Ghosts of the Past

[DerynifanK]

Fiona walked sedately through the  castle passages toward the king's withdrawing room with her hand on Sir Iain's arm. "What do you think he will ask me?" she asked Iain.  "What will he think of my running away in boy's clothing to try to give warning of the treason at the manor?" He heard an underlying tone of nervousness as she spoke.

Iain reached over and patted her hand. "I think he is happy to have loyal subjects who are willing to take actions to protect the kingdom. And he may have become somewhat accustomed to determined young women who do whatever is necessary to spring into action when needed, including disguising themselves as young men and riding off without chaperones. You are not the only lass who has done so."

As he finished speaking, they reached the doors to the withdrawing room, guarded by two Haldane lancers who snapped to attention and saluted. "Baron Iain Cameron and Lady Fiona McIntyre to see his Majesty." Iain stated. One of the lancers knocked on the door which was opened by one of Kelson's squires. He saw the two at the door, turned to bow and announce them.

"Have them enter." She heard the voice of the king.

They entered the room and took several steps forward. Before them, sitting in the same high backed, elaborately carved oak chair sat the king. Iain bowed and Fiona curtsied deeply. As she rose from her curtsy, she looked up and met the king's eyes. He was smiling and the twinkle she had noticed earlier was still there. She felt the tension drain away. 

The king addressed her warmly,  "We are happy to welcome you to Rhemuth, Lady Fiona. Your reputation precedes you." Fiona's heart almost stopped. Iain squeezed her hand. The king continued.  "You set out to warn us of treason being planned near the Mearan border . Not only did you manage to convey your warning, you were a key factor in the capture of a rebel leader and you led the effort to rescue your uncle and free his manor from the rebels. That prevented the rebels from gaining a toehold in Gwynedd, a service for which we are grateful even if your methods were somewhat unorthodox."

"You also were a part of the group of friends who helped and protected Washburn until his mind could be healed. And you participated in the ritual that restored his memories and has given him back to us. Another  reason for our gratitude."

The king smiled widely. "We understand that you have been seeking to reach Rhemuth because you desire admission to the Schola. You are hereby invited to become a student at the Royal Rhemuth Schola. I am sure you will be an asset to them. I understand that you have spoken with the Magistra and she supports your admission . We will discuss it with Bishop Nivard if Sir Iain approves."

Fiona turned to Iain and grabbed his arm, quivering with excitement. "Oh Iain, you do agree don't you? Please, please say yes!"

Iain smiled at her. "Who am I to oppose my king? Fiona, you have pursued this goal for a long time and you deserve to gain it. I very much approve."

Kelson nodded as he brought the audience to an end saying, "Once we have spoken with Bishop Nivard and Magistra Helena and found what additional arrangements are needed, we will see that Sir Iain is informed. Hopefully you can begin your studies soon.  In the meantime, you will continue to reside in the Queen's Tower where you can become acquainted with some of the other ladies currently residing in the castle."

"Thank you, your Majesty" Iain bowed and again offered his arm to Fiona. Fiona curtsied deeply and placed her hand on his arm. Together they left the withdrawing room accompanied by one of the king's squires who was to conduct them back to the queen.

As they made their way back toward the Queen's Tower, it was all Fiona could do to match Iain's pace. She was so excited, she felt like she was about to burst. She clung to Iain's arm and after a few steps she gave a little skip. "He was so kind, not at all stern or displeased as I was afraid he might be. Was I dreaming or did he really invite me to become a student at the Royal Rhemuth Schola, a place I have dreamed of for so long?"

Iain laughed. "Dear cousin, you were not imagining it. He actually said he would sponsor you himself."

They reached the entrance to the Queen's Tower and  the squire announced them to the guard who opened the outer door to allow them to enter the tower. The squire led them to the door to the queen's solar and knocked softly.  He then opened the door, announced them and stood aside to allow them to enter. They stepped inside, far enough to allow the squire to close the door, then Iain bowed. "I have returned Lady Fiona to your protection as I promised, your Majesty." 

The Queen smiled at both of them. "Thank you, Lord Iain. I hope the King reassured you of his gratitude for the resolution of the uprising. It caused him much pain and distress; he values and is grateful to those who contributed to the successful conclusion. We have heard that Lady Fiona was one of those who made a difference. She had begun to tell us a little about her adventures when she had to leave for her meeting with his Majesty. I trust the meeting went as you hoped."

"Oh yes, your Majesty. It has long been my dearest wish to be able to attend the Schola, but I could not find a way to achieve it. Now the king has invited me to become a student at the Royal Rhemuth  Schola. He even said he would sponsor me himself!" Her excitement overcame her and she was bouncing on her toes, unable to be still.

The Queen smiled at her. "He will be pleased that you are so excited. I expect you will learn much there, and I hope it meets your expectations."

She then addressed Lord Iain. "We have been awaiting your cousin's return to hear the rest of the tale she had started.  You are welcome to join us. Lady Fiona, will you resume your seat here near me?" Fiona curtsied and moved to seat herself as directed by the queen.

Iain bowed. "Thank you, your Majesty, but I have duties I must attend to. I will leave my cousin with you where I am sure she will be safe. I will hope to see her and the rest of her party at the evening meal." The page opened the door to allow Iain to exit. He passed through and was gone.

The queen sent the page to bring some light refreshments, and the ladies settled back comfortably in their seats prepared to hear more of the story Fiona had begun earlier.

"I believe I had escaped the ruffians who tried to steal my horse and had reached  the soldiers' camp near the ruins. The young lord who was in command accused me of disrespect because I did not remove my cap. He reached out and snatched it off. My braid tumbled down and he discovered that I was not a squire, but a young woman. He was quite shocked.  What was a young woman doing on the road alone?"

"I quickly told him about the treasonous plans I had overheard and my need to reach someone who could warn the king. I was trying to reach an older friend of my family who could help me. He insisted that I would now need to remain with his party for my own protection. He could not allow me to travel alone nor could he divert his men from their assigned mission. I thought I had failed."

One of the younger ladies looked at her with wide eyes. "What could you do?"

"I  was imploring him to help me find a way to relay my information when a new small party arrived. I felt so relieved! The leader was Lord Iain, my guardian and the very person I was trying to reach! But he didn't seem to recognize me and while he looked like Iain, he didn't act like Iain. And he and the young lord, Lord Jaxom were very antagonistic. I found I was feeling very confused and not sure what to do. Then I discovered that the man I thought was Iain was actually his brother Darcy, thought to have died as a young boy. He and his companions were on a special assignment from the king."

"Lord Darcy and Lord Jaxom met there on the road? Did they try to kill each other?" exclaimed one of the younger ladies who had not spoken before'.

"No, but the tensions were very high. I didn't know what might happen. Fortunately, the Earl of Marley and his men arrived.  He appeared to be in charge and was giving the orders.  I was able to talk with him and tell him of the planned treason at my uncle's manor that had led me to run from the manor to try to find a way to reach the king. He listened to my account of what was happening and agreed that it was vital to discover exactly what the rebels were doing at the manor and what their intentions were.  I also told him of my concern about what was happening to my uncle, the baron. He could not turn aside from his mission, but he agreed to send Lord Jaxom and his men to the manor to discover what was going on and to provide aid to the baron.  I felt uncertain when the Earl was unable to go himself and instead ordered Lord Jaxom to take his men to the estate. I felt less confidence in Lord Jaxom. "

"So I implored the Earl to allow me to accompany the rescue party. I told him that I had valuable knowledge which I knew could help Lord Jaxom to ensure my uncle's safety and free the estate from the rebels. I was immensely relieved when he took time to listen but while he agreed that such knowledge would be helpful, he could not allow me to ride with a party of men without a chaperone, and he had no one who could fill such a role. In addition, Lord Jaxom, who was to lead the mission, was not at all receptive to having a young woman added to his command."

"What could you do? How could you overcome such obstacles?" asked Lady Iona anxiously. The ladies were eying her with concern. She noticed that the older woman who sat near the queen was leaning forward with rapt attention and nodding slowly as if in approval.

The older woman was reminded of a time many years  earlier when she had sought to accompany the king's army to battle to try to prevent the treason of her first husband and to assist the king to victory.

Fiona continued. "I thought for a few minutes, then asked the Earl. "Could not the priest who accompanied Lord Darcy act as chaperone?"

The Earl considered what I had said then agreed that it was a possible solution that would allow me to travel with and assist Lord Jaxom. "But I have no right of command over the good Father. I can only explain the situation to him and ask for his assistance. I will speak to him and inform you of his decision."

"I was very anxious. I felt that it was vital to the success of the mission that I accompany Lord Jaxom's party, but I was very doubtful that it was going to be possible, even with the Earl's support. So when he called us to his tent, I was very worried, but he had resolved the dilemma. Jaxom had received his orders and instructions, including accepting me as one of his party and paying attention to the information and suggestions I offered. He had agreed with some reluctance, but he had agreed. Father Columcil had consented to come as my chaperone. I was so relieved, I had at least achieved that much. The Earl required that we all pledge to put the mission first and to  put aside any antagonism to focus on its success. We swore to do so."

Fiona paused and the queen looked at her with concern. "Is this tiring you?" She handed Fiona a cup of wine. "Drink this. It will help refresh you."

Fiona accepted the cup with a smile and took a sip. " I hope I am not boring you."

The ladies hastened to reassure her that they were not at all bored but anxious to hear the rest of her tale. After drinking a little more of her wine, Fiona continued.

"The light was fading when we reached the point where we turned off the main road toward the manor. There was a clearing and running water nearby so I suggested that we stop to water and rest the horses while we planned our approach. At first Lord Jaxom did not want to halt but after some discussion, he did decide to halt for the night, take time to plan, then advance on the manor the following morning just at dawn. I drew him a map showing the house and the outbuildings as well as the grounds. He decided on his dispositions and made sure each man knew where to go."

At this point, Duchess Grania spoke, "I am impressed that Lord Jaxom accepted your presence among his men and considered your suggestion. His attitude toward women, especially independent women leaves much to be desired."

Fiona ducked her head and bit her lip. She decided it would be best not to mention her true feelings toward him. "He had sworn his oath as we all had, and he was honoring it although it wasn't easy for him"

The queen then added. 'We, the king and I, did receive a full report from the Earl of Marley after the incident was resolved. From my understanding, the young lady is being quite modest about her role in resolving the incident at Baron Stuart's manor." 

Fiona ducked her head and blushed at the queen's words."I felt I had to do whatever I could to help my uncle and free his manor." Then she continued.

"We were preparing to ride out the next morning when we heard a horse trotting toward us from the direction of the manor. It was Gavin, one of our newest pages. He was trying to seek help from the nearest manor as he told us my uncle was locked in one of the far attic rooms and injured from a blow by a newly arrived rebel leader. He didn't know what had happened to my cousin."

Fiona continued. "When we reached the manor house, dawn was just breaking and the servants were just stirring and preparing for the day. Lord Jaxom and his men surprised them and were able to quickly round up the men and confine them to a fenced paddock. I was then able to point out to him the men I didn't recognize as our retainers and who were most probably rebels. He also confined the steward, who was also suspect. These men were locked up until they could be questioned.  The manor had been secured, but the rebel leader described by the page had not been found."

"We began a search of the house and in a very short time found my cousin who was locked in his room. He quickly described what had happened after the rebel leader arrived while leading us to the attic room where the baron was confined. He was unconscious, lying injured from a blow to the head from the rebel leader but fortunately Father Columcil is also a healer and was able to heal his injury and help him recover."

One of the ladies exclaimed, "How fortunate that you had one who is a healer as well as a priest with you!"

Fiona replied. "Yes. we were fortunate that things had so far gone well. Lord Jaxom had regained control of the manor with a minimum of blood shed but there was one remaining problem;  the rebel leader was still missing."

"The next major goal was to find and capture the missing rebel leader. This is where things became more difficult. When I proposed that I help question the prisoners or help organize the search for the missing rebel leader, Lord Jaxom told me he felt that he had all the information he needed to complete his mission and he did not need any more help from me. If he found that he did need my help, he would send for me. But for now, he ordered me to return to Father Columcil and to remain with him.  I was angry at being brushed off but there was little I could do about it."

"Father Columcil remained with the baron, treating him for his injuries.He was not in need of my help either. So I took it on myself to tend to the horses the good father and I had ridden. I also thought I might check the stable to see if the man's horse was still here. After all, it was not certain that he had not escaped in the confusion of our initial arrival, and Jaxom's men had only done a cursory look through initially."

"The horse was still there and unfortunately so was he, hiding in a little used room at the back. He tried to seize me and was nearly successful. I tripped while trying to run from him and almost fell. Fortunately two of Jaxom's men heard the noise and came to my rescue. The rebel leader escaped and Lord Jaxom was angry, demanding to know what I was doing in the stable unattended. I told him that as neither he nor the priest required my services, it had seemed that caring for our horses was the least I could do. I had not expected the rebel to actually be there. Perhaps he should have posted a guard there since, if the man wanted to escape he would need his horse. Jaxom replied haughtily that he had intended to post a guard there as soon as he had finished searching the house."

