Deryni Rising Read online

  Kelson shifted to a more comfortable position on his rock. The sun had gone behind a cloud bank, and the

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  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 who could have told for sure if 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, Kelson. 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?"

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  "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 now stared fixedly at a point about a foot behind Kelson, where the boy's arm supported him.

  "What—?"

  "Not a word, not a move . . .** Morgan murmured softly, his hand going slowly to his sword. "There is a very large, very poisonous multi-legged creature not two inches from your right hand. If you move, it will kill you."

  As the sword whispered silently from its scabbard, Morgan eased himself to one knee 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 the 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, his wrist-stiletto nicking 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

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  body about the size of a man's head, spotted with blue, of many brittle legs which 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 was at last aware of the woman screaming— the sound which 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, their weapons drawn, racing across the garden toward him, a dark-clothed woman right behind them. Morgan lowered his sword, still breathing heavily, as the men surrounded him and the prince.

  "Drop your weapon, sir!" 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 Prince Kelson! He put a spell on him, and was about to slay him when I screamed!"

  "I said drop it, you!" the captain repeated menacingly, gesturing with his sword. "Sire, please! Move away from bun slowly. We'll take care of him."

  Morgan made no move to drop his weapon, and Kelson stepped deliberately hi front of Morgan, his back to the tall general,

  "It's all right, Captain," he said calmly, making a placating gesture with one hand as the guards stiffened to see him put himself before Morgan's sword. "It's not what you think, Lady Elvira, there's been a misunderstanding."

  "A misunderstanding?" the lady shrieked indig-

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  nantly. *'Your Highness, you must be still under his spell! He nearly murdered you where you sat. Only my screams caused him to miss the mark and—"

  "Madame—" Morgan's voice was cold, controlled, and it cut through the confusion like a knife. "What I aim for, I hit. And no silly woman's hysterical screaming has yet made me miss the mark!" With a defiant gesture, he plunged the tip of his sword into the soft ground, and it stood there quivering, as though punctuating his statement.

  The disgruntled guards had lowered their weapons during this exchange, and now, at a hand signal from their leader, they resheathed their blades.

  "Sire, forgive me, but it did look like—"

  "I know what it looked like," Kelson said impatiently. "No apology is necessary. You and your men were merely trying to protect me. As you can see, however," he stepped aside to view the remains of his would-be killer, "General Morgan was merely killing a —what the devil is it, Morgan?"

  Morgan retrieved his weapon and sheathed it, then moved closer to the mutilated plot of grass. The guards, too, eased in for a closer look, though they kept their distance from the man in black. They had all caught Kelson's casual mention of the infamous Morgan, and they were not eager to test out the rumors which had been circulating about him.

  "It's a Stenrect crawler, my prince," Morgan replied matter-of-factly, prodding the carcass with the toe of his boot. "And if my first blow had missed," he glanced at the woman, "and the creature had bitten you, my second blow would have severed your wrist There is no antidote for the sting of a Stenrect."

  There was an uneasy stirring among the soldiers, and several crossed themselves furtively. The Stenrect Was supposedly a mythical creature of supernatural origin, spawned, it was said, of fire and acid-hatred be-

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  fore the world was born. Of all creatures, real or imagined, there was none deadlier. And though none there had ever seen a Stenrect before—indeed, if asked before, they would have said no such creature existed— all knew the legends. None cared to consider how close their young lord had been to a painful and lingering death.

  The guard captain had by now recovered from the shock of seeing a Stenrect in the flesh, and at last he realized the significance of the man who had slain JL For Morgan, too, was a creature of legend. And the rnan suddenly realized he might inadvertently have insulted the powerful Deryni Lord. That could be even more dangerous than a Stenrect, if the rumors were correct.

  Bowing nervously, he addressed Morgan. "My apologies, Your Grace. Had I realized My Liege to be under the protection of your sword, I would not have been so quick with mine. Your reputation goes before you." He signalled his men to disperse.

  Morgan returned the bow, concealing a smile. "I'm sure it does, Captain. I under
stand your position."

  The captain cleared his throat uncomfortably and turned to Kelson. "My apologies again, Sire. Shall I escort the Lady Elvira back to her quarters?"

  "By all means, Captain," Kelson said, glancing aside

  at the lady in question. "Unless, of course, the lady

  Wishes to stay and look at the Stenrect a while longer."

  The lady turned pale and backed off a few steps,

  shaking her head. "Oh, no, Your Highness! Please, I

  meant no harm. I didn't know it was His Grace, and

  from across the garden, I—" She stammered to a stop.

