Ghosts of the Past

[DerynifanK]

"It is already midmorning." Fiona surveyed her companions around the table. "We need to finish our preparations and take to the road as soon as we can."

"There's no rush, lass." Darcy smiled at the young lady. "We've plenty of time."

Fiona tapped her foot impatiently. "We need to buy provisions for the trip, return to the church to pack and retrieve our things and take leave of Father Michael, and then saddle our horses and be on our way.. You know we have to reach Arx Fidei before the gates close at sunset."

"That is true." replied Darcy. "But it is still high summer and sunset is quite late in the evening. It doesn't set until after eight so we have more than enough hours, even if we stop for a meal on the way.."

"But something could happen to delay us. We can't be certain of an uneventful trip. In fact, we seem to have more eventful trips than most travelers. I feel it is important for us to allow additional time just in case something comes up." Fiona looked quite determined.

Aliset patted Fiona's shoulder. "We actually have no deadline for reaching Arx Fidei. Even if the gates are closed by the time we arrive, the weather is fine, warm and dry. It would not be a hardship to spend the night outside and enter in the morning."

"We are hoping that Archbishop Duncan will do a deep reading on Washburn and be able to reassure the king that his memories are restored, his mind healed, and that he is no longer a threat to any. What if we take too long and when we do arrive, he has recovered from his weakness and left Arx Fidei? He might have returned to his duties in Rhemuth where Wash cannot follow. What do we do then?"  Fiona looked very concerned.

"Ah cuid try to Rapport with the Archbishop tae tell him of our impendin' arrival an' ask if he cuid delay his return tae Rhemuth til we can meet wi him." Columcil looked at Fiona reassuringly.

Fiona brightened and asked excitedly, "Would you, Father? That would be most helpful."

The friends all looked at each other. Although Washburn had not indicated great anxiety about reaching Arx Fidei and the Archbishop, he did seem eager to reach Duncan and have the reading that would reassure the king that it was safe to allow Wash to return to Rhemuth. There he hoped to renew his allegiance to the king and to restore his honor as a knight and as a Morgan. This was very important to him and the principal reason for their going back to the great cathedral.

Aliset spoke up. "Fiona is right. We do need to be about completing our preparations for leaving.  I will request provisions for a meal on our way. Darcy, will you and Washburn saddle our horses and meet us at the church?  Father Columcil, will you try to Rapport with the Archbishop and let him know of our coming and our need for him?  You could accompany Fiona to the church where I am sure you can find a suitable place where you will be undisturbed to establish the rapport. Fiona, will you proceed to the church with the good father and gather up our belongings so we may pack quickly? I will join you as soon as I have obtained food and drink for our journey."
 
The friends all rose and separated to go about their various duties

[/]center......[/]

Church
Windyner
Half hour before sext.

Darcy and Washburn, mounted on their own horses, led the horses belonging to the other three members of their party, now saddled, up to the church and tethered them before the entrance. Both men dismounted and entered the church looking for the others. Fiona and Aliset appeared at the entrance to the rooms where the ritual had been carried out and where they had slept. They saw Darcy and Washburn approaching.

"The horses have been fed and watered and are waiting saddled at the entrance to the church." Darcy informed them.

Aliset replied."We have gathered up all our belongings. Each person needs to pack their things in their saddlebags and carry them out to the horses. I have a bag packed with meat pies, fresh bread, cheese, apples, and a flask of ale for the trip. The innkeeper was generous with the provisions and did not impose a heavy charge. For some reason, I think he was glad to see us go." Aliset giggled.

"Where is Father Columcil?" Washburn looked around.

"Here." The priest emerged from a side chapel accompanied by Father Michael.

'Fiona curtsied to the priests then turned to Columcil, asking eagerly. "Were you able to Rapport with the Archbishop? Is he aware of our coming and our need to meet with him?"

"Aye, lass. He is still at Arx Fidei although he intended tae return to Rhemuth verra soon. He is anxious tae hear what we hae tae tell him and tae at last be able tae talk wi' Washburn and learn what has befallen him since his kidnappin' an' escape. He will be waitin fer us."

"Oh thank you, Father!" Fiona again curtsied.

The others looked relieved to hear the news. They quickly stowed their belongings in their saddlebags and carried them out of the church. They loaded them on the horses. Father Michael stood on the church steps as he watched them prepare to leave. Each of them paid their respects to the good father.

Darcy spoke for them."Our thanks for all of your help and support.  We would not be leaving here today with our friend freed from his enthrallment and restored if you and Father Paulos had not come to our aid. We will all pray that the emergency that recalled him to Torenth is quickly resolved and that he will be able to return to you here. When you write to his bishop, please ask him to convey our thanks for all that he did to assist us. Father, we ask your blessing on the journey we begin now, and we pray that all will be well here, both for you and for the village"

They all bowed their heads as Father Michael gave his blessing. He made the sign of the cross. "May you travel safely to your next destination. May God keep his hand over you and guide you. In nomine Patri, in nomine Filii, et Spiritus Sancti." They all mounted and turned their horses toward the old well and the road to Valoret as the church bell rang for sext.

[Laurna]

Washburn appreciated the path that angled from the church to the main road, for it bypassed the inn where Wash felt some reticence to get too close. He had succumbed to a spell there and he had been cast as a drunkard and a ne'er-do-well nobleman. Darcy's intimation of them drinking the half flask of Old Ballymar, though quite entertaining as a personalized joke, had further cast him and the seaman as drunkards. Darcy would ride out of this village with a straight back and head held high. The seaman would defy the villagers to think them drunkards. Washburn would all together prefer to avoid those harsh stares and the glaring eyes at his back. His reputation was tarnished, by far more than the incidences here in Windyner, and he no longer had to prove that it wasn't. That didn't hold power over him the way it once had.

Actually, the path of travel really had not been his nor Darcy's choice. It seemed Lady Fiona wanted to lead their group out of town and she took the shortest route that would get them to the main road. Wash smiled at the proud young lady as he brought Shadow to ride beside her.  She had a glow about her now that she was on the path that would ultimately lead to the schola. She smiled at him, but then assertively lifted her chin proud to be leading the party forward. Maybe that was all she really wanted, maybe Wash had only ever been a step for her to get to Rhemuth.  Well, a whole lot of steps and not all of them in the right direction. He had trouble reading her at times. Perhaps he should accept that his feelings were one sided. Wash kept his smile wanting to be hopeful, but his eyes descended to the ground before his horses' hooves. They were nearly upon the old well that sat in the middle of this path on the way to the main road. His thoughts changed to think about the shadowed figure he had seen pass this way in the moonlight. Curious, he studied the ground; would he see the man's footprints, or any evidence that the shadow form had been real?

He and Darcy had questioned the stable boy when they were there saddling their horses. The boy was telling the truth as he saw it; Father Paulos had turned toward Torenth when he left, not toward Valoret, and he was riding, not on foot. Very curious. Wash could not explain it. The shadow had walked right past this old well. What was it about the old well that made Wash want to investigate it. The ruby had been hidden here. He had been enthralled by spells on the gem long before he even sighted it's gleam between the stones at the well's base. At the time, he had not considered just how the ruby had gotten into that position. Maybe there was still a clue here that had not yet been discovered.

Compelled by curiosity and a need to understand better, Washburn pulled Shadow's reigns to a halt abreast of the old well. He ignored Fiona's huff at the unexpected stop and he leapt from the saddle, feet squarely hitting the ground. He looked hard at the crumbling sides of the ancient well and started to circle it recalling just where he had found the ruby. The stones there were still tumbled just as he remembered. 

[Jerusha]

"Whoa!  What the hell are you doing, man?" Darcy Cameron exclaimed anxiously as Washburn stopped his circling at a spot in the crumbling wall of the old well.

"Darcy!" Aliset hissed, though sharing her husband's dismay at Washburn's return to the well.

"Sir Washburn," Darcy said, moderating his tone, but not by much.  "What draws you back here?  If you spy another grand gem, don't touch it!  Remount and we'll ride hard and fast out of here!"

Washburn squatted in front of the spot where he had found the ruby.  He pulled his dagger and poked among the stones.  There was nothing else there, nor did he expect there to be.

"Relax Darcy," Washburn said as Darcy dismounted and came to stand beside him. "I was not drawn here by anything other than my own curiosity.  I still wonder how the gem came to be placed here, and only I saw it flashing in the sun."

Darcy looked at the sky and recalled the day they had arrived.  "It was no ray from the sun that caused it to flash," he said thoughtfully.  "It was just after noon when we arrived.  The sun was directly overhead, and you had to pry the gem out from the stone.  Bright as the sun was, the light would not have penetrated into the recess to strike it.

"Then I must assume it was one of the spells cast on the gem."  Washburn stood and replaced his dagger.  "Master Feyd accepted the stone as payment for eliminating Oswald as a threat to Aliset.  He would have been the last to have it."

"Washburn," Aliset said, appalled.  "That was a high price to pay for my freedom.  Yet I am deeply grateful to be forever free from him."

Darcy drew a deep breath, not wanting to dwell on what might have happened if that price had not been paid.

"If your captor did nae place the gem here," Columcil said.  "He had tae give it to someone he could trust or control tae place it here."

"I suppose it could be any one of the travelers that have passed through here," Fiona said.  "There would be many wanting to attend Bishop Arilan's funeral."

"I wonder how long Father Paulos has been here," Darcy said thoughtfully.  "Father Michael said he often left to return to his duties in Beldour.  Maybe he brought it with him after one of his journeys." Darcy stopped and a startled look crossed his face.  "Sweet Jesu.  We've been assuming Father Paulos was helping to remove the spells.  What if he was activating them instead?"

"That's preposterous!"  Fiona exclaimed.

"Maybe it's not," Aliset said quietly, thinking of all that had happened in the ritual.  "If Father Paulos was activating the spells, that would explain the excessive energy draw.  In the end, once Feyd completed what he needed to do, it was over and Wash was free.  Perhaps our energy was all that was needed with Father Paulos directing it into the gem."

"And now the priest is so conveniently missing," Darcy said.  "Too convenient, for my taste."

"We may ne'er know for sure wha' happened," Father Columcil said quietly.  "I do not like tae question Father Paulos' motives or actions, but there is room for doubt."