"He then demanded that I return to Father Columcil and that I give my word not to leave the house without an escort.He couldn't risk the rebel capturing a hostage to aid his escape.  And the worst part of it was, when I told Father Columcil what had happened, he agreed with Jaxom! I had taken too big a risk without thinking it through."

The elderly lady sitting near the queen spoke up. "Heavens, child, you could have been killed. I hope you remained safely with the priest until the horrible man was found." Fiona had the grace to look embarrassed as she continued the story.

"I was so frustrated. The enemy was still at large on the estate and I could see no way to help solve the problem. Then I remembered Trevor, my uncle's head huntsman who had retired and lived on the estate. He knew the grounds like the back of his hand. He would be the best one to track down this rebel. I sent the page to ask him to meet me in the dairy. He did and I told him of the need to track down this rebel.  But Father Columcil would not agree to my going with Trevor, even if he also went along.  He pointed out that we had no weapons with which to subdue the man if we found him nor were we  trained for such tasks."

"Trevor volunteered to go out alone to see if he could find traces of the man without alarming him. He did find signs of where the man might be. Columcil persuaded me to go to Lord Jaxom with Trevor to tell him what had been found. Jaxom sent two of his men with Trevor to seek out their quarry. He then ordered us  to stay together in the manor house where it was safe.

Fiona took a deep breath and continued. "The good Father wanted to return to check on my uncle. I thought we should have some food so I said I would go to the kitchen and get a tray for us. Columcil called to me to wait for him, but I was impatient and went ahead calling him to follow. I was just outside the kitchen when I saw a figure disappearing down a nearby passage. I walked that way and was passing an alcove when an arm of steel reached out, grabbed me and held me pinned to his chest. I felt cold steel at my throat."

"Weren't you terrified? I would have fainted dead away," one of the ladies said

"Yes I was. He moved me step by step toward the door to the outside. Lord Jaxom had heard my cry when the rebel seized me and came running with his sword drawn, but the man threatened to kill me so he sheathed his sword.. I didn't know what was going to happen."

"Suddenly the man staggered backwards as he was attacked. Columcil had managed to release  the dogs and set them on the man. One of them bit his arm causing him to drop the dagger while the other caused him to stagger backwards. I twisted away from him and ran toward Jaxom who had drawn his sword. Father Columcil caught me in his arms and held me while Jaxom held the point of his sword at the man's throat. He summoned two of his men and the rebel was bound and confined. The threat was over. The last of the rebels, and the most dangerous, had been caught."

There were  sighs and comments of "Thank the Lord" as the story ended. The queen smiled at Fiona and the other ladies were shaking their heads in admiration.  The queen told her. "You were very brave."

"Thank you, your Majesty, but I don't really deserve your praise. I let my pride get the better of me.  I was so angry at Lord Jaxom for brushing me aside and refusing to consider my suggestions, that I decided I would show him. I would find the rebel leader before he did. I did not think I could capture him, I wasn't that foolish. But I wanted credit for finding him. And I could have caused the mission to fail if I had remained his hostage. I was ashamed of my behavior. I thanked both Columcil and Lord Jaxom for coming to my rescue, and I hope I have learned my lesson about not allowing pride to drive my actions."

The Queen rose from her seat.  "You had quite an adventure, Lady Fiona and I am pleased that you have learned from it. That was a most exciting tale." Just then a page entered the room and announced' "Your Majesty, Sir Washburn Morgan has arrived and seeks to speak with lady Fiona."

The queen excused the ladies then turned to the older lady who had been sitting at her side. "Your Grace, I don't believe he knows you are here. You and Lady Fiona may remain here in the solar where you will have privacy so that you may finally be reunited with your son." The queen gestured to the page to admit Sir Washburn. She then left the solar, leaving the three of them together.

[Jerusha]

King Kelson of Gwynedd sat in the heavy, carved wooden chair on its dias in his withdrawing room.  The table had been moved back from the centre of the room and placed at his right side so that a small stack of rolled parchments were within easy reach.  At the knock on the door, he removed the top parchment from the stack and set it beside him.

"Enter," he said.

Robert opened the door.  "Lord Darcy Cameron, Heir of Isles, and Lady Aliset Cameron."  He stepped aside so the pair could enter and closed the door behind them, remaining inside to assist the king if needed.

Darcy bowed and Aliset curtseyed within a few steps of entering the room.   They rose and moved forward.  Darcy wore an Isles' tunic, and Aliset wore the blue linen gown that she had been married in, still slightly wrinkled from being packed for travel. Her hair was worn up and  covered by a newer looking blue veil, as proper for a married woman. They stopped a short distance from the king; Darcy knelt on one knee, and Aliset curtseyed again.  They waited for the king to give them permission  to rise.

"You may rise," Kelson said.  He took a closer look at Aliset as she stood.  He had enough children and grandchildren to suspect when a woman might be bearing.  They hadn't wasted any time.  "Would you prefer to be seated, Lady Aliset?" he asked.

Aliset gave him a startled look.  "I am comfortable standing, your Majesty," she said.

"As you wish," Kelson replied and tapped the parchment beside him.  "With this charter, Lady Aliset, We acknowledge you as the Lady of Mariot, responsible for the barony and the well-being of its people, until such time as your heir comes of age, when lands and title will pass to him."  Kelson paused to gauge the reactions of the two who stood before him.

Darcy's face was an impenetrable mask, so very like the one Sir Iain used to disguise his thoughts.  Aliset flushed slightly, whether in anger or distress Kelson could not tell.

"You have both served Us well, but you have also been the cause of much consternation.  We feel you need to grow into your responsibilities for the barony, so We are giving you that opportunity.  Secure the lands for Duke Rory, regain the trust and loyalty of its people, and return Mariot to prosperity.  When you succeed, We may be inclined to adjust the terms of this charter for the title of the barony."

'On my honour, we will succeed, your Majesty," Darcy said quietly.  It was said without a trace of boastfulness.

"And mine as well, your Majesty," Aliset added firmly, united with her husband.

Kelson resisted a smile.  No argument, no bluster.  The gauntlet had been thrown, and they had picked it up; he doubted either one could forgo a challenge.

"Once Our troops have returned, We will send a small force with you to ensure you will not be met with any overt trouble in Mariot.  They will remain with you until you have your own men in place."

"Thank you, your Majesty," Aliset said. 

"Lord Darcy, I trust you still stand behind your pledge for a dower for Lady Aliset?"

"I do, your Majesty," Darcy replied.  "Lady Aliset is aware of the pledge, and I will ensure the holders of the funds are authorized to transfer them to her once I am gone."  Aliset paled slightly.

"Seamen entrust their money to others?" Kelson asked.

"Aye, your Majesty.  We can't take much with us to sea; ships need room for cargo so a profit can be made."

"You put considerable trust in the holders of your funds," Kelson said dryly.

"They would have no customers if a single coin was lost, your Majesty, and they have many customers from the seas."

Kelson nodded; it made sense.  "If there is nothing else?"  he let the question dangle.

"There is something else," Aliset said.  Darcy gave her a questioning look.

"Proceed."  Kelson wondered what else needed to be discussed.

"Your Majesty, my father advised me of my dowry when I became old enough to marry.  Fortunately, he was in no hurry for that to happen.  The dowry will now become Lord Darcy's."

Darcy looked like he might protest, but subsided when he saw her determination.

"The dowry is a lovely manor, with fertile land for crops and good pasture for grazing,"  Aliset continued.  "He may manage it independently as he sees fit."

Kelson gave her a sharp look.  "And have an independent income."

'Yes, your Majesty," Aliset acknowledged and smiled.

Kelson thought he should have expected this.  Cleverly, she had made sure her husband would have independent standing in Mariot.  Well played.

"As you wish, Lady Aliset." Kelson handed her the charter.  "I believe we are now finished.  Lady Aliset, Queen Araxie would like you to attend her in the Queen's Tower."

Aliset blanched, and Darcy stepped closer to her.

"Lord Darcy, Sir Iain would like to have a word with you.  Robert will take you to him after you have escorted your wife to see the queen."

Darcy bowed and Aliset curtseyed before backing away from the king.  They did the same once more before turning to leave.  Darcy held out his arm for his wife, and she laid her hand upon it. Together, heads held high, they left the withdrawing room with Robert.

There was no applause this time, as there had been once before after Darcy had felled Jaxom.  Yet the same resolve and determination were clearly present.  If he had thought to have Robert pour him a glass of wine, Kelson would have raised it in salute.

[Jerusha]

Aliset Cameron walked in silence beside her husband with her hand on his arm.  Darcy said little as he guided them toward the Queen's Tower.  Robert walked a couple of paces behind Darcy.  The walk was shorter than she wanted it to be, and they soon stopped before the two guards standing at the heavy oak door of the tower.

"It will go fine, love," Darcy said as he turned to face his wife.  "And just remember; if the queen decides to throw you in the dungeon, be assured I will come and rescue you."

"Why thank you, Darcy!"  Aliset replied tartly.  "That does so much to ease my mind!"

Darcy grinned, raised her hand to his lips and kissed it.  "Go forth and conquer!" he sent.

"Lady Aliset Cameron, Lady of Mariot, is here to attend the queen as requested," Robert announced to the guards.  One guard nodded, opened the door and stepped to one side so Aliset could enter. 

Aliset removed her hand from Darcy's arm.  He really was not being helpful!  She straightened her shoulders and walked resolutely through the door.  Or maybe he was.  Cheeky man.

An older page, possibly old enough to be promoted to squire at the next Twelfth Night Court, bowed and escorted her to a large study across from the queen's solar.  The door was open, but he knocked on it softly.

"Please join us," Queen Araxie said. She was sitting in the largest of the cushioned chairs arranged around a low table.  Duchess Grania Haldane sat nearby, while a younger woman stood to one side.  Light from the large, open window behind them filled the room with sunshine.

Aliset entered and curtseyed deeply.  Queen Araxie motioned for her to rise, and the young woman came forward to direct Aliset to one of the empty chairs near the table.  Aliset sat on the edge of the chair, posture perfect and respectful.  She did not lower her shields, but kept them as transparent as possible.

"You may go, Lady Jennelle," the queen said. "I will send for you when we are finished here."

Jennelle curtseyed, and the page closed the door behind them as he accompanied her out of the room.

The queen motioned to the tray of sweetmeats that had been placed on the table.  A carafe and several small goblets, already filled, were arranged beside it.  "Please help yourself, Lady Aliset," the queen said.

"Thank you, but I think I'll pass for the moment," Aliset replied.  She wasn't sure whether her stomach was uneasy due to her pregnancy, or whether it was nervousness as she sat before the queen.

"Oh?" Queen Araxie asked, raising one blonde eyebrow quizzically.

Aliset felt herself blushing as she returned the queen's gaze.  "The morning sickness is less now, but not entirely gone."

"Then I need not ask if the marriage has been duly consummated." 

Aliset felt her back stiffen, but managed to answer demurely, "All is as it should be, your Majesty.  Our twins are due in the spring."

"Twins!" the queen exclaimed.  "You will be busy!"

"Boys or girls?" the duchess asked.  "Or perhaps one of each?"

"Daughters," Aliset replied, and expected the next question.

"Is your husband disappointed?" It was the queen who asked.

"He might have been for just a moment, but then he decided 'wee little Alisets' would be just fine."

"That's a good start," the queen said and paused to study Aliset.  "How have you adjusted to this marriage that was decided for you?  You did not leave us much choice."

"We have both adjusted well enough, your Majesty,  and the decision was not for me alone," she added pointedly.

"No, it was not," Queen Araxie conceded.  "But you were under our care, and your reputation became our concern.  Men recover quickly from indiscretions; women do not."

Duchess Grania decided to turn the conversation in a different direction. "Tell us, how did you  come to employ Lord Darcy?" she asked.

It took Aliset a moment to shift her thoughts.  "You are aware of what happened to my family at Caer Mariot.  I was the only one left alive, and somehow I had to make my way to Rhemuth to seek justice...."

***

Aliset de Mariot, wearing the guise of her twin brother, Alister, pulled up her horse at the tavern beside the road to Culdi.  It was not a tavern her father and brothers would normally have frequented, but she wanted to avoid anywhere her cousin Oswald might be looking for her. The desperate energy that had fueled her when she escaped Mariot was nearly gone.  It was well into the afternoon, and her throat felt parched; she needed to stop for a moment. 

She dismounted and tethered Papillion alongside the horses at the side of the door.  She entered the tavern and paused in the doorway to allow her eyes to adjust to the dim light inside.  The large room reeked of stale ale and onions.  There were long tables with benches in the center of the room and smaller tables with stools toward the back.  While the room was not crowded at this time of day, several groups of men sat at the tables with tankards of ale.  She did not recognize anyone here, though she did note a young man sitting alone at one of the tables in the back.  He had the most remarkable pale blond hair she had ever seen, drawn back in a border braid. 

