Forgotten Shadows

[Nezz]

"Here you go, milords," the guard said as they pulled to a halt. "Would you like me to go in first to make sure there's no danger?"

"That'll be unnecessary." Airich dismounted and saw that Bede and Edwin were doing the same. "But if you could stay out here and keep an eye out for anything unusual, that would be helpful."

"Very good, m'lord."

The building that housed the wind machine did not seem to be a particularly large structure, but Airich wasn't sure what he'd expected. He looked at the two-level structure with the mill's vanes not much longer than the height of a man. Its lower level was built of pale, mortared stone, and its upper level, built of deep brown wood, was accessible from a rickety exterior stair.

"Edwin, can you take the upper level?" Airich asked.

"Sure. What am I looking for, exactly?"

"Anything out of the ordinary," Airich said. "Use that big brain of yours, Master Scholar. Find us a clue to the identity of the boys' attackers." Edwin glanced at Airich, unamused, and headed up the stairs.

"And you, Master Tracker," Airich said to Bede, "would you care to see what you can find out here? Prints of some sort, or perhaps a lost glove?"

"I hear and obey, Lord." Bede gave him an exaggerated bow and set about following the order.

That left the main level for Airich. Based on the memories he'd picked up from Robert, he was confident the attack had happened here. A small high window kept the air flowing, so the inside didn't smell as musty as he'd feared it would.

He looked around at the bare room. Other than a ladder going into the second floor and the bin half-full of uncollected flour, there was little to see. Unless someone had stashed something in the grain bin, there seemed little of use here.

Cautiously, he lowered his Shields for full sensitivity, casting out for any trace of psychic residue that might—

Deryni scum!

Airich's head whipped around. He saw no one else in the room with him, and he only heard the ordinary, expected sounds of the wind rustling through the grasses outside, and Bede calling up to Edwin to ask a question. He looked around...

There.

Airich stepped towards the ladder and sank to his haunches. He touched the floor...

Darkness broken by Robert's handfire and the nearly full moon occasionally peeking through the clouds. Alfie asking, "What's that noise?" The door crashes open and four dark figures burst through. One goes for Alfie, but the other three come straight at Robert. They're bigger, taller, older. Their student robes flap wildly and they wear masks that cover their faces, except for one man who wears a burlap sack with eyeholes over his head.

Airich committed to memory as many details as he could, trying to judge the height of these older boys, to see any identifying features of their hair or jaws or teeth.

The three are on Robert before he can defend himself. Their fists are striking him: on the face, on the body, on the head. They curse him, spit upon him. Two of them grab his arms and twist while the third one knees him several times, and he screams and crumples in on himself and nearly passes out from the agony.

Airich flinched. Repeatedly. The flashes of pain were quick, but severe, made all the worse by the sheer hatred directed towards the boy.

"Deryni scum!" the one screams at him. "Are you spying on my mind? Can you feel this? I hope you feel how much I loathe you!"

But they still aren't finished with Robert. They twist his arms behind him and when it feels like they can't go any farther without tearing his arms off, they twist anyway, first one side and then the other. Now they finally release the boy, his arms dangling limply from his shoulders. He falls, and after a few more kicks, the three turn on the other boy, but not before one of them deliberately crushes Robert's hand beneath his boot heel.

The vision began losing focus as the men moved away from the initial source of the psychic cry. The last thing Airich felt before it went black was being dragged by his feet out into the cold, frosty night.

Airich came back to full awareness, and nearly lost his balance as he realized both Edwin and Bede were on their knees, staring at him, a mixture of curiosity and worry on their faces.

"You back with us?" Edwin asked.

"You seemed entranced," Bede added.

"I was... no, not... ." At a loss for how to explain himself, Airich gave up, and stood. "I found what I was looking for."

"I'm glad someone did," Edwin said as the other two men also rose to their feet. "I found nothing of interest up there."

"The glorious out-of-doors are as free of anything suspicious as one could hope," Bede said as they went outside.

"Perhaps we should move on to where they found poor Alfie yesterday and see if there's anything to be seen," Airich said, and whistled for the guard.

He took one last look inside the mill. Now that he was warmed up, he could see more clearly that nothing else had picked up any kind of impression. Airich cast around one last time, touching on the guard's eagerness to be on their way, Bede's focused watchfulness¹, then skipping over to Edwin's...²

Shields?

Edwin had Shields?

Airich laughed to himself. You sly devil, I had no idea.

They gathered their horses and mounted up. Airich kneed Aran over to Edwin, who was checking his reins. He sent out a tendril of thought toward Edwin, just enough to announce his presence.³

Edwin gave a start, but continued preparing to ride. He sat up and made eye-contact with Airich, waiting to see what the other man would do. Airich gave him a nod of the head, turned his horse toward the city, and then withdrew his presence from Edwin.

Edwin supposed that what he had just sensed was by way of a friendly greeting from Airich.

Bede leaned over to Edwin and spoke quietly. "Ten-to-one he was doing magic Deryni stuff in there."

"I will not be taking that bet," Edwin replied, and kicked his horse into a walk.
¹ Airich skims over Bede's surface thoughts, Standard. 2d6: 5, 3 = Success
² Airich notices Edwin's Shields, Standard. 2d6: 5, 5 = Success
³ Airich says hello to Edwin, Standard. 2d6: 2, 6 = success

[Laurna]

The men were gone from the infirmary, riding out into the fields and the woods beyond. Amy wished she had gone with them.  Just to be away from here.  Sadly, her cute little sturdy pony would have only slowed them down. She laughed, she likely could run faster than her pony could.  But not for the many hours trip that the men had planned for today. If she had done that, then most likely one of the men would have felt the need to share his ride with her. And though the thought of that tickled her fancy, she knew she was not ready to go that far. She was only just refinding the path her life could take, too soon to define it by stepping into someone else's path instead.

The path she longed for would lead her home– soon– back to her half-sisters home where she and her husband and many nieces and nephews lived their contented lives. That is where her heart sat.... If only... if only. He was happy and safe, her sister had said so in her last letter.

Why had her father been so mean and so angry? Why were sons and daughters treated so differently in life? She never could understand the inequality. Elspeth was such a strong female force. Proof that women could be educated and taught knowledge as well as any man. And better than some. Amy was conscious of the fact that her own education, though well enough for a Mayor's daughter, was still short sighted compared to men like Airich, Edwin, and women like Elspeth. But she planned to never stop learning. And right now great learnings were within her grasp, and she was going to jump at it. Take everything she could get and then go home and prove to her father that she was a good woman and could be a good influence for those she loved in the future. She would prove herself and now was the time.

Monks had come into the room and had told Elspeth that someone would be along to take her to the Great university library in just a short time. Elspeth had quickly taken the novice with her, to go back to the King's Arm Tavern and Inn to retrieve their packs and settle their bill. She would be returning here any time.

Amy stayed with Robert, she had helped him eat his breakfast and helped him wash up. In all things he was improving.  All things but that blasted shattered hand. No one seemed to know what to do about it. The current medicines were keeping the pain to a semi-tolerable level. And the wrappings were keeping the swelling down. But it was red and bones were very much disjointed. If only she had the power to Heal.  There were rumors that some Deryni could heal.  Just finding out she was Deryni...(she wondered if it had to come from her mother in some way, her father was in no way of that race)... if she was Deryni, could she heal?

Amy placed her hand over the boy's hand but there was cloth between them, so skin did not touch skin.  Then she moved her other hand under the boy's sleeve where she could touch his skin. She opened up her sensory input. Could she visualize the bones? Could she repair them?¹  Was she trying too hard, was she too nervous about this new power, was it just beyond her abilities? She could not find a cure for poor innocent Robert.