Washburn looked at his friends.  "Maybe it doesn't matter.  I am free from his control and my memories are returned. Is the 'how' really that important now?"

"I don't like puzzles I can't solve," Darcy said.  "But you make a good point."

"We should be on our way," Fiona said firmly.  "We can mull over all of this at a later date."

"Aye, Fiona, you are right," Darcy replied.  "Best we move on."

[Laurna]

Wash looked at the well disappointed that it did not give him any answers. Thoughtfully he said, "I don't think it matters what part Father Paulos played. During the Ritual, Feyd was able to Rapport with me. Aliset, I would guess that was the cause of that extra energy consumption you felt. As the ritual ended, my memories were returned. Since then I have been trying to piece together Master Collos Feyd's intentions.  First, he needed money so he took the job that was well paid. But his seers said I had a destiny. I am not sure how much of that Feyd believed, but if I could prove that I was worthy enough to escape the Mearan abduction and survive Valerian's grasp, then he would see that I stayed alive. Early on he had said we would meet again. Know that if Feyd had truly wanted me to be Valerian's pawn, he would have wiped my mind clean and made me utterly subservient to the son of Teymuraz. His drugs had me completely powerless. He could have turned me into a full traitor had that been his intentions. Darcy, if that had happened, well, I can only praise you for having the courage to accept that order from the king. It is what I would have wanted, rather than betray crown and family."

Wash took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could not lift his gaze to meet his friends' eyes watching him. Instead he focused on the darkness within the old well, feeling how close he had come to being like this old useless structure. "Even though Feyd had the power, he didn't whip my mind clean, he hid my memories behind a demon beast where Velarian would not find them." Wash looked into the shadow of the well, almost feeling like the demon beast was hiding down there. He leaned both hands on the crumbling top stones and looked down inside, it was at least the height of two men before the darkness consumed whatever was at the bottom. "When I was free, at least of the influence of the son of Teymuraz, I felt a compulsion to come east. I didn't realize it, but it was to come here. Feyd was here, in the ritual, I don't know how, by using spells through the ruby he released my real memories and he reversed what he had done. So, is the 'How' really that important now? As to the 'Why,' I think there will be something in my future that I must do to prove myself worthy of this much effort. That is if you believe in prophecy. Which I don't."

Washburn started to look up from the depths of the well when his eyes passed on a torn piece of some cloth. Maybe the well did not have demon's but something had fallen into it. He took out his sword and leaned over the edge snagging the tip of the sword on the cloth caught on the rocks, and brought it into the light. It was black wool, looked to be torn off of a garment. "Father what do you make of this?" He asked Columcil as he handed the cloth up to the priest still on his horse.

[revanne]

Columcil took the cloth from Washburn. He repressed a shudder, the cloth stank. Not physically, it had not been in the well long enough to have absorbed any of the smell of dank mustiness which hung around the ancient walls and was only slightly damp with the residue of the dew of a summer morning. But he did not even need to extend his senses to feel a malign something - was it pretence, treachery, or - God forbid no! - killing.

He could not resist, nor did he wish to, blessing himself with his free hand, then he ran his thumb feeling the pile of the nap catch a little on the rough flesh.

"Aye, this is frae a priest's cassock right enow. The weaves not just what ye would find wi' cloth made from our yowes, I'm thinking there's maybes a wee bittie goat's yarn mixed wi' it, but aye a bonnie clout fer a priest. A man would nae feel the chill o' an auld kirk in this.

He ignored Washburn's hand outstretched for the return of the cloth and said slowly,

"Whyfore would any yin put a guid bittie clout down yon well?"

His gaze swung round to Darcy and he was about to speak when he heard Fiona shift impatiently. She said nothing but he could well imagine her irritation with him. He spoke to her with a sharpness she had not heard before in the priest's voice,

"Aye Lassie. I ken that we maun gang ta Arx Fidei but we cannae leave like this."

Once again he caught Darcy's eye,

"Darcy, ma lad I've nae dout ye climbed up and doon enow when ye were at sea. I've nae the skill and Washburn shouldna, sae it's up ta ye."

Darcy knew an order when he heard one.

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron knew an order when he heard one.  The idea had already been forming in his own mind, so he did not hesitate or offer any objection.  He looked over the edge where Washburn had found the cloth and yelled "Yo!" into the darkness below.  The echo that returned was very faint; it would be a fair distance to the bottom.

"Right then," he said and moved to Sigrun to retrieve his sea bag.  Father Columcil and Aliset dismounted and after a moment, Fiona dismounted as well, still frustrated at the delay in their departure, even if it was for a good cause.

Darcy withdrew his trusty line from the sea bag and after a moment's hesitation, his spare shirt.  He looked about for something to use to secure the line, but there were no trees nearby or a big, sturdy boulder.

"We can tie the line to the pommel of my saddle," Washburn said.  "Shadow is strong enough to support  both your weight and mine."

"Just mine this time, but good to know nevertheless," Darcy replied.  He passed one end of the line to the Lendour knight and unwound the rest as he returned to the well.  He passed his end of the line around his chest so it rested under his arms and secured it with a strong sailor's knot. Standing at the spot below which Washburn had discovered the cloth, he placed his folded shirt on the stone wall where the line would rest.

"Aliset," he said.  "If I could have your assistance here?"

"Of course." Aliset came over to stand beside him.

"Once the line is taut, make sure it continues to rest on my shirt.  It will keep the line from chafing against the stone.  Everyone else, pray stay back a bit from the wall so as not to disturb any of the rocks and send them down on top of me."

Darcy sat down on the top of the wall and swung his legs over.  Washburn ordered Shadow to stand firm.  Father Columcil said a brief prayer for a safe journey, and Fiona crossed herself.  Aliset laid a hand on Darcy's shoulder.

"You will be careful and not take too many chances." She said firmly.  It was not a question.

Darcy patted her hand and then lifted it to his lips and kissed it.  "You are the best good luck charm I know of."  He gave them a seaman's salute, gripped the rope in his gloved hands and braced his legs against the inside of the well wall.  "Back soon," he added and carefully played out the line to begin his descent.

"Well I'll be damned," he said.  His chest was even with the top of the wall.  "Sorry, Father," he added.  "There are handholds and footholds built into the wall.  I couldn't ask for a better ladder.  I think the black cloth must have gotten snagged on one of them."

"Don't ye be lettin' loose 'o that line," Columcil instructed. 

"I don't intend to, Father, but this will make the descent easier."  Darcy began to climb down carefully, testing each handhold or foothold before moving lower.  Once it became too dim to see clearly, he paused, secure enough in his position to conjure hand fire.  He directed the bright, silver sphere to a spot beside his shoulder to light the way as he descended again.  He would have preferred to move it closer to his feet to see what was below him, but it was too dark to see that far, even with brightly glowing hand fire.

Darcy became aware of the cold as he moved on, and it began to penetrate his clothing.  He had dressed for the warm summer weather, not the inside of a cold, dank well!  He estimated he had descended close to 30 feet when his boot touched the surface of water.  He moved his hand fire lower and saw it reflect off of the dark, murky surface.

He had established Rapport with Aliset  shortly after he started down.  No point in wasting breath to call up to report his progress if he didn't need to. Aliset had shared the Rapport with Columcil, Washburn and Fiona, so Darcy would not need to expend the energy.

"Aliset," he sent.  "I think I've reached the bottom, but it's covered with water.  More like murky bilge water, actually.  I can't tell how deep it is.  Could you find a rock, maybe large enough to fit in your hand, and toss it down?"

"Just a minute," she replied.  "Fiona, will you watch the line while I find what Darcy needs?"

Fiona nodded and moved to stand beside the line.  Aliset quickly located a rock of the right size and moved back to the well.

"I have one," she sent to Darcy.

"Drop it down from the side farthest from me,"  Darcy instructed.  "I'd prefer it if you miss my head."

Aliset could not suppress a smile as she moved around to the other side. She would also prefer to miss his head. She held the rock out from the wall and released it.

The stillness was oppressive as Darcy waited for the stone to appear.  It was well away from his head and hit the water with a splash that tossed dirty water up to his knees.  Aliset has chosen well; the stone was large enough that he heard the "thunk" when it hit bottom.  The water was less than a foot deep, and the floor sounded solid.  Nevertheless he took a firm grip on the line with one hand as he descended the last foot into the water to touch the bottom.  The last thing he needed was to step into quicksand and not be able to haul himself back out.  The water reached almost to the top of his boot, but thankfully no farther.  He'd have to be careful not to slosh or his feet would get wet.

"I'm down," he sent to Aliset.  He moved cautiously.  "No sign of a body down here; it would be floating if there was one.  Darcy felt Aliset's stomach churn through their Rapport.  "Sorry, love," he sent.

((Will Darcy discover anything in the well?  Roll one die at disadvantage, add 2 XP for an additional die and 3 XP for success on 4, 5, 6.

4:24 PM <jerusha> !roll 2d6
4:24 PM <GameServ> jerusha rolled 2d6: 4 5  <Total: 9>

After my roll, Bynw informed me you can only spend 2 XP to add the extra die on an initiative test.  But since either die by itself was successful with the 3 XP added, Bynw said I could count this roll as success. Whew.))

Darcy realized there was a better way to search and extended his Deryni senses as he moved toward the centre of the well. He paused as he felt solid stone underneath the silt, and he used his foot to probe for the edge. He froze as a voice suddenly spoke in his mind.

"Sweet Jesu!" he exclaimed softly as the message ended.  In his mind an image formed of a green stone tower, a black stone tower, a vermillion stone tower, a gold-yellow stone tower and a royal blue tower.   He felt a strange tingling sensation from the stone beneath his feet and then it was gone. He tried to sense it all again, but found nothing.

"Darcy!  What is it?" Aliset sent urgently.  "What have you found?

"I'm not sure.  A voice spoke in my head and right after an image formed.  Then a stone on the floor beneath my feet tingled in a strange way that I have never felt before.  I have not been able to sense it again."

"Do you think it's a Portal?" Washburn asked.

"I don't know what a Portal should feel like."  He sent his memory of the feeling to Aliset.

"Yes, that is a Portal," Aliset said eagerly.  "What was the message and the image?"