Aliset turned her gaze away and found an unoccupied spot at the end of one of the long tables. It was far enough away from other customers that she felt she would not be disturbed.  The tavern keeper brought over a tankard of ale, and Aliset laid a silver penny on the table.  The tavern keeper returned one copper farthing and started to turn away.

"Wait," Aliset said quickly. "You owe me another farthing."

The tavern keeper looked at the young man before him, dressed well enough to be a nobleman, but carrying only a dagger in his belt.  Not much of a threat.  "Are you saying I cheated you?" he asked harshly.

"I am only saying that you may have miscounted the change," Aliset replied firmly, giving him a chance to make good his mistake without implying any wrongdoing.

The tavern keeper did not see it the same way.  "I say you are calling me a cheat!"

"I don't believe he called you a cheat," said a voice beside Aliset.  "But I will."

Aliset turned to see the blond man from the back of the room standing beside her.  He spoke loud enough to be heard throughout the room.  "The first tankard you pour is true, but the next tankard is watered down."

"That's a lie!" the tavern keeper growled, but looked warily at the other customers.

"I've been twelve years at sea; trust a seaman to know if the ale is watered or not!"

"I thought this was not quite right," bellowed a man towards the centre of the room, waving his tankard in the air.

"Aye, the seaman is right!  I want my money back!" another man said, rising from his seat.

"Drink up," the blond man said softly in Aliset's ear.  "Now would be a good time for us to leave."

Aliset took two hasty swallows of her ale, but she certainly could not finish it all that quickly.  The man beside her took the tankard, downed the rest and motioned her toward the tavern door.  He moved to  her left side, ensuring a clean draw of his sword if needed.

They untied their horses and mounted quickly as the voices inside the tavern grew louder.  By the time the argument erupted into the street, they were cantering down the road toward Culdi.

They slowed to a walk after they had put some distance between them and the tavern.

"I really did not want to cause trouble, but thank you," Aliset said to the man.

"My pleasure," the man responded.  "You looked a little out of your depth back there.  Was it worth the farthing?" 

"Perhaps not," Aliset admitted and sighed. She studied the man riding beside her.   He appeared to be only a few years older than she was, and his pale blue eyes glinted with just a hint of amusement.   There was an easy confidence about him, a sense of capability; he was a man who could look after himself.  She made a snap decision.   "I am travelling to Rhemuth to settle a matter of some importance.  I don't suppose you are going the same way?"

"I haven't decided yet," he replied.  "I'm at a loose end at the moment, if truth be told." 

"Perhaps you would be willing to accompany me?"  Aliset knew she was taking a risk, but travelling on alone would be riskier.

He looked at her and smiled. "Well, if you are looking to hire yourself a man-at-arms, I could travel to Rhemuth, assuming the price is right."

Aliset hesitated a moment and then named a price that must have been adequate.

"Master Darcy Cameron, at your service, my Lord," he announced, and bowed slightly in the saddle.

***

"That was a big risk to take, Lady Aliset!"  The queen did not look impressed. 

"I had several days of travel before I would reach Culdi," Aliset responded.  "I did not know yet that Sir Washburn was being sent to meet me there.  I could only make my decision based on what I knew at the time." Or didn't know, as Darcy had said.

The queen's voice remained cool.  "That may be, but once you reached Rhemuth and were safe under our protection, you ran away once again."

"I did not run away, your Majesty,"  Aliset replied, her voice steady and assured.  "I ran towards."

"Pray explain, Lady Aliset!"

"Capable as Lord Darcy is, he was ill-prepared to deal magically with a man as highly trained as Grand Duke Valerian, and some of that training would likely be dark!  I only had time that afternoon to try to teach Darcy a few basic skills, and these would not defend him against Valerian.  Father Columcil was to accompany Darcy, but although he is a  Healer, he had little formal training in magic either.  Only I could help them both, and the only way I could see to do that was to become Squire Robert, take his place and travel with them."

"Lady Aliset  is not alone in making rash decisions," Duchess Grania said quietly.  "Maman did much the same when she portaled on impulse to try to reach my brother.  While she did regret the worry she caused us, she did not apologize for her decision."  She smiled wryly.  "I suspect neither will Lady Aliset.  Love is a powerful motivation."

Queen Araxie gave Aliset a considering look.  "Did you love him then, Lady Aliset?"

Aliset thought for a moment.  "I honestly don't know, your Majesty, but I was desperate to keep him safe. He had endured much on my behalf; I could not remain behind and do nothing."

The queen sighed and looked at Duchess Grania.  Aliset suspected a private conversation was occurring between the two women.

"We will acknowledge what has occurred and move on," Queen Araxie finally said.  "Your marriage to Lord Darcy has eased the situation.  I trust that, with your responsibilities as the Lady of Mariot, you will be a bit more cautious in the future."

"I shall do my best to act with more foresight, your Majesty," Aliset said gravely.  It was not a promise to do nothing.

There was a knock on the door.  The queen gave permission to enter and Lady Jennelle entered carrying a fair-sized bundle.  The page followed her into the room.

"You are starting a new life, Aliset, and we would not send you off empty-handed," the queen said, her voice now friendlier, less formal.  "We collected the possessions your brother  left behind in his quarters, knowing you would like to have them.  Since we know you have been travelling light, we have also included a few necessities we thought you will find useful, including the green gown and caul you wore when you were here before.  Please consider them a wedding present."

"Thank you, your Majesty!" Aliset responded, surprised, but grateful. The gown and caul were beautiful, but a shift that was clean would give her the greatest pleasure right now!

"You are welcome, Aliset.  My page will escort you back to your quarters."  The queen smiled, and Aliset rose and curtseyed.  Jennelle handed the bundle to the page, and Aliset followed him through the door.  She was not sure how well she had done, but at least It was over!

[Laurna]

"Uncle, tell me truthfully, am I dreaming?" Sir Washburn, soon-to-be Lord Washburn, stood in Uncle Duncan's residence within the king's castle, certain that what had just happened had not been real.

"Son, you are not dreaming," Duncan replied. His smile was warm and reassuring. His hand firmly grasped Washburn's arm and then gave a light squeeze. "You've had enough bad dreams to last a lifetime. Be assured, you are back in the real world."

"I'm... I mean to say... I don't know what to say." Wash finally admitted as Father Columcil entered the solar. His cassock was wrinkled at the knees. Had he been praying this whole time, Wash wondered, and if so, he was ever so grateful. He wanted very much to assure his friend, but could not find the words before Columcil burst out in a heavy brogue.

"Ye waur gain a lang time. Ah started tae fash yerse. Laddy, ye swatch a wee bit dazed. Whit happened?" Columcil's concerned gaze moved past Washburn to look at his grandfather for reassurance.

"Let us sit down," the elderly archbishop called to both younger men. "Let me pour the wine, and then I think we shall let the baron tell you all about it."

"Baron!?" Columcil exclaimed. "Och noo, haur is a story behin' thes 'at Ah main hear."

"I am not a confirmed lord, not just yet!" Wash backtracked as he fell into the chair.

The shock of his meeting with the king eased as Wash told Columcil the tale. The king's savory luncheon, followed by uncle Duncan's fine wine, finally began to settle the newly made lord's nervous jitters. The men laughed and teased until they all eased their backs into the comfort of their chairs. At length they continued to make small jests at the expense of the new Baron's future. Wash did not mind it at all.

Somewhere in the waning conversation, Lady Fiona's name came to the forefront, and instantly Washburn leapt from his chair; with a nervous long stride, he began pacing the room. "I have to tell her! She will want to hear the news to settle her worries. I need to tell her now!" He stopped and his shoulders drooped. "But the queen...? Will she let me into the tower? There will be a score of other women there. I don't need their gossipy little eyes, and I cannot wound Fiona's reputation further." Deflated, he plopped himself back down on the chair. "I might never be able to see her again."

If Wash had been watching, he might have noticed the questing look his uncle gave Columcil and Columcil's barely perceptible nod. "Go, son," he heard Duncan say. "I am certain the queen will give you a fair moment to tell Lady Fiona your news. Go now, before you drive us both mad."

"Oh! I didn't mean to..." Washburn's shields slammed firmly down, as he realized, here in the closeness of family, he had let them loosen and his feelings for a certain young lady had filled the room. "Pray forgive me," he said with a bow before he dashed to the door. "Thank you for tolerating me, I will be more circumspect in the future, I promise." And with a second hasty bow he was out the door and running through the castle halls towards the queen's tower.

But for the guards, he might have burst in, but the two guards, firm in their duty, brought back his sense of propriety. "I wish to ask the queen if I might speak with Lady McIntyre," he blurted. To Washburn's amazement, the guards did not even blink at the rashness of his request. They merely opened the door and a page announced him. In five long strides he was in the queen's solar and there was the ever so lovely Fiona standing at the window with the sun on her hair like a halo. In that moment, he saw an angel.

He rushed a few steps into the room, his left hand reaching for the girl's hand, "Lady Fiona, I have news that I must share with you."

"Would you willingly share your news with your maman, as well?" said the voice of an older lady, a voice he knew very well. Shocked, he whirled around to see his mother rise from her chair and step toward him. Lady Richenda was a thin wisp of her former self, she was biting her lip and wringing her hands for fear she did not trust them to not instantly grab her son in a desperate hug.

Today seemed to be the day for Washburn's reactions to betray him, for again his mouth dropped open,  his eyes widened, and for a moment he was struck dumb. Then he was on his knees, his head ducked down. He had looked into his king's eyes but he could not dare look into his mother's eyes. "Forgive me for all I have done to disgrace our family, Maman. I beg of you to forgive me." He would have let Fiona's hand go but she did not let him. She stood tall at his side even as he knelt before the Dowager Duchess of Corwyn.

Awaiting judgment, he expected the Banshee of old to take him down a peg. But in the ensuing silence, he could hear his mother's tears. "You are returned to me, and that is all that I had asked of your father's spirit. He said he would bring you back to me, and as he always did, he has kept his word." She took her son in her arms and hugged him as a mother would.

"I saw father," he said in soft tones. "I swear that I did. But not as a gryphon as one would expect. Rather, instead, he came to me as a huge red..."

'Dragon!" Richenda finished his sentence, knowingly.

"How did you know? There was no mention of a dragon in his journal. And no one ever told me of this persona."

His mother smiled warmly. "That was something between your father and me. I don't believe Kelric even knew, though Grania may have learned of it that time your father was ill. I dare say her insights into this family are keen, I think she knows each of us deeper than we may even know ourselves, that is her special gift. She assured me that you would be true and between us, we did our best to defend your honor."

"I know that you did," Wash said, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Finally he was able to relax and stand at ease before his mother. "It is because of you and what you have done for me that I am able to tell you the news that I came here to tell Fiona. The king has decided to bestow a barony upon me. One whose title was forfeited due to the rebellion. I am to become a Baron and have land of my own."

Richenda was as surprised as Fiona. Both ladies hugged him, but then Fiona stepped back fearful that she had overstepped protocol.  And Wash knew he had to make amends quickly. He pulled her closer to his side, stood tall proudly, and then faced the young lady toward his mother. "Your Grace, may I present to you Lady Fiona McIntyre. For many weeks, I have wanted to present her to you to request a favor. Would you be the one to sponsor Lady Fiona for admission into the Schola?"

His mother was looking thoughtfully between her son and the young lady. But it was Fiona who spoke up. "It is alright, Sir Washburn, I already have a sponsor."

"You do?"

"Yes, I do," she said. Her face brightened with a warm smile. "The king said he would sponsor me."

Wash looked from Fiona to his mother and saw agreement. "She is right, but that does not mean I can not offer her my full support. I have rather taking a fond liking to this young lady, she has wonderful stories to tell."

"Oh," Wash grinned, he didn't think he could be happier. "Did she tell you about the moment we first met. This lithe girl, brave as any warrior, and aye, a little insanely jumped between my sword and Lord Jaxom's sword; I did swear to wreak justice upon his soul for the abduction of Lady Aliset. Yet, I found myself instead, inhibited by a barrier of a pretty maiden. At first I thought she was defending Jaxom, but then there she was defending myself and Lord Darcy to her uncle. He was ready to throw us in with the other rebels, and in truth, once I had calmed down, I would not have blamed him had he done so. I suspect Fiona had a little something to do with his hospitality after that."

His mother gave an appreciative nod to the young lady. "I trust we will hear more of your story in the afternoons to come."

"I will do my best to tell it fairly, your Grace."

Richenda nodded. She again took hold of her son's hands, so happy to finally have him in arms reach. "Come to me when you can in the next few days. We have much to discuss. I have word that your brothers are returning; possibly as early as tomorrow. I believe Kelric will have had orders from the king and may already have a proclamation for you, but I will leave that for him to declare. Oh my son, I am so happy you are here. Now, I will leave you two young people to talk for a few moments, but then we all need to prepare for dinner, so don't be too long."

