The Bishop’s Heir

  Rubbing a hand across his eyes, Morgan sighed and picked up Prime, shifting his balance points again and readjusting control as he brought the cube near its black counterpart, Quinte. He could feel the tug of the opposites attracting as he closed the distance, the black cube almost seeming to rise that last fraction of space to meet the white as he spoke the word of power.

  “Primus.”

  The two cubes fused in a single, silvery grey oblong. One down. Breathing deeply, Morgan pushed the completed first ward a little to one side and plucked Seconde from its fellows, mating it to Sixte.

  “Secundus.”

  Again, the silver-glowing rectoid.

  When he had completed Tertius and Quartus, he set the four wards on the floor around his chair like tiny, glowing towers and sat down again, feeling for the balance points in his mind a final time before he set things into motion. Commanding now, he pointed to each of the wards in turn and spoke the words, sensing the surge as the elements meshed and flared.

  “Primus, Secundus, Tertius, Quartus, fiat lux!”

  It was like suddenly being inside a tent of pale, silvery light. The very air around him seemed to shimmer. As he lowered his arm and sat back in his chair, he could feel the wards like an insulating cocoon, shielding and protecting.

  Satisfied, he adjusted the candle again and laid his hands along the arms of his chair, positioning the signet on his right hand to catch the light. It was a tangible symbol of the faith binding friend to friend, protector to sovereign; the golden Haldane lion etched on the curve of the gold-set onyx oval seemed to stare at him in the dimness. Morgan used it now as a focus, willing himself to still and center, conjuring the king’s face over the lion’s.

  He could feel his breathing slowing, his pulsebeat steadying, and gradually his vision began to narrow until only the ring was in his gaze. Doggedly he held Kelson’s image before his mind, letting his eyelids droop lower, lower, until they closed and the image of Kelson alone remained. Awareness of his body receded as the mental image sharpened, and as he stretched his senses northward, all his concentration was centered on the ring, the face, the mind.

  After a long while, almost at the limits of perception, he at last sensed what he had come to find.

  And in Transha, immersed in his questioning of Caulay and the concentration needed to maintain control, Kelson pushed aside the first vague brushing at his mind. He and Dhugal listened with horrified fascination as the old man wove a tale of treachery far more widespread than either of them had dreamed.

  But as Caulay reiterated the rumors he had heard of knights gone over to the Mearan Pretender and of Ithel Quinnell’s growing popularity, a hint of Morgan’s urgency began to penetrate—though not its source, at first. The king tensed as it brushed for the first time at a conscious level, momentarily shutting out Caulay’s rambling as he tried to track it down. When it proved too elusive, he laid a hand on the old man’s wrist, shaking his head.

  “Enough, Caulay. Hush for a minute,” he whispered. He closed his eyes to listen better.

  Nothing. Then the lightest of feather-brushes. He sensed it might be Morgan, but even when he turned all his concentration toward picking up the next touch, he could not be sure of more than the touch sensation.

  “What is it?” Dhugal whispered, leaning closer on his stool. “Is something wrong?”

  Carefully, Kelson shook his head, trying not to lose the all too tenuous contact hovering at the edge of consciousness.

  “Not here,” he murmured. “Someone’s trying to reach me, though—very far away and very faint. And it’s urgent.”

  A little catch of breath from Dhugal’s direction, and the sense of awe and apprehension mixed. Then: “Do you know who it is?”

  Kelson nodded slowly, still straining to make it clearer. “Morgan, I think. I can’t—quite—pull it in.”

  “Morgan? But you said he was in Culdi.”

  “He is, so far as I know. And at this range, for me even to be aware of this much is incredible.”

  Slowly he opened his eyes to look across at Dhugal, though he kept tenuous touch with the continuing call. The sense of urgency persisted, as did the growing conviction that the source was Morgan. After all he had done already, Kelson knew he had no chance of bringing the contact through on his own, but there just might be another way. It was much to ask, however.

  “What is it?” Dhugal breathed. “Why are you looking at me that way?”

  “Did you mean what you said before, that you wouldn’t let yourself be afraid of me?” Kelson countered.

