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  He looked at Kelson. "My Prince, I must not be here tomorrow when that writ is served. It's not that Fm afraid—you know that. But if Corrigan takes me into custody now ,.."

  Kelson nodded gravely. "I understand. What do you want me to do?"

  Duncan thought a moment, looked guardedly at Nigel, then 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."

  "Ill 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 you should be able to make it ahead of Gorony if you change horses along the way. Also> the weather gets a little better 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

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  Deryni Checkmate

  sorts in the past. I doubt he'd arrest me on Colony's word alone. Besides, 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 smiled. "My thanks for your concern, Sire, hut 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 still room. 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 violet cincture. The boy was standing beside his chair, staring unseeing at the door and apparently oblivious to the fact that there was 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.

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  "I plan to take Hugh's letter with me if you have no objections, My Prince. Alaric will want 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 catlike and moved toward the door, slapping 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 intently 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 onlv 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 aliead 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. Duncan moved to his side in alarm, took him by the shoulders and gazed deeply into the wide, frightened eyes. The boy stood stiff and straight, fists clenched tightly at his sides, not in defiance but in fear. And the grey eyes filling with unbidden tears were no longer the eyes of a brave young king who had van-

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  quished 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 trembling on the brink of tears.

  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 raven head, he felt the boy relax, heard the stifled sobbing diminish. He hugged the boy closer still in a short gesture of comfort, then began to speak softly.

  "Shall we talk about it, Kelson? It isn't nearly as terrifying if you look it in the eye."

  "Yes it is," Kelson sniffed, his voice muffled agaipst Duncan's shoulder.

  "Well, now, I don't like to contradict kings, but I'm afraid y6u're wrong this time, Kelson. Suppose we consider the worst that can possibly happen and work up from there."

  "V-very well."

  "All right, then. Whafs on your mind?"

  Kelson pulled away slightly and looked up at Duncan, then wiped his eyes 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

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  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 awkward to say the least."

  Kelson smiled in spite of himself. "Awkward. Yes, I suppose it would. 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, Kelson. 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 will probably refuse to rally under his banner for the summer campaign, thus costing you approximately twenty pe
rcent 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 die-

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  fates 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, Kelson. But I fear that 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 was arguing. "Why St. Giles? You know that's only a few hours' ride from the Eastmarch border. There's going to be heavy fighting there in a few months."

  Jehana 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 St. 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 places that would be safer if you feel you absolutely have to go," Nigel replied, pleating and unpleating a fold of his dark blue cloak in a disturbed gesture. "We're going to have enough to

  Deryni Checkmate

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  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 corning, 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—not if he's to survive. And yet my heart, my soul, everything I've ever been taught—all tell me he must not be permitted to use those powers under any circunstances, that they're corrupt, evil." She turned to Kelson. "If I stayed, Kelson, I might destroy you."

  "Could you really, Mother?" Kelson whispered. "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, turned her back to Kelson and leaned heavily against a chair, head bowed as she strove to control her trembling. "Kelson," she began, her voice small, childlike, "don't you see? I may be Deryni, but I don't feel Deryni. I feel human. I think human. And as a human, I've been taught all my life that to be Deryni is to be evil, wrong." She turned to Kelson, her eyes wide and frightened.

  "And if the people I love most are Deryni, use Deryni powers—Kelson, don't you see how it's tearing me apart? Kelson, I desperately fear that it's going to be human against Deryni again, as it was two hundred years ago. I don't think I can bear to be in the middle of it."

  "You're already in the middle of it," Nigel snapped, "whether you like it or not. And if it does

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  come to human against Deryni, you don't even have a side!"

  "I know," Jehana whispered.

  "Then why St. Giles?" Nigel continued angrily. "That's Archbishop Loris' bailiwick. Do you think he can help you resolve your conflict—an archbishop who's known for his anti-Deryni persecutions in the north? He's going to act soon, Jehana. He can't ignore what happened at the coronation much longer. And when he does make his move, I doubt that even Kelson's position will protect him for long."

  "You can't change my mind," Jehana said steadily. "I'm leaving for Shannis Meer today. I intend to go to the sisters of St. Giles to fast and pray for guidance. But it has to be that way, Nigel. Right now, I am nothing. I can't be human and I can't be Deryni. And until I can discover which I am, I'm of no use to anyone."

  "You're of use to me, Mother," Kelson said quietly, gazing across at her with hurt grey eyes. "Please stay."

  "I cannot," Jehana whispered, choking back a sob.

  "If—if I commanded you as king," Kelson quavered, the cords in his neck rippling as he fought back the tears, "would you stay then?"

