Forgotten Shadows

[Laurna]

Elspeth tucked Amy's arm in hers and strolled away, forcing Amy to either keep up or pull away entirely. Amy reluctantly followed along.

Amy heard the amused voice in her head. Is it me she doesn't trust? Or you? She giggled, but didn't reply.

"Tell me, my friend," Elspeth said, "Do you remember how we met? You were alone, far from home on the road toward an unknown harbor town. You do remember why it was that I placed you with the nuns of the convent? I know you have never forgiven yourself for falling out with your father and just why that came to pass. Do I need to caution you to not repeat that mistake?"

Amy's breath stopped in a deep hold, and then slowly she let it out. "None of it will I ever forget. When I was in the midst of deepest despair, your kindness to me, a stranger then, was like a hand of light pulling me from a pit of darkness. You showed me more care than even the nuns of St Stefan's, and when I needed it most, your skill saved my life. I know my own failures brought me to that low, and I do not want to repeat them."

She lowered her eyes, but there was this awareness in her body that would not let her subside. "Elspeth, you are mother and sister to me in one. But... what is a girl like me to do? I am peasant, commoner, disgraced, unmarriageable. The convent is the only protected place for a girl like me, but the convent is not where I want to be, but better that then a brothel. I want a better life than either of those prisons. I want to live and feel the world around me."

Amy cupped her palms together. "This last week, I have found a perception that I never dreamed of before. How can I explain it? I want to experience more, more of this." For the first time, she willed a light to form between her hands. It was at first dull bluish and as she concentrated the light grew in lavenders and then in pinks.

"How are you doing that?" Elspeth asked.

"I saw how Airich did it. He didn't teach it to me, but I just figured it out, after watching him. Look, it really works!"  Amy was giddy with the hand-fire that now formed between her palms.

"You must be careful!" Elspeth said with the deepest concern. She clasped Amy's wrists. "Don't do things that he has not yet taught you how to do. And for goodness's sake, don't do anything where someone can see you! What if something goes wrong? From watching Sir Airich, you know quite well that things can go horribly wrong. I can barely assist him with his headaches. You do not want to end up like that or worse, tied to a stake, do you?"

Amy's eyes lit with fear at the mention of the stake. Her hand-fire died instantly, and her hands flew up to clutch her checks. The tingle she had been feeling now turned her stomach over and into knots. Almost shaking from the memory of the day before, she sat on the cot in their girl's room with a hard landing. But she would not cry, instead a more determined look washed across her face. "No one deserves to be burned for a thing they are born with. Fear is the worst sort of enemy."  She reached a hand up to her best friend and mentor and touched the lady's temple next to her lovely eyes.

Elspeth sat on the bed next to her, and the two women hugged. Three years they had counted their friendship, three years of devoted trust.

"They say my compassion is strong," Amy looked up into her mentor's eyes. "But without the strength and wisdom that you carry, compassion can be detrimental and not a solution." Not knowing how to capture her emotions, Amy could only turn the discussion toward physical maladies that needed a cure. "Do you think we can find a way to help Airich with his troubles?  I mean, really help him? I want to see him well, more than anything. But I know I can not do it alone."

"Ams! It will take more than your strength and my wisdom to heal Sir Airich of his ordeals." Elspeth said. "But you and I can stand at his side and see him through, until he does find what he needs. I do not know for certain, but I believe he took the first step this morning. Since then, I think we all have noticed a change in him for the better. What I worry about is that this change has subdued the constraint that had kept his chivalry in tight control before today."

"How do I describe these feelings I have when I look at him?" Amy was pleading for her mentor's wisdom, but instead she saw Elspeth's admonishment. "Speth, I do hear your warnings about what has happened in the past when my concern to help had overcome my caution. But the truth is..." Amy took another long breath... "Carwyn's father filled me with compassion, but not with love and wisdom. Now I know that loveless compassion is not what I feel now. Instead of feeling trapped like before, now I feel alive. And I want to live. Even if I can only hold that feeling for the short time while we are here in Grecotha, I don't want to let that feeling go."

"So don't let it go."  Elspeth took Amy's hand and held on to it.  "I have never felt such a feeling, and by now, it's not likely I will," she said gently.  "I am happy that you have; I mean that with all my heart. Just use your head to help guide your heart in a healthy direction."

[Marc_du_Temple]

Elsewhere in the city, people went about their business doing their best to pretend that the events of late did not happen, that life was still ordinary in all of its tedium and pleasantries. Two of these people included an old nursemaid and her ward, Gwendolyn, who felt that she was too old to be minded by the kindly crone, but was wise enough to not say so. She did her best to make conversation with her oldest friend, as well as anyone who did not call her "grimalkin" under their breath. She had secluded herself perhaps too well, lately, in the name of her studies, and so there was much to be appraised of. Anything not covered directly during the earlier mass that was yet public knowledge, she learned between purchases in the bustling market. She was a connoisseur as well as a lady, so in each shop, they took their time with their selections. By the end of the evening's adventure, she had acquired a lovely new pewter ring and a book she hoped to share with her uncle. The evening bells began to toll, and that told the pair that it was time to head home, before the dark of Autumn became more than merely moody. They were just at the edge of the market when the ringing stopped.

Idly, Gwendolyn asked over her shoulder, "What do you think of this ring? Do you suppose it will be useful?"

"Not for you," someone cackled. Gwendolyn whirled to see two men in obscuring hoods smiling at her like wolves. Before she could make out other details or wonder where her nurse had disappeared to, her eyes were blinded and her senses were scattered. The crowd, formerly equal parts disdainful and delighted with her, had nothing but shock and sympathy to offer now. A solution of alcohol, water, vinegar, and merasha wet her face and dampened her fine clothes, stinging as it entered her pores, mouth, and eyes. She dropped the book and clutched at her face; the tome flew away when one of the men kicked it disdainfully. They hastily grabbed her and marched her away, shouting for space from the shocked people. Just before they could disappear with her down an alleyway, guards appeared and ran to follow. Over their heads, somebody poured boiling oil like the kind used in the defense against sieges down into the alley, preventing them from closing the distance and leaving them yelping like children, having just avoided becoming soaked in the terrible stuff. By the time they gathered their senses, she was nowhere to be found.