  Dhugal turned a little pale beneath his coppery hair, and Kelson could sense the queasy apprehension rising in his chest.

  “What are you going to do?” Dhugal whispered. “No, make that, ‘What are you going to do to me?’ You need me for something, don’t you? To help you reach Morgan.”

  “Yes.” Kelson glanced briefly at the sleeping Caulay. “I need one or both of you to augment my strength. His might be enough, but I’d like you in the link as well.”

  Dhugal swallowed hard, making no attempt to hide his fear.

  “M-me?”

  With a sigh, Kelson managed a none-too-patient nod. He was finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate on reassuring Dhugal and still maintain whatever contact he had with whoever was trying to reach him, but a slightly different approach was already taking shape in his mind.

  “It’s the not-knowing that’s the worst, isn’t it?” he guessed. “You see Caulay, obviously unconscious, and you’re afraid of what might happen to you—and that you wouldn’t even know. Loss of control.”

  “I—suppose so.”

  Nodding again, Kelson stood and came around the end of the bed, staying Dhugal with a gesture when he eased off the stool and started to back away.

  “Let’s try something a little different from what I originally had in mind, then,” he said, climbing onto the stool and motioning for Dhugal to come behind him. “This shouldn’t be nearly as frightening. I need physical contact to make my link with you, but there’s no reason you can’t control that instead of me. It will make my part a little trickier with you completely conscious, but I’m willing to give it a try, if you are.”

  “What do I have to do?” Dhugal replied warily.

  “Just stand behind me and put your hands on my shoulders. Let your thumbs rest on the back of my neck.”

  “Like this?” Dhugal whispered, as he gingerly obeyed.

  “That’s fine.”

  Kelson took Caulay’s flaccid left hand and cradled it against his knee, then glanced over his shoulder as he straightened.

  “Now come a little closer, so I can lean against you for support. It’s going to seem like I’ve fallen asleep—rather like what I did to Bertie yesterday—and I don’t want to fall off the stool. Don’t laugh!” he added, as he sensed Dhugal’s surprise. “I really am going to be somewhat at your mercy.”

  He could feel Dhugal’s whole body tense behind him. Then, in a very faint voice:

  “Kelson, I’m not sure I can do this.”

  “Yes, you can,” he said patiently. “Dhugal, there’s absolutely no danger. If you should freeze up, which is most unlikely, the worst that can happen is that I won’t make the contact. Now, trust me, all right?” He reached back to touch Dhugal’s forearm in brief reassurance. “Take a few deep breaths to relax now, and try to let your mind go blank.”

  He followed his own instructions and felt Dhugal’s cautious response.

  “That’s right. Another deep breath now, and let it out slowly. Close your eyes. Imagine all the tension flowing out of your body as you exhale. Let yourself drift now,” he continued, as Dhugal edged into light rapport. “You’re doing just fine. Soon I’m going to bring your father into the link, but if he can’t provide enough power I’ll need to draw from you as well. You may not even be aware of it. At most, you’ll feel a slight sort of a tickling sensation in your head. Breathe again now, deeply.…”

  While he let Dh
ugal continue settling, Kelson turned his attention briefly to Caulay, reaching out tendrils of control as Morgan and Duncan had taught him and tying in the potential. He had not expected it to be enough, so he was not disappointed. At least he was able to confirm that it was Morgan he was seeking, and that Morgan sensed a mutual effort to bring the contact through. He could feel Dhugal’s untapped potential towering at his back, fiercely supportive but still a bit too tentative for comfort, and knew he would have to go a little farther than he had told Dhugal he would.

  Gently he reached out with his senses and brushed Dhugal’s mind, keying the triggers which would enable him to slip Dhugal into a light control trance despite what he had said, for he could not afford to have Dhugal falter in midcontact. Gradually Dhugal’s head nodded lower, lower, until finally his chin was resting against the top of Kelson’s head, though he was not truly asleep—only drifting in a placid, twilight state.

  After another few heartbeats, Kelson turned his attention back to the waiting contact, opening his mind to fill with Morgan’s message.

