"Katherine Kurtz - 02 - King's Justice" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

"Taste of the ashes of our mingled blood," Kelson went on, sifting some of the ash onto Nigel's tongue. "By blood art thou consecrated to the Haldane legacy. If it should come to thee, be The Haldane. Then shall the power come upon thee."
The ash was bitter-bitter as the cup Nigel prayed he would never have to drink-and as the consecrated royal hands lifted slowly toward his head, Nigel felt a primal terror of the power latent there. In that interminable instant, the king seemed limned in fire-dread sovereign and master of all the power in the universe, not merely king and lord of the lands of their fathers-and Nigel feared that if Kelson touched him, he would die.
He had neither strength nor will to resist it, though; this cup, at least, must be drunk to its dregs-and the dregs were already bitter on his tongue. As the royal hands embraced his head, the thumbs pressing lightly on his temples, he closed his eyes with a shudder and surrendered any last resistance. The hands were hot, searing his flesh, making his fear boil up within him like molten lead, threatening to explode inside his brain.
But he did not explode. Not then, at least. The fire remained, but now another pressure began to build within him like a great wind, relentless and strong, scouring away the last vestiges of his will, pounding again and again in a rhythm a part of him only vaguely recognized as his own heartbeat.
The wind became a firestorm then, raging inside his mind and licking at his body, so terrifying that he was sure the very flesh must melt from his bones.
Water, then, quenching the fire but sweeping him away, out of his body, whirling and tumbling him in total disorientation, slamming him at last upon a stony beach where he seemed to lie and gaze numbly at a grey, fog-shrouded sky.
Until a face appeared against the fog: a kindly compassionate face framed by soft, silver-gilt hair; the eyes like windows to the fog beyond, calling him, drawing him, as a hand reached out to gently touch his forehead.
The touch sent him plummeting into nothingness.


CHAPTER FIVE
He shall direct his counsel and knowledge, and in his secrets shall he meditate.
-Ecclesiasticus 39:7
Nigel's vision stunned Kelson, but he kept both his reaction and the very fact that he had perceived the vision carefully shielded from the others for the balance of the ritual. He suspected that Morgan and Duncan might have glimpsed it as well, being part of the primary link, but if they had, they followed his lead and gave no indication of it. Some instinct warned that Arilan should not learn of it, so Kelson forced himself to shutter away the information while he completed what he had started. With the unconscious Nigel now open to his will, it was the work of only a few minutes to finish keying in Morgan and Duncan, then to add Arilan and Richenda to the chain that would enable them to trigger Nigel's Haldane potential in the event of Kelson's premature death.
The process took energy, and the heat and closeness of the room were taking their toll, but Kelson was not really tired by the time he was finished. Still, he set Morgan to take over monitoring Niger s vital signs, himself standing apart to watch in silence as Duncan and Arilan unbandaged Nigel's arm and carefully washed off the residue of Arilan's drug. He hoped that Arilan, at least, attributed his silence to fatigue and the need for introspection that often came after a powerful working, for neither the vision nor his reticence to tell Arilan of it had faded.
But Arilan seemed unaware. As soon as he and Duncan had finished. Kelson dropped heavily to his knees once more beside the still unconscious Nigel and bade the others close the circle. If Arilan read that as confirmation of fatigue, so much the better, for it might forestall further questioning later on; and in the meantime, the ritual kept Arilan too busy to pay close attention to him.
Kelson tried to keep his mind mirror-still as Arilan and the others wound the ritual to its proper conclusion, and he began shooing them out as soon as the last glimmer of the wards had died. He doubted anyone had much inclination to linger in the chapel overlong, for the hour's working in so close a space had made the temperature most uncomfortable, but he especially did not want to be left alone with Arilan. A chapel sacred to Saint Camber was no place to try to hide a vision of that saint from a high adept like Arilan.
With that in mind, then, he signed for Arilan and Richenda to precede him out, himself lingering only long enough to help Morgan and Duncan get Nigel on his feet. He trailed behind them as they half walked and half carried Nigel back into the study, giving Dhugal a fleeting smile and a brush of hand on shoulder as he emerged from behind the curtain his foster brother held.
Arilan was waiting just beyond, Richenda moving with Morgan, Duncan, and Nigel toward the chairs by the fireplace. Fortunately for Kelson, passing into the relative chill of the study set him to sneezing before Arilan could do more than open his mouth. At once, Dhugal was laying a cloak around his shoulders and insisting that he join the others by the fire, solicitous and almost a little alarmed. The grateful Kelson played the scene for its full distraction value, making a show of bundling the cloak around his body and wiping his sweaty face on the sleeve of his shirt. By the time he had huddled down in the chair next to Nigel's, he was not having to feign shivering.
"Are you all right?" Morgan asked, turning from Nigel long enough to lay the back of a hand against Kelson's forehead.
