Of course, Megan's son would be another heir for Gwynedd-and G.o.d knew, they needed another. But thought of his own son brought a tremor of excitement to Rhys's mind whenever he thought about him. In fact, he sometimes found it difficult to reconcile his own joyous wonderment with the utter calm and serenity which Evaine increasingly displayed. Her entire outlook took on a mellowness which was quite alien to the Evaine Rhys knew so well. Even Joram ceased the occasional sharp comments which he and his sister had sometimes exchanged in the past.

Camber, too, noticed the change in his daughter, and the corresponding change it wrought in Rhys and Joram. He cherished his time with Evaine and tried to be a sounding board for both his sons' wonder, helping his daughter ease into this new phase of her life and becoming less demanding of her time as the child within her grew. Many hours they spent together, father and daughter, sometimes translating the ancient records and discussing what they had found, speculating on the enigmatic ward cubes, but more often simply relaxing in each other's minds.

Together they explored the implications of the role Camber had chosen to a.s.sume. The matter of sainthood they especially considered, not only from its impact on Gwynedd's future but from its possible effect on Camber himself. Almost, they could justify the public side-if not to Joram's satisfaction, at least to their own. But Camber continued to brood on the inner morality, and what effect the common acclamation of Camber as saint might have on the living Camber's mind. There was simply no way of knowing. He hoped they would never have to know.

Cinhil's absence allowed them far greater freedom than they would have had, to meet and plan and try to decide what to do. Little by little, pieces-of information did begin to sift together.

For example, through a chance encounter with Dom Emrys, the abbot of the Order of Saint Gabriel, who had come to court to complain of encroachments on the Order's fields near Saint Neot's, Camber learned that Queron Kinevan had left the Gabrilite Order in April. Emrys seemed still to be surprised at this, for the Healer-priest had held an enviable reputation both in his community and in the secular world. Emrys could offer no explanation as to why Queron had left or where he had gone.

From another source, Rhys discovered that Queron had been involved in the purchase of a partially fortified and much ruined manor called Dolban, which lay on the road which ran northeast out of Valoret along the river toward Caerrorie. Further investigation revealed only that Dom Queron had been seen in the area once or twice, no longer wearing the white robes of his former Order, and that extensive building activity was now being carried on behind the restored walls of Castle Dolban.

That last fascinated Camber, for he could not imagine where Queron had gotten the money to pursue such a project, the priest having previously sworn vows of poverty to his Order; but increasing pressures at court prevented him from pursuing the investigation overmuch. Even though Cinhil was still in Kheldour, and not expected back until mid- September, the council-or such of it as was in residence-was required to meet twice weekly and send detailed reports to the king. The queen was increasingly unable to sit through the meetings, her time coming due about the same time that Cinhil was expected home; and Anscom, who had always handled a great portion of the ecclesiastical liaison, had suffered recurrent illnesses throughout the summer, and was more often absent than present.

As the archbishop's condition worsened, Camber felt obliged to spend more and more time at his side, not out of duty, but out of genuine affection. The long years of battling a recalcitrant digestive system had finally taken their toll on the aging prelate. Even so skilled a Healer as Rhys could do little other than to ease Anscom's discomfort-and that, Camber could do as well as he, and Anscom preferred Camber's touch.

Accordingly, and at the insistence of Anscom, Camber sent Rhys and Joram out, ostensibly to visit Caerrorie but in fact to survey the situation at Dolban. They camped near the manor for nearly a week in mid-August, disguised as itinerant merchants, observing the comings and goings of various workmen and questioning those they dared.

They learned that the manor had been bought through a factor named John, who had paid in gold. A bailiff named Thomas now paid the laborers and dealt with the villagers who brought increasing amounts of supplies for the manor's upkeep. For the gold and silver which the bailiff dispersed, the peasants were asked not to talk about what they saw inside-though, under Rhys and Joram's careful prodding, some allowed as how the buildings looked like monastic ones. Certainly, the manor's old chapel had been restored and, some said, greatly enlarged. Vast amounts of fine-cut stone and timber had been brought through the gates at midsummer, and one old carpenter told of a great statue of a hooded man which stood close beside the new rose-marble altar.