Darcy shared the message:

"Washburn.
The Order is more than you think it is.
It can be your key, to glory, wealth, power, your future.
And your past too."

He followed it with the image of the five stone towers.

"I'm going down!" Washburn announced

[DerynifanK]

As the vision shared by Darcy faded, Fiona heard Washburn declare "I'm going down there!"

"No!" she cried. She grabbed at his arm, twisting his tunic sleeve in her fingers and holding tight. "It is not safe! You said we needed to be sure that there was no one down there who needed help. Also we needed to be sure there was not a body down there. Darcy has found neither.  He has answered those concerns. Instead we have found a strange message intended for you, and a transfer portal that is live and could take you anywhere, even without your consent. The piece of cloth, the hand and footholds inside the well and the presence of the portal indicate that this was constructed by someone for a specific purpose. We have no idea what that purpose is. But I have a bad feeling about this. The person who constructed it put a lot of effort into it, and I am sure he expects to profit by it."

"Why take such a chance?  We need to move on now. We have done our duty, and Archbishop Duncan is waiting for us." she continued.

"I know, Lass, but I know those towers we saw. They are part of Coroth Castle, my family home. I don't need a key to glory, wealth, or power. Those things are for others. They may have once been a boyhood dream, but no longer. I have experienced enough to see the real world for what it is, and those things do not tempt me.  Yet, something here involves my brother's home. I will not take the portal, but I need to see for myself this imagery of Coroth in the portal message. I promise to do nothing rash, but if my family is in any way involved in this, I must know of it. Surely you can see that." Wash looked at the young lady as if beseeching her to understand.

"But what if it is all a trap, just as the ruby was a trap? Your friends took great risks and expended much energy to free you. Was that done  just to see you fall into another trap?" Fiona looked really angry but there was also a sheen of tears in her eyes.

Wash took her hand gently. "I understand your concern. And I do know what my friends have done for me, and I am very grateful. If it involved only myself, I would not risk going down the well. But I must know the meaning of this vision if it affects my family. I cannot walk away as long as there is a chance of any harm to them. You must see that!"

"What if you step on that portal and it is trapped and you vanish? How would we find you? We could try to follow you, but do you really think that would  be possible?  And what would happen to anyone who succeeded in following you through the portal.? Have you been rescued only to be lost to your captor again?" Fiona turned away and buried her face in her horse's mane. He could see her shoulders shaking. He put a hand on her shoulder to try to soothe her but she shrugged it off and moved away, dashing tears from her cheeks with her hand.

"Fiona....?" Wash again touched her shoulder.

"You are going to miss your chance to have Bishop Duncan read you and advise the king that your mind is healed. I know you said he would wait, but I am sure he can't wait indefinitely."

Wash shook his head. "I do appreciate your feelings but I must go down the well and see the message and portal for myself. I promise to be very careful, and I will not use the portal. I will take care not to step on it. However, you must see this is something I have to do."

He released her and moved away back to the opening of the well. He put on his gloves and, sitting on the edge of the well  grasped the rope with both hands. He looked around at his friends, locking his gaze on Father Columcil. "Fiona suspects this is likely a trap, Father. As she may very well be right, I have no intention of letting go of this rope. Keep Shadow steady for me."

Then he called down. "Darcy, I am coming down to join you. Keep your handfire lit to help me see the way. I don't want to land on your head. I will be very careful in my descent."

[revanne]

Washburn had been perfectly polite, a little brusque perhaps, but only as a friend would speak to another when there was need of prompt action, and he had been both courteous and kind to Fiona but as he finished speaking something inside Columcil snapped. Perhaps it was lack of sleep, perhaps the long days of fear for Washburn, or maybe his own desire to get back to his grandfather but suddenly he knew he was having nothing to do with this crazy idea. He whirled round to face Washburn and let fly.

"Are ye quite oot o'yer skull ye blethering gowk. D'ye no ken, or mebbes it's that ye dinna care sae much, hae worrit we've been fer ye. Aye an' ma grandda waiting there in Arx Fidei wi' his hairt near breakin' speirin' that he's let doon the son o' the man he loved maist in a' the world. An' this is a trap, an' 'tis sae as like as nae, a rope wilna save ye. Fer the sake o' the Lord Christ will ye nae use the wits ye were born wi'.

Washburn stood torn between shock and bewilderment. He had once seen his cousin Dhugal in a rage, and, by God, Columcil ran true to his blood. He was being given a tongue-lashing no doubt of that; the trouble was he couldn't understand more than half of what Columcil was shouting at him. Suddenly he was struck with the absurd desire to laugh and he turned away but not before Columcil had seen the tell-tale twist of his mouth.

Columcil's rage died as soon as it had come, and he laughed a tad self-consciously before he spoke again this time doing his best to somewhat temper his dialect with the accents of Rhemuth.

"Aye, laddie, laugh and be welcome. And I beg your pardon, I ken right that you'd no do anything wi'out thinking on the risk. But lad, your family is no yon towers that ha'e gone lang sine – aye an' wi' the taint of forbidden magic aboot them. Your family's honour lies wi' your sibs and ye an' the task that ye must now do is to gang ta see his Grace th'Archbishop an' then ta his Majesty in Rhemuth. Please, my Lord, think what ye are aboot."

Columcil finished with deliberate formality hoping thus to remind Washburn of his next duty, then he put a hand briefly on the other's arm before backing away to leave him to make his decision.

[Laurna]

The smile faded from Washburn's lips. There was a choice here to make, and his friends had worthily expressed their opinions. Lady Aliset only looked at him briefly, then her attention went back to the rope and her husband at the bottom of the well. It was clear she did not like Darcy down there. She too would like it less if Wash went down the well, too.

For what purpose? There was no one stuck down there and no dead body. Only a portal that called to HIM specifically.

Damn the vision of the Coroth Towers. That was the thing that trapped him. Those five towers around Coroth had stood tall for a full five centuries. Damned if they would be going anywhere today. Besides, his family was in Rhemuth just now and his brothers were at war. Columcil had the right of it. To his mother and his siblings were where he needed to go. Not to stand on some wild trapped Portal. The thought that a portal might get them to Rhemuth a week faster was tempting. But not tempting enough to take such a risk. Horses most certainly could not jump down the well.

Suddenly, Wash laughed at the absurdity of the idea and then laughed harder at Master Feyd's attempt to trap him; he wondered at the oddness of it. It really made little sense. He had been under Feyd's controls for weeks. Feyd could have called him to go straight down into the well when they first arrived in this village. His friends would have been blindsided by the sudden irrational move of his descent into an old well. He would have been on the Portal at the bottom before they had even dismounted from their horses. So why all the charades of the Ritual and freeing Wash of all controls, if Feyd was just going to trap him again?

Unless...

Unless...

Wash looked up at Columcil who held his cross in one hand and held his eyes open wide, asking the knight to make the right decision. Washburn bit his lip as he turned his gaze back to Fiona. Her cheeks were wet with tears, she was truly afraid for him. Yet she held her voice, hoping he would make the choice she desired. Yet there was more in her eyes than just the desire to move forward, he saw real concern in her gaze.

Going down the well was not truly a trap, it was an invitation! He could make a choice here and now for his future. Go back to family and his old way of life or strike out to be something larger, to discover the secrets of the Eleven Kingdoms, and join the Order.

Feyd needed him to make this choice to go to the Order with his own free will. They would not take him as a slave but as a free man.

Wash nodded, finally understanding. Knowing what mattered most to him, he turned his back on his friends and put his hands on the edge of the well... and then his booming voice called down to reach to the bottom, thirty feet down.

"Darcy! Get your bloomin' ass up here and out of that God forsaken well. I have an appointment at Arx Fidei!"

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron stood at the bottom of the well, his arms crossed across his chest and his hands under his armpits to try to keep them warm.  Darcy was no stranger to the cold; he had sailed the Northern Sea for too many years to not be accustomed to it.  But at least when standing watch in the cold on a ship, there was plenty to do to keep the body moving and the mind sharp.  He shuffled around a bit in the bilge and muck, but the cold seeped into his bones anyway.  He had resisted the urge to stamp his feet vigorously; his clothes were already splashed with enough muck.  He looked up toward the top of the well, hoping for a sign that Washburn had finally made his decision.

"Darcy!"  Washburn bellowed from above.  "Get your bloomin' ass up here and out of that God forsaken well.  I have an appointment at Arx Fidei!"

"Saint Nicholas be praised!" Darcy muttered.  "On my way!" he shouted to those above.

"I can hear you just fine. You don't need to shout," Aliset sent.

"It warmed me up a bit," Darcy sent back.

Darcy checked that his line was still secure around his chest. His hands were stiff from the cold, but that would not be a problem.  His concern at the moment was the muck he was standing in.  It would make the soles of his boots slippery.  He climbed up the first handholds and attempted to scrape off as much muck as he could against the foot holds he was standing on.  It was an improvement, but....

"Aliset, make sure Washburn keeps the line taut as I come up.  There is a chance my footing will not be secure."

Washburn moved to stand beside Shadow's massive head.  He would lead the horse slowly away as Darcy climbed.

The climb up was a bit easier with his hand fire lighting the way above instead of when climbing down into what had been twilight at best.  He had not gone far before his climbing foot slipped off the foothold.  He was safe enough, his hands and supporting foot were secure, but his shin hit the foothold sharply.  Nothing serious, but he would have a fine bruise.

"Darcy?  Is something wrong?" Aliset asked.

"Nay, just a little misstep.  Just keep the line secure and I'll be fine."  Darcy carefully resumed his climb.  This was not the time to rush.

Aliset looked toward Washburn, who nodded.  She estimated that Darcy would soon be halfway to the top of the well.  She concentrated on  the line and made sure Darcy's shirt stayed put beneath it.  Columcil and Fiona stood at the far side of the well, safely back but close enough to watch for the approach of Darcy's head.

Startled, Aliset turned as a young boy appeared at her side.  He was probably six or seven years of age, just old enough to start working in the fields with the men. She had been focused on Darcy and had not been  paying attention to anything else.  She looked beyond the boy and saw the men in the far field.  Someone had likely sent him to find out what was going on at the old well.

The boy leaned over the edge of the well.  "Is someone down there?  I've never seen a torch shine like that before."