She wanted to cry, the injustice of it all. Her new presence in this world did not change the old doctrines of her culture.  But damn it, she was going to find a way to make a change. She was going to devote her life to improving the way women and children were treated.

1 ((Amy uses Empathy to look at each of the broken bones in Robert's hand. We are going to do this three times. 2d6   1 + 3 ,  2d6   4 + 4,  2d6   3 + 4, Failure))

[Jerusha]

Note:  the source for the information on the Willimites comes from the Codex Derynianus by Katherine Kurtz and Robert Reginald

The rector himself had come to the infirmary to escort Elspeth and Amy to the university library.  If he was dismayed by the idea of women within the university walls, not to mention inside the library, he kept his thoughts to himself.  He was an older man and probably thought he had seen it all, until now. 

Nevertheless, he was a courteous man, and had taken great pride in relating the history of the library as they walked openly across the quadrangle.  Elspeth had thought he would try to sneak them through a backdoor to avoid being seen, but the openness of their approach as they walked quelled any objections from the few students present.  It didn't prevent the horrified stares, though, and Eslpeth made sure her hood was in place.

The library was on the second floor above the Divinity School.  The rector explained that this arrangement helped to protect the library from the damp.  He stepped aside as they entered, allowing them a clear view of the vast room.  Elspeth stopped in her tracks.

The vast room took up the entire length of the building.  Oak bookcases stood at right angles to the walls, with monk's desks built into them for study. The three shelves above the desks were filled to capacity with books and scroll cases.  Huge windows located in the middle of each wall let in an ample amount of light.  Large, oak arches supported the ceiling, which was decorated with panels painted with the arms of Grecotha University.

Amy could not resist pinching her friend's wrist lightly to bring her back to the task at hand.  The rector was waiting for them to follow, a knowing smile on his face.

"Happens all the time on the first visit," he said kindly.  "Now where would you like to start?"

"First, we would like to review anything you may have on the Willimites," Elspeth said, keeping her voice low out of respect for her surroundings and the need for privacy.  "After that, any medical volumes you have dating from before the Regency."

"Information on the Willimites has been more popular than usual," the rector said conversationally as he led them to the correct bookcase. 

"Anyone in particular?" Amy asked as nonchalantly as she could..

"Canon Damian for one, a variety of students, and a young novice."  He indicated a desk at the end of the room.  "I'll be there when you are ready to move on to your next topic.  If you need any help, please don't hesitate to ask."  The rector smiled and moved toward his desk.

"Somehow Canon Damian doesn't surprise me, under the circumstances," Elspeth said as she scanned the volumes before them. 

The Codex Derynianus proved to be the best source.  It related how the Order of Saint Willim had been founded in the memory of the martyred saint, who had been a young victim of Deryni ill use.  The Order was sworn to punish any Deryni criminal who escaped justice.  This mandate had soon expanded to any Deryni they could find, whether guilty or innocent.  Several notable victims were mentioned. 

They had fallen out of favor under King Imre, but became active again during the later half of the reign of King Cinhil as a fundamentalist religious sect bent on forcing Deryni to give up their powers and live a life of penitence. The other sources they reviewed said much the same.  No mention was made of the Order expanding its mandate  to include humans who befriended Deryni.  This appeared to be a new development.

"I think that is all we can learn about the Willimites for now," Elspeth stated as she rose from the desk.  "Let us turn to the medical section now."

Elspeth led the way to the rector's desk.  Before it stood a young novice, speaking quietly to the rector.  ((Will Elspeth and Amy recognize the novice?  2d6, 4+4=8.  Nope.))  As they approached, the novice turned away.  He seemed familiar to both of the women, but the hood of his cowl was drawn up and they could not see his face clearly.  Elspeth knew her own hood served her in the same way.  Was there a reason he wanted to remain hidden?  The novice bowed to the rector and turned away, retreating to the far door. 

"The medical section next?" the rector asked pleasantly.  "Before the time of the Regents," he added.

"Yes, and thank you," Elspeth replied.

"So where do we start?" Amy asked.  The collection was too large to go through them all.

"We'll start with the herbals, concentrating on the oldest ones first.  I hope we can find the same one we found before," Elspeth added wistfully.  ((Will Elspeth find the volume with the talicil formula intact?  2d6, 3+5=8.  Success!))  She scanned the shelves and suddenly grabbed Amy's arm.  "I think it's this one!"

Elspeth pointed at the book and Amy lifted it down, placing it on the desk, propped up against the lectern. Elspeth closed her eyes and said a brief prayer before turning the pages.

"Here!  Oh, it's here!"  It was a challenge for Elspeth to keep her voice down, but she managed it. "The page is whole, and includes the full description and how it must be made.  We have it all!"  Elspeth hugged Amy out of pure joy.

"Too bad Edwin isn't here," Amy said as she extricated herself from her friend's embrace. "If we both copy it to our wax tablets, he should be able to make a fair copy between the two of them."

"Agreed!  Let's get to work," Elspeth pulled her tablet from her satchel, and Amy grabbed her own.

The light was fading as they packed their tablets into their satchels and returned the book to the shelf.  The rector reached them as they moved to the center aisle of the library.

"It is time for us to leave," he said.  "I'll escort you back. I hope your allowed time here has been beneficial."

"Allowed time?" Amy echoed.

"I was not given any direction about a return visit. You will have to ask the canon about that." The rector motioned toward the exit.

"I will, but we have learned a lot in the time we had today," Elspeth said as they walked with the rector to the exit.  She noted that there was no sign of the novice lingering anywhere.  "Please extend our thanks to Canon Damian."

[Bynw]

"Master" the voice calls from the other side of the door. "It is most urgent."

He knocks again on his Master's door. "Apologies for disturbing your work Master. But the council has said to disturb you with this."

The bolt of the door is heard to be slammed and the door is opened. Master Feyd is tired looking and exhausted from his research and lack of proper sleep.

He responds to young page curtly. "What is it that is so important that I am to be disturbed?"

The boy knells and hands his Master a scroll. "Begging your pardon Master but they insisted."

Feyd jerks the scroll out of the pages hand without a word and Mind Sees the seal to authenticate the scroll's origin. Within seconds he breaks the seal and reads the scroll.

"They have crowned a king ..." he mutters and then raises the boy up. "Tell the council that I will personally see to this matter." With that he waves the boy off and shuts the door.

[Marc_du_Temple]

The guiding guard continued to lead the three investigating men through the forests outside the city of Grecotha. They no longer followed a road or a footpath or even the guard's shortcuts, but instead the trail of what might have been a handcart on a meandering, improvised course back towards the city. Signs of a struggle starting at the windmill had ended where the wheelmarks had began. As the treeline parted, the sun was high overhead, and they reached a split in the tracks, where the men had left the cart and begun dragging a small body towards the wall of Grecotha.

"This is where the men found the second lad," the guard stated in explanation. "We were too late to see his killers carrying him here."

"You did what you could," Airich said, riding up to the man to slap his shoulder comfortingly. Not that the man was visibly moved, but Airich felt he must be, or that he ought to be.

Edwin whispered cynically to Bede, "What they could do is not enough, to my sight."

"God..." was all Bede could mutter, grasping for something useful in all this civilized brutality. At rare moments of reflection, he almost believed that only Mearans could be so vicious, to as much pride as there was shame. He found little satisfaction in being wrong.