If there was a master of the place, then it was surely the small, wiry man in gray robes who sometimes walked the rampart walls at night. The man's description fit Queron to perfection, right down to the fat reddish-brown Gabrilite braid hanging down his back.

Rhys and Joram never saw him themselves, but the man they had Truth-Read for the information could not have lied. Queron was surely at Dolban.

In a last effort to gain more insight before returning to report to Camber and Anscom, the two paid a quick, nighttime visit to Caerrorie to check on the tomb. Elinor was away for the present, gone with her new husband and the two boys to visit her new in-laws; but Umphred, Caerrorie's old bailiff, admitted the two young men quite readily.

Yes, visitors had continued to pray at the dead master's tomb, Umphred told them. And many left gifts of flowers and prayers still. He even took them there, through the secret pa.s.sage which had always connected the family chapel with the main house. But no one had approached the young master Davin's mother with any proposals to build a shrine, so far as Umphred knew. Nor had anything been changed about the tomb itself. Did Father Joram and Lord Rhys really think their father had been a saint?

They never did get to check the actual tomb closely, though Umphred insisted that it had been undisturbed. On their way back to Valoret, close by the road from Caerrorie, they found several illicit Camberian shrines, evidently erected by the common folk, who had good reason to remember their late lord with love; and they brought back several copies of prayers and devotions to "Saint Camber" which had been left there and in the chapel near the tomb.

But, again, it was impossible to determine from this slender evidence whether these were isolated items or part of an organized movement. The hand on several of the prayers looked a great deal like Guaire's, but Camber himself could not be sure. Too many others had handled the parchment, and Guaire's hand was not particularly distinctive.

Nor did Camber have a chance to pursue the matter further, for on the night of the first of September, Anscom of Trevas died in his arms-the culmination of several months of worsening bouts with nausea and loss of weight and finally vomiting of blood. He died peacefully enough, under the circ.u.mstances, suffering no pain under the relieving hands of his Deryni comforters; but they could not cure him.

Camber, as Bishop of Grecotha, celebrated Anscom's Requiem Ma.s.s-one of the most difficult things he had ever had to do. It had not been deemed meet, in that hot and humid September weather, to delay burial until the king might return; even a preserving spell had time limitations. So Anscom was laid away in a vault beneath the cathedral floor but two days after his death.

More momentous to Gwynedd than Anscom's funeral, however, which had not been entirely unexpected in light of the archbishop's known failing health, was the election of his successor. The unanimous choice, with some reservations, was one Jaffray of Carbury.

Jaffray, one of Gwynedd's six itinerant bishops, and a former member of the Gabrilite Order, had been under consideration for a t.i.tled see for some time, being Deryni and moderate in his politics and a man in whom even humans placed a great deal of trust. He had been very popular all through the Purple March, which was his current a.s.signment.

He seemed to have a knack for bringing together dissident factions-a not-unwelcome talent for the years ahead.

Unfortunately, Anscom had not necessarily been considering Jaffray for Valoret, since, if he must predecease Camber, he had hoped to ease his friend's burden by nominating someone in whom Camber could confide his true ident.i.ty. Any other arrangement might open the way for the Servants of Saint Camber to press their suit, if the new archbishop did not know why it should be denied.

But any other candidates Anscom might have considered grooming for the primacy were years away from having the necessary experience for so critical a position, and Anscom had simply run out of time. One absolute requirement for any successor was that the man be Deryni. Under no circ.u.mstances would Anscom surrender the primate's chair to any human priest, no matter how otherwise qualified. The survival of his people might one day hinge on the strong intervention of a Deryni advocate in Valoret.

And so Anscom had ended up choosing Jaffray by default: Jaffray, who was at least Deryni and otherwise qualified, but who could not be relied upon as a confidant for Camber. In the final week before his death, Anscom sent the name of his nominee to Cinhil in Kheldour. By the time Cinhil's approval came back, Anscom was dead. Archbishop Oriss of Rhemuth convened the Council of Bishops and presented the name of Anscom's nominee. When he announced that King Cinhil had approved, the bishops also approved.