"Stay well back!"  Aliset said sharply.  When the boy didn't move immediately, she grasped his shoulder to pull him back.  The boy shook her off, putting one foot against the top of the well for better leverage. The movement dislodged a large stone; it teetered for a moment at the edge and then fell into the well."

"Darcy!  Look out!'" Aliset sent urgently along with an image of the stone hurtling down.

((Can Aliset deflect the stone away from Darcy?  She is ritual trained and has telekenisis, so a standard roll with success on 4, 5, 6.
4:13 PM <jerusha> !roll 2d6
4:13 PM <GameServ> jerusha rolled 2d6: 2 3  <Total: 5>
Crap.  You're on your own, Darcy.))

Aliset focused on the stone to try to deflect it with her powers, but it was falling too fast and disappeared too soon into the darkness.  She could not move it if she could not see it.

"Hold the line!" Darcy sent as he gripped the line and kicked away from the well wall.

"Hold!" Washburn commanded the great destrier.  Shadow planted all four legs and stood firm.

Darcy slammed against the far well wall as the stone plunged down.  As he began to swing back, he climbed hand over hand to get higher. Almost too late he saw the stone, and he barely had time to kick it away.  The impact spun him sideways and he came to rest along the side of the handholds.

Darcy said a silent prayer of thanks to Saint Nicholas as he grasped the closest handhold and planted his feet firmly on two lower down. 

"Darcy!  Are you hurt?  Are you all right?  Say something!" Aliset sent urgently.

"I'm fine.  Just need to catch my breath.  Give me a moment."  Darcy needed the time to calm his racing heart.  His shoulder ached mightily from the encounter with the wall, but nothing seemed to be broken.  He hesitated to release his grip on the line, but it needed to be done.  He took a deep breath and began to climb again.

Washburn moved Shadow forward to take up the slack in the line.

Aliset whirled on the young boy.  "I told you to stay back!"  she shouted at him.

The boy gave her a frightened look.  Father Columcil hurried to Aliset's side and the boy looked to him for protection.  Instead he saw a scowl as dark as a thundercloud.

"Get ye back over yon where ye belong and stay there!"  Columcil commanded.

The boy turned and ran, certain there were demons at the well despite  the presence of a priest.

Aliset turned her attention back to the well, and realized that she was shaking.  She was relieved when she saw Darcy's fair hair shimmering in the hand fire which floated just above it.  Now it was light enough that Darcy extinguished the silver light, and soon both of his hands gripped the top of the well.  Columcil took a firm hold on Darcy's upper arm and helped him climb over the top.

Firm ground had never felt so good to Darcy.  He stretched his back muscles and hoped his shoulder would not stiffen up too soon.  Aliset came to stand before him, looking him up and down, noting the muck on his boots, the splatter of filthy water on his hose and on the hem of his tunic.

"Must you always be so hard on your clothes?" she asked, sounding angry.

Darcy bristled.  "Beg pardon, but...."

That was as far as he got before Aliset wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the potential harm to her own gown, and hugged him so hard he almost couldn't breathe.

"Don't fret, love, I'm fine.  No great harm done," he said gently as he hugged her back.  Aliset drew away after a long moment and wiped tears from her eyes.  Darcy looked over her shoulder and saw men approaching from the far field.

"We'd best be on our way quickly before we are asked questions we don't want to answer," he said as he began to untie the line around his chest.

"Finally!" Fiona said and started toward her horse.  She hesitated and stopped beside Darcy.  "I'm glad that you are safely returned and unharmed," she said.

"Thank you, lass," Darcy replied and smiled at her.

Washburn brought the other end of the line to Darcy and clapped him on the shoulder.  Darcy winced and began to wind the line around the length of his forearm.  Washburn helped Fiona to mount as Columcil gathered his horse's reins.  Darcy stowed the line in his sea bag and Aliset handed him his shirt. She reached forward and examined the tear in his tunic along the back of his shoulder.

"At least there is no blood this time," Darcy said cheerfully. 

Aliset shook her head as her husband helped her to mount her horse.  Darcy removed his sword belt from the pommel of his saddle where he had left it and buckled on his sword.  As he hoisted himself on to his saddle, he saw that  the men  were approaching rapidly.   

They turned their horses toward the road, and Washburn gave the men a jaunty wave in farewell.

"I don't think we have improved our reputation with the villagers,"  Darcy said.

"I don't think I care," Washburn replied.  "I won't be wanting to return to Windyner any time soon."

"And I won't be wanting to return to Windyner any time at all!"  Darcy stated as they turned onto the road that would take them  to Arx Fedei.

They urged their horses into a canter, and none of them looked back.

[revanne]

Columcil was by now a good enough rider that he was able to slip his right hand from Spean's reins to cross himself in thanksgiving for Washburn's decision. They were a bonnie group of companions, all of them, and whatever his grandfather intended for him he hoped that he would not altogether lose contact. Whatever befell, it was going to be he that baptised Aliset and Darcy's bairns even if he had to ride halfway back across Gwynedd to do so.

He had allowed himself to drop back a little as he mused and, glancing forward towards the others, he saw that Darcy was favouring his injured shoulder. Not that the seaman would say anything, doubtless he would rather suffer agonies than admit to being in pain. And if he suggested that they stop, Fiona would doubtless protest that they risked being locked out of Arx Fidei. He couldna blame the lass for her anxiety but if Darcy continued he risked worse damage; besides it went against Columcil's instincts as a healer to allow hurts to continue without cause.

Maybe, though, there was a solution. Columcil had been in contact with his grandfather rather more frequently than he had let on to the others. He did not conceal his formal contact with the Archbishop but the growing  warmth of their personal relationship he had not thought it right to disclose. He hoped he was not presuming upon it, but he knew well enough that no one in Arx Fidei would bar the gates against a party that the Archbishop had given instructions were to be admitted and made welcome. And a decent meal would be more than welcome at the end of a ride.

The horses had settled into a steady pace, the track was broad and smooth underfoot and Spean was not a horse to spook easily. The steady beat of the hooves was in itself mesmerising and helped Columcil to relax as he sank into a trance and reached out to his grandfather. ( 2d6 3xp success on 456, 3 and 5. Success).

There was no time to make a long story of it, besides this was Washburn's tale to tell. It was not fitting that another should tell of his hesitation at the well, but Columcil told enough for Duncan's relief to flow out to him coupled with warm affection. Columcil then told of the need to heal Darcy, knowing that the healer whose heritage he shared would have no cavil with that.

I'll make sure you are not locked out for the night. I'm not that brave a man that I would like to admit to Duchess Richenda that her beloved son had been rescued from the powers of evil only for me to keep him camping on the ground outside my window.

Columcil was relaxed enough that he allowed his mental laugh at this to be heard by his grandfather and then he hesitated. Duncan knew that hesitation well.

Out with it son, what is it that you are not quite sure whether you should ask? No let me guess. I'll have a meal bespoke for you all from the Abbot's own kitchen, no use having an Archbishop for a grandfather if you can't make use of him.  I can hardly blame you for not welcoming the bread and cold pease pudding you'd likely be offered in the guest house at such an hour.

Columcil felt slightly abashed to have been read so easily but only slightly, he was too grateful for the thought of a good meal. So murmuring Amen to the blessing that Duncan shared he allowed himself to come gently back to his surroundings. Darcy was definitely favouring that arm; Aliset had noticed too but for her to say something aloud would wound her husband's pride. She would speak if she had to, but Columcil had enough experience of Aliset and Darcy out of sorts with each other to prefer finding a different way. He murmured into Spean's ear urging the horse to catch the others, then pulling alongside Washburn he called,

"Your pardon, my lord, but I need to ask ye to stop fer a wee while".

Washburn looked wary at being addressed so formally,

"Am I due for another scolding Father? If so I'd sooner have it as we ride."

Columcil had intended his courtesy by way of a tacit apology but realising his mistake replied hastily,

"Nay lad, it's no' ye but yon Darcy. He'll no' say a word aboot it but he canna gang much further wi' his arm hurt like tha'. If we stop, I'll see if I can no' heal it."

Washburn looked at Darcy and saw at once that Columcil was right, and more, that by inviting him to give the order to stop, the priest was allowing him to reclaim his rightful authority.

He pulled Shadow Dancer to a halt, and called out to the others to stop. Shadow danced the steps that had given him his name, impatient of the interruption of his pleasure at once again stretching his legs with his master in his rightful place atop him.

While Washburn was issuing his commands, Columcil had edged Spean around so that he was within reach of Fiona's arm. Alert for the reaction that he was sure would come, he saw her stiffen and open her mouth to speak. Before she could do so he placed his hand on her arm, gently but firmly enough that she stopped in mid breath.

"Wheest now lass, Ah ken that ye're worrit that we maun gang oor road wi' nae mair delay, but see noo, yon Darcy is mair hurt than he'll be letting on. Ah maun try and see if he'll gi'e me his leave ta heal him, but Ah'm thinkin' that he'll nae be very happy aboot it. An' if ye gi'e him an excuse tae argue his way out o' stopping he'll jump on't.

Fiona looked as though she might be ready to argue but she both liked and trusted the priest and so, before continuing with her protest, she glanced quickly at Darcy. That was all she needed to see that all that Father Columcil said was true. Darcy was not sitting with his customary ease, his back was held stiffly as though trying to protect his injured shoulder.  More in character was the mutinous set to his face as he listened to Washburn without making the slightest attempt to dismount. She turned her head towards Columcil, nodded her understanding, dismounted and led her horse towards the river bank saying loudly.

"You have the right of it, My Lord, we should take time to allow our steeds to drink while we are alongside fresh running water."

Darcy however was having none of it. It was clear that his injury was paining him; it was even clearer that this, coupled with his absolute refusal to acknowledge it, was having a detrimental effect on his temper. He sat like a statue on his horse, meeting Washburn's gaze with a glare which said that he was spoiling for a fight and intended to have one.

"I'm all for caring for our beasts, though maybe it's not for the likes of a mere seaman to dare to disagree with a noble Knight over such things, but if your Lordship thinks that I'm about to allow my wife to sleep on the ground so that your horse can drink his fill..."

Darcy broke off as Aliset moved her horse pointedly in front of his as if to cut off his escape. She said nothing, she probably would say nothing for the next hour, the next day, the next week. God, how his shoulder ached. And now they were all looking at him as though he had lost his wits.

