The Thirteenth Scroll (5 page)

His horse, lathered from the long, hard ride, responded eagerly to Elon’s tug upon its rein. It stood with sides heaving while
Elon dismounted and threw the reins in the direction of a stableboy.

Aurya, standing immovable at Giraldus’s side, met the bishop’s gaze. Again there was the feeling of affinity. She gave him
a small nod of greeting, which he returned with a nod and a smile just as slight.

Giraldus, however, was not a man for such subtleties. He stepped forward, voice booming.

“Welcome, my lord Bishop, welcome. We have been awaiting your arrival most eagerly.”

“No doubt,” Elon replied dryly.

Giraldus knelt to kiss the bishop’s ring, either not hearing or choosing to ignore the sarcasm in Elon’s voice. But Aurya
heard it and understood. Her lips twitched a little in a self-congratulatory way that was too brief to be a smile as she,
too, took a step forward, ready to turn Giraldus’s loud gruffness to their advantage.

It was as chatelaine of the fortress she greeted the bishop, but she made no move to kiss his ring. She had never hidden who
and what she was, and to the Church those who practiced magic were declared anathema. They were cut off from the sacraments—including
Holy Matrimony, Aurya was pleased to think—until such time as they renounced their powers and did suitable penance for their
disobedience.

Aurya had no intention of doing either. She did not repent of her powers; she gloried in them—and she had no more liking for
the Church than its representatives had for her. Except Elon. He possessed a power all his own: the power of deception.

The bishop had made it very clear that gold was not his only price for helping put Giraldus on the throne. Elon did not care
about Aurya’s magic, how much or against whom she and Giraldus used it, as long as in the end the Archbishop’s crozier was
in his hand and the golden triple-crowned mitre upon his head. As Aurya and Giraldus were using him, so the bishop was using
them.

Self-serving as it was, Elon’s aid suited Aurya’s purpose completely. With Elon as Archbishop, she might indefinitely forestall
both the marriage she did not desire and the public renunciation of magic necessary for that marriage to take place. Once
Giraldus was crowned High King, she would formally be named his Chief Advisor and head of his Privy Council. Then, though
he wore the crown,
she
would be the true power in Aghamore—as she was now in Kilgarriff.

“Welcome, my lord Bishop.” Aurya spoke loudly enough for the many listening ears to overhear. “It was kind of you to come
here in person to answer my questions. I had expected you to send someone with less pressing duties.”

“I would not send someone else on such an important mission,” Elon said, taking his cue from her. “Holy Mother Church has
no more important business than to bring one of her lost children home.”

There
, Aurya thought,
that will give the gossiping tongues something to wag about—and Elon an acceptable reason for being here. All is going exactly
as I planned
.

Aurya stepped to the side to let the men precede her into the fortress. There was a cold luncheon set out for them in the
main hall and she, herself, would make certain the best wines were served. Nothing must go wrong this day as they began their
final journey toward the throne.

* * *

It was late before they got down to their true business. All through the afternoon and early evening, they had kept up the
pretense for Elon’s visit. But finally, after Giraldus had sent away the last of the servants, Elon pulled out the true reason
for the message he had sent.

It was a scroll, yellowed with age, and Elon handled it as gently as the precious relics of a saint.

“This scroll is from the writings of Tambryn,” he said, “his thirteenth and last.”

“I thought Tambryn and his writings were condemned by your Church.” Aurya’s eyes narrowed; the Church had condemned so much
of the old lore and ancient truths.

“That is true, m’lady,” Elon agreed. “Nonetheless, I have been studying his words for many years. I have seen what my brother
clerics refuse to admit—that what Tambryn prophesied is true. It is how I know that Giraldus will come to the throne…
if
he can find and destroy the one person who stands in his way.”

“Who is this person?” Giraldus demanded.