"Come," the guiding guard shouted while he roused his horse to motion. "Let us see where the wagon was destroyed and the footprints became obscure, and then end this exercise."

"It's already more obscure than a shiral," Edwin remarked.

((Bede looks around where Alfie was found 2d6 5 + 6))((Bede Perceives 2d6 6 + 2)) Bede let his gaze wander and frowned. "Hold, friends." There was something about the cool grass, besotted by beautifully dying leaves. But now was no time for poetry. A few yards from the base of the wall, an odd little displacement of such leaves. He dismounted Winnie with purpose and grace and stood low to the ground, gently brushing the area until he felt cold metal and glass. He lifted it like a newly baptized babe before a church: a scuffed pair of eyeglasses, tinted green like a false jade. "Come take a gander here, lads," he bid the other three dismount. "Perhaps poor Alfie got a lucky hit on one of his tormentors before his time was over."

Enthusiastically, Airich was the first to open his hands to receive them. He wheeled on his feet to face away from the other men and tried to focus. ((Airich looks at the glasses 2d6 3 + 3)) He frowned, though none saw it, for he felt nothing. "They must have been nice, a short time ago." He then proffered them to their guard. "What do you make of it?"

Their guard rejected the offer. "I know nothing of glassware, sir knight."

Airich pursed his lips. The least the man could have done was try. It is his city, after all. "Edwin?"

((With permission from Revanne, Edwin examines the eyeglasses with Education 3d6 6 + 5 + 2))Gingerly, the scholar took them in his hands and looked them over from every angle, in the sunlight and in the shade. There was something very familiar about them. "They're a genuine Fiannan pair, but that's beside the issue. I know the face and the name of their owner. He's a student, all right. I haven't spoken to him before, but I've heard his name called many times. Pale, for where he's from, but with dusky bags around his eyes, and with a serious stoop in his shoulders, like a vulture. Eustace of Bremagne."

Bede nodded approvingly, "Do you suspect he was involved? This is the scene of the crime."

"I don't want to rush to conclusions," Edwin shook his head. "Technically, the scene of the crime extends for some miles, does it not?"

"Aye," Airich agreed. "Let's head back into the city, then. We've gleaned what we can, I think."

((Bede is Vigilantly quick. 3d6 5 + 6 + 1)) Before any could move further, Bede took the eyeglasses back into his hand and dropped them into a pouch on his belt. He grinned and his nose seemed to turn like a magpie's beak when he explained: "Finders keepers."

[revanne]

As the afternoon wore on with no sign of the two women, Edwin began to fret. Canon Damian had charged him to accompany them, not go haring off into the woods. But the order to investigate had come from the Bishop so presumably he wasn't doing wrong in doing so. But still he fretted; what if harm had come to them?

Airich sat still and composed, and who knew where that archer fellow was. Airich seemed to trust him, and he would have trusted Airich with his life - hell, he probably was! - but still, even noble Deryni knights had been known to get things wrong.

Finally he could bear his fidgets no longer and reaching into his bag he took out his lucky dice. Strange-looking they were, four black and four ivory coloured, with the pips a bit unevenly placed, as though done in a hurry. He wasn't sure that they were especially lucky, though his grandmother had told him that "they would do well by him" as she gave them to him as a remembrance of his unknown grandfather. They felt nice to his hand, though, and as he idly tossed them he wondered if she had meant more than that they would bring him luck in his gaming.

Lost in thought, he started violently as he felt a hand on his shoulder "What the f...!" he managed in time to bite off the epithet, and turned his head to see Airich looking interestedly at the dice. "Christ above! Dinna do tha', I thought fr'a minute you was one o' them thugs." Then he remembered where he was and to whom he was speaking and added hastily, and in his most formal university voice, "I beg your pardon, My Lord".

Airich smiled at him "Nay lad. 'Tis me should ask thee fer pardon, tha' wert leagues awa'. And, for future reference," his voice became formal again and Edwin mentally quailed knowing he deserved reproof, "you are allowed only the one "My Lord" per day and you've already used up today's ration." He grinned and sat down beside Edwin, "Tthose look interesting, do you mind if I have a closer look?".

"Be my guest, they belonged to my mother's sire. He's long gone now, but my grandmother wanted me to have them. I've been using them in the hopes they'll bring me luck, but now I'm wondering if there's more to them than that."

Airich took the cubes and gently shifted them in his hands, feeling their energies, then he gave them back to Edwin, and asked, as neutrally as he could, "Do these feel like anything you recognise?"

Edwin had been put at ease by Airich's teasing and, making a conscious effort to relax, he did as Airich asked. Thoughts flowed through his mind; the grandfather he had never known but who had owned these. Had he been a gaming man? Edwin doubted it, living remote and quiet in the country as his mother's family did. Somehow, as he allowed his thoughts to wander, the noise and drunken banter of the student gatherings in dark corners of student drinking rooms seemed unfitting for these cubes. Then he had it. He put his hand inside his cotte and reverently touched the fabric of the precious shirt he now wore, then gently hefted the cubes again. God! What must Airich be thinking? He felt himself colour, but when he looked up Airich was smiling at him.

"Well done! That's a clever connection to make. These little beauties are for our protection too. Tell me, have you ever heard of warding?"

Edwin couldn't quite put aside his suspicion that any such praise was sardonic but there was nothing of the latter in Airich's expression, so he answered as honestly as he could. "I know that the folk at home who have the strongest gift o'the two sights do something o' the sort. Are these what you Deryni use for warding?"

He thought he saw Airich flinch at his words, but realised that he must have imagined it when the latter simply said mildly but with emphasis, "We Deryni."

"Are you suggesting that I would be able to set wards with these?" Edwin asked, managing out of respect to keep most of the disbelief out of his voice. Most, but not all.

"Yes, why not? It is a simple spell, and one that someone with your intelligence will easily be able to master."

"Oh, I'm intelligent enough but clumsy enough for three," Edwin could not keep the bitterness out of his voice. "Why do you think the old man was willing to spend coin on sending me here to study? 'Go and spill someone else's ink and waste someone else's parchment' were the words used so I recall."
((Dice roll d6 1)

Airich realised that he had touched a very sore spot and must tread gently. "There is no harm that you can do here; come on, man, these cubes have survived more than a few rough throws as dice, I'll be bound. The worst that will happen is that it doesn't work the first few times. Come, let me show you how it's done". Without giving Edwin time to object further, he reached out his hand for the cubes, motioning the other to be silent and watch closely.

Touching each cube, he said slowly and with deliberation:"Prime, Seconde, Tierce, Quarte, Quinte, Sixte, Septime, Octave." Then he carefully stacked the cubes into pairs, again speaking slowly and clearly:"Primus, Secundus, Tertius, Quartus." The eight cubes combined into four tiny rods. Then he carefully moved each pair to mark a quarter point on the circumference of a circle around an empty chair, before speaking for the final time."Primus, Secundus, Tertius, et Quartus, fiat lux!"

Seeing the light of awe in Edwin's face Airich wondered if he had done right; no use if the boy was even more convinced that such things were beyond him. Silently he deactivated the wards, then turned to Edwin. "Are you ready to give it a try?"

Edwin felt mulish obstinacy war with a desire to prove himself but, after all, what had he to lose? Airich seemed to have confidence in him. He took the cubes and laid them out, feeling the sweat prickle under his armpits and on his palms as he did so. He took a deep breath and slowly touched each cube "Prime, Seconde, Tierce, Quarte, Quinte, Sixte, Septime, Octave." So far so good, the latin words coming easily enough to a scholar; he could barely believe that it was he who had got the cubes to glow with power. He began to stack the cubes into pairs, and all went well until the third pair: his slippery hands lost their grip and the cubes shot across the floor, demolishing one of the other pairs. ((dice throw d6 2)). He felt like crying, though that shame, at least, he avoided.

