Saint Camber by Katherine Kurtz

with a nod to Evaine and Rhys, dropped to one knee on the furs to peer over the arm of Camber’s chair. Joram kissed his sister and touched his brother-in-law’s shoulder in greeting before settling on a stool to Camber’s right.
    â€œAh, the Haldana necklace!” Camber exclaimed.
    He reached into the last folds of the fabric to withdraw a mass of diamonds and cabochon-cut rubies, none of them smaller than a pea. The stones flashed rainbow brilliance in the firelight as he laid the necklace across one hand.
    Cullen leaned one elbow on the arm of Camber’s chair and looked pleased with himself.
    â€œYou said you wanted something she’d worn a lot,” he said in his gruff voice. “Now, would you mind telling me what you plan to do with it?”
    Camber smiled and let his eyes focus through it softly, probing delicately with his mind. After a few seconds, he closed it in his hands and looked up at them.
    â€œThis will be our link to Ariella,” he said in a low voice. “Using this as a focus, I should be able to project images from her mind on the surface of a bowl of blackened water. If we’re lucky, I may even be able to manipulate those images a little, backward and maybe even forward in time.”
    Rhys’s jaw dropped, and Evaine swallowed, and Joram lifted one blond eyebrow. Cullen pursed his lips and slowly shook his head.
    â€œAre you sure you know what you’re doing?”
    Camber smiled. “I told you that you could be excused, if you wanted to be, and that offer still holds. But I don’t really think your conscience is going to have any trouble with this one.”
    Cullen made a face and muttered something unintelligible under his breath, and Camber chuckled.
    â€œLet’s go into the next room, and I’ll explain exactly what we’re going to do.”
    Carrying the silver bowl, Camber led them into the room he had prepared. His clothing and other accoutrements he had put away in chests and garment presses, all of which had been shoved against one wall to block the door to another set of apartments not currently in use. The single, high window he had curtained off with a heavy tapestry, closing out the storm and the wan light of the rising moon. Even the garderobe shaft had been sealed off by a chest dragged over the opening in the floor.
    In the center of the room, he had set a small, square table, covered with a white cloth. On it, a single candle lit a sea-green glass flagon of water and four new tapers partially folded in a linen napkin. A small, stoppered bottle nestled in the shadow of the flagon to one side.
    Joram put down the small thurible he had been carrying and fished in the folds of his sash until he found a packet of incense. This he laid beside the thurible as Camber carefully set the silver bowl in the center of the table.
    After locking the door, Camber rejoined the other four around the table, taking a place opposite the window. He laid the Haldana necklace beside the bowl, then reached inside the neck of his crimson robe to remove a small silver crucifix, which he placed on the table where he could see it.
    â€œIn a moment I’m going to ask you to help me invoke the four quarters and set wards, much as we did for Cinhil’s ceremony of power,” he said, giving what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Rhys, you’re fine where you are; you’re our Healer, Raphael. Joram, please change places with Alister and come here, on my right; you are logically Michael. Alister, I’ll ask you to speak for Uriel, in the north. Evaine is our Angel of the Annunciation, here beside me.”
    The appropriate shifts were made, and then an expectant silence settled around the table. The light from the single candle reflected off the bowl and cast a nimbus of candlelight on Camber’s face. In front of him, between the bowl and the edge of the table, his crucifix gleamed friendly and reassuring beside the cold