[revanne]

Duncan took another sip of his excellent wine, being one of the King's oldest friends had its privileges, not the least being that of free access to the royal wine cellars. After his collapse a few years back he had been warned by his doctors to be careful of what he ate and drank and to limit his social interactions, but he felt the current circumstances had warranted his indulgence in good food, good company and good drink. The current situation was enough to drive a saint to drink; the thought that there were some of Kelson's subjects who wanted a return to the horrors and burnings of the past did not bear thinking about it. Well, they would have no choice but to think about it, but at least they could finish the meal on a cheerful note. Young folk always enjoyed hearing about the carryings-on of their seniors, and looking at the two couples, Morgans and Arilans, whose company he was enjoying, he thought he knew just the story. 

Waiting for a convenient lull in the conversation, he began.

"Long, long ago," and was flattered to see that all eyes turned towards him. He enjoyed his skill as a raconteur and thought that his audience would not be disappointed in the tale he was about to tell.

"Long, long ago," he repeated, "when Alaric and I were outcasts and discussing riding to Dhassa to throw ourselves on the mercy of the rebel Bishops, Alaric claimed not to have met Denis more than once. At the time I thought it a bit odd, though I was very aware that he tended to avoid Bishops on principle, and very wise too. But Denis had always seemed sympathetic and, though we didn't know then he was Deryni, he was not one for the usual fulminations. Of course later we found out that Denis was avoiding Alaric as far as he could, but still that didn't quite explain their mutual game of hide but not seek. Neither Denis nor Alaric ever told me what lay behind it, but one night years later, when his Grace of Corwyn was being particularly aware of his dignity as a Duke, Sean took refuge in my quarters, and we might have shared a bottle or two."

Duncan looked around at the young people, caught Charity Arilan's eye and smiled. "Your Da was, and is, utterly loyal to the house of Corwyn, and his devotion to Alaric was unbreakable - God knows he proved that enough - but there were times when he needed an outlet. But he always felt a bit guilty even with me and if he had had a rant against Alaric he would always end by telling me what a fabulous lord and friend he was. And well-oiled as we were on this occasion, he told me this tale."

"Jamyl, your uncle had many fine qualities, but I think it fair to say humility didn't come naturally to him. It seems that Sean and Alaric were on a visit to Rhemuth not long after Denis had become a bishop and heard him boasting about the wonderful new horse that he had bought and its breeding. Well, if anyone knows about horseflesh it's Sean and instead of keeping his mouth shut he apparently shared rather too loudly his own opinion on bishops who horse dealers saw coming. Why he then decided that he should go to Bishop Denis for confession on Shrove Tuesday is anyone's guess. He came away with a penance which would last him a month, and took his woes to Alaric. Alaric had a way with animals, Brion always used to say that he could charm the deer to the gates of Rhemuth, and it seems that while Alaric remained in Rhemuth, Denis could not get his horse to walk in a straight line. It doesn't do much for the dignity of a new young Bishop if his horse will only walk in a circle as soon as he gets on its back. For a groom—or worse, a stable lad—the mount behaved impeccably."

Duncan was pleased to see that everyone was laughing as he continued. "Denis was far from stupid, and he worked out that Alaric must have had some hand in this, but he couldn't accuse him without revealing his own understanding of Deryni powers, which would have been far too dangerous. To save his dignity he sold the horse, at a great loss, and of course the new owner had no problem at all. Neither Alaric nor Denis ever mentioned the incident to me, and I'm not sure Sean would have remembered much of our conversation the following morning given the hangover he was suffering, but it certainly helped explain why Alaric kept out of Denis's way."

[Laurna]

After the laughter had abated from Uncle Duncan's anecdote, Washburn looked across the spent meal before them and heartily commented. "Not many people knew that my father had a wicked sense of humor. That much I remember well. He enjoyed a good jape as much as anyone, and could receive as well as he gave. His journal was full of little moments where maman made an effort to straighten him out. Of course, he was best known for putting forth that sinister Deryni sorcerer look. I think only Uncle Duncan here knew the truth behind that act."

Duncan McLain lifted his glass of wine but did not answer the jibe.

"I still have a hard time imagining your father intimidating anyone," Charity said. The youngest of the Earl of Derry's daughters was a wife and mother herself now, and she smiled across the table to the Morgans. "He was always like a sweet uncle to us. I think I only saw him angry once, some trouble that Seamus and Grania had gotten into, and that one time he was scary. All the rest of the time, he was an absolute darling."

"I was an unwilling spectator to that," Wash offered. "I think Grania was sixteen and supposed to be watching me, which I admit I never made it easy for her. I believe I was about six back then. We were visiting Derry. Seandry took my da out to check on those Norse milking heifers, when Seamus had slipped back in the house. Your older brother," He looked pointedly at Charity. "And my sister disappeared; it wasn't that long, I could attest to that. But hefty hell exploded when Da dragged Seamus by the arm back into your home. My sis was crying too. At the time, I didn't understand, but I suspect I do now."  He looked lovingly at his wife's glowing smile.

Washburn raised his glass high. "To my father, Alaric Morgan," he said, "the man who had many sides, but mentor and protector was his strongest desire." His guests repeated the toast, and they all drank to the memory of the man they all loved and respected.

      They deserved it, you know, said the red dragon.

      Who deserved what?

      Grania and Seamus. Oh, she was the instigator, but he followed along willingly enough.

Wash smiled and made a note to himself to ask more about that later—any gossip he could tease Grania with was a favorable dice roll if he needed it.

You do not dare to tease the Princess, Fiona underscored to Washburn as she sensed his mind, Fiona was ever so intuitive to Wash's thoughts especially since his shields were open to her in this easy atmosphere. She has her hands full with the Haldane family legacy.

I submit to your wisdom, a bright smile swept over his face as he bowed his head to his wife.  But you know, before she was a princess, she was a Morgan through and through.

Fiona squeezed his hand firmly. I am well versed on the troubles that the Morgans bring upon themselves. It is a good thing that you are all wise enough to marry strong spouses.

