Read Deryni Checkmate Online

Authors: Katherine Kurtz

Deryni Checkmate (5 page)

BOOK: Deryni Checkmate
10.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads
Kelson slouched in his chair and studied a ruby ring on his right forefinger. “So it’s to be war against the Deryni, is it? Father Duncan, we can’t afford a religious dispute on the eve of a major war. What can we do to stop them?”
Duncan shook his head. “I don’t know. I’ll need to discuss it with Alaric. Hugh, can you tell us anything else about this? Who is delivering the letter? And how?”
“Monsignor Gorony is being sent, from Loris’s staff,” Hugh replied promptly. His eyes were round with wonder at what he had just seen and heard. “He and an armed escort are to take a barge as far as the Free Port of Concaradine, and will sail with a merchantman from there.”
“I know Gorony.” Duncan grimaced faintly. “Was anything added to the final draft of the letter? Anything that isn’t in here?” He tapped the parchment with a well-manicured forefinger.
“Nothing,” Hugh replied. “I made the final copy from that draft,” he gestured toward the letter on the table, “and I watched both of them sign and seal it. I don’t know what they told Gorony after I left. And of course I have no idea what they may have said to him earlier.”
“I see.” Duncan turned the information over in his mind and nodded. “Is there anything else we should know?”
Hugh looked at his feet and wrung his hands together. There was, indeed, something else. But he had not reckoned on the vehemence of Duncan’s earlier reaction, and he was not sure just how he should phrase the second matter now. It would not be easy, no matter how he said it.
“There—
is
something else you should know, Duncan.” He paused, reluctant to look up. “I had not thought to find you here, but—there is another matter that came under my pen tonight. It—concerns you personally.”
“Me?” Duncan glanced at Kelson and Nigel. “Go on. You may speak freely here.”
“It—isn’t that.” Hugh swallowed with difficulty. “Duncan, Corrigan is suspending you. He’s calling you to answer before his ecclesiastical court for dereliction of duty, probably tomorrow morning.”
“What?”
Duncan stood, hardly aware that he did so, his face ashen against the black of his cassock. Hugh could not raise his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Apparently the archbishop thinks you were responsible for some of what happened at His Majesty’s coronation last fall—begging your pardon, Sire.” He nodded toward Kelson. “He gave me his draft of the writ not an hour ago, asking to have it as soon as possible. I gave it to one of my clerks to copy and came straight here, intending to find you after I’d told the king about the other matters.”
He finally dared to look at Duncan, and whispered, “Duncan, are you mixed up in magic?”
Duncan moved toward the fireplace as one in a trance, his blue eyes wide, all pupil. “Suspended,” he murmured disbelievingly, ignoring Hugh’s question. “And called before his court.”
He turned toward Kelson. “My prince, I must not be here tomorrow when that writ is served. It isn’t that I’m afraid—you know that. But if Corrigan takes me into custody just now . . .”
Kelson nodded gravely. “I understand. What do you want me to do?”
Duncan thought a moment, looked guardedly at Nigel, then back at Kelson. “Send me to Alaric, Sire. He must be warned of the threat of Interdict anyway, and I’ll be safe from Corrigan at his court. It may even be that I can sway Bishop Tolliver to delay implementation of the Interdict.”
“I’ll give you a dozen of my best men,” Kelson agreed. “What else?”
Duncan shook his head, trying to formulate a plan of action. “Hugh, you say that Gorony took the sea route. That’s a three-day journey by ship, possibly less in storm weather, if they pile on all canvas. Nigel, how are the roads between here and Alaric’s capital this time of year?”
“Terrible. But if you change horses along the way, you should be able to make it ahead of Gorony. Also, the weather will improve a little as you go south.”
Duncan ran a weary hand through his short brown hair and nodded. “All right, I’ll have to try it. At least I’ll be out of Corrigan’s jurisdiction, once I cross the Corwyn border. Bishop Tolliver has been a friend, of sorts, in the past. I doubt he’d arrest me on Gorony’s word alone. Besides that, Gorony hopefully won’t know about Corrigan’s summons, even if he does get there ahead of me.”
“It’s settled, then,” Kelson said, standing and nodding in Hugh’s direction. “Father, I thank you for your loyalty. It shall not go unrewarded. But will it be safe for you to return to the archbishop’s palace, after what you’ve told us? I can offer my protection, if you like. Or you could go with Father Duncan.”