Richenda could not resist another hug and then she left. Wash thought he saw her wiping tears from her cheek. Stress relieving tears, he hoped.

[Jerusha]

Robert O'Malley set the dress tunics of the Cameron brothers on a spare bail of straw and looked toward the far corner of the practice field.  He had brought Lord Darcy to the practice field as Sir Iain had instructed.  Sir Iain had produced two padded practice tunics and leather helmets.  Darcy, ever game for a workout, had needed little urging to test his brother's skill at arms.  Iain had taken Darcy to a far corner of the practice field, where they were in full view of the squire and others on the field, but out of earshot.

The brothers faced each other, armed with dulled swords and slightly dented shields.  Lord Darcy hefted the shield a bit awkwardly, as if he was unaccustomed to it.  Which was probably true, Robert thought.  He doubted that a seaman fought often with a shield at sea.  At first the two tested each other with routine blows easily blocked by the shields.  Sir Iain followed the proper forms of course, while Darcy's strokes were less formalized, but equally effective.

As Robert watched, Sir Iain seemed to say something to his brother.  Lord Darcy stopped dead and stared at his brother, and Sir Iain lost no time in using the blunder to his advantage.  Almost too late, Lord Darcy blocked the wrath blow aimed for his head with his shield and followed up with a flurry of well-aimed blows that drove his brother backwards.  But not for long.  Sir Iain aimed a series of high blows at his brother's head, and Lord Darcy had no recourse other than blocking them with his shield with little chance to land a blow of his own.  Until he slipped his arm from the straps of his shield  and propelled it into his brother's face.

Sir Iain threw up his own shield to block his brother's, but it also blocked his view.  Lord Darcy switched his sword to his left hand and grabbed Sir Iain's exposed shield arm.  He jumped to avoid the shield on the ground and landed behind his brother with the tip of his sword securely placed in the small of Sir Iain's back.  Sir Iain dropped his own shield and swung his arm to deliver a middle blow to Lord Darcy's side, but his brother's grip on his arm was still firm and he pulled the knight off-balance.  Sir Iain was skilled enough to still deliver the blow, and if the sword had been sharpened, it would have bit deeply into his brother's side, but only if Lord Darcy did not put his full weight behind the thrust that would have severed Sir Iain's spine first.

Robert saw Sir Iain stop his blow and say something loud and long to his brother.  Robert could not quite catch the words, but he was pretty sure there was nothing courtly about them.  Lord Darcy was openly grinning at his brother. 

Sir Iain lowered his sword, and Lord Darcy released his brother's arm, though he watched his brother warily.  They stood for a moment, breathing hard and then Sir Iain nodded.  Lord Darcy nodded back, and they retrieved their shields and started back toward Robert.  Once they reached him, they handed their equipment off to others and Robert handed them towels.

"Iain," Lord Darcy said as he mopped his brow and pushed back the stray hairs from his face.  "I also have news.  Aliset is bearing."

"Excellent,"  Sir Iain replied as he draped his towel over his shoulders.  "An heir for Isles!"

"Not yet.  Aliset carries twin lassies."

Iain gave his brother a startled look.  "Girls?" he asked incredulously.

Lord Darcy bristled.  "Sorry that you are disappointed....."

"Disappointed?  Have you gone mad?"  Sir Iain gripped his brother by both shoulders.

"What?"  Lord Darcy responded, confused.

"Good God, man!  There hasn't been a girl child born to the Camerons for over a hundred years!"  Sir Iain shook his brother's shoulders for emphasis.  "Isles will go wild in celebration!  The watchfires will burn blue for days!"

"Burn blue?" Robert asked, curious. 

A dim memory surfaced in Darcy's mind.  "The watchmen use powdered minerals to change the colour of the flames.  Blue is for joy; green is for death."

Sir Iain released Darcy's shoulders and rubbed his hands together.  "They will have to be properly dowered of course, but that will be no problem."

"Aliset and I can manage that quite well, thank you!"  Lord Darcy gave his brother a stern look.

Sir Iain threw his arm around his brother's shoulders and began to lead him away.  "No need to worry about that right now.  Robert, please have hot water brought to my quarters.  Darcy and I have much to discuss!" 

[revanne]

Duncan smiled as the door shut after the departing Washburn, there was no stopping a young man in love. Columcil, watching him, thought there was a reminiscent sadness in his grandfather's eyes. Perhaps, once again, he was reminded of Wash's father, Duke Alaric, and his great love for the beautiful Richenda; a story which even in the Duke's lifetime had been celebrated in song by minstrels and poets and had been given added poignancy and popularity by his heroic death.

But Columcil was wrong. It was his own love story that Duncan was remembering; Maryse with her beauty and bravery, echoed in both these young lasses who had shared in Washburn's rescue. Maryse who had borne him his son, the son whom he had welcomed with such astounded joy when the young borderer's true parentage had been revealed. And whose own early gotten son now sat across the table from him.

Columcil, of course, knew nothing of this. He simply saw the sadness in his grandfather's eyes grow deeper and a grey weariness creep across his face.

"Och, ye're still no' well. We should a' be shamed for no' thinkin' that ye need ta rest. I'll be awa' - there's a bonnie wee garth out yon tha' Ah can sit in a wee while while ye rest yerself."

He made to get up from the table but Duncan reached out a hand and prevented him.

"Thank you. I am tired but we need to talk and now is as good a time as any. I am truly grateful that you have agreed to spend some time here at the Schola, but where is it that your heart is calling you?

Duncan feared that he knew all too well what the response would be, and this conversation was the last thing he needed after the emotional drain of the morning, but it could not be postponed much longer.

Columcil's hesitation came not from any prescience but rather a long-established fear of presuming. Finally, after a long pause, which tore painfully at Duncan's nerves, he said simply.

"Ah've been thinking that Ah'd like ta gae ta Ballymar, ta work wi' the fishers an' crofters. I thought mebbes, t'would please ma Da ta have one o'his ain kin carin' fur his ain folk."

Priest for over fifty years, a highly skilled and trained Deryni, surely, thought Duncan,  he should be able to control his emotions better than this. The best he could do was to stop the tears that were prickling behind his eyes from falling. Dennis Arilan had reminded him  long years ago of the wisdom of the church's prohibition of procreation for the clergy, but rarely had he felt its force so keenly. He did not know how long he had been silent, only that Columcil was beginning to babble apologies. He cut them short, saying as gently as he could,

"You will be a great blessing to whomever is privileged to have you work among them, but it cannot be Ballymar. There is no easy way to say this, but Dhugal now thinks it best that things should remain as they were in the past."

Columcil said nothing. It might have seemed that he had not heard except that his hand moved to fumble with something in the breast of his cassock. Bringing out the shiral crystal, warm and polished from the contact with his skin, he began to unknot the leather thong from which it hung.
"He'll be aye wantin' this back then."

Duncan moved his hand to take his grandson's and clasp it around the stone, keeping his own around it.

"It's yours to keep, that at least Dhugal and I agree on." He sighed. "Try to understand. There was no time to think when the two of you met, but now he has had time to reflect it all seems more difficult than it did at first. To tell your first born son that he is not the first born. He is worried how that will seem to Duncan Michael." Columcil started to speak but Duncan gestured him to silence. "He doubts you no more in this than I do, but Borderers make less of wedlock than other folk, and a son is a son..."

Duncan's voice trailed off. Looking into the tired sad face of the man who had always supported him, even before the strange fate of these past weeks had thrown them so closely together, Columcil realised with complete certainty that his father's rejection, if it was rejection and not simple common sense, did not matter to him. It was what his mother had wanted after all, that he should be able to pursue his calling but not at the cost of embarrassment or hindrance to the man who had unwittingly sired him. What did matter was the love of this man here, who was both revered father-in-God and increasingly beloved grandfather.

"Ah'm thinking Mither had the rights o'it, fur ah canna say that ah've ivver felt the want o' a da. But Ah'm gey blessed ta have the blessing o' ma grandda, even if there's few folk will ever ken the rechts o'it." He took his free hand and placed it over his grandfather's and the shiral glowed gently beneath the warmth of their hands.

[revanne]

Thanks to Jerusha for pointing out that May 27th is the feast day of St Melangell. This is in her honour, if a little late.


As Columcil and Duncan came out of rapport, Duncan was the first to speak.

"I think we can count on an hour or two's peace before Washburn returns. We are likely to have a busy few days once Prince Javan's army returns so I suggest we both get some rest."

Columcil was only too glad to comply; despite his matter of fact acceptance of Duncan's news he felt emotionally drained, and there was the nagging worry of where he could find a permanent home.

He stretched out on the bed in the guest room attached to the Archbishop's suite, offering up a prayer of profound gratitude for its comfort and focused on stilling his thoughts which, as they quieted, slowly changed to a dream.

He was sitting on a low stone wall outside his beloved grey stone church, in the warmth of a glorious May morning. The roughness of the stone, the song of the birds in the hedgerows, the sweet, almost overpowering, scent of the white drifts of blossom on the thorn bushes - may as the country people called it - was all achingly familiar. He had sat there so many times, savouring a moment of stillness, the preparations for St Melangell's feast day all finished, as he waited for the children to return with their baskets of wildflowers gathered in her honour.

Something was wrong though. He knew, with the odd certainty that comes sometimes with dreams, that the church was closed to him. The children would come, Mass would be offered and food gladly shared as spring plenty returned after the privations of winter, but he would not be part of it. Yet still he sat, unsure what he was supposed to do.

He sat so long and so still that they came. Not children but St Melangell's own creatures, rabbits, a dozen or more of them and a beautiful golden hare. They moved closer and closer to him as they grazed the green turf, sun studded with golden buttercups, seemingly oblivious to his presence. He watched them, mesmerised,, unaware of the clouds that had come up from the west, precursor of a storm to come. The lightning, when it came, was so vivid that it half-blinded him, and the thunder which followed was surely enough to awaken the dead. Columcil blinked dazed, opening his eyes just in time to see the last of the rabbits disappear into their burrow at the base of the hedge.

But the hare remained longer, almost as though it was waiting to make sure of his attention, before galloping in a blur of golden fur away up the opposite hillside to where - and Columcil rubbed his eyes to make sure of his vision- sat a young woman , her long skirts flowing around her feet. As the hare reached her, the heaven's opened and the rain came down in torrents. The young woman lifted the hem of her skirts and the hare disappeared beneath them, safe from the danger of the storm. Then she looked straight at Columcil and he understood. If he held fast to his courage, rather than simply bolting for the safety of what was familiar, then his beloved Saint would not, after all be lost to him.

The comfort he felt then was still with him when he awoke. He would face his time at the Schola with courage, knowing that somewhere a sanctuary was waiting for him.

[Jerusha]

"Don't touch it!" Aliset Cameron admonished her husband.  "If you touch it one more time, you'll have it hanging from your ear!"

Darcy Cameron clasped his hands behind his back and glared at his wife.  "It doesn't feel right," he said, petulantly.

Aliset straightened the circlet of hammered Isles' silver on Darcy's brow. It was not wider than the tip of her little finger, but it kept the stands of pale hair from falling across his face.  That was likely the problem; he was so used to pushing his hair back that he did it without thinking and kept knocking the circlet askew.  He actually looked quite handsome wearing it, but she would never admit that to him.

"Now leave it alone," she stated firmly.  Darcy sighed.

"Good heavens!" exclaimed a familiar voice.  "Aren't you the handsome pair!  You're not getting married again, are you?"

The pair turned to face Washburn as he strolled toward them.  They were standing in front of a bench to one side of the steps leading up to the doors of Rhemuth Castle.  Aliset was a vision in the emerald green silk dress she had worn to dinner upon their first return to Rhemuth.  Her brown hair was captured securely in the bejewelled golden caul.  This time, though, she also wore a sash of green and blue wool that crossed her breast and was secured on her right shoulder with the pewter eagle's head broach that had been her brother's.  The ends of the sash trailed along her right arm.

Darcy came close to outdoing his wife.  He wore a kilt woven in the pale blue, sea green and dark grey plaid of Isles. His shirt was sea green and over it he wore a black argyll jacket.  The buttons on the front of the jacket and on the sides of the cuffs were crafted from the same beaten Isles' silver as the circlet he wore.  He looked uncomfortable, and Washburn was reminded of a fish out of water.

Darcy glanced at his wife, who nodded.   "Nay, it's not us, Washburn; it's Iain who is getting married," Darcy said quietly.

Washburn looked startled.  "I thought he was a confirmed bachelor!  Who is the lucky woman?"

"Sidana de Paor," Darcy replied.  He did not look happy.

Washburn felt his jaw drop, probably all the way to his knees.  "Sweet Jesu, why?  He'd be better off marrying a stenrect crawler!"

"A what?" Darcy asked.

"It's a magical beast, quite hideous, and its sting is deadly," Aliset explained.

