Deryni Rising (Chronicles of the Deryni)

  “You learned to counsel and receive counsel wisely and unpretentiously. And through it all, you were made to understand that a wise king does not speak in anger nor judge until all the facts are before him.”

  Morgan paused in his oratory and looked down at his handful of pebbles, as though surprised to realize he still held them. Gently, he tipped his hand and let them drop to the ground.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you this yet, Kelson, but I think in many ways you may be even better equipped for rule than Brion was. You have a certain sensitivity, an appreciation of—life, perhaps?—that I’m not sure Brion ever really grasped. I don’t suppose it made him any less a king—and he listened dutifully enough to the philosophers as well as the warriors. But I was never sure he really understood them. I think perhaps you do.”

  Kelson stared hard at the ground between his legs, blinking back tears of remembering. Then he raised his head and looked out across the pool once more.

  “I know that’s meant to be reassuring. But it doesn’t really answer my question. Or rather, it answers the question I asked, but I didn’t ask the right one. I suppose I really wanted to know about the Shadowed One’s role in all of this.”

  Morgan raised one eyebrow warily. “What about her?” he asked, remembering what Nigel had told him.

  Kelson sighed in exasperation. “Now, Morgan, if you start evading, we’ll get nowhere. I already know that Father won and held the kingdom partly through magic. You told me that yourself. And I also know why you were at Cardosa three months after the new treaty was signed. She’s been behind it all the time, and I don’t understand why everyone is so loath to talk about it. I’m not a child.”

  Morgan shifted uneasily. This was the crucial point. If the boy had truly managed to get an accurate picture of what had happened, there was a reasonable chance for success even at this late date. Cautiously, he looked across at Kelson.

  “Did Brion tell you the Shadowed One was involved?”

  “Not in so many words. But he didn’t deny it, either.”

  “And?” Morgan urged.

  “And—” Kelson began, searching for exactly the right phrasing. “Morgan, I don’t think my father died of an ordinary heart attack. I think there was something else involved. In fact, I think the Shadowed One . . .”

  “Go on.”

  “I think the Shadowed One somehow killed him with magic!” the boy finally blurted.

  Morgan slowly smiled and nodded his head, and Kelson’s face fell.

  “You already knew?” the boy asked, amazement and indignation written across his face.

  “I suspected,” Morgan amended, relaxing to a more comfortable position on his hard rock seat. “Nigel told me what you’d discussed with him, and I agree. Now, suppose you tell me exactly what happened on that hunt. I want every detail you can remember.”

  WHEN all of the ladies-in-waiting had left the room, Jehana stood slowly and met Nigel’s determined gaze.

  “You play a dangerous game, Nigel,” she said softly. “Even if you are Brion’s brother, I remind you that I am still your queen.”

  “But Kelson is my king,” Nigel answered quietly. “And what you propose to do to him, by destroying Morgan, borders dangerously close to treason.”

  “Treason?” Jehana asked. “I thought we had agreed to reserve that label for Morgan. I don’t call protecting my only son treason.”

  “I made no such agreement about the label,” Nigel replied evenly. “And, yes, I call it treason if it endangers Kelson. Without Brion’s powers, you know he doesn’t stand a chance. And Morgan is the one man in this world who can help him regain those powers.”

  “Brion’s powers didn’t save him.”

  “No, but perhaps they can save Kelson.”

  “I don’t see it that way,” Jehana said, her voice deepening. “I see that Morgan is the one man who could destroy my son in the ways that really count—that is, where his soul is concerned. And I see that it was Morgan’s evil influence from the start that corrupted Brion—that unspeakably profane Deryni power that contaminated everything Morgan touched. I can’t stand by and see the same thing happen to my son.”

  “Jehana, for the love of God—” Nigel began.

  Jehana turned on him in a cold fury, her eyes blazing with a chill fire that Nigel had never seen there before. “Don’t you dare bring God into this! You have no right to invoke His name for anything! If you support Morgan, you condone the Deryni heresy. And might I suggest, dear Brother, that your own soul may be in danger from even your slight proximity to that man!” She turned away abruptly.