      And that spit-fire is just the wife that you need, rumbled the red dragon deep in Washburn's soul.

"Speaking of boys growing fast," Fiona said aloud, "Jamyl, Charity–  your son is ready to squire soon. Have you chosen a house for him yet? We would be happy to take on a new squire, or is he already tagged for the King's royal tutelage?"

"With all the unrest going on,"--In this familiar setting, Charity felt free to speak for her husband – "I want to keep him at TreArilan, but Rhemuth, I hope, is safe enough. I am so thankful to the Morgans for going to Seamus's aid so quickly. Merasha is a nasty game."

"He is practically family," Wash interrupted, "Kelric could do nothing less. As would I."

"I'm glad that you call him practically family," a voice said from the doorway, "because your 'family' could use some help."

[Nezz]

Those at the table looked to the entranceway to see a familiar figure standing there.

"Trevor!" Charity exclaimed, delighted. She rose from her seat and rushed to give her brother a hug.

"You're far from your parish," Jamyl made note as he jumped up and grasped hands with his brother-in-law.

Archbishop Duncan was not willing to stand at his age, but his gaze and deep voice showed his concern, "Something has you riled, my son. Is this something that I need to attend to?"

Father Trevor O'Flynn put off further greetings and hurried over to kneel before the Archbishop. "Your Grace, it is fortuitous that I find you here. I bring news that may bear some weight for the King. Have you yet heard word from Grecotha? That a Deryni man was burned at the stake by the Willimites?"

Duncan crossed himself, "Yes, that information has reached the king."

"And have you heard that the Willimites are planning to put torch to the entire city?"

"What?" Washburn exclaimed. "How have you come upon this news, when even the king's best men have reported no word?"

"I have a contact in the city, and he... oh hell, it's Airich, and he's in Grecotha, and he told me. He called me, that's how serious this is."

"Airich called you?" Charity sounded disbelieving.

"He did. He heard directly from Eddard de Nore's mouth. And apparently he also did a Death Reading on the man they burned."

Everyone at the table was now standing, astounded by Trevor's announcement.

"I'd heard that Airich gave up his powers," Wash said. "You say he did a Death Reading?"

"That's what he said. It's been years since he's done any magic, and I'm concerned he didn't protect himself from the Reading. He was leaking feelings even through our call."

"That is concerning," Wash said under his breath.

"That's why I came to you, Wash, because you can reach the King and you've studied healing of the Deryni mind." He looked back at the Archbishop. "It is known that your word carries more weight with his Majesty than anyone else, so it is surely by God's Grace that you are here."

Wash motioned his agitated friend over to a chair. "Do you think you can show me what Airich did? I certainly will help him in any way that I am able. I am even more concerned for him if he is in Grecotha. From what I have heard in the king's chambers, we need to get him out of there."

"We don't have time for rapport yet, I have to get word to the King first—"

"The King can wait for the two minutes it will take for you to give Wash what he needs." Duncan turned to Jamyl. "Lord Arilan, take word to the King. Ask if we can attend him in his apartment in a few moments."

Jamyl hurried away to obey the Archbishop's request. Upon seeing part of his task turned over to other hands, Trevor dropped into the chair Wash had requested of him. "I sent word through official channels earlier today requesting that you come to Arx Fidei and contact me at your earliest opportunity, but I confess I've spent the day worried and unable to work. So finally I asked Father Samuel to take over for me and I took the portal network over." His fingers fidgeted restlessly. "Looks like it's well that I didn't wait on official channels, since I beat them to you."

"Aye, you have. Trevor, it has been a while, but you were one of my mentors for this when I was a sapling, and I promise I have far more patience than I did then. Will you share with me? And then we can be away to the king."

"I can only give you the words, he didn't share with me exactly what he did. But I'll give you all I can."

Charity knelt by Trevor's chair. "May I join you in listening? I promise I won't interfere. But I would like to hear what has disturbed my brother enough that he has resorted to using magic again."

"Your Grace, join us?" Wash invited. Duncan nodded.

Then, without needing to be asked, Wash placed Fiona on his left, and Duncan sat in the chair on his right, each touching his wrists. He stood behind Trevor's chair, placed his hands over the priest's forehead, knowing fully the trust that Trevor gave him. A trust that came from a lifelong friendship. Wash centered his mind to a deep calm, near healer's trance, and let his shields fall to the side. I think Airich missed me a couple of times this past summer, he mind-spoke in a soft tone. Now I am concerned that I did not get back to him. Show me what he has gotten himself into...

It may be well that you didn't get back to him at that time, Trevor said. Although...nevermind. Here... see.

Washburn's curiosity at that statement was overshadowed by what played out for them from Trevor's contact with his youngest brother.

I'm stuck in Grecotha now. The Willimites have become very active...
They're planning to burn down the entire city soon...
Eddard de Nore threatened me that I would be in the center of the inferno...

Airich's first words were startling, and Wash had to settle deeper into the rapport to not break the sequencing.

But they know who we are, my friends and I, they know us by name...

Wash let Trevor's concern for his brother fill him, he felt the same in his heart but tried not to disturb the flow.

He killed a man yesterday. Tied him to a stake in the middle of Market Square and lit him up like a torch...
I helped put out the fire and bring his body down while it was still smoking. I Read him afterward. He'd been alive and conscious when they covered him in oil and lit the fire...
I've felt the flames searing through skin and muscle. I've heard the fat crackle and smelled the meat char. I can still feel it burning...

Wash vaguely noticed when Charity broke away from the contact, severely shaken by Airich's emotions. His own wife wasn't much better, even though she'd never met the youngest O'Flynn. Washburn held his own tension within, much as Trevor had done so when he'd received the message. Wash could even feel the full effect that Airich's words had had on Trevor's own inner turmoil.

Wash mindspoke cautiously keeping his emotions steady, I am concerned. If Airich can still feel the full impact of the Death Reading a full day later, he has taken some psychic damage from the experience. He will need a master or a Healer to help reverse this damage.

Wash sensed Archbishop Duncan's agreement; his was the most authoritative on these wounds. Gently Wash let the Rapport go.