  Well done, my prince, came Morgan’s whispered thought in his mind. I really wasn’t certain I could reach you. Who else is in the link?

  Caulay and Dhugal, Kelson replied. And Dhugal is still partially conscious, so try not to let anything surge, or he’s going to feel it and scare himself to death pulling out.

  He caught the impression of laughter, like tinkling silver bells, and then a more sober note.

  A brave lad and a true friend, Morgan sent. Why don’t you bring him back to Culdi with you!

  I’m needed already? Kelson queried.

  Aye. Cardiel asked me to contact you. He and Arilan have in mind to promote Istelyn to the See of Meara, and they’d like your official opinion. I told them I thought you’d approve, but you ought to do it in person.

  The logic of the request was apparent, and the importance of the summons beyond question, but Kelson sensed something more, vague and less pleasant, lurking beneath the surface. Dhugal stirred, perhaps sharing some of that uneasiness, and Kelson had to tighten his control just as little.

  What’s wrong? he asked. What is it you haven’t told me?

  Someone tried to kill Duncan earlier this evening—merasha on the dagger.

  What?

  One of his own retainers—hardly more than a boy, really. Unfortunately, he’s dead.

  And Duncan?

  As his own shock and concern reverberated in the link, he could feel Dhugal tense and try to withdraw. Relentlessly he clamped down on the controls, determined to hold the link just a little longer, even if doing so frightened Dhugal.

  He’s all right! Morgan’s reassurance came lancing through. A bad slash on his palm that I can probably heal in the morning, and the expected aftereffects from the drug, but no permanent damage. Just get back as soon as you can.

  The emotion behind Morgan’s thought was controlled, but very powerful. Despite Kelson’s attempt to buffer its intensity, Dhugal recoiled at the alien sensation; the link began to quiver. No longer trusting the luxury of worded communication, Kelson sent agreement and an urgency to break contact for Dhugal’s sake—and was out of the link, as much pushed as of his own volition. As he twisted around to grab the trembling Dhugal by the wrists, he continued to catch the ragged after-echo of Duncan’s pain as it had come through Morgan’s perception—only now it was coming from Dhugal.

  “Stop it!” he whispered harshly, giving Dhugal a shake and trying to force reason past the panic. “Look at me, Dhugal! Take a deep breath and listen! Let it go! You’re all right. Duncan is all right. Will you—”

  As his mind probed at Dhugal’s, bright pain seemed to explode behind his eyes, rebounding against his swiftly raised shields and somehow echoing back to Dhugal with even greater force. Dhugal cried out, doubling up and sinking to the floor despite Kelson’s attempt to support him, then lay there sobbing blindly—dry, wracking heaves as he gasped for breath, rocking in Kelson’s arms.

  Kelson was stunned. As he held the shuddering Dhugal and tried to comfort him, he could find nothing to account for the reaction. With the breaking of the link with Morgan, Dhugal should have felt nothing further.

  But when Kelson at last tried another tentative probe, the reason became abundantly clear.

  “Shields!” he whispered, withdrawing as quickly as he could and thrusting Dhugal far enough away to stare at him in shock. “Mother of God, Dhugal, where did you get shields? Can you hear me, Dhugal? You’ve got shields! Dhugal, are you all right?”

  Groggily, Dhugal uncurled and managed to sit up, holding his head with one hand and leaning against Kelson’s knee for support. Kelson did not press him for further response, only waited while Dhugal got his bearings and gradually raised his head, dragging a sleeve across his tear-stained face. His gaze was still a little glassy as he looked up at the king, and he seemed to be having trouble focusing.

  “Dhugal, what happened?” Kelson breathed.

  Dhugal made a brave attempt at a smile. “I was about to ask you the same question. God—my head hurts!”

  “Somehow you managed to pick up some of what Morgan was sending me,” Kelson whispered. “Then you slammed down shields on the link. How did you do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Shield. Most humans can’t. Everything was fine until Morgan told me about the attack on Duncan, and the merasha.”

  “What’s merasha?” Dhugal asked blankly.