"At least Sidana is not hideous, but other than that, you are probably not far off the mark, Washburn," Darcy said dryly.

"This was the king's idea," Washburn stated, realizing that this must be the king's solution to the threat Sidana posed to the kingdom.  Kings had hard choices to make, but his one felt disconcerting.  "Why Iain?" he finally asked.

Aliset motioned to the bench behind them.   "Sit with us, and we'll tell you what we know."

Washburn sat down heavily and Darcy and Aliset sat on either side of him.

"Iain told me the king gave Lady Sidana three choices," Darcy began.  "Execution, exile to a remote convent, or marriage to the man of his choice, Baron Iain Cameron 'o Isles."

"She would never take the first choice," Washburn said.  "I don't see her taking the second, either.  While no one could force her to take vows, it would not have left her with much of a life, especially set apart from the religious community there."

"So that left Iain." Darcy leaned back and half-moved his hand toward his head, caught the look in his wife's eye, and stretched his arm along the back of the bench instead.  "It's still exile. She'll never leave Isles, but she'll have a better life there."

"It can be a good life," Aliset interjected.  "The expectation is that she will accept the duties of both wife and baroness.  She can live that life as fully as she chooses, within a few constraints, of course."

"But what happens when she produces an heir?" Washburn asked.  "That will cause the same problems all over again, once the child is discovered.   You can't keep an heir to a barony hidden forever."

"You certainly can for a while," Darcy responded, thinking of his twelve years at sea.  "But that won't happen.  Iain can't produce an heir."

Washburn nodded slowly. It seemed the king had thought of everything.  Except one small matter.  "I blocked Sidana's powers," he said.  "I need to set that right before she is whisked away."

'You can't Wash."  Aliset laid a hand on his arm, knowing this would not sit well with his conscience. 

"No, I must," he insisted.  "It was the right thing to do at the time, but it would not be right to leave her that way."

"If her powers were restored, she would be a potential threat to Iain,"  Darcy said carefully.  "Isles has many Deryni; it's conceivable she could find someone to train her, and that person wouldn't realize the danger that would put Iain in.  Or maybe they might; there are always a few like my stepfather."

"The only way to prevent that, would be for Iain to place controls on her."  Aliset looked into Washburn's eyes.  "You of all people would not want that for her."

"Iain made it very clear to the king that he would not live with a woman he had enslaved,"  Darcy added.  "Iain knows it's a risk, but it will at least give him a chance to make some kind of peace with her.  If that's possible."

Washburn sat back and stretched his long legs out in front of him.  He remembered how difficult Sidana had been at Iain's hide-away, even with the controls Iain had placed in her mind.  Iain knew what he was facing.  "Why did Iain agree?"  he asked.

"I'm not entirely sure," Darcy responded.  "I think he feels a responsibility for her abduction."

"He does not bear that responsibility alone," Washburn reminded him.

"Maybe not," Aliset said.  "But think what her life would have been like if you had done differently.  If she survived, she would be on the run with her father, living in who knows what awful conditions.  I don't think Brioc would try to put her on the throne of Meara again, so he would find someone to marry her and produce heirs.  It would probably be someone like Valerian, willing to use her and any children to achieve his own ends."

Washburn sighed.   "And it would not end well.  How do you feel about it, Darcy?"

"I don't like it," Darcy answered.  "But I understand why it needs to be.  I just wish it didn't need to be Iain."

"It is a poor reward for Iain after everything he did to rescue me," Wash said quietly in reflection. "I am in his debt. My conscience will no longer wrestle with how I treated Sidana. She is in better care than she may realize. I hope for Iain's sake she will settle into her new life.

Robert appeared in the castle doorway and moved toward them.  "Lord Darcy, Lady Aliset," he said and bowed.  "You're needed now in the Royal Chapel."

The three of them rose, Darcy holding out his arm for his wife.  Darcy had a sudden thought.  "Wash, there will be a small wedding feast afterwards in the king's private withdrawing room.  Please join us; I think Iain would welcome your support."

Aliset managed a smile.  "Fiona will be there; I'm sure we can arrange a seat for you beside her, can't we Robert?"

"I'll see to it, my Lady," Robert replied.

"A funeral would be more cheerful,"  Darcy muttered.

"Hush," Aliset admonished him gently.  "You're standing up with your brother as you should be. Try not to scowl at the bride as she approaches."  She squeezed his arm gently.  "All we can do is pray that it all turns out well."

"Amen," Washburn said softly. 

[revanne]

Columcil  lay quietly, savouring both the peace of the room and the renewed peace within his soul. Then the door was pushed open and he knew that the former, at least, was at an end.

Washburn came in, immediately went across to where his clothes were stored and began to rummage through his tunics.

"Och, th'guid laird save us, laddie, ye're no' goin' through yon carry on again."

Washburn ignored his good-natured jibe and reached for the dress tunic which declared him to be a restored member of a ducal family. He stripped to his braies, then pouring water from the jug, which a servant had placed ready for their use some hours ago,  plunged his head into the filled basin before emerging sputtering to grin at Columcil.

"Surely you'd have me look my best at a wedding feast, Father?"

Disappointingly, Columcil refused to rise to the bait, but replied placidly, "I ken well it'll no be yer ain, so mebbes ye'll be guid enow,  m'laird, ta tell me wha's afoot."

Washburn suddenly turned serious and, tunic in hand, he sat down on his bed. He told Columcil all he had learnt from Darcy, realising that he was glad to share his misgivings with the priest. "I understand why I cannot restore Sidana's powers, and I'm awed by the depth of his Majesty's mercy. She has been given the chance of a good life, better by far than she would have endured with Valerian, even, God preserve us, if she had gained the crown others wished for her."

He added, with a sudden burst of insight and pity, "especially if she had gained the crown. Once she had borne an heir to Valerian, I doubt he would have had much more use for her." Washburn ran his finger around the embroidered gryphon on his tunic, symbol of loyalty and honour, then raised his eyes to Columcil. "But, I promised myself when I blocked her powers that I would restore her, and sits ill with me to break a promise, even if only to myself. This is a fearful power, Columcil,  and a man could easily be lead astray by it."

"If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out.^

Washburn was startled by the stern austerity in the priest's voice, the solemnity accentuated by the absence of his usual brogue. Unsure as to whether it was he who was being censured, Washburn opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled by Columcil, who, thankfully, sounded more like himself.

"Yon lassie, has had nae chance ta learn ta use her powers fer guid. When we pray to th' laird ta no' lead us into temptation then we mun accept tha' tis doun tae us tae make sure tha' we dinna lead others into temptation. T'would maybe seem mair honour t'ye to no' go back on yer ain word, but 'twould be the greater sin."

Columcil leant forward and traced the sign of the cross on Washburn's  forehead, then, in a swift change of mood, he clapped him on the back.

"Ye're a guid lad, an' ah'm proud ta call ye friend, but unless ye're intending ta woo a certain young lassie in naught but yer braies ye'd best get a move on."

[Jerusha]

There are many similarities in this scene to the marriage of Princess Janniver and Sir Jatham in King Kelson's Bride.  I didn't plan it that way initially, but that's the way it went.  I give full credit to KK for the original work.


Archbishop Duncan McLain adjusted his purple cassock and smoothed the fine fabric into place.  Never before had he felt such relief in shedding his wedding vestments after a nuptial mass; it was unsettling.  And so unlike the last time he had attended a secretive wedding in the Royal Chapel.  The only other time, actually.

He had attended the wedding, but not presided.  Bishop Nivard, who had been Father Nivard then, Kelson's private chaplain, had that honour.   Princess Janniver had been nervous as she walked down the aisle on Kelson's arm, but once the king had given her hand to her groom, Sir Jatham Kilshane, the nervousness had fallen away and was replaced  by the mutual joy they shared.

So unlike today.  As Lady Sidana de Paor walked down the aisle on Kelson's arm, there was no nervousness.  She showed no emotion at all. She might have been a statue, one made of cold, hard marble.  She looked the part of a noble bride, wearing a gown of pale blue silk and a crown of white roses over the curling hair that cascaded down her back, but the gown was not the same costly silver samite befitting a royal princess that Janniver had worn. The pale blue may have been a nod to Isles,  but it was also a statement that Sidana would no longer be considered the Princess of Meara.

Sir Iain was calm and contained, dressed identically to his brother except that he wore the coronet of the Baron 'o Isles.  His face gave no sign of the inner turmoil he must be feeling as his bride approached.  Lord Darcy, standing up beside him, watched her warily. He stepped to the side only at the last moment after the bride reached them.  Duncan would have sworn Lady Aliset looked relieved as she accepted the bouquet from the bride.

Neither Sidana nor Iain's expression softened as the king joined their hands.  Duncan had the feeling he was joining duty and pride instead of man and wife.  Emotionlessly, they had reiterated their betrothal vows and exchanged their wedding vows.  Iain's shields were tightly raised; Duncan had to wonder how many Deryni in the chapel were truth-reading the bride.

Once the nuptial mass was completed, the bride and groom turned and formally paid their respects to the king and queen.  It was very quiet in the chapel as Iain escorted his wife back down the aisle.  They stopped only long enough for Sidana to lay her bridal crown of roses at the feet of the statue of the Virgin before striding through the chapel doors to wait outside for the others to join them. 

For a moment, no one moved; it was almost as if everyone was holding their breath.  Then it was over, and Duncan sensed a collective sigh as the few guests followed the king and queen from the chapel.

***

Sir Washburn Morgan tugged the fabric of his green tunic to straighten it as he waited outside the open door to the king's private withdrawing room. Pages and serving staff from the kitchen were in and out, finishing the final preparations  before the wedding party arrived.

Robert arrived and stood beside Washburn.  "They are on their way."

"There were no objections to my joining the feast?" Washburn asked.

"We managed to squeeze you in," Robert said and grinned. "There was a moment of consternation when the queen realized you would be the thirteenth guest, but Sir Iain waved that aside and stated I could be considered the fourteenth, since we have worked together so often."

Washburn nodded but said nothing more, as the wedding party was approaching.  Both bowed as the king and queen passed, and the king nodded his acknowledgement.  They straightened and inclined their heads as Sir Iain and Lady Sidana followed.  Behind them Princess Araxandra and Duchess Grania walked together.  Dowager Duchess Richenda was escorted next by Archbishop Duncan.  As Darcy followed with Aliset's hand on his arm, he reached across and squeezed Washburn's shoulder briefly with his free hand, grateful that Washburn was attending.  Last came Fiona, and Washburn was surprised to see that she was escorted by Laird Seisyll Arilan.  Perhaps the king had felt the need to include someone from his council.

Pages were directing the guests to their seats at the long trestle table as Robert and Washburn entered.  Four chairs were arranged along the long side closest to the royal bedchamber for the king, queen, Iain and Sidana.  Iain took the place of honor beside the king with his new wife on the other side.  Araxandra, Grania, Richenda and Duncan took the places at the ends of the table, leaving five seats along the other long side.  Aliset, Darcy and Fiona moved to fill the middle seats.  Seisyll stopped for a moment at the chair beside Fiona, but Robert discreetly directed him to the chair on Aliset's left, leaving the vacant chair beside Fiona for Washburn.  As they stood at their places waiting for the king and queen to be seated first, Washburn realized Sidana was surrounded by some of the most skilled Deryni in the kingdom.  He was sure it was not by accident. 

Pages began to bring in the meal, assisted by some of the serving staff who brought the heavier trays of meat.  Venison, roast fowl, poached salmon and savory pies were served.  Archbishop Duncan said the blessing for the feast, after which the pages began to serve the guests fine Vizairi wines from silver pitchers. 

"Only half a goblet, if you don't mind," Aliset said to the page serving her wine.

"Please also bring her a small pitcher of water," Darcy added.  The page gave him an odd look, but bowed slightly in acknowledgment.  He was young, and probably new to serving the ladies of the court.  After serving Lord Seisyll his wine, the page left and returned quickly with the water.  Darcy added the water to Aliset's wine, and Seisyll gave him a knowing look.

Initially, everyone gave their attention to the food, saying little other than giving compliments to Araxie on the excellence of the meal.  No one dared even minor pleasantries such as, "Has Sir Iain told you much about Isles?" Or, "You must be looking forward to setting up your household.  Isles has been without a baroness for some time." Even worse would have been, "I'm sure you will both enjoy many fine heirs."

"I can't think of a thing to say," Darcy admitted to his wife quietly.  "Somehow discussing Isles' long, cold winters and short summers does not seem helpful.  We have nice sheep, though," he added.

"I'm sure Sidana will appreciate that," Aliset replied.  "It may be the only thing she appreciates."

Darcy was pleased to see that his wife was eating well.  She seemed to especially like the poached salmon.  He placed a second portion on her plate.

"Make sure there is enough for you as well," she quickly said.

Darcy smiled.  "After all those years at sea, I've had enough fish.  I'll stick with the venison and meat pie."