Airich was reminded of gentling an especially nervous foal his father had bred. He said nothing for a moment or two, then spoke in a matter-of-fact voice. "You were doing well. Dry your hands on your cotte and try again."

Edwin knew he sounded like a sulky brat but that had always been his defence. "What's the point? I told you I'm too clumsy. You'll have to find someone else."

"It's you that are here and it's you that we need. Who knows what danger we face and none of us can afford to refuse to play our part. Come on, you had the words and the positions, just take it more slowly this time. They're not going to run away."

"Not like me, then!" Edwin smiled as he said it, and, drawing a deep breath, began again. This time he got almost all the way through, watching with awe as the cubes glowed at his touch then turned into rods as he successfully stacked them before moving them without disaster into place. Now for the final phrase:"Primus, Secundus, Tertius, et Quartus, fiat..." How the hell had he managed to forget that final word. He had been so focused, so calm, and then it was gone. Forgetting his respect for Airich, forgetting where he was, he let fly with a string of expletives. (( d6 4. These dice hate me)). Then, horrified, he looked up to see Airich grinning at him.

"Lucky none of the reverend clergy were around to critique your debasing of the King's Gwyneddian. Seriously, though, you were doing so well. What happened?"

"I forgot the last word. It's lux, I know it's lux, but it had simply gone from my memory." Then, self-consciously, he added, "I was doing all right, wasn't I?"

Airich wanted to hug him but knew that the other's dignity, precarious as it already was, would not have survived such comfort. Instead he said practically "Yes, you really can do this, it was only your nerves and that is quite normal. Do you remember how I just touched your mind on the ride back? I'm going to suggest that I do the same now just to give you that extra bit of confidence. Is that all right?"

Edwin nodded, not able to trust himself to speak, and began the process over again, this time feeling a sense of gentle reassurance at the back of his mind, like the encouraging smile he had often received from the nicer of his elder brothers. Again he touched the cubes, marvelling at the glow of power, put each pair together and moved the softly glowing rods into their final place. Taking a deep breath and grateful for the sense of Airich's pride and confidence in him, he spoke slowly and clearly: "Primus, Secundus, Tertius, et Quartus, fiat lux! . The wards flared around the chair and Edwin stared in awed amazement. Then Airich was hugging him and laughing and thumping him on the back. (( 2d6 1+6. Yesss!))

"Come on, there must be some ale to be had in this place. Let's go and find it"

[Laurna]

What an amazing experience to have been inside the Grecotha Library– as a woman! Amy's footsteps down the hallways back to the infirmary were light and bouncy. She stayed one step behind Elspeth so that her mentor could not see her jubilance.

Yet Elspeth seemed to know it anyway. "It is a step in the right direction. But the battle is not yet won."  Elspeth finally said in admonishment. "We have to try and make this stuff and not all recipes give up their secrets on the first try. Only one more day." She frowned feeling pressed for time. "If we can not stop the infection, the hand is going to have to come off. I have to save Robert, his hand is secondary."

That stopped Amy's happy step like a cold storm. A builder of devices without a hand, what would become of Robert after? The two women who reentered the infirmary were sombre and focused.

As the term had yet to begin, they still had the infirmary to themselves. They had been told the real infirmarian was away visiting family and would return the week before the term would start. So those injured or ill were being seen at the city infirmary for now. They were glad they had the room for private treatments and hoped desperately that no more injuries would follow. Amy scanned the room just to be sure. The knight was at the injured boy's bedside. And the archer and scribe were talking together at the table. Their attention was upon a pair of eyeglasses before Bede and a set of black and white dice before Edwin. And the two were talking. What an odd conversation that must be. Their day's progress seemed to have drawn them together at the very least.

"We did manage to leave you some," Bede said, indicating the trencher with some stew still at the bottom of it.

Amy smiled at Bede in thanks, but her gaze fell over to Airich leaning forward over Robert.

[Nezz]

Airich glanced up to see Amy and Elspeth return, but then returned his attention to the boy.

...Neither one of us knew what we were doing, but we didn't care. And then when we hit the water, the fish flew everywhere! We got into so much trouble. My father told Alfie's father that he was allowed to punish both of us. Neither one of us could sit down for a week, but it was worth it.

Airich saw the scene Robert shared with him and sent back his appreciation for the humor of the jape. He also felt Robert's weariness after an emotionally taxing afternoon talking about the loss of his friend. Fortunately, Elspeth and Amy took that moment to come over and see to the patient. Amy carried a bowl of thick broth, and Airich relinquished his chair to her while Elspeth took the other chair.

"I think you're looking much better this afternoon, Master Robert," Elspeth told him as she felt his pulse and checked his forehead. "How do you feel?"

"I'm not so bad as before," the boy croaked, his voice torn and raw, "except my hand still hurts something fierce. Maybe you could give me more medicine to help the pain?"

"I will soon, I promise. Meanwhile, eat some soup."

Airich smiled as he felt the boy's anticipation of attention from Amy. He grinned wider as Amy leaned forward with her first spoonful of soup, affording Robert a pleasant view of a lovely bosom. It was a good sign that Robert could still appreciate the simple pleasures of life. He suspected this was a calculated tactic on Amy's part to keep her patients malleable.

Meanwhile, Elspeth felt the skin at the wrist of Robert's wrapped hand. She frowned and looked up at the knight. It didn't require a Truth Read to know that she was still worried about his hand, a concern that Airich shared. 

Elspeth stepped over to the table and called Edwin to join her. From Airich's vantage point, he could see that she placed on the table two waxed tablets containing copies of the same script.  The penmanship of one was precise and neat, very easy to read. The other version was beautifully stylized and a bit more free. He could guess whose handwriting belonged to which woman.

"Can we make this?" he overheard Elspeth ask Edwin. "I'm still worried about fever setting in. If that happens, this could save his life. "

Edwin looked over the list of ingredients and detailed instructions. "Let us see if Brother Philip has an herbalist," he said. "He might have the herbs on-hand." Elspeth nodded and the two left the room, heading toward the Canon's office.

Airich stood behind Amy. He let one hand rest gently on her back. It wasn't skin contact, but he didn't need that anymore. He didn't actually think he needed any contact, but he didn't want to alarm her. What can we do? he asked her.

Amy continued feeding Robert without pause. One day. That is all Elspeth would allow for improvement.  He knew what she talked of without asking. And he noticed that she'd answered him without even realizing that she'd slipped into light rapport with him. He decided against pointing it out to her lest he startle her out of it.

I am not a healer, I tried, she said. He could feel her disappointment with herself.

Healers are very rare, he said. Woman Healers even more so. No one knows why. Even so, there must be something we can do.

Only if you know how to stop the infection, straighten the bones, and clean away the red lump on the side of his thumb. Not even a battle surgeon could do all that. She was repeating something Elspeth had said earlier that echoed in her head.

A battle-surgeon. Airich was no battle-surgeon, but he did have a basic understanding of battle wounds. Perhaps...

Would trying make it worse? he asked her.

She paused in her administration of soup, considering the question seriously. It could be more painful, but nothing can make it worse. The butcher's knife is by far the worst instrument a physick carries in her sac .

I have something else in mind I'd like to try, Airich replied and shared his idea with her. 

