The King's Deryni (40 page)

“Aye, that's true,” Alaric said, very much relieved.

“Good, then, it's settled,” the king replied. “But come, we'd best catch up with the others. And you can announce the change at the wedding feast, if you like. Make it in the nature of a wedding present. I've already discussed this with Jared and with Llion. Jared thought it was a splendid idea, and Llion was somewhat overwhelmed by his turn of good fortune. But he promised that he would try to act surprised.”

Alaric allowed himself a snort of amusement. “He never let on.”

“Of course he didn't,” the king replied. “He is an excellent servant of the Crown, and I have no doubt that, one day, he will win lands of his own. But for now, you could not ask for a better steward.”

Very shortly, they caught up with the rest of the bridal party, and later that evening, after toasting the bride and groom, Alaric made his announcement. He did not know how many in the hall had known of the new arrangement, but by their reaction, all of them seemed to approve.

After dinner, his Aunt Delphine led the other women of their family to conduct Alazais to the nuptial chamber prepared. It was the one formerly occupied by Kenneth and Alyce, and before that by Kenneth and his first wife, the mother of Alazais, Geill, and Zoë. The sisters of Arc-en-Ciel accompanied them, singing a traditional wedding song.

Very shortly, the men then sang the new castellan of Morganhall to the bridal chamber. Alaric was among them, reckoned as a man tonight, and, after Father Swithun had blessed the marriage bed, himself closed the door after Llion before leading the rest of the wedding guests back downstairs for revelry into the small hours.

“Then I was by him, as one brought up with him . . .”

—PROVERBS 8:30

T
HOUGH
Llion was granted a week's leave to remain at Morganhall with his new bride, ostensibly to acquaint himself with the running of the estate, Alaric and the king returned to Rhemuth the very next day.

But Alaric realized, in the course of that journey, that something was changing in the interaction between king and future duke. While he was still a page in the king's service, and never allowed himself to forget that, he found that nearing the completion of his first decade seemed to make a difference in how he was treated, even though he would not attain his legal majority for another four years. Or perhaps it was because the king actively included him in the plans for the coming royal progress, which briefly would return him to his own Corwyn lands.

In any case, the change was there. And it persisted when Llion returned to court later in August, happier than Alaric had seen him in many months, even though Alazais had elected to remain at Morganhall for another few weeks, to reacquaint herself with her two Morgan aunts. Llion clearly missed his new bride, but he made several overnight visits back to Morganhall to check on her, and brought her back with him to Rhemuth early in September, shortly before they were to depart for Coroth with the king's party.

But first, at the insistence of the Dowager Queen Richeldis, yet another, more domestic detail remained to resolve before the king's departure: a slightly early celebration of her daughters' birthdays: Silke, turning twelve, and Xenia, who would be sixteen. Xenia already was a stunning young woman, and Silke still more child than woman, but both were given gifts appropriate to Haldane princesses: lengths of R'Kassan silk to be eagerly inspected and squabbled over, as well as ribbons and dainty slippers and items of simple jewelry. Xenia received her first adult coronet: a hammered silver band adorned with golden roses, which she proudly wore at the birthday supper celebrated
en famille
. Alaric and Prince Cormac served the table that evening, enduring the high spirits of the two princesses with good humor.

They left the very next day for Desse: a relatively small party, as royal entourages went, comprised of only the king, his young page and future Duke of Corwyn, Prince Cormac, a handful of household knights, and several of his immediate companions: Jamyl Arilan, Jiri Redfearn, and Llion Farquahar, the latter accompanied by his new wife and a maid. As was customary when the king left his capital for any length of time, Duke Richard would assume regent duties.

The visit to Corwyn was to be an informal one, with little fanfare or advance notice, well completed before the storms of late autumn set in. After a brisk ride down to Desse, the northernmost deepwater port on the River Eirian, they met a fast royal galley that carried them downriver and then east toward Coroth. They did not call at Nyford, for the flags flying atop the citadel above the town indicated that Nyford's bishop was in residence. Nonetheless, Alaric stood alone at the ship's rail until the port was out of sight, staring at the bustling esplanade before the city gates, remembering the grey mare.

“You do need to let that go,” Llion said quietly, suddenly at his right side. “You cannot change what de Nore did, and you mustn't let it cripple you for the future.”