Camber had some doubts, for the same reasons as Anscom, of this man whom he did not know, either as Camber or as Alister-but he had no alternative suggestions, so he, too, must say "yea" with all the rest. And because Jaffray did not and must not know of Alister Cullen's true ident.i.ty-both Camber and Anscom had feared Jaffray's and Queron's former ties with the Gabrilites-he would not know to be wary of the Servants of Saint Camber, whenever they might rear their heads. Camber dared not tell him .

Nothing untoward happened during the first week of Jaffray's tenure. No one came to court from Dolban; and once the king returned, both to mourn Anscom and to recognize Gwynedd's new primate, normal activities of the court quickly resumed. For the next few weeks, Camber was so caught up in a succession of meetings and conferences with Cinhil that he almost forgot to worry.

Megan's son was born in late September-named Rhys, for the Healer who had brought him safely into the world-and Cinhil, pleased at the new baby's perfect form and health, declared a week of celebration. Megan recovered much more quickly than after the previous birth, and seemed to thrive on Cinhil's mere presence in the same city again. The new little prince grew stronger with each pa.s.sing day.

It was more than a month after Anscom's death that the new archbishop summoned his first consistory, bidding the attendance of as many of his brother bishops and masters of religious orders as could attend. Their meeting place was the same chapter house where Camber had first faced the Michaelines as Alister Cullen-only now Camber sat as only one of eight bishops present, in the last of three episcopal chairs to Jaffray's left, not Chancellor of Gwynedd within these walls, but Bishop of Grecotha only, and junior to every other prelate present.

Joram sat behind and slightly to his left on a backless stool. Each bishop was ent.i.tled to a single attendant, and Joram was Alister Cullen's logical choice, as confidental secretary.

But other than Joram, there was not one man in the chamber whom Camber had known before he became Alister Cullen.

The morning session went routinely enough. During the first hour, Archbishop Jaffray received the homage and credentials of those abbots and priors who had been unable, for one reason or another, to attend his enthronement a few weeks earlier. After that, following a short address in which Jaffray outlined his expectations for his tenure, he invited preliminary discussion of possible successors to the bishopric left vacant by his election to the See of Valoret.

Camber listened a great deal and said little. The entire morning was quite uneventful. At noon, the entire company adjourned for a light midday meal.

But the afternoon session held a different promise, which Camber noticed soon after he reentered the chapter house following their break. It was not immediately apparent as he crossed the tiled floor, for he was initially absorbed in a merry conversation with the wire- thin Bishop Eustace, who sat next to him and could make light of almost anything. Joram followed a few respectful steps behind, chatting casually with Eustace's secretary.

However, as Camber took his seat, still chuckling at one of Eustace's wry comments, he made an automatic scan of the room and realized that the chamber was nearly filled to capacity, where there had been only half that number in the morning. Men in the habits of most of the great orders of Gwynedd were crowded onto the tiered seats behind the thrones of his colleagues, white and brown and black and burgundy and blue among the purple of the bishops. Crevan Allyn and a handful of his Michaelines had slipped into places on the first level, directly behind Bishop Dermot O'Beirne. On the second tier, closer to the dais, sat Dom Emrys and a score of Gabrilite priests.

Camber had just glanced behind him to confirm that a similar array of clergy lined his side of the round hall when the archbishop's chamberlain rapped on the floor with his iron-shod staff for silence. All came to their feet as Archbishops Jaffray and Oriss entered and took their places on the dais.

As the room settled down again, Camber saw Jebediah slip in and join Crevan and the other Michaelines, strangely wearing the garb of only an ordinary Michaeline knight-no badge of his secular office. Jebediah flashed what Camber took to be a curious glance in Camber's direction; but before Camber could speculate on his meaning, the chamberlain was rapping for attention again, his voice strong in the silence which his staff commanded.

"Your Grace, Reverend Lords, brethren of a new religious order beg leave to present a pet.i.tion."

An icy chill slid down Camber's spine as the great doors swung back, and suddenly he knew, beyond any doubting, just who was about to enter.