  "Your concern is appreciated, Lady Elvira," Kelson

  said easily, waving dismissal.

  The lady bobbed a quick curtsey as she took the captain's arm. Then the two of them fled across the grass, the lady casting one last furtive glance over her

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  shoulder as they went through an arched doorway. It was not difficult to imagine what their next topic of discussion would be.

  As the two disappeared from sight, Morgan chuckled. "Your ladies and your guards seem to be keeping quite an eye out for you, my prince."

  Kelson snorted. "The Lady Elvira has an overactive imagination. She's been warned about that before. And as for my guards, they're so edgy, they'd try to arrest anything that moved. It's a good thing they didn't recognize you at first, though. The rumors about you haven't helped their morale any."

  Tm getting rather used to that reaction," Morgan replied with a wry grin. "It's that Stenrect that worries me."

  Kelson nodded. "Is that really what it is? I always thought Stenrects were just myths, fairy tales to scare children with."

  "No, they're quite real, as you saw. Fm wondering how one got into your garden, though. Stenrects are creatures of the night. It takes a great deal of power to call one out in broad daylight. Charissa is capable, of course, but if she means to challenge you tomorrow, I hardly see the point."

  "Then, you don't think I was meant to be killed anyway?"

  "Intended to frighten, not kill, I think," Morgan said. He glanced around, then took Kelson's arm and propelled him along the path toward the far gate. "I hardly think this is the place to belabor the point, however. After that little adventure, I think I prefer the relative safety of four walls and a roof. Now that there's been an attempt on your life, serious or no..."

  "You don't have to convince me" Kelson replied, opening the gate and leading Morgan through. "Where are we going now?"

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  "To Duncan," Morgan said, heading them down a long foyer toward the outer courtyard. "The good father has some things in safekeeping for you."

  "Then, you do have the key to Father's power!" Kelson exclaimed. "Why didn't you say so before? When you didn't mention it, I was afraid to ask."

  "I had to see how much you'd deduced for yourself," Morgan grinned. "As it is—"

  "Ooooh, Your Highness!" squealed a young, female voice. "There you are!"

  Morgan stopped in his tracks and winced, and Kelson turned to breathe an unbelieving, "Oh, no!"

  "Kelson," Morgan muttered through clenched teeth, "if you tell me that's the imaginative Lady Elvira again, I'll..."

  "Sorry to disappoint you," Kelson murmured, trying hard to keep a straight face, "but it's the flighty and overexcitable Lady Esther this time." He folded his arms patiently. "What is it,'Lady Esther?"

  Morgan turned just as a plump and very out-of-breath young lady-in-waiting came to an undignified stop in front of them and curtsied.

  "Oh, Your Highness," she fluttered, "your Lady Mother sent me to find you. She's been looking everywhere for you, and you know she doesn't like for you to wander off alone. It's very dangerous!"

  "Do you hear that, Morgan?" Kelson said, glancing sidelong at his friend. "It's very dangerous."

  "Indeed," Morgan said, raising one eyebrow. *T hadn't noticed."

  As the Lady Esther tried in vain to follow this exchange, Kelson turned back to her. "My dear Lady Esther, would you be so good as to inform my Lady Mother that I'm quite safe with my Lord General Morgan."

  Lady Esther's eyes grew round as she finally realized the identity of Kelson's companion, and a plump

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  hand flew to her lips to mask the scarcely breathed, "Oh!**

  She curtsied again and whispered, "I did not recognize Your Grace."

  Morgan frowned and half-turned to Kelson. "Blast h% Kelson, do I look that different? This is about the twentieth person today who hasn't recognized me. What good is notoriety if no one knows who you are?" "Perhaps it's because you're not wearing your horns and cloven hooves," Kelson remarked dryly.

  "Hmmm, no doubt. Tell me, Lady Esther. Did you also not recognize your King?" "I beg your pardon, Your Grace?'* Morgan sighed and folded his arms across his chest. "Lady Esther," he continued patiently, "I'm sure you've been at court long enough to learn how one addresses one's King. Your entrance was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a model of decorum. You would do well to show more respect in the future. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Your Grace," she whispered, swallowing visibly.

  Kelson glanced at Morgan, as though to ask if he was quite finished, and Morgan nodded slightly. Kelson turned back to the nervous Lady Esther.

  "Very well, then. Other than the predictable report that my mother has been worried about me, is there any other message?"