Kelson nodded, gesturing back to Nigel with his chin.
"What about him?"
"He'll be coming around in a few minutes," Duncan said, gently peeling back one of Nigel's eyelids. "The drug's almost worn off. He's going to want a lot of sleep, though."
Arilan grimaced and pulled his cincture from one of the piles of clothing shed earlier. The grimace became a scowl as he began wrapping it around his waist.
"Does that surprise you?" he muttered. "Whatever he experienced, it hit him like a wall. I don't suppose any of you can tell me what happened in there?"
Kelson shrugged noncomittally. "We did what we set out to do." He glanced at his uncle again. "And frankly, I would have been surprised if it hadn't hit him like a wall, as you so aptly put it. I suspect it's distinctly Haldane. Having been through it myself, I doubt anyone can appreciate the full impact unless he's also been through it. You can tell that to the Council if you like. That is where you're going when you leave here, isn't it?"
Arilan's mouth twitched in annoyance, though he tried to make it look like a grimace of frustration as he did up the collar of his cassock.
"Don't sound so accusatory, son. We may not have spoken of it directly, but surely you realized that I'd have to report on what you've done."
"Forgive me if it seems a lot like spying," Kelson countered. He nodded thanks as Richenda handed him a cup of pale wine. "They can't have it both ways indefinitely, you know. They've been vacillating for more than two years now, trying to decide whether I'm fish or fowl-and if my status is still in question, then Alaric and Duncan must still be in the insect category. God knows what they think of Dhugal!"
As he gestured curtly with his cup toward his foster brother, who was trying to become invisible before this increasingly heated exchange between king and bishop, Arilan glanced in Dhugal's direction, smiled wryly, and pulled his cloak from a chair.
"If we continue this discussion, we shall quarrel. And I'd have you at a distinct disadvantage, fatigued as you are." He slung the cloak around his shoulders and glanced around the room speculatively as he tied the ribbons at his throat.
"Now, I seem to recall that you have a Portal here somewhere, Duncan. I should like to use it, if I may. I am going to the Council now, Sire, but I assure you that I shall be as objective as possible in my reporting."
Kelson still had distinct misgivings, but there was no point belaboring the issue. Whether or not Kelson liked it, the Council was going to know about Nigel before the night was out. He had known that from the moment he even considered asking Arilan's assistance. And at least if Arilan left now, Kelson would not have to risk him learning about the Camber vision.
"Show him the Portal," he said to Dhugal.
He turned his head away at Arilan's sardonic little bow of thanks, knowing it would irk Arilan just a little that even Dhugal knew of the Portal, where Arilan did not.
Arilan said nothing-merely acknowledged Dhugal with a curt nod and stepped onto the Portal when Dhugal had pulled aside the tapestry that covered the doorway; then he was gone.
Kelson sighed explosively and tossed off his cup of wine, stretching out his legs toward the fire to rest his boots on the raised hearth.
"Bloody Camberian Council!" he muttered.
Morgan raised an eyebrow, a little surprised at the king's outburst-though he quite agreed with the assessment.
"Come, now. This is hardly the first time Arilan has gone running back to the Council to report what we're doing."
"No-though in all fairness to Arilan, he's made no real secret of it, at least to me. In his way, I suppose he's trying to be open-minded."
"As an individual, that may well be," Morgan said guardedly. "You're certainly in a far better position to know about such things than I. From my own observation, however, I can't say that the apparent attitude of the Council as a whole has been anything but disturbing."
"I'd rather not talk about them," Kelson said quietly.
Morgan and Duncan exchanged glances, and Richenda withdrew unobtrusively to perch on a low stool beyond them and Nigel. Dhugal, still a little rattled by Arilan's comments and departure, took up a cautious post to Kelson's right.
"Kelson, we know you'd rather not," Morgan said quietly. "Unfortunately, your reticence to do so of late has hardly helped to reassure Duncan and myself. They may be courting you, but-"'
"I don't know that I'd exactly call it courting," Kelson countered. "I may have made some progress with a few as individuals, but as a body they're still very, very conservative."
"I fear narrow-minded is nearer the mark," Duncan said. "I can only agree with Alaric. As far as we know, we're still half-breeds and outcasts where the Council is concerned- and as you yourself have pointed out, God knows what they think of Dhugal."
"Dhugal is a cypher," Kelson said, almost shortly, "and I intend that he remain so."
"And Nigel?" Richenda asked, speaking up for the first time.
Kelson set aside his cup, shaking his head. "Nigel himself can't have been any surprise to the Council. After all, they or their predecessors have been coping with Haldane heirs for two hundred years. Thank God that Arilan wasn't in the primary link, though." He shivered and looked up at Morgan and Duncan. "You do know what I'm talking about, don't you?"