But though Michon had feared that the change of seating arrangement might stymie any chance of success in the true purpose of his presence, he found his opportunity later that evening when, after supper in the refectory with the rest of the close family and friends invited to stay the night, he chanced to be walking in the cloister garden. After pausing to chat briefly with Sir Kenneth Morgan and his daughter — and Lady Alyce de Corwyn, in whose presence he kept himself carefully shielded — he noticed three dark heads clustered somewhat conspiratorially in a sheltered corner of the garden, one of their owners poking at something on the ground. Wandering closer, he saw that the object of their interest was a very small, very dead bird — a swallow, by the look of it, not yet fully fledged.
«What a pity», he said, as he crouched down casually among them. «What do you suppose happened?»
There in the convent garden, none of the three showed any sign of wariness, for they had seen Michon in the church, sitting behind Krispin's mother, and knew he was kin to one of the nuns.
«I think he falled out of his nest», said Prince Brion, who was senior of the three both by age and by rank. Under the eaves above them, Michon could see the bulges of several tiny nests plastered close against the rafters.
«But, why didn't he fly?» Blaine said plaintively.
«Because his wings are too small», Brion replied, grasping the tips of both tiny wings and stretching them out to display their juvenile state. «See, they're only little. But I think he was going to be a swallow, like those up there».
He glanced upward at a nest tucked up under the eaves, with several little heads looking down at them with beady little eyes. Nearby, several adult swallows were clinging to precarious toeholds amid the ends of the rafters, heads swiveling to watch them.
«I see more babies up there!» Blaine cried.
At the same time, Brion started to turn the bird over for a closer look at the markings on its throat, but Krispin recoiled, wrinkling up his nose in disgust.
«Ugh, it's got crawly things on it! Leave it alone!»
Brion abandoned the bird at once, wiping both hands against his crimson tunic, and Blaine hastily backed off a step, lower lip a-quiver. He collided with the crouching Michon, who slipped a comforting arm around him and also took the opportunity to do the same to Krispin.
«It's all right, son. That's part of nature's way», he said, reassuring young Blaine and, at the same time, quickly daring a very gentle touch of the other boy's mind — and then a deeper probe, when the first touch seemed not to be noticed. «Do you think we ought to bury him?»
«That's a good idea», Brion said. Already showing signs of leadership, he immediately started to scoop out a suitable hole with his bare hands.
«Maybe he's just sleeping», young Blaine said hopefully, as he watched his brother dig.
«No, I'm afraid he's dead, son», Michon replied.
«But — why did he falled out of the nest?» Blaine insisted. «Why didn't the mama bird or the papa bird help him?»
«I'm sure they wanted to», Michon assured him, redirecting the boy's attention to the adult swallows watching from above. «I'm sure they're very sad. Don't you see them looking down at us? They're watching to make sure we take good care of their baby».
«Oh», said Blaine, apparently satisfied with this explanation.
«Shouldn't we wrap him in something soft then, before we bury him?» Krispin asked, turning to look at Michon. «I can get a handkerchief from Mama…».
«I have another idea», Michon replied, for he did not want the boy to go just yet. «Birds are nature's creatures. Why don't you line his little grave with leaves, or flower petals? That would make him a very soft bed».
«An' it will make him smell better, too!» Brion said, looking up with a pixie grin as he continued to scoop fresh earth. «Blaine, you go get some flowers».
As Blaine raced off to pillage the nearest rosebush, ruthlessly pulling off the heads of several blown blooms, Krispin glanced up again at Michon, still taking comfort from his embrace.
«You know a lot about birds, don't you, sir?» he asked.
«Well, I know a lot about a few things and a little about a lot of things», Michon admitted. «I do know that your particular bird would have grown up to be a very fine swallow. I love watching them wheel in the sun…».
And as Blaine returned and the three boys set about shredding roses and lining the little grave, Michon continued to crouch among them to encourage and advise — and was able to probe undetected into young Krispin's mind, discovering most of what he had come there to learn.
Chapter 12
«Thy men shall fall by the sword, and thy mighty in the war».[13]
I've finally managed a look at Krispin MacAthan», Michon announced to the Camberian Council a few days later, accessing their meeting place from the Portal at Rhemuth Cathedral. «I cannot tell you for certain that he is Donal Haldane's son; but I can tell you that I do not believe Sief can have been his father».
After deflecting their startled flurry of questions and demands for clarification, he reached his arms to either side to link hands with Barrett and Vivienne, flanking him left and right, and waited while the others did likewise, drawing them quickly into a deep rapport that enabled them to share what he had learned. When they came out of the trance, his fellow councilors glanced uneasily among themselves, uncertain what it all meant.
«Far more useful, of course, would have been to question Jessamy directly», Michon reminded them. «Krispin himself knows nothing of the man whose name he bears, save what he has been told. And if Donal Haldane is his father, I still have no idea how that came to pass».
«In the usual way, one would assume», Oisín murmured, in a droll aside to Seisyll.
«Whatever his paternity», Michon went on, ignoring the remark, «we are fortunate, indeed, that Krispin MacAthan — or Krispin Haldane, as he probably should be called — exhibits none of the worrying characteristics that made his grandfather so dangerous. Nor does he seem to favor his mother, in that regard. If anything, he somewhat reminds me of Morian — who will need to be told that he need not pursue our previous request», he added, with a glance at Oisín. «All things considered, his Deryni heritage, combined with whatever it is that makes the Haldanes so curiously formidable, seems to have produced a child of quite interesting potential».
Dominy raised an elegant eyebrow. «Pray, define 'interesting, in this context», she said.
Several of them smiled ruefully at that, and Michon shrugged. «The boy is only three. If we cannot bend him to our purposes, he can always be eliminated later on. But this one bears watching, I think. Actually, the boy is nearly of an age to begin his training as a page — which means that he will be far more accessible in the future. Accordingly, it might be profitable for Seisyll to watch for opportunities to gain his friendship».
«I have been doing that for the past three years», Seisyll replied, «but it is true that he should become more accessible in the future. And it's a relief to know that we need make no immediate decisions».
«There is another decision that will require our attention sooner rather than later», Michon went on. «I saw Keryell's girls while I was at Arc-en-Ciel. They've both become quite the beauties».
«Probably as well, then, that they are locked away in a convent for now», Dominy said mildly. «What are they now? Maybe fifteen or so?»
«Fourteen and fifteen», Barrett replied. «Ripe enough for marriage».