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with me awhile. There is something I would have you know."
Duncan hesitated for an instant, a trifle uncomfortable under the man's serene
gaze, then complied. The man nodded gravely.
"You may consider this a warning, Duncan not a threat from me, for it is not that,
but for your own good. In the weeks to come, your powers will be sorely tested.
More and more you will be called upon to use your magic in the open, to either
accept your birthright and take up the fight as is your duty, or else to forever
renounce it. Do I make myself clear?"
"You do not," Duncan whispered, his eyes narrowing. "To begin with, I am a
priest. I am forbidden to practice the occult arts."
"Are you?" the man asked quietly.
"Of course I'm forbidden to practice magic."
"No. I mean, are you a priest?"
Duncan felt his cheeks begin to burn, and he had to avert his eyes. "According to
the rite by which I was ordained, I am a priest forever, 'unto "
" 'Unto the order of Melchizedek,'" the man quoted. "I know what the scripture
says. But are you really a priest? What happened two days ago?"
Duncan looked up defiantly. "I'm merely suspended. I've not been degraded from
the priesthood, nor excommunicated."
"And yet, you yourself said that the suspension didn't really worry you, that the
more you use your powers, the less important your vows become."
Duncan gasped, instinctively drawing closer to the man, and his horse tossed its
head in alarm.
"How do you know that?"
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r r
The man smiled gently and reached his hand to the horse's bridle to keep it from
stepping on his sandaled feet. "I know many things."
"We were alone," Duncan murmured, almost to himself. "I would have staked my
life on it. Who are you?"
"The power of the Deryni is by no means evil, my son," the man said in a
conversational tone. He dropped his hand and began walking slowly down the
road. Duncan shook his head in dismay and moved his horse along with him,
straining to hear what he was saying.
"... necessarily good, either. The good or evil is in the soul and mind of him who
uses the powers. Only an evil mind can corrupt the power for evil." He turned to
glance at Duncan as they walked and continued.
"I have observed your use of the power so far, Duncan, and I find it most
judicious. You need have no qualms as to whether your motivation is righteous. I
understand the struggle you have undergone to be able to use it at all."
"But-"
"No more," the man said, holding up his hand for silence. "I must leave you now.
I ask only that you continue to examine your motives in that other matter I
mentioned. It may well be that you are called in other ways than you had thought.
Think you on it; and the Light go with you."
With that, the man was gone; and Duncan stopped in confusion.
Gonel
Without a trace!
He looked down at the ground beside him where the man had been walking, but
there were no footprints. Even with the lowering darkness, he could see his own
tracks extending back the way he had come, the horse's hoofmarks firmly
imprinted in the damp clay of the road.
But of the other's passage there was no trace.
Had he only imagined it?
No!
It had been too real, too chillingly threatening to have been in his mind alone.
Now he knew what Alaric must have felt like when he'd had his visions. That
sense of unreality, yet the certainty that he had been touched by someone or
something. Why, this had been as real as as that shining apparition that he and
others of Deryni blood had seen at Kelson's coronation, supporting the crown of
Gwynedd. Now that he thought about it, it could even have been the same being!
And if so
Duncan shuddered and pulled his cloak around Himself again, then mounted and
touched spurs to his beast. He wasn't going to find any more answers on this
deserted road. And he had to tell Alaric what had happened. His cousin's visions
had come at times of cusp, when grave crises were brewing. He hoped this wasn't
a portent.
It was three miles back to the courtyard of Castle Coroth. It would seem like
thirty.
At Castle Coroth, the night's festivities Had begun with the setting of the sun. As
darkness descended, richly clad lords and their resplendent ladies had begun to
fill the ducal hall with color and sound as they awaited the arrival of their duke.
Lord Robert, true to his word, had managed to transform the usually gloomy
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r r
government chamber into an oasis of light and cheer, a welcome respite from the
damp and darkness of the moonless evening.
Beaten bronze chandeliers suspended from the ceiling blazed with the light of a
hundred tall candles. Light gleamed from the facets of fine crystal and silver
goblets, reflected on the mellow wink of polished pewter and silver service on the
dark tables. A dozen pages and squires in emerald green livery scurried around
the long trencher tables putting out bread and decanters of mellow Fianna wine.
And Lord Robert, stationed near the head of the table, kept a watchful eye out for
his lord's appearance as he chatted with two beautiful ladies. Lute and recorder
warbled as a festive undertone to the chatter of the guests.
As the guests mingled, Morgan's trusted surgeon, Master Randolph, circulated
casually among the assembled nobility and gentry, nodding greeting and pausing
occasionally to chat with those he knew. His task tonight, as it usually was on
such occasions, was to feel out the mood of his master's subjects and to later
report items of interest. As he made his way across the room, he picked up
snatches of conversation.
"Well, I wouldn't give ye a copper fer a Bremagni mercenary," one portly lord was
saving to another as his eyes followed a stately brunette across the room. They
can nae be trusted!"
"An' what about a Bremagni lady?" the other murmured, nudging his companion
in the ribs and raising an eyebrow. "Do you think they can be trusted?"
"Ah-"
The two exchanged knowing nods and continued to inspect the lady in question,
not noticing Master Randolph's slight smile as he moved on.
"And that's what the king just doesn't seem to understand," said a bright-faced
young knight who looked barely old enough to have won his spurs. "It's all so very
simple. Kelson knows how Wencit will move once the thaws begin. Why doesn't
he just "
Yes, why doesn't he? Randolph thought with a wry smile. If s all so very simple.
This young man has the answer to everything.
"And not only that," a striking red-haired lady was saying to her companion, "it's
rumored that he only stayed long enough to change, and then he was back on a
horse and riding out for God knows where. I do hope he gets back in time for
dinner. You've seen him, haven't you?"
"Ummm," the blond woman sighed approvingly. "I certainly have. What a pity
he's a priest."
Master Randolph rolled his eyes in dismay as he continued past the women. Poor [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]