"You haven't had much of your wine, though," she observed.  "If it doesn't suit you, you may add some of my water to it."

Darcy gave her a horrified look, and Aliset suppressed a giggle.

"I've got to manage to stumble through the toast to the groom," Darcy admitted.  "How do you wish someone a long and happy marriage when you are hoping the bride doesn't smuggle in her eating knife and murder the groom in the bridal bed?"

Lord Seisyll looked across at Darcy.  "The ladies escorting Sidana to her groom will take every precaution that such an incident cannot occur." Darcy took a long sip of his wine.

It was Araxie who finally found a surprisingly safe topic as little cakes and honeyed dates were served.  "I'm glad we've had this chance to enjoy a quiet celebration."  Kelson raised an eyebrow at his wife; she smiled and continued on.  "These next few days will be filled with welcoming our returning men and hosting the celebrations."

"Yes," Richenda said, picking up the gauntlet.  "We'll barely have time to think. One event seems to lead right into the next, and so on."

"I'm not sure we can fit everyone into the Great Hall at once," Araxandra chimed in.  "There will have to be a lot of careful planning."

"As if they haven't already been at it for days," Washburn whispered quietly to Fiona.

The conversation went well, until Sidana asked the king,  "Will there be any prisoners returning with your men?"

"No, Lady Sidana," the king said directly.  "Lord Brioc remains at large."

For the first time, Sidana smiled.

The king abruptly stood.  "As is customary, it is my honor to toast the bride. But first, there is the small matter of a wedding gift to celebrate this new union."

Darcy, noting the king had not said "happy couple,"  looked expectantly at the king.

Robert handed Kelson a rolled scroll adorned with pendant seals along its edge.  "It is my pleasure," the king continued, "and with total endorsement from the Duke of Claibourne, to raise Isles to an earldom.  Not only will the earldom include Isles proper, but the nearest baronies that lay along the northern shore of Claibourne will owe fealty to their new earl."

"Justly deserved," Lord Seisyll said as they all stood to toast the new earl and countess.  As Darcy raised his glass to his brother and then began to drink, he suddenly realized what this meant for him and Aliset and choked.

He did not recover immediately, and Washburn set down his own goblet and  pounded him on the back until Darcy raised a hand for him to stop.  "Beg pardon, your Majesties," Darcy  gasped.

"Don't worry, little brother.  I plan to live for a very long time," Iain sent.

"You damn well better!"  Darcy snapped back.

They remained standing for Kelson to toast the bride and pages topped off their wine.  The young page that had brought Aliset her water nervously filled Washburn's goblet, sloshing some of the wine on the table.  The page looked  mortified,  and Washburn gave him an understanding smile. 

"To Countess Sidana Cameron, may you grow to enjoy your new role."  Kelson raised his goblet to the bride and the rest followed suit.

Well done, Washburn thought as he raised his goblet to his lips.  He was startled when he unexpectedly felt the touch of metal against his front teeth. He lowered his goblet to peer inside, but the red wine obscured anything hidden.  Discreetly, he dipped his index finger into the wine and felt a metal chain.  He scooped his finger around it and pulled it out. He heard Duncan gasp sharply as Washburn held up a medallion.

He stared at it in disbelief, but his Deryni powers recognized it, allaying any doubt.  Suspended from his hand, dripping small drops of wine into his goblet, was his Saint Camber medal.

[Laurna]

Washburn was mortified as his Camber medal swung slightly back and forth from the slight shake of his hand.  He let the chain slip down some, so that the medal was further from the tips of his fingers.

((08:12 <•Laurna> Does Wash pull the chain from his wine goblet without touching the St Camber Medal? success on 5 or 6
08:12 <•Laurna> !roll 2d6
08:12 <GameServ> Laurna rolled 2d6: 4 6 <Total: 10>
08:13 <•Laurna> Yes, very good, solves that problem.))

He had not touched it, he was sure of it. But could his proximity to it set off whatever spell was upon it? Could he have already succumbed to it? In the dreamland that was not a dream, it was the one thing he has ask to be returned to him. Feyd had said that he would comply when he was able to do so. But what mischief was Feyd intending by having it delivered to him in this way, at this time?

Washburn's maman stood near, but her eyes were upon the king and the bride. She did not see his disquiet. Uncle Duncan was the one who gasped as droplets of wine fell from the medal and splashed back into his goblet, yet the archbishop was paces away and out of arms reach. Light as a dove's wing tips, Wash felt fingers brush his wrist. Standing beside him, with a deep sense of concern, Fiona looked up from the medal into his eyes and caught his gaze with her charisma. "Oh, what is that you have found? I have never seen anything like it. Please may I see it?"

Wash hesitated, it is not a thing he would dare let her risk, yet she placed a hand on his arm with assurance. "Please, let me take it from you, Wash. We know not where it has been. Let us not trust it until we are certain." She gave him a look of calmness and caring. She took her linen napkin from the table and wrapped it about the medal, hiding the silver face of the saint from his sight.

((12:47 <derynifank> Dice roll. Fiona convinces Wash to give her the Camber medal.  Fiona has Trait charismatic, she gains Advantage when attempting to convince someone of something or otherwise influence them.!3d6
12:47 <derynifank> !3d6
12:48 <derynifank> !roll 3d6
12:48 <GameServ> derynifank rolled 3d6: 1 2 6 <Total: 9>))

Gently, with an fearless smile, the young lady pulled the chain from between his fingers. The moment he had released it, Wash felt he could breathe again. It may not have been from a manifestation of power, but the anticipation of it had frozen his core. Fiona squeezed his hand with warm thoughts and reassurance. She wrapped the chain further in the napkin and slid it in the small pouch attached to her belt.

"Bravely done!" Lady Richenda said across the table's corner. "I thank you for understanding the danger."

"Yes, your Grace, I shall always do what I can."

The dowager duchess reached across the table's corner grasping both her son's hand and Fiona's hand and giving them both a squeeze. At that moment she was reassured that no harm had come to either of them from the incident.

When Wash looked up, he saw those across the table staring at him.  The king, Iain, Darcy and Aliset were concerned but relieved. In contrast, the bride Sidana was hotly angry. Her eyes bore into Wash and Fiona like a cold storm. This was her day and it seemed to Wash that she was again about to scream RAT at him for taking the attention away from her.

To win back everyone's attention, she lifted up a candied berry from off the bridal cake icing and held it up to her new husband's lips. "To our union, may we live long happy lives on Isles." Iain ate the fruit with some hesitancy. In respect to her gesture, he offered his bride a candied apple slice from the next spot on the cake. "To my countess of Isles, may we prosper." He said this as she ate what he offered. Everyone was outwardly pleased by the turn, but inwardly at least one if not more worried that the 'we' as spoken by the bride was a royal We and did not refer to the newly wedded couple as the groom did try to imply. But no one dared to share their concerns.

When the bridal feast had ended and the bride was swept out of the room by the duchesses of the kingdom to be prepared for her bedding, the men did then all turn to Wash and Fiona. As the king requested, Fiona gave her pouch across to Seisyll who upended it onto the table before the king. The part of the Camber medal poked out from the linen folds.

"Is this indeed yours?" the king asked of Washburn

"Yes, sire, I am certain that it is."

"Where did you last see it?


"In the darkness of the place I was held before I was in the ruins; I had used it to pray to the good Saint for someone to find me. My abductor may have taken my powers, but he had not taken my faith. Though, he did try to take that too."

The king sighed as he bit his lip. "You never lost your faith, this is but a symbol of it and I see someone has seen that it be returned to you. When we are certain it is clean, it will be yours again." The king waved for Seisyll to take up the medal; meanwhile the page that had served Wash his wine was brought forth. The boy was clearly shaken. "Do not worry young lord, Lord Arilan will see you to your room and see that you are well cared for for the evening." With a nod, Seisyll pocketed the medal and put a gentle hand on the page's shoulder. "Let us talk!" Seisyll said as he led the boy away.

Duncan stepped over to the side of his king with deep concern. "I know not if there was a spell upon the medal, or no, but what concerns me is that Feyd was able to have it delivered to your solar, in the very heart of the royal sanctum."

Iain braced himself as he answered the Archbishop, "I fear I know all too well the skill of those of the Black order of Death, Feyd is a master. I am not surprised that he chose to show his prowess to you in this way. If Feyd doesn't want to be discovered, he won't be."

"I hear what you are saying, Earl Iain Cameron. Know that We will take heed!"  the king responded. "But I release you from making this your concern. Men and Ladies! One more toast to the groom, and then let us sing him up the stairs to his bridal bed.

"Hear, hear!" called all those left in the room.

[DerynifanK]

The day dawned sunny and cool. Fiona was awakened by sunlight streaming through her windows. At first she thought she would snuggle down under the covers, then she remembered. today was the day of the Victory procession and the beginning of the celebration! The king had declared it to be a day of thanksgiving for their delivery from the Mearan revolt. The day would begin with a solemn mass of Thanksgiving in St George's Cathedral. The mass would be followed by a victory parade as Prince Javan and his army returned to Rhemuth. They would march the length of King's Way until they reached the King's Green, just below the castle, where they would be received by King Kelson and his court. This ceremony was to be followed by a day of feasting and merrymaking.

The excitement made her jump from her bed and run to the window to look out at the courtyard. Already preparations were underway for the celebration to be held today.  Banners were being unfurled and hung from the castle walls. She could smell the scents of roasting meat and baking bread being prepared for the feast. In the distance she could hear music as those who would entertain during the celebration practiced their tunes. There would be jongleurs and acrobats and every sort of amusement

The rebellion was crushed, most of its leaders confined to dungeons until a final decision as to their fates was made. The last units of Prince Javan's army had reached Rhemuth the day before and made camp on the banks of the Eirian across from the city gates.

The prince himself, along with his principal commanders, had arrived the day following the wedding and had been closeted with the king and his council, reporting on the battles and their outcomes. The rebels had been defeated at Laas, Duke Brecon had already begun repairs of the damage to the city walls. Grand Duke Valerian had been killed trying to escape and return to Ratharkin, and the remnants of his army had been rounded up by Prince Javan's men. Ratharkin had been freed from rebel control and was once again under the rule of its viceroy. The Duke of Corwyn, who had suffered a life threatening wound in the battle for Laas, had been healed and had returned with the army. There was much to be thankful for.

Fiona hurried to wash and dress and to prepare herself to join the royal party from the castle that would ride down to St. George's for the mass of Thanksgiving. She reached the courtyard where the horses were saddled and waiting just as the members of the party began to mount. She reached for her bridle and a hand held her stirrup to assist her to mount. As she settled in her saddle, she looked around expecting to see one of the grooms, but it was  Sir Washburn smiling up at her. He swung himself up on Shadow, and remained beside her as the King and Queen led the way from the courtyard to begin the descent from the castle.

Once they reached the cathedral, the king and queen were conducted to their places with the others following behind.  As Fiona watched from her place further back, she saw Washburn seated between his mother, the Dowager Duchess of Corwyn, and Duchess Araxandra, his brother's wife. Fiona took her place beside Aliset with Darcy on his wife's other side. The procession began led by the Thurifer, followed by the choirboys singing in their angelic voices, and two servers holding candles side by side followed by an acolyte bearing the cross. The line of servers continued until the deacon of St. George's entered, preceded by the Archbishop of Rhemuth who was celebrating the mass. Fiona was awed both by the cathedral itself and the procession. She had never seen  anything comparable. As the mass proceeded, she felt a sense of both joy and relief  as they offered thanks to God for their deliverance from war.

After the mass, the entire party returned to the castle to break their fast. Washburn was seated at the high table, again beside his mother with Archbishop McLain on his other side. Fiona was seated with Darcy and Aliset at the far end of the table opposite Wash. From her position, she could at least see him as he ate and talked.

"Are you alright?" Aliset spoke to Fiona. "You have hardly said a word since we returned from the cathedral and you are not eating. There will be a fine feast tonight after the parade, but you will be hungry before then. Is something troubling you?"

Fiona turned  to answer. "Oh no. It is just that I have never seen such a grand ceremony as that in the cathedral, nor have I ever experienced anything like the victory parade that will soon commence. I want to see everything. I don't want to miss a minute of the celebration."

"Are you sure that it is the ceremony that holds your attention or is it the presence of a special person?" Aliset had noticed the direction of Fiona's gaze which frequently focused on Sir Washburn and his companions.

Fiona blushed. "I am just concerned that Sir Washburn is himself and has suffered no ill effects from the return of that medal he found in his wine at the wedding feast. I well remember the terrible effects of that ruby he found and how difficult it was to free him of its evil influence. I do not wish to see such an effect on him again."

"Your quick action in convincing him to give it to you and persuading him that it should be examined by others before having it returned to him helped protect him from any spell that might have been placed on the medal. The Dowager Duchess was quite impressed by your action and I think you made a very favorable impression." Aliset smiled at her. "I am sure he will find an opportunity to spend some time with you during today's festivities. Now eat your food. We don't want to miss the beginning of the procession."