[Nezz]

Elspeth and Edwin returned with a promise from the herbalist that their ingredients would be gathered for them. Then, after an appraisal of Airich's idea, Elspeth and then Robert hesitantly agreed. Elspeth dosed Robert with a stronger medication than normal, and he calmly slipped into a sound sleep. The others had been briefed in their roles, which, of a necessity, meant that all five knew of the three Deryni in their group.

"Are you sure I can't do more to help?" Bede asked hopefully.

"What you're doing is incredibly important," Airich said. "It's unlikely anyone will try to come into the infirmary tonight, but we need someone who's paying attention. And try to keep anyone from getting in to see what we're doing."

"It is the kind of thing the Willimites would love to catch us in, isn't it?" Bede remarked, leveling his gaze at the door to the infirmary and cracking his knuckles. "So be it. It's our door and no one else may move it."

Amy, meanwhile, turned to Elspeth. "I'm just glad you'll be with us," she said. "I don't think we'll need anything else, but I'll feel so much more confident knowing that you're there."

"You know what you're doing," Elspeth told Amy, her blue eye glinting. "I'll be watching carefully, and you can explain it all to me afterwards. If you wish to." Amy gave her hand a grateful squeeze.

Airich put a hand on Edwin's arm. "We're ready. It's up to you now." Like we practiced, he added for Edwin alone.

Edwin's dice—wards, he reminded himself—were in position. He could feel Airich's presence at the edge of his mind, watching and offering warm encouragement. Like Amy, he felt more confident having an expert watch him take his baby steps towards becoming a true Deryni. Would his father have been proud? He doubted it, but then again, you never knew with that man.

Touching each cube, he slowly announced: Prime, Seconde, Tierce, Quarte, Quinte, Sixte, Septime, Octave. All eight lit up with pure white or obsidian glows which gave Edwin a sense of pride that just about made his chest burst. Glancing up, he saw Elspeth trying to hide her intrigue with the mysterious lights.

Steeling his strength, he moved on to the next step, he stacked the pairs: Primus, Secundus, Tertius, Quartus. The eight cubes combined into four tiny rods with a vibrant internal light. He stopped to wipe his brow. This took a lot more energy working solo than it did with two people pulling the weight. After a minute he stood and placed each rod at the pre-directed locations far beyond the edges of Robert's bed. Another reassuring breath, standing at the foot of the bed, he was ready for the final step.

"Primus, Secundus, Tertius, et Quartus, fiat lux!"

For the first time in his life, Edwin Scrivener completed a spell on his own, and watched, pleased, as the wards flared around Elspeth, Amy, Airich, Robert, and himself. He looked up, grinning.

Excellent job, Airich sent him. I wouldn't want to attempt those wards.

I'd like to see those Willimites try to get to Robert now, Edwin said with satisfaction.

It would never happen, Airich said. If you're a praying man, we could use all the assistance you can send our way. This is new territory for both Amy and me. And with that, Edwin felt the other man's focus slip to another.

"How long will this likely take?" Elspeth asked. Amy didn't know the answer to that and looked to Airich.

"Less than an hour, I would think," Airich said. "Amy and I have never worked together, so it will take a certain amount of time to account for that. It will also depend on how many breaks there are, and how complex the breaks are. If we need anything from you, I'll ask; Amy will be in too deep to communicate with you."

Elspeth nodded. "Good luck, then. And may God give you strength."

[Laurna]

Airich laid his hands on Robert's chest, while Amy laid one hand on Airich's hand and the other near Robert's collarbone. She took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly and slipped smoothly into rapport with Airich.

This is getting easier, she said. What do we do first?

The first thing we need to do is move into a deeper level of rapport.

How do we do that?

You don't really need to do much of anything, he told her. You're pretty much open all the way down. I've been staying at your surface levels—basic etiquette, you know—but I'll need to move inward a few layers. I won't go any deeper than necessary, though.

You already know the most important things, she said, feeling a deep satisfaction welling up within her.

Yes, that's true. And I'd like to talk to you about that soon, but we have work to do. Right now, you're restricted to my surface levels only. I'm going to open up a little and give you access to more of my own self. You're free to look through anything you can find, you won't need to worry about finding anything too personal or embarrassing for me. Are you ready?

How do I look around?

You'll figure it out, it will be obvious. If it helps, though, just think of yourself as a fish swimming through deep waters.

She felt that odd swoop then, as he encompassed her being within his, penetrating deeper into layers she hadn't even realized she had. At that same time, this mental essence she'd come to know as Airich opened up on all sides of her, revealing a rich vastness she could never have dreamed possible. ((Amy's Rapport with Airich rapport  2d6  5 + 4 success)) Visions of knighthood and sword practice and jousting, of dreams for the future, of the joy of learning magic and growing ever stronger in his abilities. Memories of children of every age, playing, bickering and sharing familiar joys; of a beloved Mother and Father ever nurturing their brood. And horses, oh yes, horses were considered family in this home. Why, she could explore this immense ocean that was Airich for years without fully understanding him. She began to feel very small and trivial in the currents of his youth.

It was an unnecessary feeling, he assured her—and words were not needed in this place they inhabited—for he felt the same about her as she did about him. The glory and the beauty that was Amaryllis Aldan was a joy to behold and he felt honored to be allowed to experience her.

She felt herself merging with him, and it was an extraordinarily intimate thing. From him, she caught the impression of a thick-furred cat, writhing and luxuriating in the attention of many hands scratching his chin and stroking his fur. It delighted her that she was able to bring him such pleasure. And for her, she simply had no words to describe it. This must be what it truly means to be Deryni, she reflected.

After allowing themselves the self-indulgence of Discovery, he finally said with a near laugh We have work to do, let us not forget that.

And then all their focus was as if they were twins diving into tissue and bone. On a level akin to the size of tiny fish, Amy swam ahead circling around columns and boulders that made up the frame of the human hand. She circled each bone looking for flaws.((Amy finding the bones and working with Airich on Roberts's hand. 2d6   5 + 2 success)) When she identified one out of place she touched it and then so did her twin. With a talent she could never imagine, he achieved the impossible. Instead of a fish he was like a great tiny sea lion, he nudged the structures to where she told him they should belong. ((Airich working with Amy on Robert's hand. extra pip 2d6 4 + 3 success))

The landscape was not pristine: they swam around the rivers running near each column and the thick ropy structures running at the river's edge. They had to avoid marshy areas in places where multiple small bones lay splintered from each other. These bones were the hardest and took the longest to nudge out of the marsh and into a straight line like placing a puzzle back together. ((Airich bone setting with Amy, second set, extra pip 2d6 1 + 4 success)) They dealt with every splinter and break they found. Both knew this was not akin to healing, they would have to let time do that work. But what they did would allow the body to connect and reattach the breaks in the miraculous way that heaven intended. ((Airich bone setting with Amy, final set, extra pip 2d6 4 + 2 success))  As for the marshy areas neither of them had a solution. The hope was that Elspeth could immobilize the hand and wrap it tight, letting the body solve this by itself.

It might have been hours, or it might have been days, but eventually Airich brought them back up to a level where it was easier to think. I really don't like that swamp of tissue. I want to bring Elspeth into this link with us and see if I can show her our visions and see if she wants us to do anything about it.

Amy stayed like her tiny fish swimming around the edges of the marsh noting all the rivers and ropes and finding a spot furthest away from all of those. It seemed like forever to her before the sea lion declared that he had shared this blemished landscape with the physicker. I have shown her what you see, hold very still.