"Trevor, sip some wine, take a moment. When you are ready, we need to see Kelson."

[Nezz]

"Burn Grecotha? The entire city?" His Majesty of Gwynedd, King Kelson Haldane, sounded incredulous. "What could they possibly hope to accomplish with that seditious act?"

"I don't know, Sire," Trevor reported, "but if one can believe the words of Eddard de Nore, then that is indeed their plan."

"This Eddard de Nore—he is a son of Earl Topher de Nore of Nyford? A younger son, not the older boy, whom I have dealt with on sour subjects before. Now I am going to have to deal with the father wanting his son absolved of a secular crime. Unpleasant business that will be. You say Eddard confessed as accomplice to the burning at the stake of the entertainer, Lucas Whittingham? I hope there were more than one witnesses to this confession." Kelson spoke in a voice low and stern. His gaze was cold, but that anger was not aimed toward the subjects before him. "One might suppose that he is just as serious about one as he is the other."

"We don't have to worry about Eddard de Nore himself, Sire. He's dead."

"Executed already?"

"I don't know the specifics, Sire. I have only been told that he is dead."

The King sat back and steepled his fingers, searching the faces of the six close-knit persons who had arrived in all seriousness at this late night hour in his apartment. From their looks, he knew they already had key information that he was lacking. A faint nod came from Washburn and a more conclusive raised chin from Duncan told him this was information that he needed first hand. "Father Trevor, if I may, would you share with me this conversation you had with your brother?"

"As you wish, Sire." Trevor strode forward and knelt before his King. He bowed his head forward as Kelson rested his hands there, and shared the portion of Airich's message that related to the Willimites and their doings in Grecotha.

"Was that everything?" Kelson asked when he was finished.

"No," Trevor said, "but that's everything about the Willimites."

"Please share the entire conversation with me."

Trevor frowned, but leaned forward again. This time, he relived the entire opening part of the discussion.

When he stopped, Kelson said, "There's more?"

"There is, Your Majesty," Trevor admitted, "But I will not divulge the rest of the conversation to anyone. Not even you."

"Confession. I see." Kelson sat back and motioned for Trevor to rise again. This time, Kelson's hand gestured for everyone to take what seats they could around the apartment hearth. With Duncan seated across from the king in the comfortable chairs near the hearth, Washburn settled the ladies at the settee and the men each grabbed a chair from the table to finish off a semicircle around the hearth. Even here in Rhemuth, the autumn nights were starting to take on a chill.

"If it pleases Your Majesty, I can find out if Airich knows what happened to de Nore yet, or has any further information you need." Father Trevor said, fully recovered from his rapport.

"I think I'd be far more interested in finding out how Sir Airich knows about Baron Washburn," the King said.

"Knows what about him?" Trevor asked. Weren't there other uniformed persons in this room? He gave a side look to his sister Charity and her husband Jamyl to see if they were perplexed.

Kelson's warning look of Don't treat me like I'm stupid, boy answered that question for Trevor. Even about his sister, Charity. But then the whole O'Flynn family had been close to all the Morgans. It would not surprise him if each found out in their own way.

"Your brother told you he was researching how to get rid of Deryni powers," Kelson said. "He also said he was looking for the man who knew how to do it—Saints be praised that he was wise enough to not mention names, in case of eavesdroppers. You expressed no surprise over the idea that Deryni powers could be blocked, nor did you press him to name names, so I assume you also know about this closely guarded state secret."

Trevor crossed himself mentally, but Kelson now turned his attention to Washburn. "What do you know about all this, my Lord Baron? Did you know that Sir Airich was searching for you? Or how he might have discovered your unique abilities?"

"Your Majesty, I have spent the summer between four Healer Hospices, Rhemuth, Coroth, Lendour and Morgan Hall. A few notices have caught up with me that Sir Airich had asked for me at these locals at differing times, but he never left a message saying why. I expected to catch up with him on St Michael's Feast day in Coroth when both our families get together to celebrate my father's achievements, I did not expect his call to be more urgent.  And I didn't know that he knew about... that one skill until this past hour."

"Very well," the King said, switching his attention back to Father Trevor. "I will make note of the O'Flynns' awareness, though I am not pleased with it. This situation with your brother disturbs me. It's no secret that in recent years he has spoken for the cause of the Willimites and complained about Deryni abuses of power, while insisting that he not be considered Deryni any longer. And now he is looking for the only man who can block the powers of the Deryni. For what reason? No one seems to know. Perhaps he's looking to actually become Human in fact. Or perhaps he's looking to convert Baron Washburn to his cause." The King gave Washburn a deceptively casual nod, "You would, after all, be quite the asset to the Willimites."

Washburn looked stricken. "Sire, I beg you, don't speak of such a thing, not even in jest! I would never—"

"Don't worry, I don't question your loyalty," Kelson assured. "And I would prefer to not question the loyalty of any of my knights. But if Sir Airich is to be of service to the kingdom, I need his behavior to be beyond reproach and his loyalty beyond question." The king's gaze sat firmly on each of their faces, one by one. None flinched, none had reason to, and that was an assurance to all who sat here.

Charity broke the tableau by standing and taking a step toward the King. She dropped into a deep, respectful curtsy and held it for several seconds before standing straight. Her deep, soulful eyes pleaded with his. "Sire, I beg you not be too angry with my brothers. We were all raised since our earliest childhoods to be gatherers of information. We know to keep our eyes and ears open, and our mouths shut. The fact that you have only just discovered that we know this should give you some comfort that you can trust the discretion that our father instilled in us." She bowed her head and cast her eyes demurely downward.

Only Charity could have gotten away with that little speech, Trevor thought. Both she and Airich had mastered the trick of doing that thing with their eyes that made them appear oh-so-innocent. And got them out of trouble far more often than they deserved.

So it was no surprise to Trevor that the King's gray Haldane eyes softened, and the corner of a smile touched his lips. "You make an appealing case, my dear," he said. "Perhaps I need to start sending you out with your husband, and put those pretty eyes and ears to work for me."

Her blue eyes flicked up to glance playfully at Kelson. "I am yours to command, Your Majesty." She gave him another small curtsy and returned to her seat next to Fiona on the settee.