  Jehana stiffened for an instant, her eyes clouding with pain, then turned away, her shoulders shaking. "Don't make me answer that, Kelson/' she managed to whisper. "Please don't ask me."

  Kelson started to move toward her, to try to entreat her further, but Nigel put his finger to his lips and shook his head. Motioning Kelson to follow, he moved to the door and opened it quietly, waited as Kelson reluctantly joined him.

  But the steps of both had been slow and heavy as they left the room. And the quiet sobbing closed behind the door still lingered in Kelson's mind.

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  Kelson swallowed hard and studied the flames in the fireplace before him. "Do you think the archbishops will attack me, then?"

  "Perhaps not for a while," Duncan said. "So far, they've chosen to ignore the fact that you're Deryni too. But they won't ignore it if you defy an interdict."

  "I could destroy them/" Kelson murmured, fists clenching and eyes narrowing as he considered his powers.

  "But you won't," Duncan stated emphatically. "Because if you use your powers against the archbishops— whether or not they deserve it—that will be final proof to the rest of the Eleven Kingdoms that the Deryni do, indeed, intend to destroy Church and State and set up a new Deryni dictatorship. You must give the lie to that charge by avoiding a confrontation at all costs."

  "Then, is it stalemate, Father? Me against the Church?"

  "Not the Church, My Prince."

  "Very well, then. The men wKo control the Church. It's the same thing, isn't it?"

  "Not at all." Duncan shook his head. "It's not the Church we fight, though it may seem that way at first glance. It's an idea, Kelson. The idea that different is evil. That because some men are born with extraordinary powers and talents, those men are evil, no matter to what purpose they put those powers.

  "We're fighting the idiotic notion that a man is responsible for the accident of his birth. That because a few men made grave errors in the name of a race over three hundred years ago, the whole race is damned and must forever suffer the consequences, generation after generation.

  "That's what we're fighting, Kelson. Corrigan, Loris, even Wencit of Torenth—they're merely pawns in the larger struggle to prove that a man is worth something for himself alone, for what he does with his life,

  50 Deryni Checkmate

  wh'ether for good or for evil, with the talents he was born with, whatever he may be. Does any of that make sense?"

  Kelson smiled self-consciously and lowered his eyes. "You sounded like Alaric just then. Or my father. He used to talk to me that way."

  "He'd be very proud of you, Kelson. He was very fortunate to have a son like you. If I had a son . . ." He looked down at Kelson and a glance passed between them. Then Duncan squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly and stepped back to the table.

  "I'm going then, My Prince. Alaric and I will make every effort to keep you informed of our progress or lack thereof. Meanwhile, trust Nigel. Rely on him. And whatever you do, don't intimidate the archbishops until Alaric and I have time to circumvent them."


  "Don't worry, Fafher," Kelson smiled. "I won't do anything hasty. I'm not afraid any more."

  "Just as long as that Haldane temper doesn't get out of hand," Duncan admonished with a grin. 'Til see you in Culdi in a week or so. The Lord keep you safe, My Prince."

  "And you, Father," Kelson whispered as the priest disappeared through the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I am a man: I hold that nothing human is alien to me.

  Terence

  " 'AND OF the total, a two-fold increase over the last year's harvest, owing to good weather. Thus endeth the account of William, Reeve of the Ducal Estates at Donneral, rendered in March, the fifteenth year of the Duke's Grace, Lord Alaric of Corwyn.' "

  Lord Robert of Tendal looked up from the document he had been reading and frowned as he glanced across at his employer. The duke was gazing out the solarium window to the barren garden below, his thoughts miles away. His booted feet were propped casually on a green leather footstool, and his blond head rested lightly against the high back of the carved wooden chair. It was obvious from the younger man's expression that he had not been listening.

  Lord Robert cleared his throat tentatively, but there was no response. He pursed his lips and regarded his duke wistfully for another moment, then picked up the account roll from which he'd been reading and let it fall from a height of about two feet. Its impact echoed in the confines of the narrow chamber, rustling the documents and account rolls assembled on the table and breaking the duke's reverie. Lord Alaric Anthony Morgan looked up with a start and tried in

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  vain to cover a sheepish grin as he realized he'd been caught daydreaming.

  "Your Grace, you haven't heard a word I've said," Robert muttered reprovingly.

  Morgan shook his head and smiled, rubbed a lazy hand across his face. "I'm sorry, Robert. I was thinking of something else."

  "Obviously."

  As Robert reshuffled the documents he'd disturbed in his outburst, Morgan stood and stretched. He ran an absent hand through his close-cropped blond hair as he glanced around the sparsely furnished solarium, then sat down again.