Forgotten Shadows

[Bynw]

As the crowd melts away in silence. And the people start murmuring amongst themselves in smaller groups. A man named Jacob says to his companions. "I bet you a Royal that the stone cutter doesn't get past the bandits outside of the protection of the city."

They all nod in agreement and disperse going off in twos.

[Laurna]

Henry Stonemason was numb, his feet were numb, his hands hanging at his side were numb, his head was as heavy as the bricks he preferred to lay.  His heart continued to thump in his chest and that was the only thing he could hear. The only thing he could see was the rays of sun gleaning off the small pebbles in the graveled road outside the city gates. Squishy, gross things of routing decay pelted off his back, and a good throw would force the vegetable upside his head. But it wasn't rocks. He expected to be dead 10 paces beyond the Grecotha gates. But he wasn't.

At first, he had not realized it. But pairs of feet matched his staggering pace. The first pair of feet belonged to his uncle. The man would neither look at him nor speak to him. But the man walked him toward his destiny. Other pairs of feet were booted.  Eight pairs in all, men of the purple guard. They would see that he was exiled from the kingdom. To a fate, he could not even fathom. Would it be better to let rocks slam his head and let him die here on the road. But the rocks did not come. And the bishop's guard would not let him stop.  They goaded him along down the hillside road, past the cross roads where Henry was certain his own death would come. People spat at him, even here in this desolate place on the roadside. People threw things at him. Things that hurt. But they didn't kill him. After a day and a night and then the coming next day. He was still alive, and he was still stumbling.  And then a thing happened, not from his uncle, who was furious with him and said and did nothing, but walk at his side. A child with an earthenware cup came before him and offered water to him. Henry drank, and drank, until the cup was bare. And then he looked up and saw the masts of the ships of the harbor standing up tall. And in that moment, he saw something more.  What it was that gleaned on the water, he could not say.

By night fall he was scrubbing the wooden deck of a ship and there was nothing but billowing sails and stars over his head. His uncle had paid for his one-year service to the captain. With the order that he not be allowed on land till the one year was done. And then only in some foreign land.

[Bynw]

Another pair of men watched Henry being escorted out of the city. Watching for a moment that they could earn their silver Royal. But the moment never came. The Purple guard was with him the whole time. As well as his uncle. By the time they reached the harbor they could only see that Henry boarded a ship. And they returned back to Grecotha. They would have to report their failure to Jacob.

Although his anger would be harsh. It was better than the anger they would face if caught in a lie. It seems that Henry was indeed a lucky man.

[Nezz]

As the people slowly dispersed from the cathedral steps, Amy, Elspeth, and Bede spoke quietly among themselves. Airich simply stood, staring at the top of the steps and considering the implications of the Bishop's words.

Eddard de Nore was dead. A Deryni-hating Willimite with the notoriety of his family name behind him. What was it he'd said? "One spark is all it will take, and the whole of Grecotha burns."

And Airich had handed them that spark.

He recognized the power of the Bishop's sermon as well as his reason behind his public words spoken before the steps of the Cathedral. He was basically setting the church and the city against the Willimites, declaring that sect anathema. Airich didn't know how far word of Alfie's murder had spread, but he doubted there was anyone who'd stood in this courtyard who was unaware of yesterday's fire in the market square, and there could be no doubt that this was one of the sacrilegious murders that the Bishop had railed against. Any righteous man who'd been previously undecided on the Deryni question must now turn against the Willimites and their goals, or accept that he was at odds with the Holy Mother Church. Obviously this wouldn't change the minds of any hardcore Willimites willing to murder, like de Nore or Steinmeister, but those who'd joined the cult for more social reasons would definitely think twice now, as would those people who'd merely considered joining that cult. 

Still, Airich couldn't help feeling sick from the knot in his stomach, knowing that he personally had been instrumental in de Nore's death. A seizure? Had he been struck down by God? Bled to death or drowned in his own blood? Or had the Purple Guard meted out some other punishment that had resulted in accidental death? Or... deliberate death?

Best not dwell on how it happened. Just accept the Bishop's statement as pure truth. Don't let it rattle you. It didn't keep Airich from feeling like people were staring at him, whispering behind their hands: He's the one, it's his fault, that awful Deryni killed the poor de Nore boy, Eddard died as a martyr for his beliefs.

He prayed the scrying they would attempt later this morning gave them promising leads. Once word of the Bishop's fiery sermon and spectacular speech reached the right ears, Airich didn't see how the Willimite leaders could avoid meeting today to plan how to neutralize the Bishop's words. If Pietre de Guerra were one of those leaders, then their job might be finished before more Deryni were made examples of.

"Oh, here he is now," Amy said. Airich looked up to see Edwin striding towards them, followed by a youth about the age of a squire.

He walked up to Airich and Elspeth and held a slip of paper to Elspeth. "We're moving," he said without preamble. "I've made all the arrangements. None of you three," he pointed to Amy, Elspeth, and Airich, "are returning to the house. Bede, give Airich your bow and quiver to carry, there's no hiding that he's a fighting man. I need you—"

"Hold on a minute," Amy said. "What do you mean, 'we're moving'? You can't just march up to us and insist we relocate just to suit your tastes."

"No, he's right," Elspeth said. She handed the paper to Airich, who opened it and read:

H. Word of warning: Damien has created a taskforce to track Ws,
so watch for them: Edward Scrivner, a student at the university here;
Erik O'Flynn, a knight of the realm; Elisabeth Rowan, an infirmarian,
and her assistant Amy and hireling Bede, an archer. We suspect one of
them to be Deryni so be on guard and keep a low profile. -J

Sweet mother of mercy, they knew! And not just in a generic, someone-is-searching-for-us way, but actual identities. The only consolation of the note was the misspellings of their names, indicating that whoever the informant was, he didn't have access to Canon Damien's actual written records, but was going on hearsay only.

The imagined scent of burnt meat invaded his mind, the smell acrid in his nostrils. He felt the flames lapping at his clothing and searing his flesh as Leopold suffered and died again in his head. Heard the screams and the desperate prayers. Sensed hatred and glee intermingling as de Nore set fire to the oiled wood.

What a hideous way to die.

And unshriven.

Three years of unconfessed sins felt very heavy on Airich's shoulders at that moment.

Amy plucked the paper from his nerveless fingers and read it quickly, her brows knit in consternation. Airich looked at Amy, then back at Elspeth; his skin crawled when he considered what the Willimites might do to any women they suspected of being Deryni. Death would probably be considered a release compared to the evil such men might perpetrate against a woman's delicate body.

Edwin had continued telling of his plans while Airich was lost in a personal hell. "This is Charlie Duggan, you're going to follow him to the new lodgings."

[Laurna]

Amy and Elspeth, backed up by Airich, were led through the heart of the city, a few turns and calculated circling around a building or two to confirm they were not followed. Before finally entering the craftsmen's quarter, past where furniture was built and silver jewelers by the sign above the door, the three followed the youth into a building where plants were crushed and fermented into pigments and inks.  Down stone steps to the cellar, then down again into another old Byzanthyne tunnel. "Do these tunnels crisscross under the whole city?" Elspeth inquired.

"They do. Many now are blocked in to keep the rats from stealing the city blind." Amy was sure their young guide Charlie Duggan didn't mean four legged rodents. "The house we are coming to fronts on to the merchant's residence block. But we don't want to be seen going in the front door. My older brother has vouched for Edwin and you all, and my father, Master Duggan is no friend of the Magistrate or any of the de Guerra family for that matter. Differing of opinion on guild rights and charters. We are here," Duggan said. Giving a double-cadence knock on a thick iron shod oak door. The sound of a bar lifting on the other side and the door soundlessly edged open. The hand opening the door belonged to the same scholar Amy had seen in her rapport with Edwin after the burning, whom Edwin at the time had attested as the leader of the literary fraternity.

"Your brother, I presume," Elspeth said.

"Kierran Duggan, at your service, ma'am,"  the older Duggan brother said with a polite head bow.

The three were led through store rooms, and then through a wine cellar that looked well stocked. There were chairs and a tasting table set near the far door, then up the steps past the kitchen. "We ask that you avoid the main rooms on the first floor. Either congregate in the wine cellar, or up in the servants' attic on the third floor, where most of the room's windows were bricked in during the Festilic invasion of 984. You can keep candles lit there deep into the night and no one will see."

