and took an involuntary step closer, but faltered when Alyce shook her head and half raised a hand to stop him. As he paused, caught between concern and indecision, Donal laid his open hand across the boy’s closed eyes and murmured a few words, which even Alyce could not hear. Power glittered in the fog-grey eyes then, as he looked up and ensnared Kenneth’s attention in an irresistible binding.

  «Kenneth, you look like you could use a rest», he said softly. «Have a seat».

  Instantly obedient, Kenneth backed up a step and sank down on a small stool near the hearth, completely focused on the king’s every flicker of movement. Watching him, Alyce thought she knew now how Donal had gotten past her husband that night of Alaric’s Naming.

  «Now have a little sleep», the king went on, not bothering to watch further as Kenneth’s eyes closed and his chin sank to his chest.

  Swallowing, Alyce returned her attention to Donal and heavily lowered herself to her knees, beside his chair. She felt his eyes upon her as she tucked the blanket she had brought around her son, expecting only to lend assistance in establishing the necessary link with her son. But at once she sensed the king’s mind reaching out to hers as well, probing, insinuating itself into her consciousness and beyond.

  Compliant, adapting, she let herself relax into that profound trance state he required for what must be done, letting him guide in setting the compulsions that must wait and germinate in Alaric’s young mind, until it should become time for Brion to come into the full knowledge of his father’s vast powers — and time for Alaric to facilitate that coming.

  And there was more that she had not expected, for Donal next turned the rapier force of his will upon her, laying one of his hands over one of hers and drawing her deeper into trance. Already poised at the edge of consciousness, she suddenly knew herself to be yet another tool in Donal’s wielding. As he drew her into a deeper reservoir of power than she had ever sensed was possible, she lost consciousness of anything at all…

  Some little while later she became aware that her knees were numb from kneeling, that her head throbbed from her exertions, that Donal had withdrawn from their contact, finishing whatever it was he had set out to do. She opened her eyes to see him replacing the silver bracelet on his wrist, watched him press a brief, fervent kiss to Alaric’s temple where the pulse throbbed.

  «I have taken the liberty of setting a second set of instructions — in you», he said quietly, glancing at her sidelong. «If Alaric is still young when I die, you will have the ability and knowledge to help Brion to his Haldane powers — though, once I set the block, you’ll remember none of this unless there is a need. I hope you do not think too ill of me».

  «You have empowered me with the Haldane triggers?» she breathed, wide-eyed.

  «You yourself said it, my dear», he replied, smiling faintly. «It will be several years before Alaric is old enough to do what is needful. In the meantime, my son may need a Deryni to assist him: one whom I may trust implicitly. I have delegated that function to you. God willing, you shall never be called upon to exercise it».

  The revelation left her feeling numb and almost violated as Donal turned the focus of his attention away from her. As he gestured vaguely toward her nodding husband, Kenneth stirred and yawned and came to, blinking in the firelight.

  The royal hand was on her arm then, helping her to her feet. Memory of the specifics of their working fled even as she rose. Still a little disoriented, she half-sat on one arm of Donal’s chair, easing the small of her back with both hands as the king shifted her sleeping son to wrap the blanket more closely around him and raised his eyes to Kenneth’s.

  «You may take the boy back to bed now», he rasped in a voice that reflected all the weariness and grief of the past week. «All has been done that is needful. He will sleep until morning, after what we have just done. And while I shall not require you to forget what you may have seen and heard tonight, you will not speak of it, save to Alyce. Go now».

  Kenneth nodded and got stiffly to his feet, his age, too, showing in his movements. Tenderly he gathered his sleeping son into his arms, pausing so that Alyce could brush her lips against the boy’s forehead as she, too, rose.

  Then he was gone, and the boy with him. As the door closed, Donal sighed and also got to his feet, leaning heavily on his staff as his eyes sought hers.

  «I do not know when we shall see one another again», he said softly. «All h
as been done as it must be. Brion is already prepared, and now Alaric, and both will be ready when it comes time for them to work together. Nor will either of them be haunted by any knowledge of their roles until that time comes». He paused for just an instant, cocking his head. «Have you any regrets?»

  She returned his gaze, finally without apprehension, and found that, indeed, she had none.

  «No, Sire. No regrets. Duty is not always easy to bear, but I think we were both obliged to accept, a long time ago, that we must make the best of what our circumstances have decreed. I am honored to have been of service to you and your son».

  «Alyce, the honor is all mine, for you have served my son in ways you could never have dreamed», he answered, moving closer to awkwardly take her in his arms.

  He pressed his lips to her forehead in something like a kiss, then buried his face in her hair and inhaled of its perfume, simply holding her close for several seconds. She could feel his heart beating, where her cheek pressed close against his chest, and for just an instant it seemed that she had always belonged there, safe in the circle of his arms.

  Then he was pulling back with a gasp, the grey eyes haunted by a pain that had nothing to do with his grief over his lost son or the ache of his weary body. Hardly daring to keep looking at her, he brushed her jawline with his fingertips as if to memorize its curve for all eternity. Then he tore his eyes away and thrust her from him, turning to lurch painfully from the room, leaving her trembling beside her husband’s chair with a hand pressed to her throat to still the sob that threatened to undo them both. She did not try to stop him, and he did not look back.

  Chapter 20

  «He shall not depart out of darkness; the flame shall dry up his branches, and by the breath of his mouth shall he go away».[21]

  Kenneth was given little opportunity to speak to his wife afterward, for the king insisted on returning immediately to Rhemuth. Donal had left his queen alone with her grief, and Prince Brion might return home at any time.