Alaric bowed his head, not looking at Llion.

“I know that.”

“Then, you need to
act
like you know it,” Llion replied, a little sharply. “It was a terrible thing that he did, and he knew it would hurt you, but in the end, it was a
horse
. Save your further indignation for things that
really
matter.”

“Horses matter,” the boy said stubbornly.

“Do they matter like Hallowdale?”

Alaric grimaced, recalled to the vivid memory of accounts he had heard of the atrocities committed there, remembering the stench of burnt flesh.

“Oh, he wasn't directly responsible for those people being killed,” Llion conceded, as Alaric dared to look at him defiantly, “but he's been preaching hatred of Deryni for years. That's the kind of intolerance and bigotry that allowed Hallowdale to happen.”

Alaric's face hardened, the grey eyes as cold as the autumn sky.

“I hate him,” he whispered.

“Yes, and he hates you. Do something constructive about it.”

Alaric averted his gaze, biting at his lip. “I'm only a boy.”

“You're a boy who will soon be a man, and a duke. And you're Deryni. You can make a difference. Think about it.”

Alaric tried
not
to think about it overmuch, telling himself that, realistically, he could do little to change the attitude of bigoted bishops while he was still a child; but the conversation had begun to bring him to a more realistic sense of his own destiny. That destiny involved the king; that, he had always known. But it had also reminded him of the great influence he one day would be capable of wielding, both as a duke and a Deryni. He found himself thinking about that increasingly as the days passed, especially when he stood at the landward rail and watched the land slide past.

He and Cormac did have duties, of course, serving the king and sometimes standing a watch with the helmsman or one of the sailors atop the mast. And Llion was reluctant to let their training slacken off entirely. The galley was too small to permit much in the way of physical exercise; swordplay was out of the question, other than to practice forms. But various of the knights would grill Alaric and Cormac daily on aspects of court protocol and heraldry, and Alaric sometimes tried out his rudimentary Torenthi on some of the sailors.

When he was not otherwise occupied, he and Cormac also spent a fair amount of time playing at cardounet, sometimes with Sir Jiri Redfearn, who had been a keen player in his youth and still enjoyed the occasional match. Jiri proved to be far more loquacious than Alaric had expected, and seemed genuinely interested in the observations of the two noble-born pages regarding court life, for he had twin sons of his own at court, only a little older than Alaric and the Llanneddi prince. Sometimes, while they played by torchlight when the galley had anchored for the night, Jiri would reminisce about his own training as a page. Alaric liked Sir Jiri, who seemed not at all intimidated by what he was, or what he might become.

“Are you looking forward to your visit?” the older man asked, as he and Alaric played on the last evening before they were to arrive at the Corwyn capital.

“I am,” Alaric admitted. “But it will be very different without my father at my side.”

Jiri moved his war-duke, glancing sidelong at his young opponent. “It will be different, I'll grant you that,” he said. “You will find that there have been some other changes as well.”

“What sort of changes?” Alaric asked, surveying the board.

Jiri gave a small shrug. “They did not tell you, because there was nothing you could have done,” he replied. “Several of your regents have passed away since the beginning of the year.”

Alaric let his hand sink to the table beside the board.

“Who?”

“Airich O'Flynn, the Earl of Derry, was the first. He contracted a wasting disease last autumn and died shortly after Twelfth Night. His son Seamus succeeds him. He is in his early thirties.”

“I think I remember both of them,” Alaric said, nodding absently. “They were very kind to me. Who else? You said ‘several.'”

“The Earl of Airnis, Sir Airlie Kushannan,” Jiri replied.

“No!”

“Alas, yes. Thrown from his horse early this summer. His neck was broken. I believe you are acquainted with his heir, Lord Jernian.”

“It isn't possible,” Alaric murmured, shaking his head. “Why was I not told?”

Jiri shrugged. “It was not my decision. But I believe there has been talk of bringing young Jernian to court for a few years, since he is now an earl. I believe he is a few years older than you, yes?”

Alaric nodded numbly, thinking of his friend, who now was bereft of both father and grandfather in a very short span.

“I am told that his martial skills . . . leave much to be desired,” Jiri went on. “He is shortsighted, I believe. But the trainers at Coroth report that he shows a keen affinity for strategy. If that can be developed, he could still be a valuable asset for you when he comes into his maturity.”

