Childe Morgan by Katherine Kurtz Page B

directives, and Dominy de Laney, wife and consort of a prince of the Connait, who soon would be stepping down in favor of the fresh-faced younger man coming to his feet at her side. Rhydon Sasillion was still but five-and-twenty, but his potential had marked him out early as a mage of great potential, well worthy of the Council’s notice.
    Across the table from the three sat Dominy’s younger brother, Barrett, blinded as the ransom price for the lives of several dozen Deryni children when but a new-made knight of eighteen, hardly more than a child himself. It was Michon who had taught him how to see again, utilizing his formidable powers in a manner achieved by few of their race. Of late, he had taken up a scholar’s life, and tonight wore the emerald robes of a scholar of Nur Sayyid, the great R’Kassan university.
    â€œGreetings to you, Barrett,” Michon said, clasping a hand to the blind man’s shoulder as he passed to take his own seat. Seisyll made his way to the chair beside Oisín, nearly opposite.
    â€œKhoren will be along shortly,” Oisín said, taking his seat again when the two older men had settled. He was wearing fur-lined robes of a deep oxblood hue rather than the worn riding leathers that were his customary attire. “I delivered a new mare to his brother’s stud farm a few days ago. He will plead Twelfth Night obligations like yourselves, but I happen to know that he is also much occupied with a rare manuscript that his wife found for him. Were it not for this meeting, I doubt he would surface for days.”
    The comment produced an appreciative chuckle from both newcomers, for Prince Khoren Vastouni’s appetite for obscure arcane knowledge was well known.
    â€œNot another of Kitron’s works?” Seisyll asked.
    â€œNo, earlier than that,” Oisín replied, “though he may have provided some of the marginalia. This one is attributed to a Caeriessan sage known only as Zefiryn, and I am given to understand that Soffrid annotated it. If all of this is true, it is a major find.”
    The comment elicited sighs of wistful envy, and Michon leaned back in his chair with a feigned look of vexation. “That sounds very like one I’ve been tracking. Perhaps he will share.” He glanced around the table. “What of Vivienne?”
    â€œShe sends her regrets,” Dominy answered. “This pregnancy is proving difficult.”
    â€œI trust she is in no danger,” Seisyll said with some concern.
    â€œNo, but she has been more comfortable,” Dominy replied. “But this will pass. She did send me a somewhat disturbing report concerning recent developments within the royal house of Torenth.”
    â€œIs it Prince Nimur again?” Michon muttered, as he took the document she handed him.
    â€œAnd his brother Torval,” Barrett replied. “More to the point, Vivienne has concerns about their maternal aunt, the very troublesome Princess Camille—or Mother Serafina, as she prefers to call herself, these days. We can only give thanks to God that it was Camille’s sister, and not Camille herself, who married Torenth, else it would be Camille wearing the consort’s crown. As it is, she availed herself of the training to be had at Saint-Sasile and has left her mark on several generations of Furstán nephews and collateral cousins, and not altogether in keeping with the ethical precepts to which we hold.”
    Seisyll sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, looking irritated. “I am aware of the background. What is it this time?”
    â€œWell,” Dominy said primly, “we have known for some time that the Princes Nimur and Torval are regular visitors to Saint-Sasile, where they have formed a particularly close relationship with their aunt. She has other students, of course, but Nimur is regarded as being particularly gifted—and ambitious.”
    â€œYes, yes, this is