[revanne]

Kelson turned his attention back to Trevor, but his voice sounded milder. "Inform your brother that I would see him at his earliest opportunity." At Trevor's surprised look, the King added, "Make it clear this is a royal command, not a polite request for an opportunity for me to see the son of my old friend. Although, like the rest of his family and friends, I would have appreciated seeing one of my knights over the last few years."

This did nothing to ease Trevor's discomfort, and yet again he inwardly cursed his youngest brother. Experience and family wisdom had taught him the folly of provoking the full force of that Haldane glare, but for Airich to get from Grecotha to Rhemuth was not going to be easy. He rather uncharitably thought that if anyone was going to have to deal with an understandably stressed and therefore irritable King it should be Airich. He was casting about for a way to explain without bringing an impatient rebuke down upon himself when Duncan broke into the rather tense silence. 

"As I understand it, Kelson, the problem is that the portals in Grecotha are known to only a few and leaving by any other means would be too dangerous, given the Willimite activity on the roads. We need someone who knows the portal signature to go to Grecotha and bring him through."

Kelson looked at Duncan, hearing the longing for action in the old man's voice, and seeing in his mind's eye the warrior priest he had come to rely on in the first turbulent days of his reign. But the King's need to suppress the old priest's emotion only served to make his reaction brusquer than he would have liked, the more so since he saw that Washburn seemed about to speak.

"Duncan, I hope that you are not suggesting that you go; the answer, as you well know, is no. That goes for you as well, Sir Washburn." Washburn answered with a sharp intake of breath, he well understood that the use of his knightly title was a warning to obedience, and, as Duncan, much as he disliked the prohibition, he knew that it was right.

[Laurna]

"Sire, if I may ask a request?" At the near immediate rebuke formulating on his King's lips, Baron Washburn put his flat hand forward, looking for a moment's reprieve. "Kelson, I assure you that I do not personally know the portal signatures to Grecotha, I have heard they are there, but I have never used one. Understand that jumping to Grecotha is not a consideration of mine.

"Nevertheless," the Healer pressed to be heard. "I feel a need to be nearer to help talk Sir Airich in and to help hasten him to Rhemuth once he is in my presence. Sire, I have already set requisite safeguards in Lendour and Coroth. And most recently in the seminary of Arx Fidei, south of Valoret, as I assume I was soon to be called upon there. I think no harm would befall if I made refuge at the Seminary a little earlier than expected. The studies in their library will certainly cause no one to question my presence there."

Kelson frowned. "You know how I feel about your itinerary; not pleased, not pleased at all. But I do understand the necessity. Do not displease me further." Stern internal words passed from King to Healer that no one else heard. Tense from a lecture, Washburn went down on one knee, "As you say, Sire!" The silence in the room was penetrating as Kelson raised his hand for his baron to stand and return to his seat.

The King then looked to his son's closest confidant and made his orders clear. "Lord Jamyl, I am entrusting you with my Baron Healer's safety. You are to go where he goes and never leave his side. And if he chooses to go where I do not wish him too, you are to remind him of his duty to me. I need assurances that neither of you will then take that misstep."

Kelson accepted their, "Yes, Sire," each in turn.

Then he looked to the younger priest. "Father Trevor, with the best haste, I leave it to you to find a way to get your brother out of Grecotha. If you do not know the Bishop's basement Portal, then I suggest Baron Morgan gets you in contact with Earl Cameron and have him find you a way to Grecotha.

"However it is done, I want to see all of you with Sir Airich back here at Rhemuth. And I do mean ALL!"

[Bynw]

Grecotha isn't the only city of Gwynedd facing a Willimite crisis. Willimite activity happens on all the roads of the kingdom and others are joining in. Some are Deryni taking the matter into their own hands, others are no more than bandits taking advantage of the unrest to further line their own pockets.

But every city is facing it's own rise of Willimite hostility towards Deryni. In some cities the Willimite uprising hasn't taken root but it makes its presence known. From Marbury to Lass, from Nyford to Cardosa, from Rengarth to Valoret, from Desse to Rhemuth. All are experiencing an increase in hostilities towards Deryni.

This rise of Willimite hostility is beginning to spread and spill across the boards of Gwynedd into The Connait and the United Kingdoms of Howicce and Llannedd.

As the conflict spreads. The Camberian Council is concerned that if not stopped, it could engulf Gwynedd into a war against Human and Deryni and even become widespread. Stopping it is a delicate matter however. Stopping the humans of Saint William only proves the point they are making about the Deryni. Stopping the Deryni who have taking up arms to defend themselves and to attack humans would be taken as siding with the Willimites.

[Nezz]

"That meeting went nothing like I'd anticipated," Duncan said as they left the King's quarters. "I find myself utterly worn out, so I will bid you all farewell." He put his arm out towards Trevor. "Father, could I trouble you to see me back to my rooms?"

"Of course, Your Grace." Trevor nodded a good night to his friends and held the old priest's arm steady as they walked.

"Now that we've heard far more about your younger brother than we wanted, why don't you tell me about yourself and how you're doing," Duncan said.

"Not a great deal to tell," Trevor said. "I take care of the shrine, tend the garden, see to the pilgrims, and minister to the villagers. And the villagers don't require much ministering."

"And about that matter that we discussed a few months ago?" Duncan asked. 

Trevor sighed. "No real change, I'm afraid. I don't dislike my work, but I don't feel the same kind of fulfillment that the others all seem to have found. And it still seems like I'm cheating my flock since they're not receiving the full benefits of a priest who feels his Calling."

"It's like that for some," Duncan said. "Some spend years searching for that burning within. Others never do find it, but still do God's work with great satisfaction. If you have neither the burning nor the fulfullment, then that does make it a difficult row for you to hoe. Tell me, my son, have you given any thought to what you might do if you were to leave the Priesthood?"

"I thought I'd likely return to Derry and help with things at home. There are never enough qualified hands around the stables anymore, especially in the spring. And Seamus could use help riding the borders and guarding the caravans from these Willimite bandits. I'm also very good with the numbers and could probably track the Derry accounts in my head. And mi madre has been concerned about her vision and says she can't see the delicate stitches in her tapestry work so well as she used to, and frequently has to rework entire sections. Someone should be ready to take over that work from her."