Washburn wisely said nothing, taken aback by the implication that his returning confidence had been so misinterpreted. Thankfully Columcil decided that it was time he intervened and slipped off Spean's back. Preoccupied as he was, he offered up a quick prayer of thanks that he could now do so without fear of an undignified tumble and a more fervent plea that he would be able to calm Darcy's agitation and heal his pain.

"Calm yerself laddie, there's nae question o'ony o'us sleeping outwith Arx Fidei the nicht. We mebbes look like something the cat brought in but gi'e his Grace th' Archbishop a wee bittie credit fer Christian charity, e'en were the twae o'us no' his kin."

He smiled up at Darcy, who nodded acceptance of the truth of what he said but still made no move to dismount.

"Laird Jesus g'ie me thy wisdom and compassion," Columcil silently prayed as he realised that he would have to broach his intention to heal Darcy outright. He feared this would not go well. He was right. Darcy said nothing. Columcil said nothing further but continued to stand by Darcy's mare, preventing him from riding her forward towards the river. Finally Darcy said with an edge of irritation in his voice,

"Well, as we are here, I may as well give this lass a drink, so if you would step aside Father or if you have something else to say just come out with it."

Columcil could put it off no longer,

"Listen lad, why d'ye no come doun and let me heal yer arm fer ye. Ye're a canny braw lad, but there's no shame in admitting that ye're hurt and nae sense in bearing pain wi'out need neither."

Darcy stiffened, his normally calm seaman's gaze flashing cold fire at the priest. Columcil was right of course, but after all that had happened in the past few days, Darcy felt that he preferred to have nothing further to do with anything smacking of magical powers, however well-intentioned. His shoulder hurt like hell, the pain coursing down his arm, but nothing that he could not endure if needs be until they reached Arx Fidei, when some bandages and Old Ballymar would suffice. And Sir Washburn was grating on his nerves; it was entirely correct that he should once again take charge, but where did that leave him? Well done my good man and thank you. You'll find your proper place back there. Washburn had said no such thing, and Darcy knew he had not so much as implied it, but it was true all the same.

"I'm just fine as I am, thank you Father, and the better if you'd leave me be. Now excuse me"

Darcy moved his mare a few steps forward, forcing Columcil to back away, then he dismounted. He handed the reins to Aliset then walked towards the river, moving upstream away from the shallows where Washburn and Fiona were watering their horses until he stopped by the edge of a deeper pool where he stood staring moodily into the clear depths.

Columcil sighed. He knew that help could not be forced,but he felt that he had failed Darcy.

"I'm sorry," he said to Aliset.

"Don't blame yourself,  Father, he's as stubborn as a mule sometimes,and then it is best just to leave him be."

Washburn had come up in time to hear Aliset's words and he offered, "Maybe I should try. If anyone can understand being wary of magic, then I can." Not waiting for a reply, he strode off towards the riverbank and Darcy, leaving Aliset and Columcil looking dubiously at each other.

Never one to do the expected thing, something that had got him into more trouble than he cared to remember, Washburn suddenly knew that to prevent his relationship with Darcy from crumbling under the weight of his own restored status, something drastic was required.

The early morning mist had long since burnt off and the sun shone hot as it neared its zenith. The worst they risked was female disapproval.

Wash did not trouble to hide the sound of his approach, he knew Darcy was in no mood to turn. The water was clear enough for him to see easily that there were no hidden dangers and depth enough for what he intended. Walking up behind Darcy he placed his hand in the small of his victim's back and pushed.

Darcy rose to the surface spluttering and coughing; the cool water was indeed pleasant rather than otherwise, had he chosen to go for a swim. Which he had not. Furious, once he had regained his breath, he turned to look for his attacker only to see Washburn laughing down at him. There was no malice in his face, only a mischief which lit up his eyes. Suddenly Darcy's anger evaporated. In three strong strokes, he was at the bank, and, hooking his uninjured arm around Wash's ankles, he toppled him into the water. Maturity and rank forgotten, like a couple of hound puppies they wrestled together in the water, laughing and splashing, oblivious both of Columcil's startled blessing of himself and the glance of disapproval shared between Fiona and Aliset.

As they larked about, Washburn could see that Darcy was sparing his injured arm. After a short time he feigned breathlessness and swam to the shallow farther edge of the pool. He climbed out and sitting on a flat rock, gestured to Darcy to sit beside him.

"It is thanks to you, as Captain of this crew, that I am now restored to my brothers and my King. But you will always be my brother, the one who stuck by me when I believed I was alone." He put his hand out, palm uppermost and, after a moment, Darcy grasped it tightly.

"And now, my Captain", Washburn continued, "is it really sensible to set sail with your mast askew and your rigging torn, when there is the means to mend it. We have assurance that the gates of Arx Fidei will not be closed on us, and if I know our good father, he will have bespoken us a hearty meal."

He gazed down into the water for a moment then added. "Magic is like water, a force that is given to us for good but can be used for evil, as I know only too well. All I can tell you is that when I have joined with Father Columcil in healing, it has seemed like the water of life itself flowing into that which is hurt to bring healing. There is no harm there, I swear on my soul."

"He speaks naught but the truth my son."

The voice was Columcil's who had obviously waded through the shallows further downstream and made his way down the bank to join them.

"For m'sen, ah was healing puir folk lang afore ah kenned I was Deryni, trusting that t'was the guid Laird Himself and bonnie Saint Melangell and e'en noo that has no changed. A' that is guid comes frae God an' if some folk aye choose to misuse such gifts, be sure they will answer for it. Ah dinna ken what yon twisted yin was aboot, but ah swear ta ye tha' ah wish only ta help ye."

Darcy looked at both his friends and knew he had nothing to fear. Fear of the unknown was wise, no seaman with sense sailed headlong into uncharted waters but in Columcil and Washburn he had better than charts.

"Sorry, Father, for my rudeness back there," he began, but Columcil shook his head with a smile to forestall the apology.

Darcy briefly bowed his head as though receiving absolution, but when he spoke again it was to Washburn.

"Thank you, my brother, and as my brother I would ask you to share in the healing."

Washburn looked towards Columcil, hoping that the water that gathered in his eyes at this evidence of trust would be taken for river water. Columcil nodded and gestured to Washburn to stand beside him as together they placed their hands gently on Darcy's shoulder and entered into healing trance.

(Roll for Columcil to heal Darcy 2d6 5:3 total 8, success Roll for Washburn to share in healing 2d6 4:6 total 10,success. Roll for Darcy to be healed 1d6:6 success).

Darcy felt a slight sense of disorientation as if he had missed a step, quickly replaced by a warmth which moved from his shoulder blade, round across his collar bone and down his arm. Tentatively he moved his arm feeling surprise that there was not even a shadow of pain. Then with a grin of pleasure he swung his arm in a great circle behind his head, causing Columcil and Washburn to jump back out of reach.

Columcil watched with unconcealed pleasure, waited until Darcy's arm was still and then put his arm on Darcy's shoulder,

"Come awa' noo, lad we'd best make oor peace wi' yon lasses an gang oor way."

[Laurna]

"Come awa' noo, lad we'd best make oor peace wi' yon lasses an gang oor way." Columcil followed by the two other men turned toward the women and the horses.

Only, Aliset was standing firm on the ground with her fists on her hips. The tone of her voice was like a mother berating her wayward sons, "Don't you think you boys might be forgetting something?"

Wash looked perplexed and dared not say a word.

"Ah did th' Laird's work, as fast as Ah cud," the good father stated, not understanding what the lady was implying.

"My shoulder is good now. I don't need to rest up any longer," Darcy added perplexed.

Aliset only raised her eyebrows and stared at them. "You intend to ride six more hours like that?"

Fiona whispered into Aliset's ear and then giggled, particularly looking at Washburn.

Darcy and Colucmil looked at Wash, neither understanding what Fiona found amusing. "Cousin, what are you going on about?" At Darcy's comment the young lady only giggled more and turned away.

"It seems," Aliset said in a way of an answer, not giving in to Fiona's giggle, "if we were to have a wet tunic contest the first place would be a tie. At least if Lady Fiona and myself were the only judges." She held her breath for a moment but then could not help herself, "Father, if you want to break that tie, might I suggest you go swimming too."

The shock on Father Columcil's face was enough to break Aliset's stern facade. A laugh escaped before she held open her hands for forgiveness. "No, no, father, don't go swimming. Looking at the two of you in wet clothes is enough merriment for both us "Lasses" especially on a nice day like this. I am sure your wet clothes above the waist will dry in the sun. But what about...." She paused. "I mean to say... I will not be dabbing healing herbs on saddle sores where wet cloth rubbed skin raw. Not tonight. If you get my meaning."

Instantly the two men who'd gone swimming looked at each other with surprised expressions. Sure enough, wet shirts were still clinging to chest and arms and breaches suddenly were uncomfortably wet in the legs when neither had noticed it at all the moment before.

Fairly quickly, Wash took his sword belt off and pulled his tunic and shirt over his head. Darcy was about to take his own shirt off when he saw Fiona's eyes open and her lips smile as she watched the knight disrobe. Darcy held up a hand. "Hold on, I think the ladies better turn away."

There was rebellion in both the ladies eyes. It was Father Colucmil who stepped up to the women and took both by the arms and turned them to look over the river. He voiced a prayer, which forced both lasses to lower their heads to share in his words. The two men were quick to race to their saddlebags and search for fresh clothing before stripping the rest of their wet clothes from their bodies. At least the horses acted as a shield for some parts.

Wash had dry britches on and was tugging his only other linen shirt out of the bottom of his saddlebag, when his father's journal caught on the fabric and came out of the bag into his hands. He thought nothing of it as he held it and dug deeper into his bag for his grandfather's blue tunic. The tunic and shirt he laid across one arm preparing to place his father's journal back in his bags, when he realized the journal was loosely open, a piece of fabric seemed to be stuck in the pages. "When did I rip my green cloak?" he asked to no one in particular.

"You haven't had a cloak since the ruins," Darcy answered; his memory for such things was not something to be questioned. "Besides, the cloak you had before that wasn't green. Didn't your mother tie the journal in a green ribbon?"