Alaric nodded. “If skill at cardounet is any indication, he should do well.” At Jiri's gesture, he picked up his priest-king and turned it in his fingers.

“It was Jernian who introduced me to the works of Count Koltan and Ulger de Brinsi,” he said softly. “Did you know? Viliam, too. I was looking forward to playing with them while I'm in Coroth.”

“Well, by all means, do that,” Jiri said. “You've gotten quite good.” He glanced down at the game board. “It's still your move, by the way.”

Alaric played with new determination for the rest of the game, and even managed to play Jiri to a draw. It was no small accomplishment, given that he was grieving for his friend, who also was now fatherless.

But the next day, standing at the king's side in Corwyn green rather than Haldane crimson as the royal galley glided between the great twin lighthouses guarding the entrance to Coroth harbor, he felt for the first time that he was not quite a boy any longer, but a young man coming home. It was an impression that was only reinforced by the cheers and waves of the men waiting to greet him: his regents and the friends he had left there.

“Welcome, Sire! Welcome, Your Grace!” they called, as the ship glided to a halt alongside the quay and the crew threw lines ashore to secure her.

To his pleased surprise, the king deferred to him, inviting him to be the first to disembark, where his chancellor, James of Tendal, was waiting to clasp his hand.

“Your Grace, it has been too long,” the old man murmured, pumping his hand. “So many changes . . .”

“Yes, I know, Sir James,” Alaric replied, casting his gaze across the others thronged behind and to either side of the chancellor. “I only recently learned of some of the changes. Pray, present me to the new Earl of Derry, and then refresh my memory with the others.”

Duly he offered his condolences to Earl Seamus, a pleasant young man with tousled curly hair, then passed among the others, shaking hands and accepting their murmured sympathies on the passing of his own father, until finally he came to Jernian, standing with Viliam, who was now a squire.

“I am so sorry, Jernian,” he whispered, as he embraced the older boy briefly.

Jernian shrugged as they pulled apart. “It's done. There's nothing we can do to change it.” He quirked a wry smile. “So I guess we'll just have to be orphans together. Your father will be much missed.”

“As yours will be, I feel sure,” Alaric replied.

“But there's a game board waiting,” Viliam interjected, with his own taut smile, “and we're both eager to see how much you've learned at court.”

Alaric grinned. “I've been playing with Sir Jiri Redfearn on the voyage here,” he warned, “and he's awfully good.”

“Did you read all of Koltan?” Viliam challenged.

“All that you gave me,” Alaric retorted. “And I've corrupted several of the other pages and squires at the Rhemuth court. One of them came with us. But remember that this is a working visit for me. With my father gone, I've not got him to lean on, so I have to learn how things run.”

“Understood.” Viliam inclined his head. As a future baron, he was well aware of the responsibilities gradually to devolve upon the future duke. “But you
will
have
some
time to play, won't you?”

“I'll make time,” Alaric replied. “And now I want you to meet my recent training partner, Prince Cormac of Llannedd,” he said, stepping aside to raise an arm to Cormac, who came at his gesture to nod agreeably. “Cormac, these are my good friends, Jernian Earl of Airnis and Lord Viliam de Souza. He'll be a baron one day.”

“Highness,” the two acknowledged, with proper neck bows.

“Just Cormac,” the prince replied, extending his hand. “In this place, I am honored to be simply a friend of your future duke.”

Viliam raised an eyebrow and gave the prince a sly grin. “It is a singular honor. But we understand that you are also a student of cardounet. Fancy a match after supper?”

“If it is allowed, of course,” Cormac replied. “I will abide by the custom of this court—and knowing that the two of you have duties, just as we have back in Rhemuth.
I
still have duties, even though Alaric is off the hook for a while.”

Viliam arched a smile at Alaric. “I like this fellow. I think we'll all get along splendidly.”

The four of them did play cardounet during the visit to Coroth, but Alaric also spent a great deal of his time attending meetings of his regency council, sometimes with the king at his side and sometimes not, and talking to his advisors, and sitting in on ducal courts beside Sir James of Tendal and Sir Miles Chopard, who customarily saw to the judicial functioning of his duchy. Meanwhile, Llion took his new bride off to meet his family for a week.