He felt Joram stiffen and mentally bristle beside him as a gray-robed Queron Kinevan strode slowly into the chamber, flanked by several other gray robes whom Camber had never seen before-and Guaire of Arliss.

Now Camber knew where Queron had gotten the money for his building project at Dolban, and what that project must be. How could he have forgotten that Guaire was wealthy in his own right?

He watched with curious detachment as Queron paused in the precise center of the chamber to bow deeply, hands folded piously out of sight in deep sleeves, then approached the dais to kiss Jaffray's ring. The former Gabrilite nodded respectfully to Dom Emrys as he straightened from his obeisance to the archbishop and backed off a few paces. Behind him, Queron's companions sank to their knees and bowed their heads. Several, including Guaire, wore the beginnings of a Gabrilite-style braid like Queron's.

Joram caught his breath and sat forward in horrified fascination as Queron withdrew a scroll from his sleeve and began to unroll it. Without betraying all, there was nothing he or his father could do to stop Queron Kinevan.

"My Lord Archbishop, worthy Reverend Fathers, I will speak plain," Queron said, glancing at his scroll and then letting the hand which held it fall to his side. "I and my brothers seek your blessing to form a new religious community, dedicated to the service of a yet-unrecognized saint. We have already established his first shrine at our monastery of Dolban, and would build a second here in the cathedral where his body once lay.

Eventually, we would have his burial place enshrined as well, so that all may visit his relics and benefit from his sanct.i.ty. To that end, we here present formal pet.i.tion for the canonization of the late Earl of Culdi, Camber MacRorie."

There was an instant of total silence as the sense of Queron's words penetrated, and then the hall erupted in excited exclamation. Joram came to his feet almost involuntarily, his anguished "No!" drowned out in the din but stated all the more emphatically by his stricken expression.

Attention started to shift from Queron to Joram, for most present knew who Joram was, but Queron was determined to retain the advantage he had gained by speaking first. He had known Joram would be an opponent. Moving a step closer to the episcopal dais, he brandished his scroll to catch their gaze once more, his voice rising above Joram's protest and even overpowering the clergy's voices.

"Your Grace, I beseech you, may I speak?" he shouted. "I beg leave to present our case without interference. I a.s.sure you that it cannot be refuted!"

As discussion subsided and seats were resumed, Queron swept his audience with his hard Deryni glance and lowered his scroll, once more in command. Joram stood mute and pale before the older man's gaze, one hand clenched white-knuckled on a finial of Camber's high-backed chair. Camber dared not react as Queron measured his son.

"I thank you, my lords," Queron finally said, in a normal conversational tone, turning his attention back to Jaffray. "Your Grace, may I now proceed?"

Jaffray, who alone of the bishops had not joined in the excited reaction to Queron's p.r.o.nouncement, sat back thoughtfully in his throne, one ringed hand absently stroking his chin as his eyes flicked from Queron to Joram, then to Camber.

"Please ask your secretary to be seated, Bishop Cullen. We know Dom Queron, and will hear his pet.i.tion."

Robert Oriss, seated to Jaffray's right, leaned closer to his colleague, to speak without taking his eyes from the stunned Joram.

"The young man is Lord Camber's son, Your Grace. Are you aware of that?"

"I have been so informed," Jaffray replied, not unkindly. "Regardless of that fact, I must ask him to hold his peace until Dom Queron has elaborated. Please be seated, Father MacRorie. You will be given ample opportunity to speak later on."

At Camber's touch on his elbow, Joram sank slowly back to his stool, to perch on the edge with taut attention. In vain Camber tried to breach the wall of his son's resistance, not daring to maintain the physical contact or the force necessary to insist upon the communication. Perhaps later. However he did it, he must be certain that Joram did not overreact. They dared not risk the slightest slip under Queron's perceptive gaze.

With a slight sigh, Camber half rose to bow slightly in Jaffray's direction.

"My pardon for him,. Your Grace. My secretary is young and overwrought. I shall try to see that it does not happen again."

"We shall thank you for it," Jaffray replied. He returned his gaze to Queron. "You have our leave to speak now, Dom Queron. Please continue."