  Nigel bit his lip and forced himself to control his rising anger. The discussion was going just as it always did, except that this time religious zeal had gotten the better of Jehana’s common sense. He knew it was no use to continue the argument, yet he had to do it, even though he already knew the outcome. Perhaps bluntness would be a better tactic.

  “I won’t argue theology with you, Jehana,” he said quietly. “But there are some things about Brion that you ought to know before you go off condemning his soul to that special Hell reserved for consorters with heresy. For one thing, Brion’s powers were his own. He didn’t receive them from any outside source, Deryni or otherwise. The authority and potential Brion held have been handed down through our male line since the time of Camber and the Restoration.

  “Certainly, Morgan helped Brion to realize his potential. He guided him in the use of the resulting powers. But the potential was Brion’s, born in him, just as it is in every male child of the Haldane line; just as I carry it, and my sons—and Kelson.”

  “That’s preposterous,” Jehana stated flatly. “Such powers couldn’t possibly be hereditary.”

  “I didn’t say that the powers were passed on automatically—only the potential to carry them. One Haldane can hold the powers at any given time. And now, it’s Kelson’s turn.”

  “No. I won’t permit it.”

  “Why not let Kelson decide?”

  “Because Kelson is a child,” Jehana said impatiently. “He doesn’t know what’s best for him.”

  “Kelson is a king, and will be crowned as such in the cathedral tomorrow. Would you deny him the right to continue wearing that crown after the coronation?”

  “Who would dare to take it from him?”

  Nigel smiled. “Not I, Jehana, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m quite content to remain the Duke of Carthmoor. Brion wanted it that way.”

  “And if you were not content as Duke of Carthmoor, what then? Would Brion’s wishes matter?”

  Nigel smiled again. “I don’t think you understand. Brion was my brother as well as my king. Even had I not accepted the Duchy of Carthmoor out of my love for him—I was entitled to nothing, you know; Brion, as elder son, was heir to all—but even if my love for my brother did not bind me, I would still be bound by my oath to my liege lord to keep the king’s peace. I loved him as a sovereign as well as a brother, Jehana.”

  “I loved him, too,” Jehana said defensively.

  “You choose strange ways to show it.”

  “I can love the man, yet hate his deeds, can’t I?”

  “Can you?” Nigel questioned. “Perhaps we have different definitions of the word love. To my way of thinking, it’s a bit more than mere profession of some nebulous feeling for another human being. It is also accepting—accepting everything about that person, even though you don’t approve of all of it.

  “But you were never quite able to do that, were you? Because if you had been, you would have accepted from the start that Brion was magic in a wonderful and special way, and that the proper way of rule for him was to use the powers he’d been given to keep peace in this land he loved so well.”

  He turned to face her. “If you’re honest, I think you’ll have to agree that Brion never once misused those powers. Nor did Morgan, for that matter. Never, in all the years they were together, did either of them use those powers for anything but good.


  “When Brion slew the Marluk, for example, I was there at his side, riding with him and Morgan. Can you possibly doubt that what they did was right? Think where we all might be today if the Marluk had won.”

  Jehana began twisting her fingers together uneasily as she thought back on the years. “Brion never mentioned any of this to me.”

  “He knew how you felt about Morgan,” Nigel answered gently. “But even with that, I know he tried more than once to tell you.” He turned her to face him squarely. “Don’t you remember the times he mentioned his reign, his divine power of kingship? It wasn’t a convenient legend handed down by a race of kings to justify divine right of rule.”

  “Why not?” she retorted stubbornly. “It’s been the same with other royal houses. All kings claim their right of rule from God.”

  Nigel slammed one fist into the other palm in exasperation. “Jehana, will you listen to me? You haven’t heard a word I’ve said. I’m trying to tell you that even if you do find Morgan’s Deryni powers distasteful—and you’ve made no secret of that—they had nothing to do with Brion. His powers were his own!”