Hugh gave a wan smile. “My thanks for your concern, Sire, but I believe I can serve you best if I return to my duties. I’ll not have been missed yet, and I may be able to tell you more at a later date.”
“Very well.” Kelson nodded. “Good luck to you, Father.”
“Thank you, Sire.” Hugh bowed. “And Duncan,” he paused to clasp Duncan’s hand and search his eyes, “be careful, my friend. I don’t know what you’ve done, and I don’t want to know, but my prayers will be with you.”
Duncan touched his shoulder in reassurance and nodded, and then Hugh was gone. As soon as the door had closed behind him, Duncan picked up the parchment and began refolding it, the crisp rustle the only sound in the silence. Now that he had a plan, his initial anger and shock were well under control, but he watched Kelson as he slipped the letter into his cincture. The boy was standing beside his chair, staring unseeing at the door and apparently oblivious to the presence of anyone else in the room. Nigel still sat at the table across from Duncan, but he, too, had withdrawn into a private world.
Duncan picked up his goblet and drained it, noticing the bent rim and realizing that he must have done it. He replaced the goblet silently and looked toward Kelson.
“Sire, I should like to take Hugh’s letter with me, if you have no objections. Alaric will wish to see it.”
“Yes, of course,” Kelson replied, shaking himself out of his reverie. “Uncle, will you see about the escort? And tell Richard he’s to go along. Father Duncan may have need of a good man.”
“Certainly, Kelson.”
Nigel rose gracefully and moved toward the door, clasping Duncan’s shoulder as he passed. Then the door was closed, and there were only the two of them. Kelson had moved to the fireplace as Nigel left, and now he stared moodily into the flames, resting his forehead on folded forearms along the edge of the mantel.
Duncan clasped his hands behind him and studied the floor uncertainly. There were things that only he and Kelson and Alaric had ever talked about, and he sensed it was something of this nature that was troubling the boy now. He had thought, at the time, that Kelson had taken this evening’s events far too calmly, but he didn’t dare wait much longer to get on the road. Corrigan just might decide to serve that writ tonight. And the longer Duncan waited, the farther ahead Gorony would be with the fateful letter.
Duncan cleared his throat gently, saw Kelson’s shoulders stiffen at the sound.
“Kelson,” he said quietly, “I have to go now.”
“I know.”
“Is there—any message I should take for Alaric?”
“No.” The boy’s voice was husky, strained. “Just tell him—tell him—”
He turned toward Duncan, his face pale, desperate. Concerned, Duncan moved closer and took him by the shoulders to gaze searchingly into the wide, frightened eyes. The boy stood stiff and straight, fists clenched tightly at his sides, not in defiance but in dread. The gray eyes filling with unbidden tears were no longer the eyes of a brave young king who had vanquished evil to keep his throne, but those of a child forced too soon and too long to function as an adult in a complex world.
Duncan sensed all of this in less than a heartbeat, and he stared down at the boy in compassion. For all the young king’s maturity, he was still a boy of fourteen—and a frightened one, at that.
“Kelson?”
“Please be careful, Father,” the boy whispered, his voice a little strangled with emotion.
On impulse, Duncan pulled the boy to him and held him close, felt the proud young shoulders shudder convulsively as he surrendered to the rare luxury of tears. As Duncan stroked the silky raven hair, he felt the boy relax, heard the stifled sobbing gradually diminish. He hugged the boy closer still, in a short gesture of comfort, then began to speak softly.
“Shall we talk about it, son? It isn’t nearly as terrifying if you look it in the eye.”
“Yes it is,” Kelson sniffed, his voice muffled against Duncan’s shoulder.
“Oh. Well, now, I don’t like to contradict kings, but I’m afraid I must disagree. Suppose we consider the worst that can possibly happen, and work up from there.”
“V-very well.”
“All right, then. What’s on your mind?”
Kelson pulled away slightly and looked up at Duncan, then wiped his eyes on his sleeve and turned toward the fireplace, still in the protective circle of Duncan’s left arm.
“What—” he whispered tremulously, “what will happen if you and Alaric are taken, Father?”
“Hmm, that depends on when and by whom,” Duncan answered lightly, trying to reassure the boy.
“Suppose Loris captures you?”
Duncan considered the question. “Well, first I’d have to answer before the ecclesiastical court. If they could prove anything, which is open to debate, they could degrade me from the priesthood, strip away my orders. I might even be excommunicated.”
