"I said, I moved his body," Joram repeated, louder as he looked up into Jaffray's eyes.

"A convenient explanation," Dom Queron murmured, to Jaffray, but loud enough that everyone could hear it. "I trust that Father MacRorie can substantiate it."

"Well, Father?"

Joram swallowed and nodded, thinking fast. "It- was necessary, Your Grace. M-my father requested it."

"He requested it?" Jaffray gasped, obviously inferring a further miraculous occurrence.

"Before his death, Your Grace," Joram corrected hastily. "He-was concerned that when he died-and he realized that at nearly sixty, that might be sooner than he hoped, whether in battle or of some other cause-he was concerned that there might be-difficulties. He- feared that the tomb of any Deryni as well known and controversial as himself might be desecrated," he continued, gathering confidence as his explanation began to take more credible shape. "Perhaps he even feared the very sort of thing which is taking place here today, and did not wish his mortal remains to become a focal point for some well-meaning but illicit cult activity. I but followed his instructions," he ended lamely.

"And moved his body to another tomb." Jaffray nodded. "Which means, then, Father, that you can produce his body for this court?"

With a sinking feeling, Joram shook his head. He and Camber both knew that what remained of Alister Cullen's body no longer wore its previous disguise, and could be all too readily identified if it were subjected to the close scrutiny of a Deryni master such as Queron or Jaffray.

"No, Your Grace, I may not."

"Pray, why not? Or is it that you cannot?" Jaffray asked. "Is it because the body was never moved by you at all, and you can account for its absence no better than Dom Queron can?"

Before Joram could frame a reply, Queron seized the initiative.

"Your Grace, I fear that the good Father MacRorie is a victim of his own filial piety. I do not know why he is trying to deceive this court, though I believe it to be out of a genuine love for his father, whose sanct.i.ty he is disinclined to accept, for some reason known only to himself. But I say to him, either produce Camber's body or retract the story. I maintain that he cannot produce the body, because he did not know until a few minutes ago that it was gone!"

Joram bowed his head, unable to refute Queron's logic. To correct any of the misconceptions could ultimately betray all. He had already said too much. Even now, he was treading on the narrow edge of disobedience to his archbishop.

"Father, please be reasonable." Jaffray's tone was almost conciliatory. "For your sake, I want to believe you. I am not insensitive to what an emotional experience this must be for you. However, I cannot allow your personal sensitivities to interfere with the rightful business of this court. Will you submit to my Truth-Read, as Queron has done, if I agree to keep its results confidential as to details? This would also be useful for a future matter which I'm sure you are aware must eventually be brought before this court."

Joram could not help an involuntary gasp, now virtually certain that he was trapped.

Under no circ.u.mstances could he submit to Jaffray's Truth-Read, though it cost him his life! The removal of Alister's body, his part in the incident which Cinhil had witnessed- He did not care to think what might happen if Jaffray tried to force him to submit and he had to resist the Gabrilite-trained Deryni.

But as he opened his mouth to refuse, prepared to endure whatever consequences might befall as a result, Camber's presence surged into his mind with a force which made him stagger, hands clapped to his head in pain.

You are under a compulsion not to reveal my final resting place-which, of course, you do not know, since I am not yet dead, Camber's thought boomed in his mind. If Jaffray tries to force you, the attempt could shatter your mind. The compulsion is very strong. Tell him!

Groggily, still reeling a little from the force of the communication, Joram straightened to look at the archbishop again, grateful for the physical diversion, which had brought looks of alarm to the faces of Jaffray and Queron and everyone else watching. He could feel his father's support more pa.s.sively now, knew that Bishop Cullen was staring up at him with as much concern as anyone else in the chamber. He realized that Camber must have something in mind, but he did not know what it was. He must simply follow orders and trust that he would be guided to do the right thing.

"It-it seems that I may not permit your reading, Your Grace," he said, even his voice sounding a little shaken. "I have just been reminded quite painfully of certain-ah- compulsions placed upon me by my father not to reveal his final resting place. In truth, I cannot consciously recall it," he added, by way of reinforcement. And all of that was true.

Jaffray pursed his lips suspiciously.. "Such lapses of memory can be overcome, Father."

The words were neutral enough, but they carried an edge of threat, nonetheless.