Wash opened the journal holding the page with his thumb and displayed a folded patch of green wool, frayed on the edges and looking rather tattered and old. As he went to pick the fabric up, Darcy yelled, "That is not yours, let me!" His voice alerted the others and they quickly came  to surround Wash and the book.

Aliset called, "Carefull!" even as Darcy lifted the patch off the open page. The green fabric was folded over and opened up to reveal the embroidery of a white hand, palm and fingers open, with a green blotch in the center of the palm. As Darcy pulled the fabric flat, the blotch turned into a star with eight points. Darcy looked quizzically at it, for he had not seen such a design before.

Columcil held out his hand and took the patch from the seaman. He examined it, turning it over. "Tis gey auld. Ah speir ah saw a drawing in ma grandfather's office that looked akin ta this. But ah didn'a ha'e time ta ask him aboot it. Ye say that ye havn'a seen this aye afore?" He deliberately kept the fabric out of Washburn's long reach.

"Wash, we have seen you read your father's journal, and we can all agree that this has been placed in the book since the village, but why?" Darcy asked.

Columcil opened his senses to the fabric, "There's nae aura whereby we might ha' kenned how 'twas placed in the journal," his eyes unfocused as he looked deeper. "There's a wee bittie sense of violence, some yin deid afore his time... some yin affeard... traumatic... mebbes in battle."

(( Can Wash detect anything in the cloth
21:09 <•Laurna> !roll 2d6
21:09 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 2d6: 2 1 <Total: 3> Nope))

Wash touched the fabric then, but he could not sense even what Columcil could sense. There was no evil enspellment upon the fabric. Wash was glad of that much.

"I know this heraldry. My mother discovered it in an alabaster painting found at Grecotha. It was the badge of the ancient Healers, the ones who studied at Saint Neot's. That is a ruined abbey north of Corwyn, which was destroyed during the harrowing. She had embroidered one for my father, though I think she said he did not wear it, having not been a student at that abby." Wash held the fabric then declared. "The colors are wrong. At least not that as I saw in the painting. The painting was a green hand with a white star."

"You found this in the journal? Did it mark a page?" Aliset asked.

Having forgotten he still held the journal, Wash opened it up to where his thumb held the page. He briefly read though both open pages. "I read this part before. My father was in the royal library desperately looking for answers to help him with the verse King Brion had left behind. The magic that would help Kelson at his crowning." Wash looked up and bit his lip. "I am not sure how much each of you know about the empowerment of our king. I am not sure it is my place to say. But as I have nephews and nieces of the Haldane line, I know something of what is involved. Though I have never been a part of it. In the time that Kelson became king, such information was known by only the king himself and my father."

"Does any of that have to do with the ancient Healers?"  Fiona asked.

"Not that I can guess." Washburn then read the passages on the open page.

"If only I could find some clue: a significant marked passage, some notes from when Brion concocted the ritual verse, some hint as to how the problem should be approached. It was, of course, possible that we would be able to figure it out without help. But I hated to be less than certain on something of this importance.
Because the ritual verse Had to work. If it didn't, Kelson was doomed, and Duncan and I with him. Nor was it possible for us to do Kelson's fighting for him. Occult practice simply would not permit it.
If only I could remember more about Brion's reading habits, that might give me some better idea of where else to look. I knew that there had to be a link somewhere, that Brion must have left something, if only as a reassurance for the friend he had known would come looking for such a thing. Perhaps the clue was in the verse itself.
Wearily, I sat down at Brion's reading desk and propped myself up on my elbows. Somewhere I must find the clue; I knew it must exist."

"That is what is written on the fore page," Wash said. Then he continued to read the facing page.

"As my eyes scanned the room once more, the gryphon seal on my left forefinger caught my attention. I had read once of a Deryni lord who had used a similar ring as a point of focus for deep concentration-- the Thuryn technique, named for Rhys Thuryn, who had first made it a part of the Deryni arsenal. I had often used the technique in the past, though never for something like this. But it had always worked well before. Perhaps it would work again.
Focusing all my attention on the ring, I began to concentrate, willing my mind to put aside all outside worries and relax, to shut out superfluous sounds, sights, sensations. As my eyes drifted closed, my breathing slowed, became more shallow. My tense fingers relaxed.
As I concentrated on keeping my mind clear, I permitted an image of Brion's face to form in my thoughts, tried to put himself into that image, to fathom what had been there concerning what I now sought.
Suddenly the image of Brion winked out of existence, to be replaced by swirling blackness and dizziness. I had a fleeting impression of a man's face surrounded by a dark cowl, strange, yet hauntingly familiar, a feeling both of urgency and reassurance-- and then the moment was past. Then there was nothing but a stunned me sitting rather foolishly at a desk in a library with my eyes closed." *

((*Deryni Rising quote from Chapter 5 - changed to first person point of view))

"Curious?" Columcil stated. "His Grace, yer farther was a gey guid writer. Ah wuld like ta read sich a bonnie words m'sen."

Washburn looked a little protective of the journal. "If my brother approved, I could lend it to you."

"Could the Healer's badge be associated with the man's face in the Dark cowl?" Fiona asked.

"I imagine so." Wash replied. "It is the same face, I saw one night when I was held captive. It was in the moonlight. I felt the presence of Saint Camber protecting me."

"You showed me." Aliset said, nodding.

"Saint Camber has a strong affinity to Healers as we have both seen him during deep Healings." Wash said and Columcil agreed.

"Saint Camber died in battle did he not?" Fiona added. "Was this his?" She pointed to the fabric.

"Nay," Columcil injected. "Ah dinna think sae." But then he was unsure.

"We need to get to Arx Fidei," Darcy suddenly said while quickly tossing his dry shirt over his head.

"I am with you on this." Washburn took the fabric, placed it back in the journal, and carefully put it back in his saddlebags.

With a dry shirt and tunic held in place by his sword belt, Washburn assisted Fiona to her horse. When all were in the saddle, the five horses were given their heads to make quick work of the ride back to Arx Fidei.

[Jerusha]

Darcy Cameron and his companions were making good time on the road back to Arx Fedei.  Darcy and Washburn rode side by side leading the group, though Shadow Dancer sometimes grew impatient at Sigrun's shorter stride.  Aliset and Fiona rode behind them, and Father Columcil was content to bring up the rear.  Fiona would rather have ridden beside Washburn, but Darcy insisted the women should travel behind him and the skilled knight.

"While I don't expect to see any bands of rebels this far east, I'd prefer to be over-cautious than careless," Darcy explained.  Father Columcil, busy checking one of Spean's hooves, had not heard the explanation.

They had travelled for almost two hours when Columcil noticed that Darcy kept them well clear of other travellers on the road and sometimes dropped back to position himself between other riders and the ladies.  Darcy was always protective of Aliset, but this was beginning to seem a bit obsessive.

"Are ye lookin' for trouble, laddie?"  Columcil called to him as Darcy began to move his horse forward to rejoin Washburn in the lead after a small group of riders passed.

"There is a rebellion in progress in Meara," Darcy replied dryly.  "And though we have been a bit preoccupied of late, I have not forgotten about it."

"Mebbies ah forgot to tell ye it's over," Columcil said ruefully.

"WHAT?"  Darcy pulled up Sigrun so sharply that Aliset had to rein in her own mount to avoid running into him.  Fiona managed to guide her horse around him.  Washburn, realizing the others had suddenly stopped, quickly turned his destrier around to return to them.

"What's wrong?"  Washburn asked, confused by the startled look on Darcy's face.

"The good Father has forgotten to mention the rebellion is over," Darcy replied, shaking his head to clear the confusion in his mind.

"What?  It's over?"  Washburn looked from Columcil to Darcy and back again.  ""When did you learn this?" he asked the priest.

Columcil sighed. "Ah'd a wee talk wi' Archbishop Duncan afore th 'ritual. Ah speired he shud ken that ah'd reached ye safely. He didn'a gi'e muckle detail, just tha' Prince Javan'd defeated yon Valerian at Laas. I'm thinking he was worrit that ye'd mebbes be haring off ta Meara ta redeem yer honour.

Washburn snorted.  "He knows me too well, I think."

"So it's really over?" Fiona asked.  "Were there many losses?" she added, concerned for her cousin.  Aliset reached over and laid a supportive hand on her arm.

"Ah dinna ken nae mair," Columcil replied gently. " Forbye he'd ha'e told me an the news was bad fer any on us."

"We should press on," Darcy said and moved his horse up beside Washburn. "The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll find out more.  We'll make better time now that I don't have to keep such a tight ship."

"Lead on, Captain!" Washburn said.  "We'll let the wind fill our sails and be there in no time."

"Just don't push the Captain overboard again," Aliset quipped.  "I think you both have run out of dry clothes."

Columcil chuckled, relieved that his piece of news was delivered without causing offence that it was late.

***

It was dusk by the time they reached Arx Fedei.  Columcil dismounted and was just beginning to raise his hand to ring the bell beside the door set into the gate, when the gate opened and a lay brother motioned them all to come inside. 

"The Archbishop asked that we watch for you, Father Columcil, and admit you and your party upon arrival," the lay brother said. 

"Thank ye, good brother," Columcil replied as several other brothers joined them to take their horses.  Columcil and the others quickly removed their saddlebags so the horses could be led away to well-deserved food and rest.

"I see you took your time getting here!" announced a familiar voice as the Archbishop of Rhemuth strode toward the dusty group in the courtyard.  There was no hesitancy in his steps, and it appeared he had made a full recovery since Father Columcil had left for Windyner.  Magistra Helena followed a few steps behind. 

"Your Grace," the travellers said as they paid their respects and kissed the archbishop's amethyst ring.

"That's enough formality," Duncan said with a smile as he embraced first his grandson and then his nephew.  Then, with one arm around Columcil's shoulders and the other around Washburn's, he turned them toward the guesthouse.  "I have not forgotten that I promised you a satisfying meal and comfortable beds for the night.  Come with me and we can share news while you eat your fill."

***

Darcy stood in the courtyard studying the stars.  Despite the long and arduous day, his mind continued to mull over the information the archbishop had shared, and he had been unable to settle down to sleep.  Aliset and Fiona had been given a room together, and he was sharing another with Washburn and Columcil.  Rather than have his tossing disturb his companions' sleep, he had decided to find comfort in the stars. He sighed; he would have preferred to find the comfort of his wife sleeping beside him. 