Thinking what was coming, Amy was still nervous, in the eyes of her twin she watched a lancet as narrow as a writing device puncture the skin and dive into the marsh. A little down and further in, she told her twin. There! Rinse there.  Whatever was happening in the real world, Amy could not say, but the marshland of the landscape seemed to drain away.  And with it, Amy seemed to lose her focus, she seemed to meander after that, not really knowing where she was and what was going on.((staying aware 2d6 2+ 2 failure))  And then Airich was praising her effort with his real hands on both sides of her face, his bloodshot red eyes looking deep into her own. "Amaryllis wake up now, we are done."

She found herself with her knees on the floor and her head on his knee. Elspeth was shifting around her to wrap a sturdy bandage over a cut and around splints holding each finger in place. Edwin was moving the gruesome contents of a bowl far away from everyone. It was a long moment of quiet, followed by a prayer, before Airich allowed Edwin to release the wards.


((Nezz and I wrote this in tandem.  It is a rewarding experience.))

[Jerusha]

Elspeth felt Robert's forehead for any sign of fever; so far, there was none.  God be praised!

She settled comfortably into her chair by the bed.  She had left the door to the little separate room open to allow in fresh air.  Unfortunately, it also let in the sound of Bede snoring from the main infirmary room.  He had escorted Amy to the boarding house and then returned to spend the night in the infirmary so that Elspeth was not left by herself.  He had seemed preoccupied, and after some desultory conversation, he had stretched out on one of the cots and quickly fallen asleep.   Elspeth wondered if his snoring would deter anyone from attempting to sneak by him. It was not something Elspeth would try; the man was too quick on his feet for anyone to get far.  And she doubted that Bede would have lived this long if he was a heavy sleeper.

Neither one of them had wanted to talk about the events that had unfolded earlier that evening, but as Elspeth watched over Robert, she had time to think of them now.

She honestly didn't know what to think.  A faintly glowing dome, anchored by glowing cubes, had risen over all of their heads at Edwin's command "Primus, Secundus, Tertius, et Quartus, fiat lux!"  The boy had stood there grinning as if it was the happiest day of his life.  That is until she  had tentatively reached out her hand to touch the translucence around them. 

"Mistress, don't touch it!" he had cried urgently. "It could give you a nasty shock!"

Elspeth had pulled back her offending hand and wiped it against her skirt. She had watched as Airich laid his hands against Robert's chest, while Amy put one hand over Airich's and the other over his collarbone.  The intimacy of that pose had made Elspeth feel a bit uncomfortable.

After that, nothing much happened.  It had been like watching a mime perform without making any movements; not an enlightening experience.  Yet Robert showed no discomfort; if anything, he was a bit more relaxed.  Or had it been simply that he trusted them completely.  Perhaps she should too.

One thing she had known all along was that the hand had abscessed, and it would have to be drained and cleaned.  She had boiled water and it was cooling to a safe temperature.  She had lit a small brazier to heat her lancet, and a bowl sat ready to catch the drainage.  She has prepared her preferred unguent to speed the healing afterwards.  She had waited for some kind of sign for her to proceed with the task.

It was not the sign she had been expecting!  A picture gently appeared in her mind that reminded her of a putrid swamp.  It was an odd allegory, but quite close to the truth when she thought about it now.

"We have found the abcessed area," Lord Airich had said into her mind.  Why had that not bothered her a whit? "We need for you to drain it.  Amy and I will show you where it is." 

She had best get on with it.  "Edwin, I need you to hold the bowl under the incision.  The process won't smell very pleasant," she warned him.

"I'll do my best, Mistress," Edwin had said bravely.

"If you are going to be sick, please avoid the patient," Elspeth had added briskly as she passed the lancet several times through the brazier's flame. 

For a moment Edwin had looked shocked, but then he smiled.  "I will do my utmost best," he had said as he picked up the bowl.

Once the lancet was ready, Elspeth and Edwin had moved to Robert's side.  Airich and Amy had shifted a little to give them more room. 

"In spite of the sedative, he may still feel some discomfort," Elspeth had warned Airich.

He won't, Airich had responded.

All right then! Elspeth had thought and wondered briefly if Airich had been able to hear her thoughts. 

Elspeth had poised the lancet over the hand and then adjusted the angle based on a shift of the picture in her mind. She had pushed it in firmly, as the skin over the abscess tended to be thick.  The stench of the pus as it began to escape was not pleasant, but Edwin had put the bowl in position with only the slightest flinch. Once Elspeth was satisfied the drainage was complete, supported by an image in her mind of a clear pool of water, she had rinsed the wound and applied the unguent.

Now, sitting beside Robert,  Elspeth felt enlightened.  Could this be used again successfully in the future?  Could all Deryni do this?  The potential was extraordinary, though at the price of exhaustion for the Deryni involved.  What if...

Elspeth's tumbling thoughts came to a halt.  The mismatched eyes that had made her life perilous at times could get her into greater trouble if magic really was used.  Even if it was not her own magic.  Would it be worth the price of death and never being able to help anyone again with her own skills? Amy might be willing to travel this road, but would Elspeth be brave enough to follow?  She honestly did not know.

[Marc_du_Temple]

That same evening, young Eustace sat squinting down at his gruel in the Grecothan tavern called The Drunken Parchment. He was sitting a little straighter than usual. His movements, when he was confident in where they would take him, were bolder and brasher, even. If only he had his glasses.

It was dark and quiet in this particular tavern, with low candles and lanterns for lighting in key spots above the tables. Altogether it was like a library in which the code of conduct was considerably looser, as well as the lips of its patrons. Well that it should be that way, for this tavern was a favorite of the in-crowd at Grecotha University. Naturally, being a recently inducted member of the in-crowd, Eustace was hardly alone, flanked by stray women pushed upon him by colleagues who were all strange crosses between churls and nobles, temporarily embarrassed with the burden of scholar's dress. Altogether, the scene was as much a delight as it was a disgrace, and he knew it well.

Preoccupied as he was, he could hardly have recognized the maiden approaching him before she spoke, saying, "Eustace? I 'ardly expected ta see you here, boy!"

He rose with unusual respect and his milky dark eyes wide open. "Muirea of Meara? I could say the same!" He squinted and noticed that she still wore the accouterments of a barmaid, even here. "Are you fresh off of work at the old inn?"

"Och, no. I am yet a working woman. Now I just serve two masters," she explained with a professional curtsy. "Nevertheless, I have not been so free in some time."

"Oh? What changed? Did your ugly brother-in-law drop dead?"

"Na, I'll only say that I have been given a new lease on life." She and Bede had agreed not to speak of that night, and certainly not to boast of it. "Can I get you something?"

He sighed dramatically and rubbed the bridge of his nose out of habit as he sat down. "What I would not give for an Anvilian Tonic. Do not bother to look, ami. I would have a Confessor's Quinquet." He glanced at one of his new friends for approval, and found it only when he added "Make it a pint."

"Aye, will do. But what became of your eyeglasses? I rather liked them."

"I stepped on them getting out of bed," he said shortly, and awaited his drink amongst the lowspeaking revelers.

The woman at his shoulder had a delayed reaction, but eventually, she perked up at the mention of the Confessor's Quinquet. "Say, is not that the drink Archbishop Duncan gave to his cousin the duke as they fled St. Torin's?"

He scoffed. "Non, a northern priest could not have had such taste. And no true archbishop would ever use the powers of the Deryni, never mind burn a chapel. Even I could see that."