Following their meal, they returned to their rooms to freshen up before gathering to take their places to watch the army as it marched through the city and entered the King's Green where the King and his court would wait to formally welcome them home. 

There was a tap at Fiona's door and she opened it to find Darcy, Aliset, and Iain standing there ready to escort her to the Green to view the arrival of the army led by Prince Javan. Fiona looked past Iain."Where is Sidana?"

"She has decided to remain in our quarters and rest.  She does not relish the idea of watching this victory parade as it celebrates the defeat of the revolt."  Iain offered his arm to Fiona. "Let us  proceed to the Green and get a good spot from which to watch all that happens. I know you don't want to miss anything." Fiona placed her hand on Iain's arm, Aliset took Darcy's arm and they set off for the King's Green.

From the gate in the outer curtain wall, they could see the throngs of people assembling along the way from the Market Square toward the castle. Bright pennants were flying from major buildings and they could hear music in the distance. They turned and followed the path along the wall, past the entrance to St. Hillary's and entered the King's Green just a short way beyond the gate. They could see that a temporary dais had been raised at the end of the Green. Here the King and his court would stand to review the returning army. Iain found them a spot near the edge of the dais not too far from the king's great chair which had been carried out for him.

The members of the court assembled to await the arrival of the army. The king and queen had arrived and taken their places at the center of the dias. All were aware that the procession was drawing near as they heard the sounds of the trumpets and the increasing cheers of the people. As they looked back along the street, they began to see bright pennants and hear the sound of approaching horses. The first units approached led by Prince Javan, mounted on his big, white destrier with Prince Albin at his side and followed closely by his standard bearer, holding up proudly the golden lion of Gwynedd. Mounted knights and men-at-arms afoot wearing Haldane crimson livery filed onto the Green after the prince.

The Haldane levies were followed by men in the green and black of Corwyn led by their duke garbed in a green tunic with the Corwyn Gryphon on his chest. As Kelric led his men onto the green, he scanned those on the dais. He quickly spotted his mother and his duchess, but his eyes still scanned until he saw what he was seeking, his younger brother standing there as an honored member of the king's party. Corwyn's duke gave a big grin. At almost the same time, Washburn's eyes met those of his brother and he grinned back, happy and relieved to see Kelric fully recovered from his wound.

More and more units of the army filed onto the green led by their commanders. Washburn espied the blue and gold of Marley as the Earl of Marley led his men to their place. Among them he noted the pennants of Jaxom of Trillshire as well as that of Fiona's cousin, Michael Stuart. It appeared that both young men had reformed, carried out their duties well under the Earl of Marley and earned a place in good standing in his service.

Fiona also noticed the blue and gold of the Marley men. Among them she was overjoyed to see Michael's pennant flying. He must have reformed and made amends for his previous mistakes.The Green quickly filled with men and horses until it was a sea of color and sound. Fiona was nearly overwhelmed. She gripped Iain's arm tightly as she watched with eyes as big as saucers. Never had she dreamed of such a sight.

As the last of the men took their places on the green, the king stepped forward to the front of the dais. The men gave a rousing cheer for their sovereign, pounding shields with swords and shouting as loud as they could. The king stood silently for several moments until the noise began to die down. He was an imposing figure in a long crimson tunic embroidered with the golden Lion of Gwynedd, and his cloak trimmed in ermine. Archbishop McLain stood at his side clothed in episcopal purple, holding the Haldane sword.. The king wore Gwynedd's crown on his brow, the Eye of Rom glowing red in his ear, and the Ring of Fire on his right hand. He held his hand up, signaling for silence and the crowd quickly responded

The king looked out at the army assembled before him and spoke: "You have fought bravely and the Kingdom owes you a great debt of gratitude. With your courage and determination you turned back a critical threat from those who sought to tear the kingdom apart to seize part of it for their own elevation. We mourn those who were lost in battle, and We recognize the sacrifices that each of you made in answering the call to defend home and kingdom. We appreciate your eagerness to return to your homes and families, now safe, thanks to your endeavors. We wish you godspeed as you return home. Return now to your encampments, and in the coming days your commanders will release you from the king's service with the crown's profound gratitude for all you have done. Archbishop McLain will now give you our blessing."

The bishop made the sign of the cross, "In nomine patris, et filii, et spiritus sancti.  Dominus custodiet vos; et salvi revertentur ad domos vestras."

The army then began to disperse in order, led by their commanders, to return to their camps. The king and his court turned to return to the castle to rest and prepare for the night's feast. The people would continue to celebrate in the streets far into the night. Fiona was quiet as she held onto Iain's arm and allowed herself to be led away. Her head was full of all she had seen this day, and she needed some quiet time to think about it all. When she had left her uncle's manor many weeks ago she had no idea that it would lead her here to the king's court and this splendid celebration.

[Laurna]

As the royal entourage walked back from the King's Green to the castle proper, they passed the doors of St. Hilary's Basilica and suddenly Washburn had an irresistible idea. Fiona had not yet seen the Schola. She was admitted as she had dreamed, but as yet, she had no notion of what the Schola looked like or how it ran. Perhaps too, he could show Columcil parts of it so that the priest might not be in such a great hurry to leave.  Feeling his youth, Wash tapped Columcil's shoulders,  "Follow me!" and then he raced back in the line of castle residents to find Fiona with Aliset, Darcy, and Iain.

"I want to show you something," he said to Fiona, then corrected himself with a bow to the new Earl. "My lord, would you allow me to show your cousin the buildings where she will be attending the Schola; Darcy, Aliset and Columcil will chaperone us. I swear we will not be gone too long."  Iain looked none too pleased, but then Iain had not looked pleased about anything for days.

"Go, but be back before her cousin is sent to join the vigil for the night at the Cathedral. I am sure she will want to say encouraging words to Michael before he goes."

"We promise," Washburn said, including everyone in that promise.

When the five had turned away from the walkers to climb the steps of St Hilary's, Fiona said, "I don't know what I am to say to Michael. How do I forgive him for what he had done to Uncle Mac?"

"It appears he has turned a corner and is finally walking a straight path. Your heart will tell you that family forgives when the one who strayed has turned around."

At the top of the steps, Fiona turned to face Washburn. "I will remember that, if you will remember it about your own family." Wash didn't say anything. Perhaps that was why he chose to make this detour into the Schola, to avoid facing his brothers now that they had returned.

"This way," he said as he led his friends into the church, which was silent with everyone at the festival. After his friends had gotten a look around at the basilica, he led them through a side garden into the Schola proper. They entered a long hall with periodic doors that opened into classrooms.  The rooms were bright with sunshine with the clerestory windows facing the south. The walls in the room Washburn chose to show them were adorned by student artwork. "If you open your shields, you can feel the tangible magic in the air."

"There is no one here doing magic now, how can you feel it?" Darcy asked, always skeptical when it came to magic.

Wash didn't have to say anything, he turned to see if Aliset could explain. But she was looking in awe at a silk-thread embroidered garden on a wall tapestry. "I swear that if I look through the sides of my eyes, the butterflies and the bees are flying from blooming flower to blooming flower, and I can hear the birds in the trees singing." She was smiling and then started humming with pleasure as she touched the tapestry and felt the magic that made it appear to come alive.

"Aliset gets it," Washburn said with a smile.

"I don't feel it," Fiona said in dismay.

Aliset reached over and took Fiona's hand. She had her touch the tapestry on a pink flower with an embroidered yellow and black swallow tail butterfly frozen in place over the bloom.  "Take in a deep breath and focus on the flower."

Fiona concentrated, there was nothing at first, but then she let out a squeal of joy. "It flew!" She exclaimed. "I can feel the magic in the whole hanging. How did they do that?"

"My understanding from my oldest sister, Briony, is that her dormitory, the first for women, spent a year embroidering this."

"I am amazed," Fiona called. She spun around happily, trying to see everything else in the room at once. "I am really here! My dream has finally come true!"

Wash let the ladies enjoy the moment, and then he waved for everyone to follow him. But before he got to his destination, Magistra Helena approached. "There you are. Duncan said you might have come this way."

"Duncan knows me too well, Magistra." Washburn bowed.

"Of course he does, and that is not a bad thing." Helana replied. "Your mother is asking for your presence in the garden. Your family is gathering and you should be there."

Wash felt like a truant squire. "I shall go at once."  He bit his lip but then straightened his back. "I thought I would show Lord Darcy and Lady Aliset the portal at St Hillary's. I know that it is not trapped like the library portal and that not everyone should learn its coordinates. But honestly, I can not go near the library portal myself, not any longer, and I feel that my friends, at least  should know how to get back to Rhemuth in an emergency. Columcil has already been shown. Would you be opposed to the Lord and Lady of Caer Mariot learning this portal for themselves?"

The Magistra would have instantly said no to such a request, if it had been made by any other student. But these five people had proven themselves of loyal character in the most challenging of tests. She changed her mind and smiled. "I will do that, but you need to go along to the garden."

"Yes, Magistra?" Wash said. He bowed to his friends, feeling guilty for leaving them. But he knew the Magistra was a far better teacher at Portaling than he. And it was something that experience told him was an important skill to know.

[Jerusha]

Magistra Helena looked at the small group that remained behind at the Schola after Sir Washburn left.  "Using a Portal is not difficult, but there is some danger involved for the inexperienced."

"I am trained to the ritual level, Magistra," Aliset said.  "I only need the signature of the Portals to be able to successfully transfer."

Darcy gave his wife a curious look.

"The archbishop gave me initial training, and Ah have successfully completed a couple of jumps, but Ah am nay expert,"  Columcil said.

"If Archbishop Duncan trained you, I am sure you will be fine."  Helena smiled at him.  "Fiona, it is a bit early in your studies for you to start Portal training.  However, I can take you through with me to our destination at St. George's. It can be an introduction to the concept for you."

Fiona took a deep breath to hide her disappointment and then nodded her acceptance.  "Thank you, Magistra Helena."  It would not be helpful to start off on the wrong foot at the Schola.

"And you, Lord Darcy?" Helena asked.

Darcy hesitated a moment before finally admitting, with a hint of defensiveness in his voice, "I know what a Portal is, since I found one at the bottom of a well, but that's all I know." 

"Darcy only recently learned he is Deryni," Aliset explained.  "I have had very little time to provide training in anything besides the basic skills.  Once we return to Mariot and things have settled down, we'll resume his training."  She smiled at her husband, who was looking just a touch rebellious.  "It won't take him long to catch up."  Darcy's look softened a bit.

"Will you bring him through, then?" the magistra asked Aliset.

"Perhaps Father Columcil might be a better choice, for this first time," Aliset replied.  At Columcil's startled look, she sent to him quickly, "You know how protective Darcy is. He just might accidently interfere, or not be able to give me complete control.  Since he is familiar with your Healing touch, he might be more at ease with you."  She did not add that Darcy might not be completely comfortable surrendering control to his wife.  Men could be so touchy!

"Ah have no objection, if ye don't, Darcy," Columcil said. 

Darcy, who had no idea what using a Portal involved, was perplexed by his wife's suggestion, but nodded agreement.  Maybe it was because of the lassies, he thought.  Aye, that must be it.

"Each Portal has a specific pattern of energies; no two are alike.  We call it the Portal's signature," Magistra Helena began.  "To move from one Portal to the next, you need to know the signatures of both Portals.  Once you are experienced enough, you can learn a Portal's signature by simply standing on it.  For those who are just starting to learn, it is best to place your hand on the Portal; this physical contact allows you to better feel the distinctive pattern of the Portal's energies.  Let me demonstrate with Fiona, if she is willing."

"Oh yes, Magistra!" Fiona responded eagerly.

"The outline of the Portal is often seen as a distinctive pattern in the tiles on the floor, as you can see here."  Helena motioned to a pattern of tiles on the floor that was different from the rest of tiles.  "Kneel beside it, Fiona, place your hand on it, and tell us what you feel."

Fiona did as she was instructed, closing her eyes to more intensely focus on what she might find.  She felt a tingling sensation in her hand, and the pattern of the energies became apparent. 

"My hand tingles," she said carefully.  "In my mind, I can now see the pattern of the energies."

"Excellent! Now stand and allow me to confirm you have read them correctly."  Fiona rose and held out her hand to the magistra, who held it briefly to verify the signature Fiona now held in her mind.  Helena smiled as she released Fiona's hand.  "I see you will be an excellent student.  Aliset, would you go next?"

Aliset nodded and stepped onto the Portal.  "I have the signature, Magistra."

Columcil went next, kneeling as Fiona had done to place his hand on the Portal.  He soon stood and stepped aside for Darcy to take his turn.

Darcy was not surprised at the tingling that spread through his hand; he had felt the same sensation in his feet when he had stepped unknowingly on the Portal at the bottom of the well.  It was the pattern of energy that caused his quick intake of breath.  It was so clear!  He opened his mind to commit it to memory and probed a little deeper, wondering at how the Portal had been constructed....