There were four rooms, one filling each corner of the attic space. Cots rested on the floor, with the fresh smell of rushes stuffed into clean bed clothes and wool blankets folded on the corners. "This will do, thank you and thank your father for us," Elspeth accepted the hospitality for her people.

"Your young Scrivner knows the way in, he will bring the others up with your things. I have much to attend to at the university today. This stirring of events will split our foundations, if we who can, do not hold it together." Kierran Duggan bowed his head  to the noble knight, then to the infirmarian. He retreated down the narrow spiral stone steps. Airich noticed a ladder at the landing that allowed climbers to ascend to the tower above. Just now he felt he didn't have the energy for investigation.

Amy picked a room and immediately started sweeping the few dust devils out from the corners and tidying the room up. The women would claim this room.

Elspeth looked around for additional cleaning supplies, Airich stopped her with a touch. "Could I get your help now? What we discussed earlier?"

"Oh, didn't you want to settle into your room first?"

Airich shook his head. "It needs to be now."

"Can I help you?" Amy asked. "Either of you?"

"Just help me make sure Elspeth stays comfortable. Can you spread the blankets for us, there." He pointed to the furthest cot. "Fold your cloak for a pillow..."

[Nezz]

Father Trevor O'Flynn sat on the plain stone bench in his garden at Caerrorie. The bench was usually sat upon by pilgrims visiting the shrine of Saint Camber, but most people who came to visit "the old man"—as Trevor affectionately referred to the statue—did so once the sun was a little higher.

It was another unseasonably cool morning, and Trevor pulled his cloak about his shoulders to keep out the wind. He looked up at the old man, noting the damage the statue had suffered during this past year. The worst of it was the face, where someone had broken off his nose, and a different someone had chiseled out one of his eyes. Both earlobes were broken off, and his chest had been vandalized with some sort of pigmentation that resisted all efforts to clean it off.

Trevor stood and patted the raised statue on its foot. "About time we replaced you, isn't it? You're beginning to look a little worse for wear, my lad." It was important that they keep up the pretense of the statue being the most important part of the shrine, for it made vandals far less likely to look for the entrance to the true shrine.

Trevor glanced off to the side where, some hundred yards off, a thicket of shrubbery hid the entrance of the actual shrine. The shrubbery, that is, in conjunction with certain enchantments which kept non-Deryni from noticing the shrine, let alone from entering it.

The old man had done his job marvelously for years, Trevor reckoned, giving the anti-Deryni faction a target to vent their wrath on. The thicket had never been broached, with such a tempting target as the old man standing on its pedestal in the garden, beckoning to the uncouth youngsters and ever-present Willimites to lob an over-ripe turnip at its face. And the old man's tormentors were happy to oblige every month or so.

As he sat there, basking in the peace, Trevor became aware of a presence at the edge of his thoughts, hovering there as if waiting to be welcomed in.¹ The presence was familiar, although one he hadn't felt in some time. The identity of the presence finally came to him, and, disbelieving, he opened communication. Airich?

Hello, Trevor, came the reply from his younger brother.

Airich! You're doing magic again!

Aye, so it seems.

Trevor could not have been more surprised by a call from their Human father than he was by this call from Airich. Years since, the youth had begun insisting that he was now Human and had given up the slightest hint of magic. No, not a youth anymore, Trevor told himself. He's been knighted, he's a man now.

Have you told Madre yet? Or Seamus?

You're the only one I've called.

I feel honored, Trevor said. And he could tell that Airich had not practiced such long-distance communication lately. There was a sloppiness to the transmission that a well-honed practitioner of Deryni arts did not allow himself, and Trevor was quite sure that Airich was not deliberately sending the array of emotion that Trevor was picking up: unhappiness, pain, tension.

What have you gotten yourself into, boy, that you need the non-heir brother to bail you out of? he mused, but kept that thought to himself. Instead, he asked, To what do I owe the privilege of this communication?

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been—

Wait, stop, Trevor interjected, standing. I didn't know it was going to be that kind of call. Give me a minute or two, I'd like to get back to the chapel. Trevor hurried back down the path. You're not home, are you?

No.

Where are you? Come on, don't make me pull it out of you one word at a time.

I'm in Grecotha. I've been doing research on getting rid of Deryni powers.

Trevor stopped in the middle of the path. The fact that Deryni powers could be blocked was not something that many people knew about. Neither Trevor nor Airich were even supposed to know of it or that Washburn Morgan was the sole recipient of this power. But several years ago when Wash had gone missing, Countess Celsie had come frequently to console her dear friend, the Duchess Richenda. And when news of his new power had emerged, Richenda's relief at her son's life and freedom had far overpowered such trivial concerns as "state secrets."

And secrets of any kind—state or otherwise—were not easily kept among the O'Flynn household.

What was alarming now was that Airich seemed to be attempting to duplicate this power.

Trevor continued down the path. You're not... suggesting... he started to say

I tried to find the man who knows how to do it, but he keeps not being where I look. Thank heavens for that. Not that Wash would be inclined to block anyone's powers without a very good reason. And Trevor didn't think Wash would find "Because I want to pretend to be Human" to be a very good reason.

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. He's dead now. But they know who we are, my friends and I, they know us by name. I don't know if they know us on sight yet. But if their numbers are as great as de Nore suggested they were, I fear they will find us sooner or later.

What the hell are you involved in, Airich? One of the de Nores?

He killed a man yesterday. Tied him to a stake in the middle of Market Square and lit him up like a torch.

Mother of Mercy, Airich—

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. They'd beaten him, broke so many bones—

You did a Death Reading on the man? Trevor was growing more alarmed with every sentence. You've done virtually no magic in years, you can't just start doing that kind of complicated spell out of the blue, even if you are better at magic than the rest of us put together. Please tell me they trained you on the follow-up procedure for that spell in the schola.

I know the spell, Trevor, I did it perfectly.

That wasn't the question. Have you learned how to separate yourself from the feelings you can get after you've read a violent death? Trevor had the sneaking suspicion he already knew the answer to this. Is that why you're leaking so badly right now—

Please don't yell, Trevor, I've been in hell. 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. And Trevor... Father... I need to confess because these Willimites are merciless and I have a target on my back now and I don't want to spend eternity in the fires of hell.

Be calm, Airich, I'm almost back, we can do your confession and then I want you to tell me about everything that's troubling you.

Trevor, I'm scared. This was bad. That Airich would admit to fear told Trevor just how serious his situation was.

Trevor arrived back at the small chapel and collected his purple stole. He kissed the cross on the stole and hung it about his neck as he sat on a chair in his small office. Finally, Trevor took a deep breath to focus himself. He was no longer talking to his younger brother; he was now a priest, ministering to a member of his flock who was in extreme distress.

Be at peace, my son. All is well. In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. You may begin when you're ready.

Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been... twelve hundred and forty-four days since my last confession.

Trevor winced. That was worth being worried about.

In that time, I have tried to be a good man, but I am selfish and arrogant by nature, you know this. I take what I want and I bully people to get my own way. Recently I forced a woman to acknowledge her own Deryni nature just to satisfy my own curiosity, and not once did I think about the danger I was putting her in. Last week, I started a brawl with no consideration for who might get hurt or how it might affect anyone else in the tavern.

And Father, I...

Airich paused, and Trevor sensed he was approaching a subject that troubled him. Go on... he encouraged.

Trevor! I need to know you will never speak to anyone of this!

Of course. We are under the Seal of Confession, I cannot speak with anyone about this.

An additional pause as Airich seemed to work up the nerve to continue. Father, I have been careless in my use of magic. I have hurt people. And while I talk about not being Deryni anymore, in part it's because I should be stripped of my powers. I have proven that I am unworthy to carry this gift, and I see no other way that I can atone for my sins but to give them up. 

My son, it is not on us to choose our own penance. That is for the Lord to decide.

I don't know how He can possibly think otherwise.

Why don't you tell me what you have done, and we'll let Him decide.

Very well. I betrayed my own father. I stole his memories as he lay dying on his sickbed.

...

Father?

...

Trevor?
¹ 2d6 1, 6 = success

[Nezz]

Trevor?

Yes my son, I'm here, Trevor managed to say. He tried to sound as if he'd just heard nothing out of the ordinary. I was just... considering certain aspects of this situation.