"But mostly..." Trevor paused, feeling abashed for making this confession, "I would like a family. Of my own. A wife, a passel of tots... I would be lying if I said I didn't feel envious when I see Seamus with his wife and all their children.

"Noble goals, all," Duncan said. They'd come to his door and stopped just outside.

"Truly, Father, and I can think of no more wonderful and satisfying life than this."

The old man set his hands on Trevor's shoulders. "I'm relieving you of all current duties for the week. I'll ask Father Samuel to take over full-time until this business with your brother is worked out. You focus on that, and work with Washburn and Jamyl. And continue praying for your answer. I strongly feel you will receive it soon.

Thank you, Father. I will do as you ask."

[Jerusha]

The sun had just risen above the city wall as a member of the Purple Guard set the hand cart down. There was a man hanging by his wrists from chains secured to the top of the wall.  The guardsman shaded his eyes from the sun as he looked more closely at the body of Eddard de Nore. It was not a pleasant sight.  The crows had been at work on the body all the day before, and rats had had their share during the night, probably climbing nimbly down the chains. The crows had returned at daylight, but now flew off as the guardsman on top of the wall winched up the first chain.  The body flopped as the first wrist was released from the manacle.  The guardsman on the ground stepped back as the body fell to the ground after the second wrist was freed.  It landed with a heavy, squishy thud.

He approached it carefully, aware that he did not have much time to casually study the body before the second guardsman came down to join him.  Though he doubted the man would be in a big hurry. 

((Will the guardsman discover anything when examining the body?  Standard roll.  2d6 = 3+5.  Success.))

The body lay with arms and legs askew; the head facing the guardsman. The front of the tunic was covered with blood, and the boots were missing.  They had likely been of good quality, and now had a new owner among the guardsmen.  There was no jewelry, which was also not a surprise.

The rigor of death had softened, and the guardsman could move the limbs with the toe of his boot.  As he stooped to take a closer look at the face, Callum, the second guardsman, had returned from the wall.

"Looking for a keepsake?" Callum asked with a grin.

"Hardly," the first guard answered as he noted something odd.  He reached inside the mouth with his gloved hand and pulled out a wadded rag, crusted with dried blood.  "I hope this wasn't his last meal."

Callum chuckled.  "The man was spitting blood in his rage, so Philip stuffed a rag into his mouth.  It also shut him up."

"I can see that."  The guardsman tossed the rag aside.  De Nore had not died of a seizure, as had been surmised.  He had been flailing while trying to find the air to breathe.  He had no doubt that Philip had known exactly what he was doing.  No one would ever be suspicious of the death.

"We'd best get started before we draw more flies." Callum brushed one away from his face.  He reached into the hand cart and passed a leather apron to his partner, followed by a sturdy axe. 

With the aprons protecting the purple sashes they wore, the guardsmen set to work with their axes, hacking the body into four quarters.  The aprons did not protect boots or gloves, but at least their helmets helped protect from flying shards of bone.

Once they were done, they pulled the remains onto rough sacking, then wrapped them and lifted them onto the handcart.  The body no longer bled freely, but it was still a gruesome mess that rested in the cart.

"You can push the cart,"  Callum stated.  The smaller man nodded and applied himself to the cart handles.

The smaller guardsman did not complain; as a newer member of this elite group, the heavy work was his.  He hardly noticed the weight of the cart as he raised the handles.

Sir Iain Cameron, Earl o' Isles, followed Callum through the city gate and to the plague pits.  At least they would be spared the task of burying the corpse of Eddard de Nore; grave diggers would have that task. 

De Nore had been murdered by Philip of the Purple Guard.  One of the Bishop's own men.  It did not sit well with Sir Iain, and he would look into the man further.  After he made his report to the king at the appointed hour.

[Nezz]

"Mistress Elspeth," Airich said, after the infirmarian had treated the worst of the next morning's hangovers, "With your permission, may I take Amy and Edwin out and try to find a portal? With three of us looking, we would cover more ground."

"Do you need my permission?" Elspeth asked, amused.

"You are Amy's mentor. She would not come without your say-so. Edwin respects you. I believe he would feel more confident coming if he knew you approved of this task."

"Oh, well if it's all down to me—"

"It is," Airich confirmed. "Every company needs a commander, and you have earned everyone's respect. Therefore..." he raised an eyebrow at her, "may I take Amy and Edwin with me? If they'll come?"

"You plead such a pretty case, how could I possibly say no?" Elspeth smiled, but then her tone became stern. "But I expect you to be on your guard at all times, and if your safety is in any way compromised, you are to return immediately, portal or no. Understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am!"

Ten minutes later, the three Deryni stood in the tunnel, two of them learning how to recognize signs of a portal and detect its energy signature. And then they were off, searching for a magical needle in an enormous haystack.

[Laurna]

The elusive magical Portal. A means by traveling from one location to another. As mythical in Amy's mind as a Unicorn or a Pegasus. Apparently, not requiring to be a virgin to attract one. Thankfully for that, Amy thought, or they would never find one. But still it seemed to Amy that there must be some other stipulation to finding one because they had not run across one yet.

Not that Amy truly understood what they were looking for, something that tingled under your feet and then allowed a Deryni to blip from one place to another. How ever did some mad Deryni discover this ability? Two locations had been suggested by Charles Dugan, but being human, he was only going by diaries that he had read long time back. The Sacristy at the city Cathedral seemed the most obvious, but there were too many pairs of eyes watching the Cathedral, looking exactly for people of Deryni birth to use it. So it was determined to not even try that resource.

Another old writing suggested a few portals were known to be in the Bishop's Palace, but getting into the main residence would not be a welcoming task. Now a portal in the ruined Byzantyun chambers beneath the palace... that seemed enticing enough to make a try for. And safe enough for them if it could be found.  Even Edwin seemed to be thinking this was the best possibility for an otherwise impossible task. The first hour was spent walking the floors in some old ruined chambers too closely resembling where they had traipsed the other night.