  Lady Esther curtsied again. "She commands me to tell you that the Council is convening right away, Your High—Your Majesty. She requests your immediate presence."

  "Morgan?" Kelson glanced at the general. "Later, my prince. We have urgent business elsewhere first. Lady Esther, you may inform the Queen that His Majesty will be delayed."

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  "And that I'm quite safe," Kelson added emphatically. "You may go."

  As the lady bowed and hurried off, Kelson sighed. "You see what I have to put up with? It's not just a matter of convincing Mother that I'm not a child any more. I've got to retrain the whole blasted staff of servants!" He grinned. "I will be safe with you, won't I, Morgan?"

  Morgan smiled. "From assassins and Stenrects—always, my prince. Just don't ask me to contend with any more of the Queen's ladies today. I don't think I'm

  up to it."

  Kelson laughed with glee. "So! There are things you're afraid of, Morgan! I never thought I'd hear you admit it."

  "If you tell anyone, Til deny every word!" Morgan retorted. "Come on. Let's find Duncan."

  In the Council chamber, all conversation stopped as Jehana entered on Nigel's arm. The men seated around the long,. polished table came to their feet as one, as Nigel escorted the Queen to her seat and continued to his own place at the opposite end. They noticed that the two did not look at each other, but that was to be expected. All in the room knew that the Queen and the Royal Duke did not agree on the matter at hand today. It would be a unique Council meeting, for neither was likely to give in without a struggle. It was unusual that Kelson had not shown up yet, though.

  Jehana glanced around the room nervously as she took her place beside Brion's empty throne, recalling other, happier times when she and Brion had entered this room together, and the faces around the table had all been friendly.

  Then, she had not felt so alone, so threatened. Then, the dark-stained walls had not seemed so confining, the high-ceilinged vault with its dark-stained

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  beams so dismal. It was not the fault of the room. There were windows along the entire right side that let in the. daylight, to be sure. And what light they did not provide was amply augmented by the banks of ornate candelabra flanking the long table on either side. Still, the big room seemed dank and depressing. Perhaps it did not like being filled with so many people in the dark colors of mourning.

  Jehana watched the slight movement of
a rivulet of yellow wax oozing along the rim of one of the fat candles as she sat down. And her ringers automatically sought out the long gash on the table top between her place and Brion's—the scarred spot where Brion had once impaled a writ with his dagger, nailed it to the table until he was able to persuade a balky Council that it was not a wise legislation. She forced herself to look down the table, then, to study the pale, questioning faces who stared back at her as they took their seats.

  Other than those of Brion and Kelson, and the dead Lord Ralson, all the seats at table were filled today. Someone, she noted with annoyance, was even sitting in Morgan's chair, there between Kelson's and Ral-son's. She was not certain, but she guessed the young man with the unruly brown hair must be Lord Deny, Morgan's military aide. No doubt Nigel had given him permission to sit in today.

  No matter, she thought to herself, as she continued to scan the table. If the young Marcher lord thought he was going to vote in Morgan's absence, she would straighten him out about that soon enough. She was not going to allow Nigel or Morgan's minions to ruin this Council meeting.

  She swept her gaze coolly back up the table to the right, then—past Nigel, who would not look at her, past Bran Cons, and Lord lan, who looked his usual dapper self, past Lord Rogier and Bishop Arilan, past

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  Ewan. She nodded greeting to Archbishop Corrigan on her left, then let her glance take in Duke Jared and his son Kevin,

  She did not greet the last two, though. Next to Nigel, the two McLains were perhaps the staunchest of Morgan's supporters in Council. She wished she didn't have to face them today.

  She turned back to Ewan. "Lord Ewan," she said, her voice clear and firm, "would you call the Council to order? We have important matters to take care of this afternoon, and I think we dare not wait any

  longer."

  Before Ewan could stand, Nigel jumped to his feet and waved him back. "A moment's indulgence, Your Majesty, but His Royal Highness has been unavoidably detained, and asked that I delay the start of this meeting. He wished to be present when certain charges are brought before the Council."

  Jehana did not acknowledge his request, but turned again to Ewan. "My Lord Ewan, if you please." "I'd like an answer, Jehana," Nigel demanded. "Lord Ewan, you will continue!" Ewan stood uncertainly and glanced at Nigel, at Kelson's empty chair beside him, then cleared his throat uneasily. "Your Majesty, if you command it, I shall, of course, convene the Council without Prince Kelson. But if His Royal Highness wishes to be present, common courtesy dictates—"