“What if they found out you were half-Deryni?” the boy persisted. “Would they try to kill you?”
Duncan raised a thoughtful eyebrow. “They wouldn’t like it at all if they were to discover that,” he agreed, skirting the issue. “I should imagine I’d be excommunicated for sure, if that were to happen. However, that’s one very good reason I don’t plan to let myself be taken. It would be very awkward, to say the least.”
Kelson smiled in spite of himself. “Awkward. Yes, I suppose it would be. Could you kill them if you had to?”
“I’d rather not,” Duncan replied. “Another reason for not allowing them to catch me in the first place.”
“What about Alaric?”
“Alaric?” Duncan shrugged. “It’s difficult to say. So far, Loris seems willing to settle for repentance. If Alaric renounces his powers and vows never to use them again, Loris will call off the Interdict.”
“Alaric will never recant,” Kelson said fiercely.
“Oh, I’m certain he won’t,” Duncan agreed. “In that case, the Interdict falls on Corwyn, and we will begin to get political as well as religious repercussions.”
Kelson looked up, startled. “Why political? What will happen?”
“Well, since Alaric is the stated cause of the Interdict, the men of Corwyn might well refuse to rally under his banner for the summer campaign, thus costing you approximately twenty percent of your fighting force. Alaric will be excommunicated—along with me, I’m sure. And that brings you further into the picture.”
“Me? How?”
“Simple. Once Alaric and I are anathema, we carry excommunication with us like a plague. Anyone who associates with us is included in the decree. So that leaves you with two choices. You can obey the dictates of the archbishops and banish me and Alaric, thereby losing your best general on the eve of war. Or you can say the devil with the archbishops, and receive Alaric—and end up with all of Gwynedd under Interdict.”
“They wouldn’t dare!”
“Ah, but they would. Up until now, your rank has protected you, my prince. But I fear even that will end shortly. Your mother has seen to that.”
Kelson hung his head, remembering the scene a week before—how, unwittingly perhaps, his mother had set the stage for all that was now happening...
 
“BUT I don’t understand why you have to go so far,” Kelson had argued. “Why Saint Giles? You know that’s only a few hours’ ride from the Eastmarch border. There’s apt to be heavy fighting there in a few months.”
Jehana had calmly continued her packing, choosing garments from her wardrobe and handing them to a lady-in-waiting who was putting them in a leather-bound trunk. She was still in mourning for her dead husband, for it had been only four months since Brion’s death; but her shining head was uncovered, the long auburn hair cascading smoothly down her back in a streak of red-gold, held only by a simple gold clasp at the nape of the neck. She turned to glance at Kelson, and Nigel frowning behind him, then returned to her work, her outward manner calm and dispassionate.
“Why Saint Giles?” she answered. “I suppose because I stayed there for a few months many years ago, Kelson—before you were born. It’s—something I have to do, if I’m to be able to live with myself.”
“There are a dozen other places that would be safer, if you feel you absolutely have to go,” Nigel replied, restless fingers pleating and un-pleating a fold of his dark blue cloak. “We’re going to have enough to worry about, without wondering if some raiding party has come and carried you off—or worse.”
Jehana smiled and shook her head gently, looking the royal duke in the eyes. “Dear Nigel, Brother, how can I make you understand? I have to go. And I have to go to Shannis Meer. If I were to stay here, knowing what’s coming, knowing that Kelson will use his powers when and where he must, I would be tempted to use my own to try to stop him.
“I know in my mind that I dare not do that—not if he’s to survive. And yet my heart, my soul, everything I’ve ever been taught—all tell me that he must not be permitted to use those powers under any circumstances, that they’re corrupt, evil.” She turned to Kelson. “If I stayed, I might destroy you.”
“I don’t believe that!” Kelson said flatly. “Could you—a full Deryni, despite your efforts to renounce that fact—truly destroy your own son because he is forced by circumstances to use the powers you gave him?”
Jehana reacted as though she had been struck, turning her back to Kelson and leaning heavily against a chair, head bowed as she strove to control her trembling.
BOOK: Deryni Checkmate
10.54Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Ashes, Ashes by Jo Treggiari
The Beats in Rift by Ker Dukey
The Book of Jonah by Joshua Max Feldman
House of Dance by Beth Kephart
Armageddon by Thomas E. Sniegoski
Mary Stuart by Stefan Zweig
On His Honor by Jean Brashear
HighonYou by Sky Robinson