  “Oh, sweet Jesu, of course you don’t know. It’s a drug. I don’t know where it comes from. But it muddles Deryni senses so that we—can’t use our magic. I’ve never had it used on me, but Morgan has—and now Duncan. And I know it was used to make my father vulnerable to Charissa’s magic, so she could kill him.”

  Dhugal shivered. “It sounds terrible.”

  “So was what happened when you tried to back out of the link! And you’ve got shields, for God’s sake! He doesn’t,” he stabbed one hand toward the sleeping Caulay in a gesture of frustration, “and you didn’t seem to, either, until we started getting that rebound from Duncan. What the devil happened? Can you remember anything at all?”

  Dhugal rubbed at his temples and winced. “I can’t think with you yelling at me.”

  “I’m not yelling at you, I just have to know what happened,” Kelson said, a little less emphatically. “You scared the hell out of me.”

  “I scared the hell out of me, too.”

  Cautiously Dhugal took a deep breath and let it out slowly, not looking at Kelson as he tried to ease himself back to memory of the pain.

  “It’s still mostly a jumble,” Dhugal finally went on haltingly, “but I do remember that after you stopped talking, I got sort of—drowsy.”

  “That was my fault,” Kelson muttered. “I confess I did a little more than I’d told you I was going to. But that shouldn’t have made you react the way you did. What else do you remember?”

  “I—have a vague impression of General Morgan laughing.… Something about bishops, too—and—and then a terrible pain in my head.”

  “That must have been Duncan and the merasha,” Kelson said, nodding. “Somehow, you got farther into the link than I thought—just enough to channel some of the emotion. I wasn’t expecting shields, though. Caulay doesn’t have them.”

  “He doesn’t have my knack with animals, either,” Dhugal countered, almost a little irritated, “and he used to be as good a tracker as Ciard.” He paused. “Maybe it does have something to do with the Second Sight, though. Maybe—maybe shields go along with that.”

  “Maybe,” Kelson replied.

  But Dhugal’s comment about the animals had struck a responsive chord in Kelson, so that the part about the Second Sight barely even registered. He recalled his father telling him how Morgan could charm deer to the very gates of the city if he wanted to, and some passing mention he remembered of Morgan’s sister Bronwyn being able to call the birds from the sky. If their ability came of being Deryni, then what about Dhugal
? Dhugal was also good with animals—and that would certainly account for the shields.

  “Let’s try this again,” he said, slipping his hands to either side of Dhugal’s head before the other could object. “Try not to fight me. This is the only way we’re going to find out more about what we’re up against.”

  But Dhugal gasped and tried to pull away at once as Kelson’s first probe clashed against the shields again.

  “God, what are you doing to me?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you,” Kelson answered. “Try to relax. I’ll ease up while you do, but you’ve got to help me. Don’t fight me, dammit! The more you struggle, the more it’s going to hurt!”

  But the pain of Kelson’s probe had already pushed Dhugal beyond reason again, contorting him into a shuddering fetal ball. Kelson tried several approaches, but the shields refused to budge. He could also sense Dhugal’s heartrate rising dangerously. He would have to stop.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, as he withdrew altogether. “God, I wish I knew where you got those shields!”

  He doubted Dhugal had heard him, but he kept repeating his apology while he waited for Dhugal to come around, kneading the rigid shoulders until finally Dhugal stirred, uncurling enough to turn frightened, pain-dulled eyes on him.

  “I’m sorry,” Kelson said again. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I really am sorry. Are you all right?”

  Dhugal nodded groggily and sat up with Kelson’s help, lifting a hand in reassurance.

  “It isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I did try to do what you asked, but it hurt so much—”

  “I know.” Kelson glanced away, reviewing everything one more time, then shook his head and sighed.

  “Well, it isn’t going to do us any good to just sit here and make apologies to one another. It’s no one’s fault. I certainly wish I didn’t have to leave for Culdi tomorrow, though.” He raised an eyebrow hopefully. “I don’t suppose you’d consider coming with me?”

  “Because of—what just happened?”

  Kelson nodded.