“A child, my dear Baron, a child you must find and… remove. That is why I have brought this scroll to you. You are fortunate
that Lady Aurya is so learned. Given her other… studies… she should be well able to read this rather archaic language and
understand its images. At least, you had best hope. Prophecies, by their very nature, are filled with images and subtexts
often difficult to understand, and even those who study such things cannot always agree about their meanings. Tambryn’s are
even more so. As I said, I have studied these scrolls, this one in particular, for more than a decade, and I still cannot
say I fully understand it.

“Nevertheless, this scroll contains your greatest hope for success. If you fail to destroy the child of whom Tambryn writes,
then our mutual goal will be lost. It will be
the child and not yourself who will be next to wear the crown of Aghamore. Or so Tambryn says,” he added with a slight lifting
of one shoulder.

Aurya found her fingers itching to take the scroll from the bishop’s hands. The Writings of Tambryn were as famous—or as infamous—as
the man himself. Six centuries ago he had been a monk. Some stories said he had risen high in the Church and was in line for
the Archbishop’s mitre.

Then his visions had begun.

Like nearly all mystics, Tambryn was convinced of Divine revelation so, being a learned man, he wrote everything down and
presented it to his beloved Church. At first, his visions were indeed heralded of Divine origin. But when they began to make
statements the Church did not want to hear—to tell of the Church’s greed, its perversions, its often-cruel demands in the
guise of false, pietistic words and to predict its eventual downfall—Tambryn’s writings were banished. The man himself was
declared a heretic, in league with the devil, and his visions changed from being a “gift from God” to the work of hell.

Some said he went into the Great Forest, other rumors claimed he left Aghamore completely; all agreed that he lived out the
rest of his days in hidden solitude and died a silent, unmarked death. The Church searched the land, gathered up every copy
of his writings it could find, and sent them into the flames his body had escaped. But for six hundred years tales had persisted
that some of Tambryn’s writings had survived.

Aurya had never hoped to see them. Yet here they were—and being given to her by a bishop. She almost laughed aloud at the
irony.

“Oh, we shall succeed, Bishop,” Aurya said softly. “We
shall succeed. You just be certain of your part. We must know we can count on you when the time comes.”

“Have no fear, m’lady,” Elon said as he laid the scroll in her hands. “Already the seeds have been planted and are being nourished.
Baron Giraldus’s name is being whispered among the people, and not only in this province. Soon, the College of Bishops will
meet to take up the question of the succession. You may trust that at the right time and in the right way, the name Giraldus
of Kilgarriff shall be part of those proceedings.”

“What of Aurya?” Giraldus demanded. “Does she have any support yet to become my wife?”

Elon shot Aurya a quick glance. “Alas, no,” he said apologetically, “she does not—though our little ruse of earlier today
might well change all that. It was most astutely played, m’lady,” he added, looking at her.

Aurya inclined her head in acknowledgment, but Giraldus was not satisfied. “If they want me, they’ll have to accept Aurya.
I’ll not give up one to gain the other.”

Aurya gently laid a hand on Giraldus’s arm. “Peace,” she said. “If we all play our parts well, there will be no need for such
talk. Never fear—I shall remain by your side, as I ever am.”

Giraldus’s high temper was, as always, mollified by her words. He put his hand atop hers and looked at her with an adoration
Aurya often found disturbing. Useful, but disturbing.

Obviously, the bishop did as well. He cleared his throat purposefully and Aurya turned toward him, not ungrateful for the
interruption.

“I’m afraid, m’lady,” Elon said, “that though the deception today was most astutely played, it will not be enough to carry
the Baron to the throne. The people of Kilgarriff may accept you as the Baron’s consort—but the
people of the kingdom will not, and neither will the Church. We must all continue in the roles established today, and build
upon them, but after this last decade of uncertainty, neither the people nor the Church will accept a King who cannot produce
a legitimate heir. A
legitimate
heir. If Giraldus is to be High King, you must at least appear to renounce your powers and to marry. Or, Giraldus must marry
someone else….”

The bishop raised his hands slightly, as if handing her the choice of which future she would have.

“I’ll not marry elsewhere,” Giraldus said before Aurya could reply, almost shouting at the bishop. “It’ll be Aurya or no one.”