Disappointingly, they came up empty. Only Airich's certainty and magnetism kept them on the hunt. Now that they were deep in the bowels of the city, Edwin led them from the underground ruins down a long tunnel which he said would lead to the cellars under the Bishop's Palace. Not, thankfully, the same place where de Guerra had truly held his archery duel. That would have unnerved Amy even more.

She had come to the conclusion that she did not like having so much earth and buildings over her head. She had slept in basements when she had been a servant at a great manor house, but that wasn't the same as this. This was more like the time she and her older sister had wandered into the cave beneath her home village on a dare from some boys. Damp, slimy rocks and dripping sounds had led them to the horror of childhood stories: the carved statue of the Troll of Droghera. Chrysanthy had wanted to touch it to see if it would move. Amy had screamed when she did. In fascinated horror, the stone did not awaken. But then something did jump at them from the blackness. Both girls screamed and ran, practically dying of fear as they fell out of the cavern's entrance and rolled down the small gully, thankfully filled with soft autumn leaves. Horrific laughter echoed from the cave and out came two boys, Chrysanthy's friends, laughing at the girl's hysteria. Amy's sister yelled at them for being so mean. Cuddled up in her sister's arms, Amy was led back to the town gates. She never tried that cave again.

Why did Amy just remember that now, she wondered? Because they were deep in the tunnels of the old Byzantyun diggings, built long ago for who knew what purpose. This tunnel system was even more slimy and damp, with moisture dripping down the stone walls and pooling in crannies on the floor by the opposite side. Edwin's torchlight gave an orange glow to the damp stone under their feet, but its dim light was only better than full darkness. After a sudden grunt at her back, the radiant blue glow of handfire ignited to show the green slime and filaments hanging down from the ceilings above. They ended just over her head and she realized Airich was tall enough that he must have gotten slapped in the face by some of those, and he had to be certain what it really was, not rats and spiders at least. Though she was certain those were here too if she really looked; imaginations could be daunting in the low torchlight. Thankfully, Airich's magic-fire remained hovering over his head, allowing him to duck away from the tendrils as they walked forward. It helped all of them move faster with more sure footing. Amazing that!

"Are you going to show us how you do that with the light?" She asked, thinking that it would be nice to not have to hold a torch.

"The handfire I showed you is enough for now," the Deryni knight said. "But even that would take too much concentration for you to maintain and still keep your senses open for a portal. I don't want either of you splitting your new abilities so carelessly." Even Edwin made a disparaging humph at that remark.

After a turn in the tunnels, they found a door ahead of them. Edwin held his torch up higher. "Oh good, if Charlie Dugan is right, this should be the door to the Bishop's Residence cellar. It is not a keyed lock, only a brace across the inside. I think I can slip my dagger through the door jamb space to lift it." Edwin stepped forward to do just that. Airich had placed his hand on the door, quietly trying to move the brace on the far side, but the scrivener's assurance toward the task seemed to abort his effort. ((lift barred door standard easy 2d6 3 + 4.))

The scribe did not notice the knight's attempt. Instead, with confidence in using small sharp objects, he slipped his thin dagger through the jamb and wiggled it in the tight space. Airich was getting fidgety, when Edwin pushed upward with extra effort ((standard 4&6, success)) and was satisfied with a clanking sound of a metal bar being freed and the door neatly opened. Edwin gave a very pleased smile to his friends and waved them on through with a flourish of his hands, as if inviting them to enter his own domicile.

They walked into a dry corridor with a stone stair at its head and a large door on either side. "I hope those aren't barred the same way," Amy commented.  Edwin tried one. It opened.

Airich walked first into the opened cellar room. It was stacked with crates and old furniture across the walls and in the center. A fairly large room, too.
"A portal would not be in here? Would it?  I thought it would be more dignified in a small chapel or a shrine?" Amy asked, rather daunted by the idea of searching in there. Spiders and rats indeed!

"That would be a portal in the Cathedral complex. But here under the Bishop's Palace, a portal would be for private movements and bringing in goods. It would have to be on the lowest sub-basement floor with dirt or stone beneath and not another room level beneath. So I think this would be the best level to check first." Airich commented. But he, too, did not enter the store room, instead he crossed the hall to the other door. The floor dirt before this door seemed swept clean. More footsteps going this way than the other. Again, this door was not locked, merely closed. And it swung open, revealing racks of wines and ales in long lines going back to the far wall.

"Jackpot!" Edwin announced.

"Getting drunk will not help us find what we seek." Amy said, swishing past them, finding a torch on the wall sconce, which she then lit from Edwin's torch. It sputtered and did not light as cleanly. Nevertheless, she held it up high to get a good look at the room. It wasn't near the size of the other room.

"Here portal, portal, portal.  Where are you hiding?" She did as Airich had taught her and opened her senses to the floor beneath her feet.

Airich touched Edwin's wrist, getting his attention away from the treasure room. "Amy, you search this room and Edwin and I will search the larger storage room. Let us hope we can find what we need here without moving upward into the Palace proper."

With head high racks on both sides of her, Amy walked slowly down one aisle and then back up the next, she tried to feel under every footstep, her soft shoes made a scuff noise with every step. No feelings of magic anywhere around her. ((Amy opens her Deryni senses as she walks the cellar floor. Does she feel a Portal tingle? 2d6 1 + 2 Failure)) Her torch shone on bottles dusty and disused as she got to the back of the cellar. One row of bottles had an ancient rope netting over it. The netting was hung only loosely on one side, and the cobwebs had recently been brushed away.

She pushed the net aside and pulled out a green bottle from the rack. The Label read de Nore Private Reserve 1104. Something about it, likely the name, made her quiver and she hastily put the bottle back on the shelf. After 60 years, it would have gone bad by now. Why would someone have taken one of these bottles?

Amy was distracted from further searching when she heard Airich's voice in her mind. Mistress Amy, come join us in the storage room. I think we might have something, but we need to shift some furniture aside.

[Nezz]

((This scene comes to you courtesy of Marc, who is on his way to some fabulous fun and can't access his computer today.))