The rebels had been defeated at Laas and Ratharkin retaken.  Valerian, thankfully, had been killed. Brioc's fate was still unknown. Fiona's cousin had acquitted himself well, and Jaxom had fought well, or at least lucky.  Darcy admitted to himself that Jaxom probably had fought well, but it would always be difficult for him to tolerate the man.  He would keep his oath to Earl Brendan, but would try to avoid Lord Peacock whenever possible.  In the end, they had not lost anyone dear to them.  If it had not been for the skill of a young Healer though, that might have turned out otherwise.  Father Columcil's words echoed in his mind: A' that is guid comes frae God.

Columcil's words seemed to still Darcy's mind, especially as he thought of Aliset and their wee lassies.  With a smile, he turned back toward the guesthouse.  Arx Fedei  would awaken early, and he really should get some rest.

[Laurna]

The room was safe, the bed comfortable, Washburn slept very little. He didn't rise in the night as Darcy had, he had too much running through his mind to consider the space around him.

The rebellion was over!

He had missed it all: the strategy, the marching, the battle, the hunt for the rebels, the vanquishing of Valerian, and the recapture of a lost city. He, who trained daily for battle for most of his life, had lost the opportunity to prove himself. It rankled his pride. Not, however, for quite as long as he thought it should have. Soon enough he realized he didn't carry the pridefulness that he had had in prior times.  In the wee small hours before dawn, his outrage dampened and was replaced by concern for his family. How much had his brothers endured to protect the kingdom, and to protect the family, himself included?

Kelric and Brendan had been in the thick of it. One at the battle of Laas, injured while holding the walls, the other at the recapture of Ratharkin, steadfast in bringing the Rebellion to a close. Finally, Washburn understood why he had neither seen nor heard from either brother since the time of his capture. The king had forbidden them to seek him out. Washburn had been a threat to family and kingdom. King Kelson would not take that chance, and he had kept his brothers away. After all that had happened, he wondered if he would be able to redeem himself in their eyes.

He had been a prisoner, but he did not think of himself as Valerian's pawn. It had come close, far too close, but he had smite Valerian and locked his powers away from him, breaking his bondage and escaping. He knew now that King Kelson had allowed him to roam the countryside to keep him out of his family's reach. He could not say if he was angry or grateful to his king for pushing him away. He suspected the latter. Now if he could just prove to the king that his mind was again his own.

It is time to tell your story, without embellishment, without pride, and hope that uncle Duncan can vouch for your safe return to Rhemuth. Washburn made this agreement with himself as the dawn broached the east facing window.

*****


"And that is how my father saved me." Washburn placed the ruby on the table at arm's length between himself and the Archbishop of Rhemuth. "I rallied my energy with a remnant protective spirit of Lord Alaric in the guise of a great red dragon that had been cast upon this ruby a score of years ago."

"I am amazed,"  was Uncle Duncan's reply. The archbishop stared at the ruby, "I recall assisting Alaric in the placement of that spell. We never imagined then how it would come to be used."

"It helped me keep my sanity," Wash said quietly, then his voice rose up. "I will not downplay the efforts of the men and women at my side, to whom I owe my life," the knight nodded to the two men and the two women who sat along the table's length with him. "I have tried to tell you some of what has occurred and all that they have done for me. Know that my trust in them is complete;  they have seen me through the impossible and into healing. I am hopeful that you can confirm that it was all worth the effort. I need to prove that I am no longer enthralled and that I am whole."

Washburn looked from Uncle Duncan, to Magistra Helena, and to Bishop John Nivard, the three who sat across the table from him. He tried to read their expressions.  Bishop John, who had been so emotional at Bishop Denis's funeral the week before was now cool headed and truthreading Wash through the whole hour long story. Wash had told no falsehoods, Bishop John confirmed that. But Washburn's capture might have contributed a good deal to Denis Arilan's stress, which ultimately brought about the beloved bishop's demise. His grace said nothing, but Wash feared it would be a long time before he could gain Bishop John's trust again. Magistra Helena was wholly on the other side of compassion. She listened intently to Washburn's story and she nodded and dabbed her eyes from the tears that fell from time to time.

Duncan was like Helena, but in far better control. He had listened with concern taking it all in. At last he spoke. "I am glad that it is I who can receive your story. Your mother, God bless her, has been held back by the king until I can assure him, and her, that you are truly healed and your own man once more. There is one more thing we must do to prove it. I must request that I perform a mind reading."

"Yes, I expected such," Washburn said pushing back his reluctance to have others within his mind.

Duncan understood and nodded to the magistra. She produced a brown vial with a green cap which she set next to a wine goblet. "We have something that will make the task easier for you." his uncle indicated the vial. "We don't have to do this in front of everyone, we can seek out privacy, if you like?"

Washburn didn't hear Duncan's last words. His eyes went wide, his back tensed, he leaned away from the table wanting desperately to escape. "I have been controlled by drugs far too many times. Can we do this without drugs? That looks very much like that which I poured onto the ground. I don't think I can willingly drink it."

The magistra of the schola looked him in the eyes and calmly explained,  "It is a mild sedative, it will help you open your mind, so that no harm will come to the one who reads you."

"We will not take a risk that your mind still holds a trap for the Archbishop of Rhemuth to blithely walk into," Bishop John said coolly.

To Washburn's surprise all four voices on his side of the table burst out in rejection at once.  They were stalwart supporters and he could see that uncle Duncan did agree with them, but he also could not go against caution.

Taking a breath and deliberately relaxing muscles that had reacted to his momentary terror, Washburn held up both hands in submission. "I know why you ask this of me, I understand, I don't like it, but I will submit to it.  I don't need privacy. I need all of you to find it in your hearts to accept me back into the realm." Wash reached for the vial and the wine goblet, but it was Duncan's ringed fingers which stayed his hand.

"Perhaps I should be the first to open my heart and my trust. Do you promise to open fully and not attack me when we are in Rapport."

"Your Grace, I will swear upon the holy relics of Saint Jorian that I will submit to you fully mind and body."

"Very well," said Duncan. His gaze stopped the rebellious outbursts Helena and John were about to make. The archbishop stood and came to stand at the back of where Morgan's son sat. Father Columcil remained at his left side easing his hand over his wrist. John moved his chair to sit at Washburn's right side. He too took Washburn's wrist, but gripped it with unease. The magistra sat opposite watching with concern.

Wash bit his lip, and whispered, "Dear father, may I show them that I am Healed.That I am no longer a pawn"

"You are like a son to me, I vow that I will be as gentle as I can. Lean your head back, and trust me."

"Your grace, I trust you fully. If there is even a remnant of the scholar left in my mind, I beg that you dig deep and tear it out. I will not be a betrayer, on my life, I do swear!" With his words, Washburn tilted his head back against the archbishop's cassock and he dropped every vestige of resistance to let the other's mind sweep through his.

Duncan was thorough, he took his time and his energy leaving no leaf unturned. He had to do this because the kingdom of Gwynedd needed to be certain that Washburn Morgan was clean of all taint. For Washburn, memories flashed, everything that he had been and done were revealed. The recessed corners where a beast had once staked his territory were again swept through to be certain that no triggers remained.  The conversations with Feyd both literal and imagined were carefully gleaned. Duncan was meticulous and fully in control. When the Archbishop came to the juncture where Wash held his secret talent, Duncan was caught by his own curiosity, more curiosity than he should have likely shown. When he learned how Washburn had turned off Grand Duke Valerian's powers, he did look for the trigger spot in Wash for himself. After some struggle he could not find it. Upset with himself for making such an attempt, Duncan apologized, I hope I didn't abuse your trust, just now, that was wrong of me.

No, I do wish that someone else would learn this thing. So that it would not be all upon my shoulders. Washburn responded humbly.

Perhaps your brother will have better luck than I.

Time passed, although Wash was unaware of the length. He could feel tendrils of John and Helena in his mind along with the comforting thoughts from Columcil. Even Aliset, Darcy and Fiona were on the edge of his perceptions with their compassion. 

At last, coming out of Rapport, he heard Duncan's soft voice as the priest stood over him.

"I am happy to announce that I find nothing hidden or lingering in the mind of the youngest son of Alaric, my cousin and dearest friend. I profess that Washburn is in good health, mind and body, though the mind may need a bit more time to come to terms with all that has happened to him. I would blur his memories, but he has declined, wanting to find his own path back to full healing. I will inform the king and request that Washburn and his friends join us on our travel back to the capital. There they can present themselves to the king and the queen, and to Gwynedd's court, who are longing for this reunion.

Wash didn't remember much more that morning. Only that he was assisted to his bed where he  was allowed to fall asleep without the nightmares that had haunted him for so long.

[DerynifanK]

The deep reading by the archbishop had been completed with the result they had all hoped for. Duncan had found no residual taint in Washburn's mind. He was clean and free of the Scholar's influence.He was fully in control of himself again. The archbishop would be establishing contact with the king to relay the good news and request permission for Washburn and his companions to accompany Duncan and his party back to Rhemuth.

Washburn appeared exhausted after the reading. He had not slept well the night before and had been nervous in anticipation of the process. Darcy and Columcil assisted the knight back to his room where they put him to bed for much needed sleep. Duncan returned to his quarters to attempt rapport and report to the king. Bishop John went to the church to consider and pray about what he had seen and heard. The two ladies of the party, Aliset and Fiona, strolled out into the garden to get some fresh air and to discuss what might come next when they reached Rhemuth.

As they walked along the paths, Fiona spoke first, asking Aliset, "What do you think will happen when you and Darcy meet with the king? Do you think he will confirm you as heiress to Meriot and settle the estate on you and Darcy? He might even make Darcy a baron. Will you settle at Meriot and will you continue with his deryni training when there is time?

Aliset laughed lightly. "What a lot of questions. I'm not sure what will happen when we reach Rhemuth. I am confident that he will acknowledge me as heiress to the estate, but I think both Darcy and I will have to explain our actions while we were absent from Rhemuth. A lot happened during that time, and we will need to explain our decisions. That is especially true for me. Noble young ladies are not supposed to disguise themselves as men and leave court without permission even to join a rescue mission. I think we will have some work to do to regain our king's and, especially for me, our queen's confidence in us."