“Without marriage, there will be no crown,” Elon returned, his voice as soft as Giraldus’s had been loud, and just as emphatic.

The contrast was not lost on Aurya, nor did she miss the hopeful light that sparked in Giraldus’s eyes. It made her angry—the
entire subject made her angry, but especially that Giraldus would be so
happy
to see her forced into marriage when he knew how she felt.

But after marriage comes the crown
, a voice inside her whispered. That might—
might
—make the marriage tolerable, as long as it was on her terms from the beginning. But, thankfully, she did not have to act
on that decision today.

She laid a hand on Giraldus’s arm. “Let us see to one thing at a time,” she said. “You may, of course, my lord Bishop, embellish
our deception as the situation demands—but do not give too much of me away.”

Elon inclined his head toward her in a gesture of agreement and acceptance. Then he met her eyes and gave a little half smile
that communicated his understanding quite well.

“Let us see what Tambryn’s scroll has to tell us,” Aurya continued. “Perhaps it will be enough to secure all our futures without
too many sacrifices from anyone.”

Trying not to let her fingers tremble or show the eagerness she felt, Aurya stood and, to all appearance calmly, began to
uncurl the scroll across the table before them.

A
urya had read the Thirteenth Scroll of Tambryn four times and still she was not certain she grasped its full meaning. It was
not just the archaic language in which it was written; she could read the
words
easily enough. It was the meanings within and behind the words that perplexed her. Tambryn had written in the poetic language
of dreams and, as with all such prophecies and visions, how much was to be taken literally and how much was allegory was her
quandary.

The Thirteenth Scroll
, she thought as she sat back and rubbed her tired eyes.
If they’re all like this one, no wonder Elon said he’d been studying them for years. Prophecies aren’t supposed to be so…
difficult… at least not the others I’ve read. They’re supposed to instruct and guide. They can’t do that if no one can
understand
them.
It could take a lifetime—or more—to understand all the hidden meanings in Tambryn’s words.

Aurya did not have a lifetime to study the scroll or to search for the key to unlock its mysteries. Now that fair weather
had arrived, campaigns could soon be launched, and Giraldus was not the only Baron who thought to occupy the throne of Aghamore.
And who else besides the Barons, she wondered, might also have set their sights upon that prize? Events would soon begin to
move swiftly—and so must she.

Once more she rubbed her tired eyes. Her entire body was craving sleep, but that was a luxury she could ill afford. One thing
was certain, and Aurya had known it without these writings—the longer Giraldus waited before making his bid for the throne,
the more likely he was to fail.

Moving the candles a little closer, she used her belt knife to trim their wicks for a brighter flame. Then she pulled paper
and pen in front of her and began making a list of the things she
did
understand in the scroll—which would, she hoped, begin to clarify the many things she did not.

Days passed as Aurya studied the scroll to the exclusion of all else. She kept her chamber door locked except when she opened
it to call for food. If she unlocked it, she knew that Giraldus would be at her elbow, distracting her with his impatience
and wanting to know what she had learned before she was ready to share it.

She begrudged even the demands her body made for food and rest. But by the morning of the sixth day, she had a workable knowledge
of Tambryn’s prophecy. There were still many undeciphered mysteries, but what she did understand made it clear that she and
Giraldus faced something
far more dangerous to their plans than all the other Barons combined. This…
child
, if she and Elon read the prophecy correctly… must be found and destroyed.

Now
.

All through the past night she had been trying to understand one thing. It was perhaps the most perplexing of all the scroll’s
mysteries.
Prophecy’s Hand
: references to it appeared constantly. Sometimes Aurya thought it must be a person, but at others she was just as certain
it must be a talisman of some sort that conveyed unusual powers.

And it could only be used by the one born to wear the crown.

That
will
be Giraldus
, Aurya vowed as she forced her exhausted, cramped body out of the chair in which she had spent too many hours and hobbled
to the door.
While I’ve breath in my body, it will be Giraldus
.