  After a long silence, Jehana looked up, her face immobile, cold.

  “I don’t believe you. Because if I did, I would have to believe that Brion was more than human, that he had, indeed, acquired his fearsome powers from somewhere outside the normal channels accessible to man. And that just isn’t so. He may have been corrupted in life by your precious Morgan, but Brion himself was without personal taint. He was human.”

  “Jehana—”

  “No! Brion was human, normal. And in spite of the accursed Deryni taint, he died a normal death, pursuing normal pleasures—not tempting the wrath of the Almighty by dabbling in Morgan’s black arts!”

  “A normal death?” Nigel pounced on the phrase like an eagle after a mouse. “A normal death? Tell me about it, Jehana! What was normal about the way Brion died?”

  Jehana froze, and her face went pale. “What do you mean?” she murmured apprehensively. “It was his heart. His heart stopped.”

  Nigel nodded slowly. “That is the ultimate cause of all deaths, isn’t it?”

  “What do you mean by that?” Jehana challenged.

  Nigel folded his arms across his chest and looked down cautiously at the young queen. Perhaps this was the very opening he’d been seeking. Apparently Jehana had not even considered the possibility that Brion’s death was not from natural causes. He mentally kicked himself for not thinking of the approach sooner. He began on a tentative note.

  “Tell me, Jehana, does it seem normal for a man in Brion’s peak physical condition to die of a heart attack? Remember, he was only thirty-nine, and our family has a history of longevity.”

  “But, his physicians said—”

  “His physicians are not versed in such matters.”

  She started to object, but he stayed her comment with an upraised hand.

  “You didn’t ask about Lord Ralson and Colin, either. Not to change the subject, but you did know Kelson sent them to fetch Morgan, didn’t you?”

  “Against my—” She lowered her eyes. “What happened?”

  “There was an ambush near Valoret. All members of the party were killed except Morgan and young Derry.”

  Her hand flew to her mouth to mask the involuntary expression of horror.

  Nigel’s eyes narrowed. “Morgan thinks that the same person or persons responsible for the ambush also had a hand in Brion’s murder.”

  “Murder!” Jehana cried. “You’re trying to tell me that someone managed to assassinate Brion and make it look like a heart attack?”

  “Can you think of a better way for the Shadowed One to begin her bid for power?” Nigel countered. “She knew she couldn’t stand against Brion in fair combat. But Kelson—he’s just a boy. And if she could keep Morgan from reaching him and aiding him in the acquisition of Brion’s powers—why, Kelson would be no problem whatsoever. After all, Kelson is entirely unschooled in such matters, thanks to you. What chance could a human boy possibly have against a full Deryni sorceress?”

  “You’re mad!” Jehana whispered, her face whiter still against the black of her mourning dress. “This is some delusion that’s come over you in your grief!”

  “It’s no delusion.”

  “Get out! Get out of here before I call a guard. If it’s not a delusion, then it’s an outright fabrication designed to destroy what cohesion there is left in the Council. And that borders on treason, too, my husband’s brother! Now, get out!”

  “Very well,” Nigel said, backing off and bowing slightly. “I didn’t think you’d listen, but I had to try. At least when things occur as I’ve said they will, you won’t be able to say you weren’t warned.” He turned on his heel and strode toward the outer door. “I’ll wait in the anteroom to escort you to the Council meeting. You won’t want to keep the executioners waiting.”

  When he had left the room, Jehana let out a shaky breath of relief and tried to stop her hands from trembling. Now that she had heard Nigel’s story, she was more convinced than ever that she was doing what must be done, that Kelson must rule as a mortal. Now, if she could just get Kelson into the Council meeting and keep him from openly opposing her . . .

  Resolutely, she yanked the bell pull to summon a servant. Kelson must be sent for right away. There was no time to lose.