[Nezz]

The dream began, as it always did, with the searing pain in his back as they snapped the shaft of the arrow. They sat on his legs and held his arms over his head as the surgeon's knife bit deep. He cried out, but didn't have the strength to fight them. He glimpsed the face of the man giving orders, and despaired; instead of finding safety, he had traded one enemy for another. He screamed again as they withdrew the barbed arrow from his back and then fell into a swoon, and from this swoon, the dream would shift and move one of two ways: either backward into stomach-clenching terror or forward into hopelessness and dread.

This time, the dream went backward...

Amy awoke with a start. Such an ugly dream. And so vivid! It took several seconds for her to convince herself that she was on a bed in a boarding house in Grecotha, rather than being stretched over a tent floor in the middle of a war camp. It took another minute for her heart to stop beating so hard and fast, but she was finally able to lie down again.

Where had that awful dream come from? Her dreams—even her nightmares—tended towards more domestic scenes where someone—

Airich. That was his dream.

She probed at the sliver of connection linking them. She hadn't been aware of it until that minute. But the echoes that returned from that link were terrifying. He was still dreaming.

She was out of her bed and running down the hall in her nightgown before she even knew what she was doing. She would bang on his door until he woke up and spoke with her, and she could confirm that he was well. But his door swung open the first time she struck it. Not thinking of who might see her, she entered, shutting the door behind her.

Airich slept on his bed, but he seemed to be caught still in the grip of that terrible nightmare. He was covered in sweat and his head tossed back and forth, brows knit in some unseen pain. He panted and moaned through clenched teeth, the sound heartrending.

Knowing full well she could be struck by a flailing fist, Amy didn't hesitate, but rushed forward to the knight's bedside. She grabbed him and shook his shoulders. "Sir Airich, you must wake." She used her best commanding-yet-soothing Elspeth voice. " 'Tis naught but a dream. Awaken and you will find life much improved over your nightmare."

At first she didn't think he was going to wake up, but then he sat up so fast she had to dodge to keep from getting her head smacked with his. She felt his Shields slam shut.

"Oh, Sir Airich, I didn't mean to startle you, but I saw..." She trailed off as she realized Airich didn't hear her. He stared, eyes wide yet non-comprehending, his breathing still ragged; his muscles were taut and he looked ready to bolt. Even with his Shields tight, he leaked blind terror.

This was not the civilized man who'd led her through psychic surgery on Robert. With his eyes as round as platters, his chest bared, and hair released from its usual knot, he looked more like a feral animal, cornered by the hounds and hunters.

"Sir Knight, you are not well," Amy said. "I will fetch Elspeth, she may have an herbal that—"

Like a striking snake, Airich's hand shot out and he grabbed her wrist. Amy knew he would not hurt her deliberately, but in this strange confused condition he was in, she didn't know what he might be capable of. He was still in a state of utter panic.

He looked at her fingers and touched her palm, as if trying to reassure himself that they were real. Then he looked away at nothing, the manner of someone in deep thought.

"...fish..." he said.

Finally, a sign of understanding. "Yes, fish, we were helping Robert."

He looked up at her, and she saw the barest hint of recognition. "Say the name," he whispered.

"You mean Robert?"

"Say my name."

"Airich."

"Again."

"Airich. Your name is Airich,"

He closed his eyes and his face relaxed. He put a hand to the back of his head and ran it down to his neck. "Yes. I'm Airich," he said, and it sounded like he was reassuring himself.

He still held her wrist. She gave it a little tug to see if he was ready to let her go. He didn't release her, but drew her close to him, then wrapped both arms around her waist. He buried his face in her side, and after a moment, he began shaking, violent shudders that she thought might break him. She set her hands on his head and stroked his hair comfortingly, feeling his fear as she did so: not the stark terror of before, but a deep, overwhelming dread that she sensed was his long-time companion.

[Laurna]

Amy's fingers pushed his hair back from his eyes and she tried for that connection they used earlier. Sir Airich, please, it was only a bad dream.  but her mind-speech was not getting through to him. His shields were as solid as any castle wall.  He showed no sign that he even heard her. Again she tried leaning closer to his ear. She discovered her own voice vibrated from confusion for his current state. "Airich, look at me, listen to me. You are in your own room in Grecotha. Whatever that was, it was a dream!" Though in her life she had never experienced that vivid of a dream of her own. "Airich, please wake from it! Look at me!"

The knight was so tense, his shoulders still had a noticeable shake. His eyes looked up at her but he didn't seem to see her. He seemed clearly afraid of something.

Amy had the sudden fear that there truly was danger nearby. She opened up herself and searched as far as her senses would go. Was there some danger lurking in the halls? In the streets? Or in the earth under their feet? ((Amy using Perception looking for danger 3d6= 3 + 2 + 1 No))   After a long strenuous casting, she could find nothing of danger. There were only the sounds of Edwin's easy breathing in the next room, and down on the first floor the women who ran the boarding house seemed to be mending some bedding while sitting next to the low flames on the hearth. That was all.

Amy took a deep breath in and steadied her own nerves. What kind of nightmare was this? One that even happened with the man awake? This was not external, this was an internal struggle. Something Deryni. How could she get through to him? How could she get him back into the real world?

The first thing that came to her, she hesitated to do. Instead she tried massaging his arms, kneading his muscles with her fingers. This eased his shivers, proving he was sensitive to touch. But he still was not seeing her standing directly before him.  Fine then...! She took his face between both her palms, leaned toward him, and pressed her lips to his. "Wake up dear Knight, Wake!"  Then placing her knee on the bed, she leaned further into his body, and kissed him fully like in the fairy tales of old. Maman, always told this part of the fairy tale in the way that our roles were supposed to be the other way around. Strangely, it worked.

She had a warm smile for him when he blinked and focused on her. She certainly had his attention now. "Ah, there you are. Are you alright?" Whatever fear he'd been carrying with him had been set aside for this moment. No longer afraid of his lashing out, she shifted her knee and sat down on the bed's edge right before him.

Their faces were only a hand-span apart. A short lean forward and his mouth was hungrily devouring her mouth, her taste, her realness. Touch was proof of awareness. His hands burrowing deep into her thick, raven hair, capturing every essence of her reality. She too relished the moment and lingered with his lips on hers like they were an elegant dessert. But then when his fingers ventured lower, she smiled, pulled back, and gently captured his hands. "Steady, young man. I fear our connection from earlier today was still open, and I was getting the run off of what you were dreaming. That was not pleasant. I am glad you are now awake."  There was a shared urge of passion that young people felt, but Amy kept her hands up between them.

"I can not. Not yet," she said to him with an enigmatic smile on her lips. "Maybe I should go?"

There was a hesitance as he took a breath and then an edge to his voice as he requested,"Stay. Please." He looked at her entreatingly. "But, but maybe sit there," he pointed to the end of his bed.

With a smile that danced around her lips, she stood up, gave a small respectful bow, and then sat down again near his feet. Then she sobered asking, "Can you tell me about it."

"Which dream leaked over?" he asked slowly, then shook his head. "No, nevermind. None of them were sweet." He sighed and looked down, and suddenly seemed to notice his own state of undress, followed by Amy's own dishabille. He wrapped the bedclothes securely about his waist.

"Dreams are the mind working through stress," she said to him cautiously. "I fear today was harder on you than on myself. I wish I could have taken more of the burden. I wish my mother had taught me more about all this. But I do not remember her ever using magic herself. It was her mother who taught me what I know. You should not be the only one of us that is trained. I am sorry."

"My beautiful little minnow, how could you possibly be sorry?" He reached forward toward her but she sat just out of reach. "You didn't even know you were Deryni two days ago. You far surpassed any expectation I had for Robert's procedure."