"To do so, in this case, could shatter my mind. Please do not force me, Your Grace,"

Joram pleaded.

Camber stood and laid both hands on his son's shoulders.

"Your Grace, my secretary is very upset. May I speak?"

"Only if you have something constructive to offer, Bishop Cullen," Jaffray said irritably.

"Father MacRorie's excuse is a little too timely, and I am strongly considering calling his bluff."

"Then allow me to offer an alternative, Your Grace," Camber soothed. "Joram and I have been close since his first entry into our Order. He has been almost a son to me, and I suspect that I know him better than any in this room-and knew his father better, too.

Since taking him on my staff a year ago, I have been his confessor, as well."

All this was true, both as Camber and as Alister, and Camber drew confidence as Jaffray raised no immediate objection.

"Your Grace, permit me to Truth-Read Joram, if you will-if he and Camber will,"

Camber continued. "If he is, indeed, under some compulsion to resist the probing of an outsider in this matter-and to his emotionally wrought mind, you are an outsider, even though you be his spiritual father as archbishop- perhaps he can permit my touch instead. Forcing his compliance might, indeed, do great damage. Camber possessed more than pa.s.sing skill in the guarding of his secrets."

Jaffray scowled impatiently as he considered what his bishop had said.

"Well, will you permit it, Father MacRorie?"

"I'm not sure that is wise, Your Grace," Queron interjected, for the second time cutting Joram off before he could respond. "We have already seen that Bishop Cullen figures somewhat in Guaire's visitation, though I will concede that His Grace did not learn of it until after the fact. However, I suggest that His Grace might not be the most objective of Readers in this case. We have information that he, as well as Joram, was involved in another miracle attributed to Blessed Camber-though we are informed through other testimony that His Grace was unconscious during this intervention."

There! Another reference to an additional witness. Cinhil? Or was it Dualta? Yet, for some reason, even Queron had not dared to mention the king by name or even by position.

Perhaps he, too, was afraid to gamble on Cinhil's possible response.

Measuring the possibility, Camber turned his attention to Jaffray. The archbishop was looking at him expectantly, one eyebrow arched in question.

"Is this true, Bishop Cullen?"

"I am told that it is, Your Grace. I remember nothing of the alleged incident."

"Did Joram tell you of it?"

"No, Your Grace."

"Then who did?" Jaffray insisted.

"I may not say, Your Grace. That was a privileged communication, whose source I may not reveal unless that witness is called before this court and gives me leave. However, regardless of how this matter is decided, I maintain that I have nothing to gain or lose. My own knowledge of Camber's alleged sanct.i.ty springs solely from hearsay."

"Yet Your Grace refused Guaire's request to build the cathedral shrine, when he came to you last winter," Queron interjected.

"I suggested that Guaire might be mistaken in his interpretation of what he thought he saw," Camber amended. "He had not come to ask me for permission, but to ask my intercession with Archbishop Anscom, may he rest in peace. It was Guaire's decision not to present your pet.i.tion to the archbishop at that time."

"But you did discourage Guaire's endeavor?" Jaffray asked.

"Yes, Your Grace. At that time, I had no evidence of what he claimed, other than his somewhat agitated recounting of what I then believed to be a dream. Also, Your Grace should consider that I was trying to ease the distress of young Joram, whom I love and whose father I respected greatly, and who was present when Guaire presented his request.

I only seek justice done, Your Grace. Surely that is sufficient to ensure that my examination of Joram would be sufficiently impartial. But, of course, the question may well be academic. We do not yet know whether Joram can permit even my touch."

"Well, Father MacRorie, how say you?" Jaffray asked sternly. "Will these 'compulsions'

permit you to yield to Bishop Cullen's Reading?"

"I-don't know, Your Grace," Joram whispered, feigning uncertainty. "I think so. I feel- some resistance, even to that, but I would trust Bishop Cullen above all other men to try to read beyond it. Believe me, Your Grace, I have no desire to disobey you, but I am even less inclined to have my mind ripped from me by force."

He and Camber watched Jaffray turn to consult with Oriss, Queron leaning down to add his input. Then Jaffray shook his head and turned back to them.

"Very well. I warn you that there are still misgivings, but you may proceed. Will you require any special preparations?"

