"Kurtz, Katherine - Deryni Chronicles 01 - Deryni Rising 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

He decided to release a bit of concrete information and see how the boy would react.
"No, it isn't. I can't go into too much detail right now, Son. But there is a major crisis brewing at Cardosa, and Morgan is keeping an eye on it, Wencit of Torenth wants the city, and he's already broken two treaties in his efforts to annex it By next spring we'll probably be formally at war." He paused. "Does that frighten you?"
Kelson studied the ends of his reins carefully before replying. "I've never known real war," he said slowly, his gaze shifting out across the plain. "As long as I've been alive, there's been peace in the Eleven Kingdoms. One would think men could forget how to fight after fifteen years of peace,"
Brion smiled and allowed himself to relax slightly. He seemed to have succeeded in shifting the topic of discussion away from Morgan at last, and that was good.
"They never forget, Kelson. That's part of being human, I'm sorry to say."
"I suppose so," Kelson said. He reached down and patted the bay's neck, smoothed a stray wisp in the mane, turned wide grey eyes squarely on his father's face.
"It's the Shadowed One again, isn't it, Father?"
The insight of that simple statement momentarily rocked Brion's world. He had been prepared for any question, any comment-anything but a mention of the Shadowed One by his son. It was not fair for one so young to have to face such awesome reality! It so unnerved the older man that for an instant he was speechless, open-mouthed.
How had Kelson known about the Shadowed One's threat? By Saint Camber, the boy must have the talent!
"You're not supposed to know about that!" he blurted accusingly, trying desperately to remarshaU his thoughts and give a more coherent answer.
Kelson was taken aback by his father's reaction and showed it, but he didn't allow his gaze to waver. There was a touch of challenge, almost defiance in his voice.
"There are a good many things I'm not supposed to know about, Sire. But that hasn't kept me from learning. Would you want it any other way?"
"No," Brion murmured. He dropped his eyes uncertainly, searched for the proper phrasing for what he must ask next, found it. "Did Morgan tell you?"
Kelson shifted uneasily, suddenly aware that the tables had turned, that he was in deeper than he'd planned. It was his own fault. He'd insisted on pursuing this matter. But now his father would not be satisfied until Kelson followed through. He cleared his throat.
"Yes, he did-before he left," Kelson replied hesitantly. "He was afraid you wouldn't approve." He wet his lips. "He-ah-also mentioned your powers-and the basis for your rule."
Brion frowned. That Morgan! He was annoyed he hadn't recognized the signs sooner, for he guessed now what must have happened. Still, the boy had done an admirable job of keeping the knowledge a secret. Perhaps Morgan had been right all along.
"How much did Morgan tell you, Son?" he asked quietly.
"Too much to please you-not enough to satisfy me," the boy admitted with some reluctance. He hazarded a glance at his father's face. "Are you angry, Sire?" "Angry?"
It was all Brion could do to keep from shouting with relief. Angry? The inferences the boy had made, the guarded queries, the skill with which the boy had played the conversation back and forth, even on the defensive-by God, if not for this, then what had he and Morgan worked for all these years? Angry? By Heaven, how could he be angry?
Brion reached across and slapped Kelson's knee affectionately. "Of course I'm not angry, Kelson," he said. "If only you knew how much you'd put my mind at ease. You gave me a few rough moments, granted.
But I'm more certain than ever, now, that my choice was the right one. I want you to promise me one thing, though."
"Anything, Sire," Kelson agreed hesitantly.
"Not so solemn, Son," Brion objected, smiling and touching Kelson's shoulder again to reassure him. "It isn't a difficult request. But if anything should happen to me, I want you to send for Morgan immediately. He'll be more help to you than any other single person I can think of. Will you do that for me?"
Kelson sighed and smiled, relief written all across his face. "Of course, Sire. That would be my first thought in any event Morgan knows-about a lot of things."
"On that I would stake my life," Brion smiled.
He straightened in the saddle and gathered the red leather reins in long, gloved fingers. "Look, the sun's coming out. Let's see if Ewan's got those hounds rounded up yet!"
The sky had brightened appreciably as the sun climbed toward the zenith. And now the royal pair cast faint, short shadows before them as they trotted down the hill. It had grown so clear, one could see all the way across the meadow to the forest beyond. Brion's grey eyes scanned the scattered hunting party with interest as he and Kelson approached.
There was Rogier, the Earl of Fallon, in dark green velvet, riding a magnificent grey stallion Brion had never seen before. He seemed to be engaged in a very animated conversation with the fiery young Bishop Arilan and-very interesting-a flash of McLain tartan identified the third rider as Kevin, the younger Lord McLain. Ordinarily, he and Rogier did not get along. (For that matter, few people did get along with Rogier.) He wondered what the three had found to talk about.He did not have time to speculate further. For the loud, booming voice of the Duke of Claibourne drew Brion's attention to the head of the ride. Lord Ewan, his great red beard fairly bristling in the sunlight, was giving someone a royal chewing-out-not an unexpected event in the tight of the hunt's success to date.