((Bede Perceives 2d6 6 + 4)) The next morning saw business return to normal in the Grecotha market. Most people tried harder than even the day before to pretend like there was nothing amiss, no danger to fear. After all, nobody had come for them yet. Yet something seemed forced about the calm, to the senses of the ugly young butcher who wandered the stalls. His blonde hair was unkempt, there was a welt on his face, his neck was stooped, his gait was as unsteady as a drunkard's, and his smock was bloody already. Certainly, he would not be bringing any prices down with his charisma.

But as he worked his way through the market, ordering only the healthiest of poultry for the ones who had sent him, he listened. From each of the dozens of people ambling about the market, he picked up a hesitant, hushed fragment of a fact. Putting them together gave him a vague idea of the jeopardy faced by the grimalkin of Grecotha, merely the woman he most recently had cause to be concerned for. Dammit, Edwin. Next time we need to see someone no matter the societal constraints, I will do it myself. He collected himself and slowly adopted a more manful way of walking as he exited the market, but did not make it far before he was accosted by a hound.

Bede tensed, hoping he would not have to pull a knife on the talbot, and sighed with relief when it seemed interested in nothing more than play.

"That's enough, Breydan. Heel," barked Captain Phineas, turning a corner to see them. "Is he bothering you, man?" He was followed by a few terribly conspicuous guards disguised as commoners, peasants, villeins.

"Hardly," Bede assured him while he quietly unrolled his warrant. "I'd appreciate ye not calling me by my real name. The investigators have been noticed by our targets. I intend to avoid them, ye see. What's all this? Does it have something to do with the dean's niece?"

The captain whispered miserably, "I'm afraid so. She was taken against her will from this very market last night. This is where she was last seen, more or less, so we have Breydan here pursuing her scent. We are trying to handle this quietly, Mister. To make a scene without a clear path to her rescue would play into the hands of the criminals who have done this."

"I couldn'a agree more," Bede nodded. "Would you keep us apprised of this matter? I want to see her safe as though I knew her myself."

"Some would say that's because you don't know her at all," Phineas worked the words over in his mouth, then shook his head. "And those people are all too much like the ones we're after. If you will join us, you should return here before the next tolling of the bell. Be ready, butcher."

"Thank ye," the Mearan replied appreciatively, and went to return the butcher's clothes. The bruise, he decided, he would not be returning.

[revanne]

"Have you found anything over there? There's nothing over here (Airich 2d6 3:3)"

It was a perfectly reasonable question, asked a bit brusquely but shifting old lumber and raising a century or more of dust did not give anyone a lot of breath for long speeches, not even the emperor of Derynidom. Edwin knew, hoped, he was being unfair, but Airich was beginning to get on his nerves. That speech about making everyone Deryni, why did the man think he had the right to tell everyone what to be? He's a knight, not the Lord God Almighty. Edwin's thoughts shocked even himself by their blasphemy, and he furtively crossed himself. He knew that mental voice which sounded so like his father, and that thought only made him more angry. 

"I asked if you had found anything over there?" 

Again, a perfectly reasonable reaction to having a perfectly reasonable question ignored, but it only fired Edwin up further. He still ignored Airich and tried instead to focus on searching for the portal as he had been shown (roll disadvantage, Edwin is too angry to focus, 1: failure). He took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. A mistake, as he realised when his lungs filled with dust, and he ended in a fit of coughing. As he bent double, he could hear scrambling and felt Airich's touch on his back. He felt the muscles in his throat relax, and he was able to stop spasming enough to stand straight. 

"I'll take that as a no," Airich's gently teasing yet concerned voice spoke. Hoping that Arich would take his flush of shame for the effects of his coughing, Edwin managed a civil enough "I'm sorry, I didn't focus properly." Airich looked at him patiently and suggested, "Try again, and this time remember to breathe through your nose." Well, he deserved that, so trying hard to push down his resentment at feeling like a five-year-old, he tried again. He thought he had begun to feel something, maybe a vague tingling, but it was gone so quickly it was most likely wishful thinking; wanting to please teacher. (4, better but still a failure). Airich had been watching him closing and obviously saw something in his reaction because he eagerly pushed Edwin aside and stood where he had been standing (2d roll 6:1). "Yes!!" Airich punched the air and yelled in his excitement. 

The sound brought Amy rushing in, and her delight showed in her face. Edwin offered his congratulations but even to himself his words sounded hollow. Yes, he was behaving like a child, but did no one else care for his beloved Grecotha? Had it all just been a stepping stone for Airich's journey to greatness, with Amy in tow? Well, good luck to them both as far as the last was concerned, the kiss had been nice enough but no nicer than with other girls, and he had no means of providing for a wife and the children that would follow. He knew more than ever that he wanted the life the university could offer, and in the last few days had surprised himself with the passion with which he was prepared to fight for it. He had thought himself part of a team, instead they were now looking for a way out, leaving Grecotha to its fate. 

Airich's cheerful voice broke into his thoughts, "Wake up there! Don't be too disheartened, with a bit more focus you'd have easily managed it yourself. Come on, on the way back, I've another skill to show you and Amy." Edwin knew he could take no more, he needed to get a control of his building anger, and he couldn't do that with Airich and Amy's enthusiasm rasping at his nerves.

He pushed past them both and headed for the vaulted tunnel, throwing over his shoulder, "I'm sure you'll get on better with just the two of you." That was a mistake, sounding of a jealousy he didn't feel. Though the words were true enough, he had played gooseberry to his older brothers often enough to know the feeling, he had better try to explain something of what he felt. "I'm sure you've got plenty more magic tricks that you can show us, but how is that going to help the folk of Grecotha? Oh, let's let it burn down, so the world can see how wonderful a Deryni my lord Airich is! Maybe, my Da is right, and half o' being Deryni is show and trickery an'a shortcut t' honest sweat. Wha' does it matter t' decent folk sin a man be Deryni or no?" He knew by his increasing border speech that he was losing control of his anger. He had better get out now.

In his haste he banged his injured shin against an old table, which did nothing for his state of mind. The pain served to remind him that he could at least manage handfire and, as the greenish light grew above his palm, he achieved a show of dignity as he turned away, heading back to their lodgings.