Brion shivered deliciously, though Richard looked thoughtful — and he was the one to be convinced, Kenneth realized, though the prince’s next comment suggested that he was not questioning the story.
«I didn’t teach you that», Richard muttered, «though it’s a good move. It would certainly stop a man quickly. Did you learn that in King Illann’s service?»
Jamyl only shrugged and lifted his cup to the royal duke in salute, then drank again, hoping the assumption would suffice.
«Humph», was all Richard said, though his tone was thoughtful and not at all suspicious. «I wonder if we’ll ever know who he was — or the other one, who was tossing lightning at us. The armor is Torenthi; at least the breast and back are. Very fine workmanship — and the other man’s sword is worth a small fortune. Someone is going to miss them…».
«Aye, and they’ll have friends», Kenneth said. «I’m sure the word will get out. Whoever they were, they were enemies of Gwynedd».
«Aye, that’s a certainty!» Richard retorted.
But Kenneth knew precisely who one of the dead men was, and by whom he had been sent, thanks to Jamyl — whose Deryni identity had been a complete surprise.
As for any connection between Jamyl and Sé Trelawney, other than their shared Deryni heritage…Kenneth took a long pull at his wine, well aware that Deryni were very good at keeping secrets.
They had considered leaving Jamyl behind for a day to rest with the monks, but he woke the next morning declaring that he was fit enough to travel. During the night, while checking on his wounded «associate» — who would always bear the scar of the day’s misadventure — he had also learned of another body found in the cathedral sacristy, armored like the man he had killed, and with not a mark upon him. Hearing that, he asked about the boy chorister who had taken ill before the ceremony; but the monks assured him that the boy had rejoined his choir immediately after Mass, long before trouble erupted. Jamyl suspected that the story’s full telling might only be revealed when he had talked to his brother, but he kept his suspicions to himself as he retired at last to his bed and a restless night’s sleep.
Thus reassured, he was, indeed, fit to travel the next day — and he was fit enough for other things as well. Before leaving for Rhemuth, Kenneth and Richard took the opportunity to interview all the remaining lancers, lest some remained under the influence of the mysterious attacker Jamyl had slain; but there were none. It was Jamyl who brought the men, one by one, into the room set aside for that purpose in the abbot’s apartments; but even the brief transit down the corridor to get there was sufficient for him to satisfy himself that no one else had been tainted.
Kenneth quietly accepted Jamyl’s subtle assistance, and managed to convey the impression to Brion and Richard that his confidence in the questioning was due entirely to the interrogation skills of Richard and himself.
Despite Jamyl’s protestations that he was fit, they spent three days traveling back to Rhemuth instead of two, though that still would leave them with nearly a fortnight before the coronation. They had sent a pair of lancers on ahead to advise the queen and crown council of their imminent arrival.
All of the royal household were there on the great hall steps to greet them as they rode into the castle yard, the queen coming right down onto the muddy forecourt to grasp at her son’s stirrup, clinging to him as he swung down to embrace her. Prince Nigel and the king’s two sisters were also waiting to greet them, and Brion spared each of them a hug and a few words of cheer before mounting the great hall steps to receive the welcomes and good wishes of his ministers of state.
Seeing Seisyll Arilan there among them, nodding greeting to his nephew as they all dismounted, reminded Kenneth that Seisyll, too, must be Deryni like his nephew, though he found himself taking comfort in the realization that at least one more Deryni secretly served the House of Haldane. He did not know whether Jamyl would tell his uncle of confiding in Kenneth Morgan — he hoped not. The elder Arilan had always made Kenneth vaguely uneasy, though he had chalked it up to personality differences; now he knew the real reason. But he also knew that he would do his utmost to protect both these courageous Deryni who were pledged, like him, to protect the king and the royal house of Gwynedd.
But there was one person missing from the welcome home, whose well-being now became Kenneth’s focused concern. The first thing he did, when he had seen his horse looked after and taken his leave of the king and Duke Richard, was to seek out his son.
Hurrying inside, he made his way down the great hall to the stairwell that led up to the apartment he had been assigned before the present mission. Sir Llion was waiting for him just at the entrance to that stairwell, with a small, towheaded boy in his charge. Young Alaric gave a squeal of joy as he saw his father, breaking away from Llion’s grasp to come racing across the stone flags as his father knelt on one knee to receive him.
«Papa! You’re back!» the boy cried, flinging himself into his sire’s embrace to shower him with kisses. «Papa, Papa!»
«I take it that you missed me», Kenneth replied, hugging the boy in return and glancing up as Llion sauntered nearer, smiling faintly. «Will Sir Llion tell me that you’ve been good?»
«Of course I have!» Alaric replied indignantly. «I promised Mama. And I can write all my letters now; Llion helped me practice. I can even read — well, some», he added, at Llion’s look askance.
«Well, then, you shall have to show me», Kenneth said, standing with the boy in his arms to exchange a handclasp with Llion.
As the two adults climbed the wide turnpike stair, Alaric riding happily in his father’s embrace, Llion gave a sketchy report of his young charge’s activities in Kenneth’s absence, and Kenneth, in turn, gave the young knight a bare-bones account of what had transpired when the new archbishop was enthroned.
«We got at least two of the instigators», Kenneth told Llion, «but it was a near-run thing. We have Master Jamyl’s clearheadedness partially to thank for it». He did not add that, without Jamyl’s assistance, both the king and his royal uncle might have returned from Valoret as the subjects of a funeral cortege, and that the nine-year-old Prince Nigel might now be King of Gwynedd.
The next days seemed to evaporate with little to show for them, as preparations for the coronation of Brion Haldane shifted into their final phases. A week before the scheduled coronation day, foreign emissaries and nobles from the outlying regions began to arrive, again swelling the city’s guest accommodations to near-capacity.
Visitors staying in the castle dined in the great hall every night, though the fare was far simpler than what would be provided on coronation day. Most evenings, the young king made a point of joining his guests, at least for a little while, always attended by Jamyl and with at least one crown counselor at his back. Usually, it was Kenneth.
Through all these days and nights, Kenneth often pondered the whys and wherefores by which both his and the king’s lives had been saved by the presence of an elusive Knight of the Anvil, who had been the childhood friend of Alyce de Corwyn Morgan, and who once had been a knight of Lendour.
It came as little surprise to Kenneth, then, that Sé Trelawney was present on coronation day as well, as the new archbishop crowned Brion Donal Cinhil Urien Haldane King of Gwynedd. Kenneth never saw him in the lead-up to the ceremony; but as Brion swore his coronation oath, right hand set upon Holy Writ, Sé was there in the background, the hood of his black mantle pushed back, standing with arms folded across the breast of his long black robe, just above the white slash of his knight’s belt.