Brion half-stood in his stirrups for a better look. As he'd suspected, it was one of the whippers-in who was getting die brunt of Ewan's anger. Poor man. It wasn't his fault the hounds weren't performing well. Then, again, he supposed Ewan had to have someone to blame.
Brion smiled and directed Kelson's attention to the situation, indicating that he should rescue the unfortunate huntsman and placate Ewan. As Kelson rode off, Brion continued to scan the assembly. There was the man he'd been looking for-over by Rogier.
Touching spurs to his mount, he galloped easily across the turf to hail a tall young man in the purple and white of the House of Fianna. The man was drinking from a finely tooled leather flask.
"Halloo! What's this I see? Young Colin of Fianna drinking up all the best wine, as usual! How about a few drops for your poor, shivering king, my friend?"
He drew rein beside Colin with a flourish and eyed the flask as Colin lowered it from his lips.
Colin smiled and wiped the mouth of the flask on his sleeve, then handed it across with a jovial bow.
"Good morning, Sire. You know my wine is always yours for the asking."
Rogier joined them and deftly backed his stallion a few paces as Brion's black reached out to nip. "Good morrow, My Liege," he said, bowing low in the saddle. "My Lord is most astute to locate the finest brew in the company so early. 'Tis a prodigious feat!"
"Prodigious?" Brion chuckled. "On a morning like this? Rogier, you have a fantastic gift for understatement."
He threw back his head and took a long swallow from the flask, lowered it and sighed. "Ah, 'tis no secret that Colin's father keeps the finest cellars in all the Eleven Kingdoms. My compliments, as usual, Colin!" He raised the flask and drank again.
Colin smiled mischievously and leaned his forearms against the saddle horn. "Ah, Majesty, now I know you're just trying to flatter me so my father will send you another shipment. That isn't Fianna wine at all. A beautiful lady gave it to me only this morning."
Brion paused in mid-swallow, then lowered the flask with concern. "A lady? Ah, Colin, you should have told me. I would never have asked for your lady's token."
Colin laughed aloud, "She's not my lady, Sire. I never saw her before. She merely gave me the wine. Besides, she'd doubtless be honored should she learn you sampled and enjoyed her brew."
Brion returned the flask and wiped across his moustache and beard with the back of a gloved hand. "Now, no excuses, Colin," he insisted. "It's I who have been amiss. Come and ride at my side. And you shall sit at my right at supper tonight Even a king must make amends when he trifles with a lady's favor."
Kelson let his mind and eyes wander as he rode bade toward the king. Behind him, Ewan and the master-of-hounds had finally reached a tentative agreement as to what had gone wrong, and the hounds seemed to be under control again. The whippers-in were keeping them in a tight pack, waiting for the royal command to proceed. The hounds, though, had their own ideas, which did not include waiting for kings or lords. It was questionable just how long the huntsmen would be able to hold them.
A flash of royal blue to the left caught Kelson's eye as he rode, and he immediately identified it as his uncle, the Duke of Carthmoor.
As brother of the king and ranking peer in the realm, Prince Nigel was responsible in a major way for the training of some thirty young pages of the royal household. As usual, he had some of his charges in tow today, and as usual, he was engaged in one of his seemingly endless battles to teach them something useful. There were only six of them along on the hunt today, and Nigel's own three boys were elsewhere in the entourage, but Kelson could see by Nigel's harried expression that these particular pages were not some of his brighter pupils.
Lord Jared, the McLain patriarch, was offering helpful advice from the sidelines, but the boys simply could not seem to get the hang of what it was Nigel wanted.
"No, no, no," Nigel was saying. "If you ever address an earl simply as 'Sir' in public, he'll have your head, and I won't blame him. And you must always remember that a bishop is 'Your Excellency.' Now, Jatham, how would you address a prince of the royal blood?"
Kelson smiled and nodded greeting as he rode on by. It was not so very long ago that he had been under the iron tutelage of the Royal Duke, his uncle, and he didn't envy the lads. A Haldane to the core, Nigel neither asked nor gave quarter, whether he was on the field of battle or training pages. But though the training was rigorous, and sometimes seemed over harsh, pages who came through Nigel's schooling made fine squires, and better knights. Kelson was glad to have Nigel on his side.
As Kelson approached, Brion broke off his conversation with Colin and Rogier and raised a hand in greeting. "What's happening up there, Son?"
"I think Lord Ewan about has things under control,