Trevor had to be very careful to make sure his Shields remained strong and did not let any personal feeling slip through. Because he quite definitely had personal feelings.

Airich had never spoken of whatever had spurred him into refusing his Deryni birthright. One of the theories among the brothers and sisters had been that their father's near death had affected the youth far more than anyone had suspected, and his rejection of his Deryni half had simply been an attempt to connect with his Human father. And so everyone had been patient with the lad, and not pressed him into unwanted Rapport or communication. They'd comforted their mother and helped remind her that her youngest wasn't rejecting her so much as embracing his paternal heritage.

Of course, everyone thought it was a phase that he'd grow out of, as so many other young men did at that age. But a year went by, then two, then three, and he'd given no indication that he'd ever practice magic again. And as close as the family had always been, it was hard to not take Airich's rejection of his Deryniness as a rejection of the family.

And to find out now that it was all because of guilt...?

Trevor took a deep, cleansing breath and made sure those Shields were firmly in place. He was a priest, and that meant more than simply acting like a priest. He had to be a priest to this man as he was a priest to any other member of his flock.

You say you betrayed your father.

Aye.

'Betray' is a powerful word. Perhaps you might elaborate and tell me exactly what you did, and why.

I'm not sure it would make any difference. I deliberately and willfully used a spell to take a memory for my own selfish reasons.

That was a serious charge he admitted to.

And those reasons were...?

He was very sick, no one doubted that. But by this time, all the healers had been pulled out and sent to the Mearan front. I have to believe the King didn't know how poorly Father was doing, because surely he would have spared a single healer for his senior-ranked councilor.

Nobody else was home that night, Airich continued. I think Madre was still in Coroth, so it was just me and the servants. He took a sudden downturn, and the physician didn't expect him to live through the night. He'd stepped away so I could say my goodbyes in private. At that moment, there was nothing I wouldn't do to keep him there, and I thought that if I could have one or two of his memories, then I might be able to bear his passing.

He was feverish. And delirious. And fully Human. But somehow, he noticed me there. He cursed at me and tried to throw me out, and then the spell... I don't know how to describe it, but the spell just blew up into something enormous, and instead of one little memory, I got... well, I acquired more than just one little memory.

And then he got better. And never seemed to recall what happened that night. And his own memory appears to be perfectly intact.

Yes, Trevor agreed, Madre would have noticed if Father's mind had been damaged in any way.

Trever was grateful he'd asked for the reasons. Good intentions might or might not carry much weight in a court of law, but they were everything to the Confession. As well as to the priest who would have to treat the penitent as if he knew nothing behind the Seal of Confession.

Are you still thinking, Father?

Yes.

What else did Trevor need to know about this? Airich had never been one to offer information freely, and sometimes getting the entire truth out of him was like pulling a tooth: both difficult and painful.

Is this why you stopped practicing magic? Or taking our calls? Or allowing anyone to form Rapport with you?

Aye.

Not very helpful. What else did he need to ask?

Did you take enough from his mind to make people think you were him? If you wanted?

No, not at all...

That was a relief.

...I can recall various memories, but even if I were to take his form, I wouldn't be able to fool anyone who's Scanned him. I still haven't been able to integrate the memories, although I've tried—what was that?

Nothing. Which wasn't true. It was the shock Trevor felt that slipped past his own Shields, discovering that Airich had gained enough memories that they required a full integration. How much of his history did you pick up?

Certainly not his entire life. I have no memories from the time his father was alive. Most of them begin around the time he received his spurs. And they only go up until the time I was still a boy. And obviously nothing from the past four years.

Trevor realized that his mouth was dry. Airich, you mean to tell me you've been walking around for four years with a lifetime of someone else's unintegrated memories?

It's really not his lifetime, I think it's maybe forty years at the mo—

Don't get pedantic. Tell me truly: you've been carrying maybe forty years of our father's memories stuck inside your head since the last Mearan war, and they still haven't been integrated?

That's the truth, yes.

And now Trevor was sick with fear. How are you still sane?

Airich's mental voice was very small. I'm... not sure that I am. I get confused lately, trying to remember who I am. Sometimes I wake up in the morning and have to check to see if my hair curls or hangs straight before I know for sure.

Do you get the headaches?

Aye.

Lethargy? Fatigue?

Aye. And nightmares.

Nightmares? Trevor hadn't heard that nightmares were one of the symptoms of unintegrated memori—Good heavens, not Father's nightmares! He dared ask, Cardosa? Esgair Ddu?

Aye.

Trevor heard the pain in that "Aye." None of the family except Madre knew much of what had happened to their father when he'd been a prisoner at Esgair Ddu so many years before, but they all knew it was bad. And now, here was Airich, having to relive those same experiences in his dreams.

Trevor took another deep breath to steady himself. Is there anything else you wish to confess? He hoped not. He wasn't sure if he could handle more.

No, Father. I know there must be much more, but I can't think of specifics right now.

Then let me think again. And pray.

It was a lot to think about. Obviously Airich deserved absolution, Trevor had felt his contrition throughout the entire confession. But he needed a lot more than that as well. He needed help, desperately. But he couldn't force his brother to seek help, nor could he send a Deryni healer to Airich to help him integrate those memories.

Trevor uttered a swift prayer, asking for guidance to know what to say. And then he spoke to his brother, uttering the words the Lord made known unto him. 

Airich, I would that you be granted absolution, but the Lord requires you to commit yourself to several steps. As soon as you may, you must seek help. You have carried this burden by yourself for far too long. There are Healing masters in Rhemuth who can help you, Healers who have studied the types of injuries you have suffered. And you are to cease searching for a release from your Deryni calling, and yes, I did say it was your calling, for the Lord has made known unto me that this is so. For you to continue to refuse this gift would displease the Lord greatly. 

Secondly, once your work in Grecotha is finished and you are healed of your malady, you must return to your home and confess your sin to your mother and father. In addition, you must ask forgiveness from them for shutting them out of your life and causing so much pain. I know that you are appalled most of all by the sin of casting that spell on the unwilling, but you did that out of love, however misguided. The far worse sin, which you do not seem to recognize, stems from the arrogance to which you have admitted. It was pride that led you to shut out those who love you and would have forgiven and helped you. You must face up to the needless worry and hurt you have inflicted. You must also apologize to each of your brothers and sisters for separating yourself from them, for you have hurt them all. 

Finally, you are to seek out the words to a song by the philosopher Orin known as the Healer's Hymn. You are to commit it to memory and recite it every day for one month, or until you have accepted the Lord's will in this without question.

To these conditions of penance, I add one more thing: you must keep in contact with me daily. I don't care where you are or what you're doing. You don't even have to speak if you are not inclined. But I need to know that you are alive and well.

Do you have any questions? Trevor asked. He was a little surprised at the words that had come from his mouth, but he thanked his Maker for His mercy for Trevor's own brother.

I have no questions, Airich replied, then took several seconds before beginning his prayer. Oh my Father, I have gone against Thy will and have chosen the path of pride, and for this and all my sins, I am truly sorry. I commit to doing these things that Thy mouthpiece has requested of me as penance, and will truly seek to sin no more, and to avoid those paths that may lead me into temptation. Have mercy on me, O God, in the name of the Christ Who died for us.

It was a good prayer, and offered sincerely. Trevor tamped down his own feeling of pride for his young brother. And now Airich, I bless you with the strength you need to continue through your trials and the wisdom to know how best to proceed. And to know that you can call upon others to help you; you do not have to walk this path alone.

Ego te absolvo in nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti. The Lord has put away your offenses. Go in peace.

***
Elspeth drifted back to consciousness on a strange cot. Someone was gripping her hand fiercely. And it felt damp. She turned her head to see Airich kneeling on the floor next to the cot, and it was he who held her hand against his face. He wept openly, made no attempt to hide it from her even as he must know she was awake.

"Airich, are you not well? Is your headache bad?" she asked, sitting up.

Airich looked up at her and smiled. The everpresent worry lines that always sat upon his brow were missing, and she realized these were not tears of sorrow.

Elspeth placed her other hand against his cheek and smiled back at him. "Dear Airich," she said, "You found what you were looking for?"

"Aye," he said. "I found hope."

[Marc_du_Temple]

"Alright, boys. That's all the swag of our group. Now escort the nice lady to our new home, will you?" Bede gestured to Muirea with a lean of his head.