  KELSON shifted to a more comfortable position on his rock. The sun had gone behind a cloud bank, and the cool, moist air of the garden seemed to close in on him slightly.

  “Then, you never got to examine the body for yourself?” Morgan asked. His face was grim with the information he had gained in the last few minutes.

  Kelson shook his head. “I’m afraid not. The body only lay in state for two days, and there was a triple guard of honor around it the whole time. No one was allowed to go closer than about twenty feet—not even me. And when I asked Mother why the tight security, why the rush to bury him, she wouldn’t answer. She just said it was for the best, and that one day I’d understand. At the time, I remember thinking she probably hurried so you wouldn’t be able to get back in time for the interment. She knew that would hurt you.”

  “I can’t deny that,” Morgan agreed. “But I think there may have been other motives at work here. Perhaps, in spite of everything, she suspected what really happened at Candor Rhea, even though she couldn’t let herself admit it. Hence, no one was allowed to go near the body. That’s probably also the reason you weren’t permitted to send for Duncan until it was too late. In my absence, he was probably the one person at court who might have told for certain whether magic was used on Brion or not.”

  “Do you think she knows Father Duncan has been tutoring me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure she knows,” Morgan said. “Just as long as she doesn’t know what he’s been teaching you . . .”

  Kelson grinned. “That would give her something to worry about, wouldn’t it?”

  “No doubt about it,” Morgan agreed. “There’s something else you ought to consider, though. It’s only a possibility, and I didn’t even want to mention it, but is there any chance that your mother was somehow involved in what happened?”

  “Mother?” Kelson sat up straight. “Morgan, you don’t think—”

  “I don’t know at this point. But right now, there are only three people I trust. Two of them are sitting here right now, and the third one isn’t Jehana. If she is involved, even without her own knowledge, it could make this whole situation even more difficult than we’d anticipated.”

  “I—I really don’t know what to say,” Kelson stammered. “She has been rather—”

  “Kelson, don’t move!”

  Morgan had frozen in his place and was staring fixedly at a point just beyond Kelson, where the boy’s left arm supported him.

  “What—?”

  “Don’t turn your head. Not a word, not a move,” Morgan murmured, his hand going slowly to the hilt of his sword. “There is a very large, very poisonous, mult
i-legged creature not a handspan beyond your arm. If you move, it will kill you.”

  As the sword whispered silently from its scabbard, Morgan eased himself to his feet and stealthily raised the blade. Kelson sat immobile, trusting, only his eyes betraying his apprehension as they darted from Morgan’s face, to the sword, to his own side, trying vainly to see behind himself without moving his head.

  With a flash of gleaming steel, the blade descended. And in that same instant, a woman’s scream shattered the silence.

  As the blade struck, Kelson rolled clear and leaped to his feet, a wrist-stiletto flicking into his hand as he regained his balance. But as he glimpsed the writhing horror there on the ground, he stopped to watch, spellbound, as Morgan’s blade bit again and again into the creature.

  He had a fleeting impression of a bulbous orange body about the size of a man’s head, spotted with blue, of many brittle legs that waved frantically as it tried to scuttle away from Morgan’s sword, of two angrily gnashing pincers or stingers—he couldn’t be sure which.

  Then the thing was but a twitching ruin of red and orange flesh, its identity lost in the carnage. Morgan poked it a final time with the tip of his blade, and Kelson at last became aware of the woman screaming—the sound that had continued full volume throughout the episode.

  As Kelson shook the immobility from his limbs and eyes, he was surprised to see more than a dozen armed men racing across the garden toward him, weapons drawn, and a dark-clothed woman right behind them. Morgan lowered his sword, still breathing heavily, as the men surrounded him and the prince.

  “Drop the sword, you!” the guard captain called out as he deployed his men. The woman whose screams had summoned them half shielded herself behind the captain, her eyes wide with terror.

  “I saw him! I saw him!” she cried hysterically, pointing at Morgan. “He was trying to kill the prince! He put a spell on him, and was about to slay him when I screamed!”