"But what about you?"  Aliset smiled at her young friend. "Do you still intend to pursue your desire to attend the Schola?  I know your first plans were disrupted by what happened at Bishop Arilan's funeral. Are you still planning to ask Washburn to introduce you to the Duchess and to seek her support for your entry to the Schola? "

Fiona replied. "I have given it some thought. The duchess will be anxious to be with her son at last and to spend as much time as possible with him. She will want to reassure herself of his well being after all he has been through. This is probably not the best time to approach her about sponsoring a strange young woman for entrance to the schola. After all,  she does not really know me. I think I would need to wait for some time before meeting her or making such a request."

"Then what will you do? Have you an alternate plan in mind and if so, what is it?"

Fiona looked at Aliset earnestly. "I do have an idea. Both Magistra Helena and Bishop John are here now, and they are the ones who make the decisions about the schola. I would be afraid to approach Bishop John, he seemed rather cold and stern in the meeting, but why shouldn't I speak with Magistra Helena while we are here?  I have said that I want to have a say in my own future, and the Schola is an important part of that future.  Iain did approve of my request to attend the schola but with everything else, he has had no time to do anything about it. Do you not think that Magistra may take me more seriously if I speak for myself rather than depending on others to speak for me?"

"I can see that you have given this some careful thought. You may very well be right. I can see no harm in asking if you may speak with her about possibly becoming a student at the Schola. She seems a very kind person and I think she will at least listen to what you have to say."

"Might we seek her out now?" Fiona entreated, looking anxiously at Aliset. "Would you accompany me? I know I said I need to speak for myself and I intend to do so, but your support would mean a great deal to me."

Aliset nodded her agreement. "I believe I saw her headed for the library. Let's try there first." They reentered Arx Fidei and hurried toward the library. When they reached it, they did not immediately see the person they were seeking. There were students scattered about in the carrels with books and scrolls, studying. At a desk to the side near the main door, a young man was seated studying a scroll and making notes. He looked up when they stopped in front of the desk. "May I be of some assistance?" he asked courteously, rising from his seat and bowing.

"We are seeking the Magistra from the Scola in Rhemuth, and we have reason to believe she might be within, although we do not see her. Have you seen her?"

The young man smiled at them. "You are in luck, I saw her come in not long ago. She often spends time in the section where the oldest, historical materials are. If you go all the way to the back and bear to your left you will find the alcove where they are kept. I think you may find her there."

The two ladies curtsied. "Thank you for your help."

He bowed. "You are welcome."

They quickly walked toward the back as he had directed them. They found the alcove but at first it did not appear that there was anyone there. There was a table in the center with one or two scrolls lying on it but they did not see anyone. "Magistra!" Aliset called out softly but there was no reply. They were turning to leave when the lady they sought came around the end of one of the book cases. She was carrying a large book which had been unchained for her. Clearly she was someone who was both trusted and respected here. She looked at them curiously. 'Are you looking for someone?" she asked.

"Magistra." Both young ladies curtsied. " I am Lady Alsiet de Cameron and this is Lady FIona McIntyre. We were seeking to talk with you if we could."

Helena immediately recognised the ladies as two of Sir Washburn's companions from that morning. "Is there something I can help you with? Is Sir Washburn alright?"

"Yes My Lady. He is sleeping. We wished to speak with you about the schola." Aliset indicated Fiona." My friend is most desirous of entering the Schola. She is Lord Iain Cameron's cousin and ward. He gave his permission for her to attend but with everything that has been happening with the rebellion and rescuing Sir Washburn, he has had no time to broach the subject with the Schola administrators. She is hoping that she might talk with you about it while you are here if you can spare the time."

Helena studied the young ladies before her for a minute or two then said, "I have a small study that has been placed at my disposal while we are here. Perhaps we could go there where we can talk without disturbing the other students." She smiled and motioned for them to follow her. They left the library and followed her to a small but comfortable room with a sturdy oak table which served as a desk and three comfortable chairs arranged before a small fire burning in the fireplace. The Magistra lit two large candles on the mantle above the fireplace and two sconces on the wall. She indicated the chairs before the fire, "Be seated and tell me how you think I can help you." She looked first at Aliset then at Fiona.  "Lady Fady Fiona, perhaps you should begin."

Taking a deep breath, Fiona spoke. "I am Deryni but I have had little chance to learn about my powers and how to use them. Each time someone would begin my instruction something would happen to interfere." She told Helena about her father's death in battle when she was eight then her mother's illness and death not long after. She told of being sent to live with her aunt who was Deryni but who had little opportunity to work on her training due to her own illness. Finally she told of being sent to live with Lord and Lady Stuart who treated her as a beloved niece but who were not Deryni. There had been no one at the manor who had the knowledge to continue her training. Due to Lord Iain's duties to the king, she had seen him seldom and there had been no opportunity for training there either. "I know I have powers but I don't know exactly what they are or what I can do with them. I have been reluctant to try to use what power I am aware of for fear I will do something wrong and harm someone. I have so longed for the chance to learn about my powers. I want to be able to use them responsibly to help others as well as myself. I know I could be useful if only I had the chance to learn!"

Helena smiled at the young lady sympathetically. "I can understand your frustration. And the king's purpose in founding the Schola was to help Deryni who had been deprived of the opportunity to learn about their powers, often by family who were trying to protect them from those who would harm them just because of what they were."

She then turned her gaze on Aliset, studying her silhouette.  "What is your role in this?  I don't think you are also seeking to enter the schola. It appears that you will soon have other matters to occupy you. How can I serve you? Are you also seeking Deryni training?"

Aliset replied  "I am here to support my friend in her quest. I am also Deryni, but I have had the advantage of training from my family, primarily my mother,  including spell training. She ensured that I understood both how to use my powers and the responsibility involved.  During our travels after Fiona joined our group, she told me of her wish to learn about her powers. I was able to work with her a little, and I found that she is very determined and learns quickly. Even in the little time we had, I was able to teach her one or two skills. I think you would find her to be an asset if you were to accept her as a student."

Helena studied the two young women before her. "Lady Aliset, what were you able to observe ? What skills was she able to use and with how much difficulty?  And Lady Fiona, what powers do you feel comfortable using without supervision? Lady Fiona, would you answer first."

Fiona took a deep breath. "I have shields and I am able to raise and lower them when needed. My mother did teach me how to control my breathing, calm my nerves and help myself to sleep.. When either walking or riding, I have been able to cast out and determine dangers in my path. I can make hand fire. I can sometimes sense when someone is lying to me, although I am not entirely comfortable with that. Those are the only powers I have used with any comfort."

Helena turned to Aliset who answered.""She possesses a few of the basic skills but has used them little. She readily had no opportunity to practice to be adept. As she said, she has shields and is able to control them at need. She is able to create handfire, She has some ability in truth reading, at least she can often detect when someone is lying to her. I was able to teach her to use telekinesis to some degree; she was able to move an object a short distance with her mind. She also participated in the warding of the room where the ritual to free Sir Washburn  took place.  I think she has a lot of potential but has not had a chance to develop her abilities. " Aliset fell silent, awaiting the Magistra's comments.

Fiona was also silent, her eyes scanning the woman's face anxiously and her fingers twisting in her lap.

Helena spoke. "From what you tell me, Fiona appears to be just the sort of student for whom the Schola was intended. However, there are things that must be done before she can be admitted. I would like to do my own assessment of what traits she has and her level of skill and ability." She looked directly at Fiona. "That will involve allowing me to do a mind reading, not a deep reading such as the one you saw this morning, but one sufficient for me to establish both your motives and what training you do have. Are you willing to allow this?"

Fiona nodded eagerly. "Oh yes, Magistra. I would do whatever you asked."

"After that is done, we will need to approach Bishop John who is the Director and has the final say over who is to be admitted."

"Oh must we?" Fiona appeared very reluctant to approach the Bishop. "He appears very cold and stern. I would be afraid to talk with him."

Helena reassured her. "The Bishop is a kind and understanding man as well as a very fair one. Do not be afraid to talk to him. I am sure he wiIl give impartial consideration to your request to enter the Schola."

"We will also need to discuss your admission with your guardian, Sir Iain. I know that you said he had given his permission but we will need to meet with him. We would need to hear his feelings on this matter. We can address this when we return to Rhemuth as I understand he is currently in residence."

A bell began to ring in the church. "It is Sext, time for noon prayer and the noon meal. Come to me here after you have finished your meal and I will do the assessment reading if you still wish for it." Helena stood up.

Fiona and Aliset also stood and curtsied deeply. FIona spoke. "Thank you for speaking with us Magistra. I will return this afternoon for the evaluation you require. I see this as my first step toward the education I so desire." The ladies followed the Magistra as she left the room.

The two ladies returned to their room to freshen up and prepare for the noon meal. As they approached the door to their room, they saw Darcy and Columcil. Father Columcil was leaning against the wall while Darcy was pacing the hallway. He did not look happy. "Where have you been? We came to escort you to the great hall for luncheon and there was no answer to our knocks. I did not understand your absence as you had not mentioned any plans. What captured your attention this morning?"

Aliset had started to bristle at Darcy's tone. It wasn't like him to question her like this. But then she saw the concern in his eyes for them. She had gotten wrapped up in the meeting with the Magistra and had not thought about the need to let the men know where they were. She should have sent a page to inform them of the meeting. She put her hand on his arm and spoke to him quietly. "We sought out Magistra Helena, and she was willing to meet with us this morning. That is where we have been. I am sorry that we caused you concern, we should have sent word to you of what we were doing. I did not intend to worry you."

Darcy smiled at her. "I might have known the two of you were off on a mission."

Father Columcil said they would wait for the ladies and escort them to the hall. They readied themselves quickly and the four of them went in to lunch. Once they were seated, Fiona told them about her meeting with the Magistra and of her intention to return to  Helena's study that afternoon. Her excitement showed as she described their meeting. "Too often opportunities to learn about my powers escaped me. This time I decided to speak for myself. I think I have taken the first step toward actually being accepted into the Schola." She bounced in her seat and her eyes sparkled. She.was very pleased with herself and looked forward to her next meeting with the Magistra,