"Why me?" she whispered, perhaps beginning to enjoy the frenetic chaos of this life.

"Because you are a shepherd. Think of them as lambs, why don't you?" Bede winked.

That made sense enough to her. As she backed away, she half-curtsied and soothed, "As you wish, Master Archer."

He stifled a smile at her teasing. He knew as well as any who bothered to know her that she did everything willingly or not at all, barring unthinkable forces that others had brought to bear against her. The previous night did not determine what de Guerra and Jasper may have thought it did. Or is it what I thought it did? Since when did I think? Nevertheless, the attention was more welcome than he realized. Before he could follow that feeling, Edwin returned, flying on inspiration. Bede did not expect this side of him, but the scholar's rationales for their actions today had been sound so far.

Spying Muirea bringing up the rear of a troop of youths carrying their possessions, Edwin nodded. "Good work, you two. Now if you would, Bede, follow me to Canon Damien's office. This cannot wait. He must be made aware of what we have discovered."

Several steps later, they found themselves standing before the canon's door. Between them and the door itself stood the young Aiden McLain, who seemed happy enough to see them. Especially Edwin. "What can I do for you, sirs?"

"We must speak to the canon, lad," Bede said with his Mearan simplicity.

"Not now," cautioned the boy. "He is exceedingly busy with his studies."

"Damn his studies, lad," Bede sighed. When he caught Edwin's glare, he quieted himself.

Edwin smiled at the boy like he was greeting an old friend. "Och, laddie ye mun forgi'e this gowk's cheek, forbye t'is a muckle important matter. I wouldn'a waste yer time, nae mair than I would waste the time o'oor beloved canon's."

The youth shook his head. "He will not see you. I think you should do something more productive with your time, Deryni sirs."

Bede frowned. "Now, just because we are looking out for a particular bunch'a folks this week does not make us one of 'em, no?" At least, that was true for him. "And what makes you so sure of his will? He put us to this in the first place."

The boy shifted his collar and scratched at his skin while effecting a stoic expression. "My master has other plans. Now, run along, please!" Both of the young investigators were dumbstruck by the change in him, too much to even admonish him.

The heavy door shifted open from the inside. The familiar voice of the canon came from within. "What's all this shouting, my boy? Bring my investigators in."

Wordlessly, the novice bowed his head and opened the door, revealing to the investigators the study. On his second visit, Edwin noticed details he had not before. The canon had a small collection of manuscripts and books all his own. Somewhere in his head, the voice of his father wondered if the canon needed some more. He and Bede both bowed, and with that done he began to explain, "Canon, I fear that we have found something terrible for us." To not keep him in suspense, Edwin handed over the letter from Jacob.

The canon furrowed his brows as he read at his desk, and quickly came to the same conclusions that Edwin had. "And what do you suggest we do, son?"

Edwin answered, "Father, I would never dare to tell you what to do. However, we did come not only to warn you of the danger, but to tell you that we have moved to a new, safer location. I pray it stays a secret, but I fear not to speak of it here. If the note had more accurate spellings, then I might have reason to worry, but alas. Only you and your closest associates should know how we spell our names, and they're inaccurate there. What do you suggest we do?"

"As you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil, sons. Go, and God be with you."

Edwin remembered something on the list of required goods for the day. "If it is not too much to ask, our new abode is rather poorly lit. May we have a handful of candles to borrow, Father?"

The canon knew better than to question that, and he nodded givingly. "Seek and you shall find. Take what you need, with my blessing."

Edwin made to leave with half of a dozen candles in his arms, but Bede stood still. "I thank ye for your wisdom, Father, but before we go, I want to ask you something."

"What may that be, Archer?"

Bede stood with a posture of military discipline as he made his inquiry. "What do you think of my progress, Father?"

"I do not understand. Your progress in or towards...?"

"The forgiveness of my crimes, of course," Bede blurted out. "Father."

((Perception roll Canon Damian 3d6 3 + 6 + 4))The canon blinked and shifted in his chair, as if he were only mildly surprised at the young firebrand's impatience. "What is forgiveness without contrition? Did Ananias approach Saul or Paul? Did King Kelson and the Duke Alaric Morgan embrace Warin de Grey the rebel, or the loyal vassal? Will the church and its country wipe the record of a venerable Bede Archer, or a stalwart man with no law in his heart yet a wellspring of rationales for his misdeeds?"

"My deeds of late have been generous," Bede protested sharply, sounding like the child he once had been.

"So I have heard," conceded the canon. "Beneath a dark facade, you conducted yourself fearlessly and mercifully last night. Yes, young men: while we have not been able to infiltrate the Willimites yet, this is still my city. Whatever happened down there, you were right to think you had escaped the law's grasp, but God's servants see much. And Brother Phillip has kept me apprised as to the other happenings of late. In light of your relentless efforts, I will overlook your impatient question. Ask me again when you have saved as many cities as you have put to the sword or perhaps when you are ready to ask for forgiveness, not an indulgence. Remember: pride cometh before the fall."

Abashed and frustrated, Bede murmured, "Thank you, Father."

Edwin nudged him away, hissing, "Whatever happened to the people-wise player who kept me in line the last time we were here?"

"I cannae say," Bede said, trying to remember himself. "I suppose ye all make the honest life seem rather to my fancy. Maybe I want it too much now."

"Like a heathen baptized for the taste of the wine and the pillowing clouds above," Edwin rolled his eyes, not knowing how for once Bede was indeed ashamed without the threat of immortal damnation hanging over him.

[Nezz]

Hope.

It was a tiny thing, a concept without form or substance. And yet, it was everything.

Airich thought about this as he lay in his cot, resting up for the ritual they'd planned for later this afternoon. He felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. No longer did he have to live his life in a shell, restricted by the consequences of a foolish decision he'd made while still a squire. He could look forward to a future where he could stretch his wings and become everything he'd wanted to be.

Mind, he had to be careful for now. He still had to find a healer who could help him integrate his father's memories, and figure out why his own attempts had failed in the past. And he would continue to have headaches and nightmares when he used his abilities too often. But careful planning and rigorous meditation to reinforce his Shields could keep much of that at bay. And he could be who he was meant to be.

He was Deryni. He'd been born with gifts and had honed them throughout his youth, and now, as a man with perhaps a smidgen of wisdom, he could finally continue his training. And he no longer had to hate himself for doing so.

And he truly had hated himself at the beginning. At that moment when the spell had gone wrong, his father had hated all Deryni, too. Hated them for everything they'd put him through. Not just the former King of Torenth, but even when his friends had mucked about in his head because they thought they knew best what he should be allowed to recall. As if he were no more than a child to them. And Airich couldn't bear the idea that Father would hate him so much, and had thought that if he himself were also Human instead of Deryni like everyone else in the family, then Father would know that he wasn't like them. That he wouldn't need to hate him anymore. 

He'd realized, after some years, that the intense hatred he'd felt was mostly the fever talking. But knowing something in his head was not the same as feeling it in his heart. It hadn't helped when his research had uncovered a theory by Agapios Pappas which suggested that he could lose the memories and their associated pains and weakness if he could rid himself of his Deryni blood.

No more. The theory that had driven that part of his life was over. It was time for a new direction.

He heard Edwin and Amy outside in the hallway, then they knocked at his door. Edwin poked his head through.

"Ah, there you are," he said when he saw Airich. He and Amy came in as Airich sat up. "We're concerned about this procedure we're about to do."

"Come in, sit," Airich gestured towards the other cot. "I will do what I can to assuage your disquiet."

Edwin looked at Amy—whose face was inscrutable—then back to Airich. "We've noticed that you've had some trouble with... um... well, you do magic, and it comes back and knocks you out cold or practically kills you with a headache. And someone said something about nightmares. I'm just... well, I don't know if learning to use magic is worth all that."

"Ah, I can appreciate such a worry." If Airich were the only sorcerer who Edwin had seen at work, he could see why the scrivener would come to such a conclusion. "Fear not; my ailments are unique, and not in any way typical of most practitioners of magic. What we are attempting is the whitest of magic, and I can think of no reason why you might suffer any ill effects, during or afterward."

"What if you are taken with that sudden fatigue again?" Amy asked. "If you should fall unconscious of a sudden, will the spell collapse? Or explode and kill us all?"