Queron bowed, rerolling the scroll he had used with such effectiveness a few minutes before. He still had not disclosed its contents. Perhaps it was only a stage prop, at that.

Whatever, it had served its purpose even if it was blank. Camber wondered which other of the vast Deryni a.r.s.enal of persuasion Queron would use next.

Feigning only dutiful interest, and a little concern for the young priest crouched miserably beside him, Camber settled back in one of Alister Cullen's favorite poses of stone-faced concentration, fingers steepled so that the hands could rise casually to mask his expression if necessary, no line of his body betraying his inner tension. He watched Queron pivot gracefully to scan his audience, the scroll tap-tapping lightly against a tapering hand as the rapier mind weighed their emotions. With his first words, rea.s.suring, confidential, the a.s.sembly began visibly to relax.

"Your Grace, learned Fathers, Reverend Lords. For those who may not know me, I am Queron Kinevan, Healer and sometime priest of the Order of Saint Gabriel. Healer I am still, and priest also; but as you can see, my garb proclaims me no longer Gabrilite. There is a reason for that. Not a failing of my old Order, which I shall always cherish." Here he bowed slightly to Dom Emrys. "Rather, a calling to another task which is for me and, I believe, for Gwynedd a more important one. I hope to help you understand the reasons for my change of heart, and to enlist your support."

He drew a leisurely breath as his audience settled down to listen.

"As all are aware, the Earl of Culdi was slain in battle last year. More precisely, Camber MacRorie was slain: a gentle and pious man, as all do know; the restorer of our gracious king-long may he reign; the Defender of Humankind, as many do call him now, and with just cause-for he fell defending all of us from the Festillic destroyers.

"He was cut down in the fullness of his service to this land-cut down long before his work could come to full fruition. But as we believe now, who call ourselves his Servants, he was not content to leave us with his work thus unfulfilled, and with this land in danger. He died in body, but he is not gone! His hand is still felt upon this land and upon its people, to the greater good of all of us. To a certain few, he has even spoken directly, giving guidance and promise of hope, when all earthly comfort had failed; even giving the gift of healing in his miracles."

He had them now, and knew it. He let his volume drop to a barely audible level and watched all present hush and catch their breath to hear him better. Camber, forefingers absently stroking his nose to hide his growing apprehension, knew the awful stomach- churn of fear as he wondered at Queron's reference to healing.

Could Queron know of Cinhil's experience?

"I spoke to one such man last spring," Queron continued. "He is in this room today."

Camber allowed himself to relax slightly; Cinhil was not present. "He told me of a miracle: how Blessed Camber came to him as though in a dream-but it was not a dream! Those of you who know me or my reputation will believe me, I hope, when I say that I have questioned this man closely, to the fullest extent of my abilities- and I am convinced that the Blessed Camber did appear to him as he describes. This I shall demonstrate. Nor is he the only unimpeachable witness to similar events."

There: another possible reference to Cinhil-for who else involved in what had happened was truly unimpeachable? And Cinhil's testimony was by far the more dangerous of the two.

"But I believe that the evidence will speak for itself, Reverend Fathers. I believe that Camber MacRorie has been given G.o.d's grace to continue his work upon this land, even in death. I believe that this august a.s.sembly will have no choice, in the end, but to declare Camber MacRorie among the blessed, and a saint.

"If I offend any with my plainness, I apologize."

As he bowed his head, to all outward appearances spent for the moment-though Camber knew that he was just beginning-there was an instant of profound silence and then an incoherent murmur as the a.s.sembled bishops and clergy conferred among themselves. Jaffray let them go for several minutes before holding up a hand for silence, which was immediately given.

"We thank you, Dom Queron. Father MacRorie, do you wish to make a statement before Dom Queron begins presenting his evidence?"

Joram stood slowly, tearing his gaze upward to meet Jaffray's. He had permitted his father's mental touch during the last minutes of Queron's impa.s.sioned plea, and given rea.s.surance that he would not betray their cause. Still, he felt bound in conscience to tell as much of the truth as possible without endangering the man for whose sake he had already compromised so much for love.