"Minnow..." she giggled at the sound of the word and reached her hand forward so that both their fingertips barely touched.  Then looked up at him brightly, 'You know I saw you as a Sea lion.  Only this tiny little miniscule sea lion.  But maybe more of a real lion with a mane and tail, rather than the walrus kind." Again she giggled as he ducked his head. And both their hands were now clasped together.  He reached forward to embrace her. And she scooted forward to let him, their faces pressing into each other's hair. "Definitely a lion," she whispered as she moved the fullness of his border-length hair away from his shoulder. "Do you think you can sleep now? I will stay if you want me to?"

"Aye. I think so." He held her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. "I will need to spend some time alone tomorrow. I'll need to..." he rubbed his temple. "I have some things in my mind that I need to think on. It may take some time. I won't be ignoring you on purpose."

Reaching out with her own strength she could feel his pains and his turmoil. ((Amy feeling Airich's pain 2d6= 6 + 1))  All of this was real, an ominous portent of a problem greater than simple mental fatigue. Uncertain how to proceed, the only thing she could do was treat the effects and hope that a cure could be found in the future. Right now, his head pain was throbbing harder than when he had had his concussion. Right now, he needed someone to dampen the pain and see that he could find sleep away from his dreams.

Keeping the blanket between them, she shifted to lean back against the head of his bed and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged his head into the crook of her neck.  And then she softly sang a lullaby she knew from long ago.  She would not let him fall back into his horrific nightmare.

[Laurna]

The night was illuminated solely by the moon; it no longer displayed its fullest face, but it did hang higher in the sky at this hour than on a full-moon night. The pale white light shone on the road and on the tips of the trees tops.  Everything else lay in a deep shadow.

The group of six riders and horses continued in the direction that the sun would rise in a few hours' time. There had been a time when Lord Washburn Morgan might have missed the path that led north to Arx Fidei Abbey from the main road. But after four years, this path was as familiar to him as the entrance to his own manor. Turning up that path, Lord Morgan could readily see the dark rise of the Abby walls with its shale rooflines in the faint moonlight.

It was not often that he came this way at this hour, but need and an admittedly dark curiosity had drawn him from the comforts of his home to this appointed time: a time and place of his own choosing, not his adversary's.

Of the five persons on horseback who accompanied him, there was one he had wished had stayed home.  But then when did Lady Morgan ever do anything that did not place his own safety above her's.  He admonished himself, such protections should be wielded the other way around.  Her growing girth notwithstanding, their first yet months away, had caused him to argue that she needed to stay home, but she refused to be grounded by the argument. Instead she claimed that worry would just make her ill. Besides, this had become as much her fight as his own when she married him; she told him this quite admittedly so at dinner last night. 

Just now, Lady Morgan reached out and touched his arm, "We do not need to do this. We should return home, there is no need to expose yourself to this danger."

"Indeed, my lady!  I have refused this request before. But this is something different, I could sense it in the letter I received. This request is urgent. Something is happening and for the safety of the Kingdom, I need to learn it."

Fiona Morgan tightened her hand on his. "For the safety of the kingdom, my dear heart? Your safety away from this man is what keeps Kelson safe. Others can talk to him, not you."

Washburn could not refute what his lady said, he was ever on her side in this. But the air stirred with discontent, and from where it came, no one could say. This meeting might hold answers that Kelson would need.  And this man he would meet with was unwilling to talk to any other.  And that scared Wash, who kept his personal fears behind tightly placed shields. The last time they had a face to face conversation–rather, that was a mind-to-mind talk–his adversary had ramshackled all his protections into submission. And that had only been over the gifting of an old historically, yet unusually challenging, interesting scroll of notes and spells. After much research as to the origin of those notes, Wash would never dare to take what he had read beyond a cursory interest. His lady wife was far too important to him. Was this meeting about that? Or was this about something far more dangerous? Whatever the topic,  he must maintain his control.

His father's guardian inner-dragon spat fire and agreed.

Kevin McLain, Washburn's second, pulled the bell rope at the side of Arx Fidei Abbey gates. The gate keeper was quick to open the grill. Upon seeing the Lord and Lady of Morgan Manor sitting their horses in his view, he opened the gates without a word. The abbey had been forewarned of their coming this early before dawn broke.
 
Washburn could have come by Portal; his own portal at the hospital was working now. But the last thing Wash wanted was to be trapped from leaving if magic was his only means of escape. That was his nemesis' mode of travel. Washburn and each of his party needed their own way out of this if all collapsed into a great heap of a mess.

Two of Washburn's guardsmen took the horses as they dismounted, while his captain searched the walls around the courtyard. The monks of the abbey had not yet begun to stir. As Washburn had requested, there was no one in sight but himself, his group, and the gate guard.

Kevin nodded that things appeared as they should, and the young McLain led the way up to the Abbey cathedral. At the great bronze doors, he greeted by the Abbot's chaplain, who then welcomed the Lord and Lady of Morgan Manor into their house of worshop. Washburn's captain took up guard stance outside the cathedral doors and the two other guards remained at the stables with the horses ready to leave at any instant.

The Chaplin led Washburn and Lady Fiona up to the boundary of the chancel of the cathedral, bowed toward the altar and then moved to a side transept chapel. There they were met by the waiting Abbot. Both knelled before him, both imparted their request for protection for themselves while under this sacred roof. The Abbot,  agreed to offer sanctuary, then he said a word of prayer over their heads. They bowed low in reverence and kissed his ring when his blessing was complete. Kevin remained ever watchful. But all as yet seemed as it should.

Then Washburn stood, and thanked the abbot. He was a man that Wash had gotten to know quite well in the last few years. They worked well together, keeping his hospital staffed at all times with members of the monastery and nunnery who had the talent of working with the injured and sick. The hospital had become a great boon for the community, and indeed, for a large portion of this part of the kingdom. Wash knew well he could not have done it on his own.

"I would like the presence of Saint Jorian in this thing that we do," Wash told the abbot. "Saint Jorian's chapel is large enough for us to be well apart from each other and private enough for us to talk in normal tones. We are to meet the hour between the service of Lauds and Prime. That should give us time to say what needs to be said before the brothers begin to assemble. Can I have your word that this man I meet is not to be restricted on either his coming or his going? For unless my person, or my lady's person is in danger, I wish this man gone after he has said what he will say, with all due haste. He is not a man to be toyed with and certainly not one to be threatened."

"I am aware of him, my lord, from what you have said," the abbot replied. "And as long as your party's safety is clear, no one will interfere."

On that, they all walked back to the Nave and over to a large side chapel with the marble carving of exquisite delicate likeness of a young priest in ordination robes. Washburn shivered at the saint's eyes. His father's story of what he had witnessed gave him great pause. Meanwhile, Kevin entered the chapel, holding back the others, and opened his mind to any and all magics that might lay in the smaller space. This was something that Washburn was not allowed to do. The one concession he had agreed upon with his wife and good friend is that he was not going to drop his shields for any thing or any one. They were as strong as he had ever made them. Not until he was home would he dare to let them drop. All communications from him were verbal or by the use of hand signals. And in no way was he ever to leave Kevin's sight. Any talk other than verbal in this meeting was to be refused. This seemed the only precaution against a man who could defeat a foe with only a single word of magic.

Collos Feyd d'Chameaux of Vezarie, a Master of the Black Order of Death, sorcerer supreme of mind bending and tricks of disguise, was not to be given any advantage in this meetup.