"No and no," he replied. "Five of us will be involved to share the load. I will not fall unconscious from fatigue. And if by some strange chance something were to happen to me, you can break the scrying spell by emptying out the wine. And the ward can be taken down by lowering the point of my sword and with focus the Fiat Fin I already taught you."

Both young Deryni looked vastly relieved by this news.

"Anything else?" Airich asked.

"I think you've answered our questions," Edwin said.

"Excellent," Airich said, standing. "Let's go make some magic."

[Laurna]

Amy was carrying the small bottle of holy water and the secreted item in her pocket, surrounded by a kerchief. Elspeth had gathered incense from her mixture of herbs and carried it in a pouch. Bede carried the borrowed silver bowl from the kitchen treasury, borrowed was an equivocal term, but it would soon be returned before the hostess of the house realized it was missing. That along with the small incense burning pot. Also, Bede had insisted upon his bow and quiver of arrows, to which Airich considered to allowed, being as they were neither metallic nor cutting edged as all other's daggers, which were left behind. Edwin had in his hands five taper candles, acquired from the cathedral; the same place the holy water had come from. Amy did not ask how he acquired them. Muirea had scrubbed the floor to the small corner room that had held no furniture. It was the one of the four attic rooms that they were not using for sleeping. Airich brought up a small round table from downstairs, placed it in the very center of the room, then tossed a clean white covering over it. He left the room again, to return with his sword and two bottles of a deep red Bremagne wine that he had purchased from their host down in the cellar just a bit ago.

Their host and hostess must think they are planning to get stone drunk today and maybe follow it with an orgy. Three women, three men, how could the host think otherwise. There had been some strong warnings made by Master Duggan as he reluctantly handed across the two bottles in exchange for the coins. Amy had only muffled her amusement at the man's sharp words. If only he knew the liquor was not to be drunk, he might have had additional qualms about selling it.

Airich indicated the items should be placed on the table, he would get to setting them up properly in a few minutes. But now he went to each person and had them recite the words they had memorized. Each were slightly different, and he wanted to be certain each participant knew exactly which phrases he/she would be using. Wind and Water were the Elements of women, and two of the women would be reciting those lines. Fire and Earth-Knowledge-Death—all three one, as Amy had been taught by her grandmother—were Elements of men. Thus, two of the men would play those roles. The Soul-Life-Spirit in all its complexities would be the center and leader of this particular Ritual. This was not the way it was normally done in these times, Airich had told them. But in his current state of flux about his own magic, the knight sorcerer, a title Amy wanted to tease him with, but did not dare to, was taking the ritual forms from long ago to assure that the deepest well of magic could be formed.

What they wanted was to save people from death, to save knowledge from destruction, to save a city from burning. What they were attempting seemed so small when the hazards were so great. Their sacrifice had been food, so far not yet taken today; having gotten up before breakfast to hear the Bishop's condemning words and then to move to this new place of secrecy that they hoped would hold them safe and then to make all the necessary preparations. When this was over, Amy hoped there was a feast to be had, but she doubted more than bread and cheese would be available in the kitchen at this mid-afternoon hour.

Airich pulled a skein of embroidery yarn from his pocket: it was purest white wool.  He unwound the yarn and walked in a distant circle around the table, encompassing every one watching him. Before he closed the circle, he motioned to Muirea. She already knew her task in this and came willingly. He handed her his dagger to hold with her own. "Stand at the door. Give us warning if someone comes. Nothing we do will be heard from without, and nothing you hear out here will be heard by us from within.  If trouble comes, warn us best you can, then run. They would not be able to see us let alone harm us where we are as long as we stay there. But I would rather that we not be confined in this circle for overly long.

"Aye, Sir Airich. I will do my part."

"Good Lass."

Then Airich stepped within the circle and laid the ends of his yarn together with an underlying twist. He looked at his team, some curious, some apprehensive, and these emotions were not inline with their human or their Deryni self-awareness.  Airich lifted one of the tapers and placed it in a votive stand, then lit it with a small passage of his open palm over it. Amy considered this one more thing she needed him to show her how to do. Another time, if time did allow it.  "Those who attempt this specialty of magic are usually all of one race." The Deryni knight told them. "But for much of it, faith is more important, even humans who live in the borderlands can raise a ward, if they have the focus and spiritual inclination. So our race differences do not divide us. We all have a common concern: the knowledge that we seek binds us."

"Mistress Elspeth, you are our healer, a profession close to God's will." Airich moved her to the part of the room predefined to align with the rising of the sun, though no sunshine penetrated this room.  "I will ask you to start, stand here in the east, then walk southward and then around following our circle. Give us the Twenty-third Psalm so that we may settle our minds, and sprinkle the Lord's holy water to the quarters so that the space we occupy may have blessings upon it."

Elspeth's maturity showed in her face and in her voice as she slowly sang the words of prayer as she had learned it long ago as a child.  "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want...."

When she was in the west and continuing her circuit. Airich turned to Bede and silently pointed to the incense and the pot on the table.  The archer tipped the herbs into the pot and then let Airich turn his burning taper to catch the leaves to the flame.  The herbs were prepared in oils and would burn slowly, but they let off a pungent smoke. "Master Archer, if you would please, start your circuit in the east and waft the incense around our space so that we may all cleanse our senses of the world without."

No one spoke further as both passes of the circle were completed. Then each of them was blessed in kind.  Airich took up his sword, pointed the tip of the blade downward, and touched his yarn circle.  His eyes closed, and his lips whispered a word of respect, and a thread ignited with a soft blue flame. With Eyes opening, Airich walked this third circlet.  The tip of the sword lit the thread beside him as he passed. When he came full circle, they were surrounded by a blue flame. It gave no heat and Amy could not tell if it was real or imaginary. She knew items soaked in alcohol would burn coolly, such as this. But she did not believe the yarn had been so treated.

All eyes and all focus watched Airich's every motion. He stepped near the center of their circle beside the table. He now held his sword hilt in both hands, and he slowly raised the sword upward, the tip guiding the height of the encircling flame until it was taller than they. Then he lifted the blade slowly in a high arch toward the ceiling. When the flames collided at the apex of the dome over all their heads, an energy flashed and then only a blue shimmer surrounded them. Amy touched both Elspeth's and Bede's hands: they had seen the flames, but after, when the flames had burnt out, all evidence of the warded dome had disappeared from their view. What they saw from Amy's perception was the energy of the ward that now surrounded them.

Airich took in a satisfied breath. "We are protected and fully warded. Please keep note of where the string still lies on the floor.  And do not try to pass beyond it. As with the wards Edwin created a few days ago, these can hurt you, but they are far more protecting for us than ward cubes by themselves."

Everyone breathed easier, Bede stepped to look at Muirea over by the door. He waved at her, but she did not respond. She only looked with a little awe in her eyes over the space they had occupied as if they were not there any longer. "She can no longer see us," Airich eased Bede's mind. "But I told her to expect this, she will be fine."

As if needing to prove this to himself, the archer pulled an arrow out from the quiver he had laid upon the floor.  Teasingly, he balanced the shaft in his fingers and rocked it back and forth. Getting no reaction, he swept the arrow full around with a swing of his arm. At the top of the arch, the feather tips suddenly blazed and came back to him singed. Bede was astonished.

"I told you." Airich said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. Amy giggled at him behind his back. But sweet Muirea just looked toward where they stood without expression or acknowledgment.

"What wonders ye let us have a hand in," Bede marveled.

[Laurna]

Everyone relaxed for a few minutes in silence as Airich opened the wine bottles and then slowly drained them into the wide, low silver bowl: a soup tureen, if one thought about it. Don't make yourself hungry Amy told herself. If she was staring at the bowl filling with a deep red wine, it wasn't because she wanted to drink any of it. It rather looked more like blood to her than something drinkable, and it gave her a small quiver. Elspeth gave her friend a long look over the top of the wine bottle as if to say, Are you all right with this? Amy bit her lip then raised her eyebrows, as if to return the same question.  Elpseth tilted her head. She was most curious, indeed. Amy did not have time to look over the men, for at that moment Airich finished his pouring and placed the empty bottles under the table to be forgotten. He picked up the four tapers, catching everyone's attention, and motioned each of them to their places two steps beyond the table's edge. He walked around the table, giving each of them their own candle to hold bare-handed. Elspeth in the East, Bede in the South, Amy in the West, Edwin in the North. Then back at the table, Airich looked into Amy's curious eyes. "The button, if I may have it, please."