"None, Your Grace."

With a bow, Camber grabbed the stool Joram had been using and carried it out into the center of the chamber. Bidding Joram come and sit there, facing the archbishops, he took his place behind his son and laid his hands lightly on the tense shoulders, his mind sending a quick, emphatic message to the other's.

Make this look good, son. We have real work to do, and I want them to think you're putting up a fair resistance, even to me. I'll put you to sleep when you're finished, so you won't have to answer any more questions. Just trust me.

Go, was Joram's only reply.

"Very well, Joram," Camber continued on a verbal level, gently ma.s.saging the tense shoulder muscles as his eyes roved casually around the room. "I know it's a little more difficult to let go in front of all these people-it's difficult for me, too, for this is a very private thing we're about to share. But we've done this kind of thing before, even if not on this level. So I want you to just relax and find that familiar centering point again."

Joram took a deep breath and let it out, willing himself to relax into the trust which he and his father had always shared. Here, with the close rapport which was growing through their physical contact, there would be no danger of any other Deryni "overhearing" what pa.s.sed between them. This was private in the very midst of the enemy, a momentary escape, a surrender to Camber's sure, capable direction.

Joram felt his eyelids flutter, a sure physical sign that Camber was insisting even as Joram was allowing. He let his father's words wash through his consciousness and carry him, transcending all physical awareness in the stillness of what was fast becoming an empty room, so far as he was concerned.

"That's right. Let your eyes close and flow with me," Camber was saying, directing his gaze to the floor before Joram as he became aware of Joram's yielding and the increased absorption of his audience. "I know it takes a little time, but you can do it. You can ignore everything except my voice and touch and the familiar closeness of my mind."

This he voiced to rea.s.sure the humans in his audience, who had never seen so open a demonstration of deep Deryni probing. On a more superficial level, he was aware of several of them slipping into trance with Joram.

No matter. In a moment, words would pa.s.s and they would perceive only what they could see.

"Let go, now, and let me enter," he murmured, hands easing gradually from Joram's shoulders to his neck, thumbs resting against the spine beneath the bright hair. He could feel Joram's pulse, slow and steady beneath his fingertips, as he slipped them up to touch the temples.

"That's right. No more words now. No sound to disturb you, no physical sensations to break the binding. Be one with me, Joram."

As Camber himself closed his eyes, there was not a sound in the stilled chamber; and in a way, this was an even deeper magic than that which Queron had woven. Deftly, Camber merged his thoughts with Joram's, the two of them instantaneously reviewing all that had been said, formulating a new plan of action. The while, they were safe from any other prying mind. Not Queron nor Jaffray nor any other Deryni in the room had an inkling of what really pa.s.sed between them.

Several times during the next few minutes, Joram physically squirmed beneath Camber's touch, his face seeming to mirror some inner struggle which appeared to surge between them. In reality, the two of them were isolating all Joram's memories of Camber's true ident.i.ty where they could not be touched, in case of further probing by Jaffray's court, blocking those memories from all conscious recall until Camber himself should release that block.

When they were done, and Joram's only conscious knowledge of his interrogator was what it ought to be, Camber touched a point controlling consciousness and exerted pressure. Joram's body went slack as the contact was severed. Camber, slowly opening his eyes, dropped his hands to Joram's shoulders and looked up, supporting the sleeping Joram against his body.

"He spoke the truth, Your Grace," Camber murmured, his words jarring several rapt listeners who had drifted under his spell. "He did move the body, shortly after the original burial, and he did receive instructions from his father ahead of time to do so." That much was literally true. "However, his memory of the final burial place has been erased." That was also true, for Camber had himself just erased it.

Jaffray studied the bishop and his unconscious charge through narrowed eyes.

"Has he been harmed in your questioning, Father?"

"Not permanently, Your Grace. There was very deep resistance to be overcome, but the aftereffects are mainly fatigue. I've but made him sleep. He should be fit by morning, provided he has an undisturbed night."

Jaffray nodded, apparently satisfied by the answer.

"And your conclusion regarding Camber's body?"

"None possible, Your Grace. There being no way to produce the body, we may only state with certainty that the claim of miraculous bodily a.s.sumption, as put forward by the Servants of Camber, can be neither proved nor disproved."