"Your Grace, I loved my father," he said steadily. "I loved him, and still do, more than I can say." He glanced at the floor, his mind once more closed to Camber's, then looked up at Jaffray again. "But he was a man, like other men: gentle and pious, as Dom Queron has said; a loving father, a wise counselor- gifted beyond the ken even of most others of our race. He sacrificed much to accomplish what he believed in, and was content to pay the price because he loved this land and its king-perhaps too much.

"But he was no saint. I only hope I may persuade you that he would be horrified if he knew what went on beneath this roof!"

With a sigh, Jaffray looked at Queron again. Jaffray was a handsome man for his years, his dark Gabrilite braid hardly touched by gray, but in the past minutes he had aged a great deal as he realized the extent of Joram's opposition. As Queron looked up, hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back, Jaffray frowned and tapped his bishop's ring against his teeth several times. The archbishop was clearly considering what to do next.

"Dom Queron," he said, after another sigh, "I am constrained to remind these reverend Fathers that you and I were ever friends and brothers when I was yet a Gabrilite, and that I want very much to believe what my friend and brother has just told this august a.s.sembly- though I should point out that I, like they, am hearing your testimony for the first time.

However, I must also recognize that the distinguished son of the man you seek to make a saint does not share your enthusiasm. Are you prepared to prove your contention with witnesses, as is the custom in such proceedings?"

"I am prepared, Your Grace."

"Very well. You have said that one such witness is present. I should like to hear his testimony. On that basis, we shall determine whether the case warrants further consideration. Is that agreeable to you.'"

Queron bowed.

"Good. Father MacRorie, you may be seated. I charge you to hold your peace until Queron's witness has had his say."

Nodding, unable to speak for sheer despair, Joram sank to his seat and leaned his head against the side of his father's chair. Once more the mental barriers fell, permitting Camber's cautious touch. As Camber slipped into his son's mind, soothing, thanking, rea.s.suring, Queron turned to face his still-kneeling brethren. Guaire rose as though on cue, the promptness of his response leading Camber to suspect that he and Queron were already bonded in some kind of magical rapport. Now they would see whether Queron was as skilled as his reputation would have him to be. From a purely objective stance, it would be interesting to learn how much Guaire remembered.

"Your Grace." Queron handed his scroll to one of the men still kneeling and bowed formally toward the archbishops' thrones. "I present Lord Guaire of Arliss, a great benefactor of our Order and, if Your Grace will permit it, soon to be one of the Servants of Saint Camber-for so we mean to call our company."

Jaffray gazed across at Guaire thoughtfully. "I have heard of your family, Guaire. You are not yet in holy orders?"

"No, Your Grace."

Taking in hand the jeweled pectoral cross which hung on his chest, Jaffray extended it toward Guaire.

"Guaire of Arliss, do you swear by this symbol of our faith and the holy relics it contains that the testimony which you are about to give shall be only the truth, fully cognizant of the consequences of perjury to your immortal soul?"

Guaire came forward to kiss the cross. "I swear it, so help me G.o.d."

At Jaffray's nod of approval, Guaire rose and backed into place at Queron's side, eyes downcast. Queron, hands clasped easily before him, nodded slightly to Jaffray again before glancing briefly at his audience.

"Guaire, please tell these Reverend Lords whether you have ever seen aught in this room before today- other than our brethren, of course."

"Yes, Dom Queron. I know Father Joram and Lord Jebediah-and Bishop Cullen, of course."

"Very good. In what capacity, please?"

"I was a friend of Father Joram's brother Cathan, before his death at the hands of King Imre. I worked with Father Joram and Lord Jebediah and the Bl- and the Lord Camber during the year before the Restoration. I was Lord Camber's squire after Cathan died - until his death. After that, I entered the service of Bishop Cullen."

"I see. And there is no one else here whom you have seen before?"

"Seen, yes. That was inevitable while I was in Bishop Cullen's service. But not to talk to. I was only a clark and sometime valet to His Grace of Grecotha."

"But you left Bishop Cullen's service. Why?"

Guaire studied the sandaled toes protruding from beneath his gray robe.