Amy nervously fished in her pocket, finding the cloth surrounding the hard-won object belonging to the magistrate's son. For a moment, she was terrified she would drop it, but she did not, and managed to place the kerchief and button in the knight's open palm. He placed these carefully on the table beside the bowl. Then he picked up the central burning candle, held it before him, and stepped to the East side of the table facing the healer. He gave her a nod, indicating she should begin. Her words were poetic prayer for summoning the Healer, and if she asked with honest faith, and with Airich as the focal conduit, surely he would listen.  She began to recite her implorement to the heavenly archangels, Airich tilted his candle over to set her's alight.

"I call the mighty Archangel Raphael, the Healer, Guardian of Wind and tempest. May thy winds blow cool and sweet this night, to send us that which we must know..."

 "May the Lord's will be done." Airich completed the phrase with due ceremony. He used her words to feel the warmth of his own powers growing in his center. He bowed to the healer among them, keeping his own candle steady, then he stepped to the side to stand before the only man among them who had been in battle.

Bede held his candle as a warrior would hold up his sword in salute. As the bearer of the Spirit, Airich tilted his candle to light the flame of the warrior's candle. Bede's voice was steady, but his words emphasized the third phrase with awe, as the flame seemed to give him an inner vision. 

"I call the mighty Archangel Michael, the Defender, Wielder of the Fiery Sword, to witness this rite and protect us in our hour of need, that naught may keep us from that which we must know..."

"May the Lord's will be done." Airich replied, feeling the flame of Justice rise to take balance within him. He brought his fist up to his heart in salute, still holding the candle in his left hand. Then he moved on to stand before Amy.

Amy found Airich's blue eyes focally looking deep into her own. She did not know if he had touched the others the way he was touching her now, she suspected he had not. He swam through her energy like it was an effervescent fountain of youth. And she gladly let him tingle every cell in her mind, and fill her with the warmth of a spring-filled pool. His hand wavered for a moment, and it looked like his candle might slip, but then he steadied and lit her candle. Nearly out of breath, she recited the words of request.

"I call the mighty Archangel Gabriel, the Herald, who didst bring glad tidings to Our Blessed Lady. As we are born of water, so let knowledge be born of water here tonight, that we may learn what we must know..."

"May the Lord's will be done." Airich bent and lifted her hand, placing a chaste kiss upon the back of it. His lips hovered there perhaps a moment longer than Amy might have expected, in their touch there was immense compassion that echoed in her own heart. He was magic and she felt it in his core being. Leaving her lightly bewildered, he was moving on to the scribe, to repeat the candle-lighting process one final time.

Edwin's voice was strong and no longer held doubt.

"I call the Mighty Archangel Uriel, Angel of Death, who bringest all souls at last to the Nether Shore. Mayest thou pass us by this night, and bring instead that thing which we must know..."

"May the Lord's will be done." Airich and Edwin clasped each other's wrists in a gesture of mutual respect. Knowledge and grounding bound their friendship. For indeed that is what it had become.

Then Airich was standing at the table's edge. He lifted his own candle above the bowl of shimmering liquid, and spoke the last words of the incantation.

"Air, Fire, Water, Earth, and Spirit. Now do we stand outside time, in a place not of earth. As our ancestors before us bade, the unity of humanity, Amen, So be it."

All five candles flared and sparked. There indeed was a spirit of energy in the air.

Airich placed his candle in the votive stand before him. He picked up the kerchief, folding the fabric back, and revealed the silver button from the tunic of the man who lately wore it. Gazing at the shining object with an intensity unequal, he cast his energy upon it. "We who stand here seek knowledge. We seek to save lives. Help us discover if danger lies in the path of the men and women of Grecotha!"

He dropped the button into the bottom of the bowl, it glittered for a moment as it sank, but then was lost in the depths of the wine.

As a motion, all four stepped forward and rested their candles in their right hands against the edge of the bowl. With their left hands, they reached out and clasped the wrists of their neighbor holding the candle. Thus, it was a ring of the four people and the four elements combined. Airich moved to stand in the small space between Edwin and Amy. He placed his hands to the outer edge of the bowl and rested his bare wrists, one over Amy's hand and one over Edwin's hand. He joined them all in a circle, a link that he could draw upon their power, and search for the information that he needed.

"Tune your awareness to the reflection of the still surface. Pacify your soul," his words were hypnotic. "Let the fragrance of the incense find you in a place of beauty and calm. I will be your guide from here. Let us be one."

[Nezz]

They'd done their parts flawlessly; Airich couldn't be more proud of the four if they were his own students. He'd been the tiniest bit nervous that Bede might take the opportunity to improvise, and he'd been ready to modify his own part in response, but no: Bede had put his jester aside and spoken his summoning perfectly, down to the very inflection he'd used. And Elspeth, healer in body and spirit, if not in magic, summoning her archangel with the surety of her inborn calling. Young Edwin, who barely understood what it was to be Deryni, standing steadfast like a stone foundation. And Amy... Don't get distracted again, you have a job to do! Yes, Amy.

He was aware of all of them now, joined together with him in a psychic net, providing strength and support. He looked into the silver bowl before him. Within the bowl, hidden from his physical sight, lay a silver button. Airich felt the silver medallion that lay against his chest, attuned to him and his kin, and used the affinity of the silver to call forth the visions that would give them the answers they sought.

He let his body and mind relax as he stared into the bowl, his eyes focusing on nothing. He held his body firm and brought his awareness down to a deeper level, focusing his mind on the bowl as his physical eyes lost focus. Locate that delicate balance that kept his eyes focused on nothing and aware of everything, then sink even deeper, leaving behind all physical awareness but the tableau before him.

The silver bowl. The silver button. The silver medallion. Find the bond from the button to its previous bearer and trace it backward. Use the silver to call it forward. Airich felt the sensation of flowing through space as his vision darkened, and then returned. And as he watched, an indistinct scenario slowly came into view on the surface of the burgundy liquid.¹ It was distorted, like looking through decorative glass. The entire scene appeared blurred, and sounded as if it were underwater, but if he concentrated, Airich could bring portions of the scene into focus.

He viewed a dim and windowless room, not unlike the one they themselves stood in. Four men sat around a table, although one of them sat behind the viewpoint of the spell: this would be de Guerra. A glass of wine sat in front of each man, and they appeared to be arguing.

As per the plan, Airich now brought Edwin into closer contact. The two together would perceive and understand more than one man alone, and Edwin—with his greater knowledge of Grecotha and its inhabitants—seemed the logical choice.

He focused on de Guerra, as the other men seemed to be looking at him. The muddied voice became clearer. "...getting into. But with de Nore dead, who leads his faction now?"²

One of the other men seemed to answer him, but Airich was unable to focus on him quickly enough to catch his statement. There was definitely a trick to switching between the speakers fast enough, but he heard most of what the following man had to say. "...fall apart. De Nore couldn't have more than a dozen of his fanatics anyway, and honestly? We don't need that kind of crazed fervor."

With four speakers to focus on, Airich found it nearly impossible to catch the beginning of each man's piece. The next speaker, a man in priest's robes, enunciated clearly. "...be careful making such a statement, Marcus. De Nore might have been a fanatic, but he had a way with people." He held up his glass, looking into the depths of the wine before taking a sip. "He might have had a larger following than we think. But it's true, his disciples will be lost and looking for leadership without him, so our best course..."

Shock and distress emanated from Edwin as he suddenly recognizing this speaker, upsetting the calm Airich needed for this spell. He lost track of the conversation for nearly half a minute before he could figure out which man was speaking. And then he nearly lost focus again when he realized that this speaker wore the violet sash of the Bishop's own Purple Guard. "...keep your coin. But in the meantime, our other friends have been moved to different quarters. They're no longer at the boarding house Canon Damian placed them in, but are now hidden away in the Crafting district. My people should locate them soon, though."

Blast, they hadn't even been here half a day.

"Also, we'd suspect one of their number to be Deryni. Based on my report regarding de Nore's interrogation, the knight turned de Nore into a raving madman—"

"...can't give that as proof of being Deryni, Philip. De Nore was one step away from a raving madman anyway."