"But the matter of Guaire's vision-" Queron interjected. "Father MacRorie's testimony does not refute that."

"That is true," Camber replied. "And Joram has no knowledge of that incident beyond what everyone in this room has seen. Of course, he knew something about it, since he was a witness to my conversation with Guaire last winter, but that is all."

Jaffray stared searchingly at the gray-haired bishop, still supporting the sleeping Joram, then shifted in his throne and sighed.

"Very well, Bishop Cullen. We thank you for your a.s.sistance. You may retire to see to your secretary's comfort. In the meantime, I shall adjourn this council for today, as it grows late. We will continue this inquiry tomorrow, when all of us are rested. Dom Queron, I shall expect you to present your additional witnesses at that time."

"Yes, Your Grace. Several of our major witnesses could not be present this afternoon for various reasons, but we can ensure their presence for tomorrow."

"Then this council is adjourned."

Camber felt a sickening stirring in his stomach as the council began to disperse, for he well knew whom Queron must have in mind. Joram would be questioned again, of course, though Camber had no doubt now that he would reveal anything. And he himself would probably be called, though loss of memory would stand him in good stead.

Rhys and Dualta would also be summoned. About Dualta he could do nothing, but he would call Rhys to him tonight, ostensibly to minister to Joram, and thus alert the Healer to what lay ahead. No one would dare to ask entry to a Healer's mind, nor could insist, if they did ask, so Rhys was safe so long as he said nothing incongruous.

But the prime witness, if Queron dared to call him, would be Cinhil-and no one knew how he would react. At least there was one witness Queron would not be able to call, Camber thought as he and several Michaelines picked up Joram to take him to his quarters. Not even the clever Queron Kinevan would be able to find a Michaeline monk named John.

Word of the afternoon's events spread even more quickly than Camber had feared. By the time he had seen the groggy Joram safely to bed, and briefed Rhys, and turned away nearly a dozen well-meaning colleagues avid for his personal insight on what had transpired, both Vespers and Compline had come and gone and it was becoming obvious that he was not going to get any privacy so long as he stayed where people could find him.

If he was to have any chance to regain his mental equilibrium, to prepare for tomorrow's further ordeal, he would have to go elsewhere, if only for an hour or so.

He did not move quickly enough, though. One demand he could not put off with excuse of fatigue, and that was Cinhil's. The king's page arrived just as he was preparing to slip away, his master's message couched in courteous terms, but carrying the unmistakable force of a royal summons.

So, m.u.f.fled in the anonymity of a black mantle, the folds of the hood drawn close to shield his ident.i.ty from the light of the page's torch, Camber followed the boy out of the archbishop's palace and through the cathedral yard, to enter the keep through a postern door in the great south gate. Soon he was climbing the spiral turnpike of the King's Tower, to be admitted by the king himself, almost before the page could knock.

Without speaking, Cinhil invited his guest to a seat beside the fireplace, himself standing on the hearth, hands resting on the mantel beam, half looking over his shoulder at Camber. He was dressed for bed, in a long, fur-lined dressing gown, but it was obvious that sleep was far from his thoughts.

"So they mean to make him a saint," he said.

"It does seem inevitable," Camber replied.

Cinhil looked at him shrewdly. "Why, Bishop Cullen, you sound less than enthusiastic.

Can it be that you don't approve of what your fellow clerics are doing?"

"I hardly think my approval is the issue, Sire," said Camber. "I've simply never known a saint before. The thought that one might have crept upon us unawares is frankly unnerving. But I gather you've already been given a full report on what happened this afternoon?"

Cinhil nodded, turning to lean against the side of the fireplace, cold hands pressed between his body and the fire-warmed stone.

"Jebediah came and told me, as soon as the council had adjourned. He says this Dom Queron intends to call additional witnesses tomorrow. Of course, Jebediah doesn't know about what happened that night in your quarters, but what about Queron? Or does Jebediah know, too?"

"Not unless Dualta told him, though I don't think he did. Jebediah would have said something to me. However, I'm almost certain that Queron knows. He has carefully avoided mentioning you by name, but he made several references to a high-ranking witness, not present, whose word is unimpeachable. Who else could he mean?"

"Then Dualta must have told him," Cinhil concluded.