"Darcy!" Aliset said, a bit sharply.  "You just need to memorize it, not determine how it was put together!"

"Sorry," Darcy said guiltily and quickly stood.

"Perhaps Lord Darcy will someday come to the Schola for more advanced Portal training.  May I verify that you have the signature memorized correctly?" Magistra Helena asked.

If Darcy was slightly affronted, he hid it well.  He placed his larger, calloused hand on the magistra's and allowed her to see the signature in his mind.

"Well done!"  Magistra Helena smiled and then continued.  "In order to transfer between two Portals, you have to know the signature of the portal you are leaving and the one you are travelling to.  If you don't know both clearly, you may never reach your destination and reappear.  Never take Portal travel lightly."  She looked at each of them gravely; Aliset returned her gaze calmly, Columcil nodded, Fiona looked startled and Darcy looked at her warily, his jaw tightening.

"That is the warning we give to all of our students," Helena continued in a lighter tone.  "But with training and practice, it becomes almost second nature and nothing to fear."  Her students relaxed, except, perhaps, for Darcy.

"The other point to remember is that only one person can shift the energies from the Portal you are starting from to the energies of the destination Portal.  In order for two people to transfer together, one must control the jump and the other must surrender completely to the other's control.  If you interfere in any way, no matter how slightly, you may not reach the destination."

Aliset looked toward Darcy and saw his pale blue eyes cloud with concern.  She sighed inwardly, knowing the concern was not for himself.  Yes, it was good he would make his first jump with Father Columcil.

"Before I take Fiona through, I will share the destination signature with Aliset.  Father Columcil, I believe you are familiar with the sacristy Portal?"

"Aye, Magistra,"  Columcil replied. "T'was the first Portal signature Ah learned."

Helena extended her hand to Aliset, who placed her own hand on it to accept the signature.  After a moment, Aliset nodded and withdrew her hand.

"Let us proceed, before we miss all of the festivities.  Fiona, please step onto the Portal and lean backwards into my arms.  Lower your shields and allow me to assume psychic control." 

Fiona took a deep breath and followed the magistra's directions.  Suddenly, they were gone from the Portal. 

"Sweet Jesu," Darcy muttered.

"I'll go next," Aliset said quickly before Darcy could think too much about what he had seen.

"Are you sure it's safe?" Darcy asked, holding out an arm as if to stop her.  "You're sure about the destination?  How will I know you arrived safely?  What about the lassies?"

"Don't worry,  I'll let you know I made it safely," Aliset said, moving toward the Portal. She could not resist adding, "And I assure you, the lassies are coming with me!"

"They bloody well better be!" Darcy snapped.

"Easy, son," Columcil admonished gently. 

Darcy said a hasty, mental prayer to Saint Nicholas as Aliset stepped on the Portal, concentrated for a moment and was gone.

Darcy held his breath until he heard her soft words:  "I'm where I should be, and all of us are well."  "She's safe," Darcy said with relief as he turned toward the priest.

"Aye, ah was feelin' much the same way when my grandda took me through on ma first jump," Columcil said briskly, in the most confident tone he could muster.  "All ye need ta dee is ta open your mind ta me  wi'oot holding back any o'it, and allow me ta tek control o'the transfer."

"That's all?" Darcy asked dryly.

"It's not so different from allowing me to Heal your injuries,"  Columcil said reassuringly.  "Ah ken it took ye a wee bitty ta be comfortable w'it, but  ye trusted me then, and ye can trust me noo, if ye are willing ta."

Darcy hesitated. It wasn't so much a matter of trust; he had learned to trust the grizzled priest who had also become a good friend.  But to give control of his life to another? 

"I'll owe you a tankard once you get us there," Darcy finally said.

"We'll no find a tankard in the sacristy, but Ah ken where we will."  Columcil stepped onto the Portal, and Darcy, after taking a couple of deep breaths, joined him and leaned backward into the priest's arms.  Columcil could feel his friend's nervousness, but after a moment, Darcy's shields rolled back and he relaxed against Columcil's sturdy chest.

Darcy felt a vague, stomach-wrenching shift and then it was over.  For a moment, he, who had never been seasick a day in his life, experienced a surge of vertigo. He felt his wife grip his arm to steady him, and he hastily opened his eyes, relieved to see solid walls and the others all present and accounted for. 

"You can move now," Aliset said and smiled.

"Wasn't it amazing?" Fiona asked, clearly delighted with the experience.

'You could say that," Darcy replied.  "We are indeed in St. George's Cathedral?"

"We are," Magistra Helena replied.  "The festivities are right outside in St. George's Square." 

Darcy quickly calculated the distance and looked appreciatively at the magistra.  "Quite a feat, indeed.  How far can you travel, using a Portal?"

"That depends," Helena replied.

"That could explain it, though," Darcy said thoughtfully.

"Explain what?" Aliset asked.

"Despite its isolation, Isles is a busy place," Darcy began.  "People come and go all the time, but it takes a great deal of time.  When I was a wee lad, my father used to travel frequently, but he never seemed to be gone as long as others were.  Not that I was very good at calculating time then.  All I really needed to know was how long it took to sneak into the kitchens, sprint to the platter of fresh fruit tarts, grab one or two and escape before Cook could catch me."

"Were you good at it?" Aliset could not resist asking.

"Let's just say we were often a bit short of tarts at dinner.  But my point is, Isles must have a Portal. It makes sense to me now.  I'll have to talk to Iain about it."

"Aliset," Helena said thoughtfully.  "If you want to continue Darcy's Portal training before you leave, I can give you the signature of the other Portal we use for training.  We normally avoid using this one so no one suddenly pops in on the Archbishop vesting for services!"

"Thank you, Magistra," Aliset replied.  "I fear we will be quite busy once we return to Mariot. It would be good to continue his training while what we have done is still fresh in his mind."  Not that Darcy ever forgot anything!

"Well," Darcy said, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction.  "I promised Father Columcil a tankard of ale if he got me through safely, and I am a man who keeps his word!  Shall we join the festivities?"

"An excellent idea," they all agreed in unison.

"Lead on, good Father," Darcy said jovially.  "I'll stand for the first round!"

[Laurna]

Washburn walked the path from St. Hilary's to the king's garden alone.  He was both upset that he was alone and glad for it. He would not have been able to talk to anyone that walked beside him, for his thoughts about finally seeing his brothers were a mix of pain, regret, and relief. But mixed in there too was vulnerability, fear even.

"I am afraid," Duke Alaric had claimed a long time ago. At the edges of Washburn's restored memories. "...I won't cry when I'm afraid. I hold my fear in here." His papa had pointed to his chest. "I use my fear to make certain that I have considered every possibility. Fear keeps me from becoming complacent..."

"Comp play ent...?" Wash had tried to say at that very young age.

"Aye, son, that is a big word. Complacent... it means to become self-satisfied, to be prideful, to think you are better than everyone else. If you think that, then someone will try to prove you wrong. You must be the best that you can be, promise me that, but don't ever be prideful. And don't ever become complacent, son. Always know that there is more to learn, no matter how good you are, and that there are bad people out there who will try to beat you down.  Use fear to keep your edge sharp, to stay alert." Alaric's finger touched the child's nose. "Now, the thing with fear is that there is a balance, too much fear will stop you, it will blind you. How can you stay alert If you eyes are full of tears?" The warrior's eye's softened with empathy for his adult son. "You are a Morgan, Morgan's face their fears. We don't let fear blind us. When I come home, I will help you be the very best that you can be."

"Thank you, papa, for coming home to me when I needed you most," Washburn responded to the precious memory.

As Wash walked past the hedges and the gate that bordered the royal garden, he saw family members seated under a thatched arbor with lattice walls and climbing roses covering the lattice. This was his mother's favorite spot to enjoy the flowers of summer. Seated under the arbor were his maman and Uncle Duncan. Grania was there embroidering something. An embroidery frame was resting on her belly which was starting to really show under her gown. Her son, Prince Kenneth, was playing quietly at her feet with a wooden knight that looked like his papa. Prince Javan would be with the army until evening.  Brendan was here too. What the heck had he done to his hair? And most telling was his Grace, Duke Kelric. Kelric looked so much like the portrait of their father, now that the disciplines of war had hardened his jaw line and thickened his brows. Wash's step hesitated for a moment. Then gathering his courage, he walked up the path to stand at the edge of the arbor.

Lady Richenda smiled and stood. "At last!" she sighed. "I have all my sons in one place." She grabbed the youngest son's hand and pulled him over to where his elder two brother's sat. She took their right hands and placed them all stacked upon the other. "My family is whole again. Amen!"

As the two brothers stood, Washburn felt shame. He dropped to his knees. "I am sorry for what I did, and what I didn't do, and mostly what I thought."

"What did you think?" Kelric requested. "I mean what thoughts were really yours, not those placed by the other, that would require you to apologize to me?"

Washburn hesitated, he was very ashamed of the thoughts that the Scholar had placed in his mind, but he had already reconciled which thoughts had not been his. Still there were a few of his own making which brought him grief and shame. He ducked his head, unable to look his brother in the eyes. "I had the notion that no one was trying to find me. I thought I had been abandoned."

Kelric gritted his teeth. "Just because neither Brendan nor I could find you, did not mean you were abandoned. I want you to know that we both tried. And when each of us got too close, we were warned off. I swear that it tore our hearts to have to come away empty handed and leave your rescue and care in someone else's hands."

"Your Grace... Kelric.... I mean brother, I.... I know why you were warned, and now I am glad of it. What if we had met back then...?  When I could have done something.... Treasonous?"

"You didn't do anything... treasonous!" Kelric tried to reassure.

"Heavens, No!"  Washburn called out, "You would be burying me in a traitor's grave, and rightly so!"   He buried his head in the extended hands of both of his brothers, thankful that it had not come to pass.

"Then stand up, little brother and give me a hug.  Do I have to make it an order?"

"No," Washburn said as he stood and found himself embraced by his loving brother, Kel.

"Thank Camber!" Brendan yelled out.

"Amen to that!" Kelric answered.

Brendan came forward for a brotherly hug, but Wash held him at arm's length for a moment asking, "What did you do to your hair?" His elder brother's curly mud colored hair was a shock to see, especially the carrot colored roots showing at the scalp.

"Tried to disguise myself to come after you! What do you think? At least I didn't cut mine off."

"Is my haircut that obvious?" Wash had to ask.

"The tonsure that Father Columcil let slip that you had? No. But the hand-width length cut off all around is kind of obvious."

Wash accepted that truth with a smile. "At least mine will grow back to normal.  I am not sure that you can do anything with that color for a long time. You could cut yours all off too."

"You, little brother, would think that is funny." And before Wash could agree, Brendan ruffled Washburn's short hair and then captured him in a bear hug.

The brothers laughed more just for the joy of being together and then they all finally sat and drank filled tankards of ale.

"Cassan's best ale. Did Dhugal send this?"

"Not exactly," Branden replied. "A hoard of the stuff was found in an inn in the middle of town. The owner paid off his tax debt to the kingdom by giving a portion of it to the king. So it really is a gift from Kelson."

"I have missed a lot, haven't I?"

"We will have time to catch you up," Brendan said, raising his tankard to Washburn.

"Grania, are you embroidering something for the baby?" Washburn asked his sister.

"No, this is for you, silly." She held up the framed green fabric and Wash could see the white hand, palm-out, that she was adding to his new banner pennant.

"But that's...?"

"The Secular Healers Badge," Duncan answered. "I found a reference to it in the scrolls in the library.  The Gabrialite Healers were a green hand with a white star, whereas that piece of fabric you brought to me proved to be the badge of the secular Healers: a white hand with a green star. I thought it fitting that our healers should start displaying this distinction to show their commitment to the healing art."

"And I thought," Grania proudly declared, "that as the first one to display it, it should be part of your banner." She waved the nearly completed banner for everyone to see.

"Wait," Kelric spoke up. "I am glad of the Corwyn green base, but you have to tell me, what is it that made you pick a red dragon? Not a red Gryphon or a green stag, but a dragon? It is not quite right for the Morgan name."

Wash looked at Kelric puzzled. "Did papa never tell you the story?"

"What story? Don't tell me there is a family secret I am not privy to?"

"You don't know, do you? Grania, you know, tell our brother about the time papa fell from Grace, then I will tell you of the dream vision that I had, It involved flying on the back of a great red dragon."

"Grania, what is he talking about? You can not leave me in the dark,"  Kelric reverently asked.

"You remember the time when papa fell ill?" Grania said as she began her story all the while her fingers embroidered the white hand onto the green banner.

Washburn was happy to hear his sister talking and then when his time came, he described at length the rescue of his subconscious by a large winged dragon who smelled of sulfur and spouted flame.

His brothers were in awe and clapped Washburn's shoulders, and at the end of the telling, he wrapped his two brothers in a warrior's embrace.