Philip slammed his palm against the table. "This isn't a joke! You think de Nore caused his own death? No, that's entirely on O'Flynn. And there may be other Deryni among them, we'll have to watch them carefully."

There came next a certain amount of cross-talk, which Airich couldn't make any sense of. But then he stopped on Marcus again. "...woman who hides under her hood? One of my spies has been trying to get a better glimpse of her, see if he recognizes her."

"I'll be sure to give them all a proper welcome next time they visit my table." De Guerra spoke up again now. He was the easiest to anticipate and hear. "I would so enjoy watching one of our oh-so-proud Deryni go into convulsions in front of the crowd. I'm sure my friends would make sure the poor man would be taken someplace where he would be well cared for."

Marcus spoke up again. "...men are concerned about Bishop Bernard's sermon this morning and making a public example of Steinmeister. He hasn't condemned us by name, but there is no question in anyone's mind who he meant."

"The Bishop is a fool, let him piss about." De Guerra's sneer made it quite clear what he thought of the Bishop and his message. "With de Nore gone, we'll see no more episodes like that foolish burning in the market square. We stay quiet for a bit, things will go back to normal."

Edwin still radiated anger at whatever had set him off about the priest, and it was becoming a distraction. Airich took a moment to loosen his close connection with Edwin, and then brought Amy into position to take his place. This, too, had been part of the plan, although Airich brought her in sooner than he'd originally anticipated. They lost a few seconds of de Guerra's pontificating by doing so, but he deemed it worth the effort.

"...protect the travelers in and out of the city. That means an increase in road tax. That way, they're safe from bandits, and we can monitor who comes and goes. And if any of those damned foreign Deryni students think they're going to attend this term, they'll discover otherwise. Bad enough Gwynedd's own Deryni think to come here, but those from other lands will be persuaded to leave.

Philip got to his feet and stretched his back, then took an at-rest military stance. "...time the new term starts, the Bishop will have lifted the weapons ban. It won't take long for the city to return to normal. The Purple Guard will keep things at the university well in hand, and the City Watch is being doubled. And since we no longer have de Nore causing panic, everyone will relax and the fine people of this city will be at their ease in no time."

The priest named Jacob spoke next, and both Airich and Amy realized they'd seen him in the library, and they missed at least five seconds of his talking. "Mark my words here, Philip: they are trouble. And they're the unknown element in our plan. I, for one, hope that some of de Nore's people take it upon themselves to rid us of these investigators, even if they do draw attention to themselves."

"Well said, Jacob," said de Guerra. "We all have our parts to play, even poor, mad Eddard, may he rest in peace. Get with your cells, make sure they keep those investigators off-track and away from us. Diversion or death, I honestly don't care. But make..."

Airich lost the sound again and couldn't get it back. De Guerra spoke for a few more seconds, and then all men lifted their glasses in a toast and drained them. The scene moved behind thick glass again, and Airich could see one man leave while the other three milled about socially, but then the surface of the wine lost its image and returned to its previous burgundy color.
¹ Ritual Scrying, Standard easy: 4,4=Success
² We had to make a lot of rolls for this scene, and I didn't think anyone wanted to scroll through several inches of text space in this post, so you'll just have to trust me about the rolls (although if you really want to see the notes, I could show you, but ugh, why would you do that to yourself?).

[Jerusha]

The six of them happily sang the praises of Charlie Duggen when he brought up a loaf, a crock of butter, two roast chickens, and a large pitcher of ale for them to break their fast. They had cleared the small table, and while Charlie set the food down on it, they fetched stools and cups. Amy poured a round of the ale, and they all drank a toast to the bearer of their good fortune, but not too much on empty stomachs. They invited Charlie to join them, but he smiled and declined.

As they tucked into the food, the conversation did not move beyond "Pass the butter, if you please," or "I'll have that leg if no one else wants it." Elspeth noticed the occasional glance between Amy and Airich; had that little kiss on the back of Amy's hand during the ritual been more than just casual gallantry? Perhaps she should remind Amy it was Sir Airich, and she should not get in over her head. Or in this case, her heart.

As the pile of bones grew, they began to relax over full stomachs and the last of the ale.

"Perhaps this would be a good time to share what your scrying revealed, Sir Airich," Elspeth said. "I saw nothing more than the dark red surface of the wine in the bowl, though it was clear that you, Amy, and Edwin saw much more. And that some of it did not please you."

"I think we can drop the formality amongst ourselves, Mistress Elspeth," Airich began and stopped, realizing he had been just as formal addressing the physicker.

Elspeth, who no longer felt the need to hide beneath her hood while among the group, gave him a slight smile. "I suspect it is too thoroughly ingrained in all of us from birth. Perhaps rightly so." Elspeth glanced sidelong at Amy, who quickly took a final bite from her chicken wing.

Bede, who had pushed back from the table to stretch his legs, pushed his stool closer again. Muirea leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Edwin looked across at Airich and nodded his agreement that Airich should lead the discussion. Amy discarded her chicken bone and Elspeth settled more comfortably on her stool.

"Understand that scrying does not provide clear images," Airich explained to the three humans in the group. "It's like looking through a thick fog; everything appears distorted, and speech is muffled and hard to understand. We could not understand all that was said, but we learned much more than we knew before. There were four men in an underground chamber...."

As Airich spoke, Elspeth wished she had thought to retrieve one of her wax tablets. She always understood things more clearly if she wrote them down, but she did not want to leave the table and miss what could be an important piece of information. After a moment, she reached forward and selected four chicken bones, arranging them side by side, one for each of the four cells Airich described. Edwin gave her an odd look, but Amy had worked with her friend long enough to understand what she was doing. She handed Elspeth a fifth bone to represent de Guerra.

As Airich stated that one of the cells had been headed by de Nore and was now leaderless with his death, Elspeth reached forward and snapped one of the bones in two. "He was a despicable man," she said.

"You'll get no argument from me on that," Airich agreed.

"Will de Guerra take his place as leader of the cell?" Bede asked.

"It didn't sound like it," Edwin answered. "And it didn't sound like any of them would miss de Nore much, thought him a crazed fanatic. Though the priest said de Nore had a way with people and seemed to think he might have had a larger following than they thought."

"Priest?" Bede asked, looking incredulous.

"I'm afraid so," Airich answered. "And actually, it gets worse. One of them, called Philip, is a member of the Purple Guard."

"Sweet Jesu," Elspeth muttered. She selected several small wing bones, fashioning a cross above one of the "cells", and in reverse, a sword above another one.

"The priest, Jacob, is a Professor of Law at the University," Edwin added.

Amy nodded. "I recognized him from our visit to the library."

Bede was shaking his head. "So who is the third leader? Someone from the King's personal guard?"

"Nothing quite that bad, at least as far as we know," Airich replied. "It was Edwin who recognized him."

"I've seen him at the better taverns," Edwin provided. "He is older than the others, well-dressed and probably wealthy. I've never met him, but his name is Marcus."

"Perhaps a merchant?" Amy asked and Edwin shrugged.

"However, there is worse news," Airich said somberly. "Philip, the member of the Purple Guard, knows that we have changed our lodgings and are hidden away in the Crafting district. He thinks his people will locate us soon. Marcus is curious about a woman who hides under her hood, and has one of his spies trying to get a better glimpse of her."

Elspeth instinctively reached behind to pull up the hood that wasn't there. For a moment, she had trouble concentrating on Airich's words. Amy squeezed her arm.

"Henry Steinmeister told us his leader was named Jacob, though he had never seen him," Bede said thoughtfully. "It would appear the priest sent Henry the note Edwin found."

"Philip has definite influence within the group." Airich looked at each of them in turn. "He wants us to be kept off track and away from the group. His exact words were Diversion or Death, I honestly don't care."

Elspeth suddenly swept the bones off the table and onto the floor. "A priest from the university, a member of the Purple Guard, an untouchable son of the Magistrate, and a possible wealthy merchant with spies. I honestly have no idea how we are to proceed from here!" she declared.

[Bynw]

"Attempts to remove the usurpers have failed all but one-time on the battlefield. And then it was the cursed Deryni using foul magics along with steel and horses against the unsuspecting armies of Gwynedd."

"We cannot use that tactic now and it has failed again and again since the usurpers have acquired their own hell-spawn magic."

"No, the taking of Gwynedd must be done in another way."

The King in Exile looks about at the priests and men before him as he pauses in his speech.

"You have all been there. You have all seen the tactics of the usurpers army. We do not have an army large enough or strong enough to defeat them."

"Even with those Human lords that would support us, it is not enough!"

"In what way your Majesty?" A bishop asks. "Without an army it would be impossible for you to take the crown that is rightfully yours."

"The usurpers have used an army to defend the crown that they have stolen. But they have never used an army to take the crown."

"We will use the usurpers own tactics. Guile, treachery, deceit, trickery, and assassins and thieves if need be. These are tools we must employ. Despite the lack of honor it entails. It is the only way."

The King in Exile looks down at a map around the council chambers. "And we must conquer Rhemuth Castle while the usurper and his heirs are there."

Looking up again the men before him. "Make your plans. We will crush them when the least expect it. When the usurper hold his Christmas Court."

[Nezz]

"My dearest Elspeth," Airich exclaimed, forgetting the formality of titles they'd discussed earlier. "We have no cause to sink into despair yet. They may have numbers on their side, but we have information. We know who they are. They don't know that. And we know that they know of us and that we have taken new lodgings. They also don't know that."

Airich used his drained ale cup to fish the silver button from the bottom of the silver bowl, then proceeded to fill their likewise-drained cups with the fine Vezairi port. He held up the button. "Gentles," he said, "I drink to this silver button, which gave its life that we might learn from the enemies of Grecotha."

"Hear, hear!" Amy was the first to step forward for a cup of the wine, and helped pass out the rest of the cups. They all drank of the port, some chuckling at the idea that it was the button that laid down its life for their cause.

Amy did not normally drink, but this tingle through her from earlier had not completely dissipated. She hoped the wine would settle her nerves. The others topped off their cups as she waited, then she lifted hers high. "I offer a toast to everyone here, for getting us through last night, and today, without dying. I swear by my mother's grave that I surely thought someone would need to be buried in all that insanity. Muirea, you really did frighten me, and then Bede, I was truly worried over your arrows, were they cursed? But I am glad to find they were not and your aim is true.  Edwin... friendship," she said to him with a shrug over that kiss. She wouldn't forget it, but knew it was nothing more. "Speth, as always, you have my devotion. Sir Airich..." Amy let the word hang, said nothing, and then lowered her port to her lips and tried not to shiver while drinking it down. The wine did not seem to settle her nerves.

Amy caught Airich's playful smile as he spoke up again. "But we can't forget the woman who organized last night's clever button-stealing plan while I... er... slept." He took her empty hand and lifted it high as he pulled her towards him, rotating her in a slow pirouette until she found herself nestled against him, his hand around her waist. "I'd warned her away from this plan, as she, being Deryni, was potentially in more danger than the rest. But she took the risk the same as the others, for the sake of this button. I lift my cup to you, Mistress Amy." He took another drink, then kissed her on both cheeks before releasing her, his fingertips trailing down her hip before they fell away.

Laughing, Muirea asked, "Sir Airich, have you been sneaking into the port while the rest of us weren't looking? You seem to be quite firmly in your cups."

"I am completely sober, I swear this unto you," Airich said, hand over heart. "But it's true, I have often, in the past, become giddy after performing this sort of magic. There is much power in this kind of ritual, and I find it intoxicating." He looked to the other four who'd been more intimately involved. "Did you all feel it? When you summoned your wards?"

"I certainly felt something," Elspeth said. "I felt as if I were caught up in a rushing whirlwind that threatened to carry me away. But I didn't feel I was in any danger. In fact, I felt safe and protected."

"Yes, that's much as I feel when I've summoned Raphael in the past." Airich nodded. "And Bede? Did you burn with the need to protect those you watch over?"

"I wouldn't really call it 'burning,'" Bede scratched his nose and took another drink. "But I noticed it seemed to be warmer of a sudden. And not a too-stuffy warmth, but comforting, like fire on a cool evening."

Airich smiled in satisfaction and closed his eyes. He took in a deep breath. "You begin to see now what it truly means to be Deryni." He motioned with his left hand, and the flames on several of the candles suddenly grew several inches higher. "The flame... the lights..." He made a gesture with his right hand, and a pale blue handfire appeared in his palm; he ignored the gasps of those who had never seen any physical manifestation of his magic. "Even controlling the words and actions of another. They're parlor tricks compared to the true power of several Deryni, united as one, to accomplish a righteous goal." He opened his eyes again and looked at his friends. "There's nothing else in the world as breathtaking."

"But what about accomplishing an unrighteous goal?" Bede said. "I've heard rumors of unholy weather-workings powerful enough to destroy an army."

"Well. That's when you end up with Willimites," Airich said. "Unfortunately, Deryni are like all the rest of mankind, and some are evil as well as good."

"But when Deryni become evil, the consequences are much greater," Elspeth said.

"They are, but so it is when they are good," Airich exclaimed. "We've proved that today. If I were in charge—" He stopped and took another drink. "If King Kelson made me his Minister of Deryni Affairs, I would gather together all the Deryni in the kingdom. I would work with the greatest Deryni masters we have, and we would create a ritual which would allow us to turn everyone in the entire kingdom into a Deryni. Then we wouldn't need Willimites, because these former Humans would no longer have to be afraid of what Deryni could do to them, because they'd know how to defend themselves, and everyone would finally be equal."

"That's quite the ambitious plan," Edwin said. "Is that even possible?"

"To make everyone in the kingdom Deryni? No. To make individuals Deryni? It's possible. I don't know the procedure, but I know it can be done."

"And if some people didn't want to be Deryni?" Edwin pressed.

Airich shrugged. "We wouldn't tell them," he finally answered. "We know that people can spend their entire lives being Deryni and unaware of it." His eyes rested on Amy again. "But it's just a dream. While I'm dreaming, I'll also wish for all the women to be as pretty as Amy."

There was silence as Human and Deryni alike considered what a kingdom full of Deryni might look like, then Edwin said, "What I want to know is: does the king really have a Ministry of Deryni Affairs, and what is in this port?"

"Oh, I should have mentioned about the port," Airich said. "It was imbued with magic, and most of that was dispelled with the spell, but it still has the tiniest bit of residual energy. It can affect the taste. And the potency.

"But it's not harmful, promise. Back at the schola, most scrying spells were done with inked water. But those few times we students were allowed to use wine, there was no chance that we'd let it go to waste. So, for me, I guess, it's just habit to drink to a successful casting or commiserate over a failed one. Whichever applies."

"Well, I like it!" Bede announced, dipping himself another cupful. "So it's not a Vezairi '59, it's still a damn sight better than the foul stuff I've been drinking for the past few years. So I drink to you, Sir Knight. There's something profoundly unknightly about ye at times, but I trust that part more than I trust the part that came from your knight-training."

They drank, and Bede continued. "In fact, I'd say all ye Deryni are fine folk in my book." He pointed a finger at Edwin. "Border scribe, I'd say ye've outdone yerself lately. Those leaders of the university, they need to stand you up in the cathedral to give one of yer speeches, that would stop the Willimite problem like nothing else could. And you, Mistress Amy... if ye've the stomach for the dungeons and darkness, the two of us could go into business as Truthfinders."

Amy hastily wiggled her hand in a thorough refute to this idea.

"And Mistress Elspeth... I have the utmost respect for ye, but I have to tell you that your eyes are lovely. Both of them." And now he turned to the red-headed Mearan. "But there's none so fair as you, mah oldest friend. Strike this stone with yon crook and you will find... wine."

Muirea giggled at him. "Somebody hand me a rod and I'll see what I can do."

"I'll do you one better than that," Edwin said. He took her cup from her and filled it from the rapidly diminishing silver bowl. He returned it to her with a bow. "The Deryni comes through with a potent magic, m'lady." He then turned to Elspeth, hand out to collect her cup. "May I refill your cup as well, Mistress?"

"I think that cup may be a bit too potent," Elspeth said and moved toward Amy and Airich, who'd somehow found another excuse to get their arms around each other.  "No more for me, I think." She reached Amy and offered her the rest of the port in her cup.  As Amy reached out to accept it, Elspeth took the opportunity to disengage her friend from Airich's obviously comfortable embrace. "My apologies, Sir Airich, but I must borrow Amy for a short while."