Two Kingdoms 22: Library

[DoctorM]

TWO KINGDOMS 22: LIBRARY

Author's Note: This is the twentieth  part of an AU construction about a very different post-1120 Gwynedd where the coronation challenge at Kelson's coronation went rather differently--- very differently. This segment falls I think a bit after "Plaza" and is a follow-on to "Doors and Corners" and "Coins".  As always, input and comments are very much appreciated.

*****

It's not a bad townhouse, Christian thinks. Three floors, though sparsely furnished, here on a street near the quays. It's a bachelor's house— one man and his servants, bolts and heavy doors to keep the ordinary world at bay. Warding cubes set up at key points. Not that either thing had worked out.

Christian is in d'Aurillac's library, running a gloved finger along the crowded shelves. He taps at the bound copies and brushes dust from manuscripts and heavy rolls.  It's an old game for him: show me the books, and I'll show you the man. Everything about Magister d'Aurillac is there on those shelves, all in volumes of Latin and Moorish. 

The shelves are packed with manuscripts and rolls. Maps, too. Some antique, some Moorish. He could spend a day just looking at the maps.

He's fighting the temptation to open up rolled maps on d' Aurillac's work table when the street door opens downstairs and closes again. He can hear d'Aurillac's voice calling for his servants— loud and insistent, then trailing off into uncertainty. Footsteps come up the stairs, slow and hesitant. They stop on the landing below.

"Whoever you are—" That's d'Aurillac, out on the landing, calling up.  "Whoever you are, there's nothing here for you. There's no gold, no jewels. I'm not rich, I'm not an alchemist. I'm just a scholar. There's nothing for you here."

Christian has to grin at that. And at the titles of some of the bound volumes.

He can hear d'Aurillac coming down the hallway, one forced step at a time. Christian is wondering when the man will notice the burnt-out warding cubes  outside the library door. The footsteps stop again.  He can almost hear the intake of breath.

And there we are.

He steps back from the shelves and turns to the door. D'Aurillac is there in the doorway, grey-faced. His faded scholar's robe is in Truyére colours. Christian nods to him. "Magister," he says.

D'Aurillac puts a hand on the doorframe and the life goes out of his face. "What have you done with my servants?"

Christian's voice is light and pleasant. "They're gone," he says.

"You killed them all. You killed all of them." That's barely a whisper.

Christian shakes his head. "Let's not be silly. They're not dead. They're just not here right now. My people have them safe. There's no reason to kill your servants, Magister. I didn't even kill your dogs. That's not what I do."

D'Aurillac comes into the room and  gropes for a chair. He sits at the little worktable by the window, "I wondered," he says. "I wondered if she'd send someone one day. I didn't think she'd send you." He shrinks back into his scholar's robe.  He must be well into his sixties, and suddenly he looks every day of that and more.

Christian smiles at him. "Well, you have been just a bit vocal about who should be ruling in Gwynedd. You put that in writing, too. Some people have started to take notice. But she didn't send me about that. This is all about something a bit more mundane. Also personal. Someone tried very hard to kill me in the street."

The old scholar is staring at Falkenberg. "You can't think— you can't think I'm part of that! It's all over the South, we all heard that there was an assassination attempt in Valoret.  But you can't think— she can't think —that I was part of it."

"I don't think you were part of it. That's not you, Magister. But you're a scholar, maybe the best in the South. Better than that lot at Grecotha, anyway. You know things and people. So I'm just here to talk. Call it a colloquy." He gestures at a heavy, dark flask on the worktable, "I even brought wine."

D'Aurillac stares at the bottle and the breath goes out of him.  "Is it going to hurt? Will it take a long time?"

Christian throws up a hand. "Lucien, really. It's not poisoned. I wouldn't waste good wine on that. And don't just sit there and pray." He rummages on the shelves for cups that would pass for clean. The man's servants would've been no loss.

"I'm not her master of assassins. If she'd set Aurelian on you, if she'd sent the Grey Death, you'd never know it. You'd never know it was happening."

"She doesn't belong on a throne," d'Aurillac says. "That whole bloodline is cursed. She burned half Rhemuth down when she seized power. Do you even know how many died?  It's in her blood— Witch Queen, Mad Queen."

Christian pulls the stopper from the wine bottle and pours. The wine's a pale vintage from the Arjent river valley. He slides one cup to d'Aurillac.

"You're wrong. That wasn't Charissa, it was me. That was my plan, burning  Rhemuth city. An operational diversion."

D'Aurillac looks at him hard. "You could've been a scholar. I always said that.  Even if you are high born. You could've been a scholar. You're a fine writer. But you learned all the wrong things, all those Eastern things. Violence and murder. And that woman has you destroying cities for her."

Christian shrugs, He turns back to the shelves. "If this were Beldour, now, saying things like that about a crowned ruler would get you a visit from men with knives. But I'm just here to talk, Lucien.  And anyway, it's poor form to kill a man who keeps copies of my books. Both of them—  paid to have them bound, too."

D'Aurillac has his head in his hands, The wine is untasted there on the table.  He's trying to keep his voice steady, trying for a scholar's gravity and authority. "They're worth keeping. The small one, the one about the first King Festil. that one is straightforward enough. You explained a lot about Torenthi politics in those days, things no one knows much about. You were a boy when you wrote it, but you're a good craftsman. It's the other book that's the problem, the book about Caeriesse."

Christian is looking at the title there on the shelf— The Venture of Caeriesse,  "I stand by it."

"It's a young man's book. You were arrogant. You enjoyed shocking people, you enjoyed mocking your elders. I can't fault your research, but you pushed your evidence too far. No one should write a book until he's at least forty."

Christian laughs. "About the book, that's fair enough. I stand by my conclusions, though. If I wrote it now, I'd be softer-tongued. But I do stand by what I wrote." He looks back at d'Aurillac. "Let's talk about another critic of mine. Talk to me about Stefan Coram, Magister."

"Why should I know anything about Stefan Coram you'd want to know?"

Christian takes a sip of the wine.  "So I can find him and kill him, of course. It's not complicated. And you're what passes for Stefan Coram's friend. His only one, probably."

D'Aurillac stares at him. "The Witch Queen wants to kill Coram?"

"She does, but this is personal, too. Up in Valoret, that was Coram pulling the strings. It was Coram who tried to have me killed. I know that. He set up a plot to have me killed in the street— Deryni arts plus bravos with axes."

D'Aurillac shakes his head. "You're a soldier. You've been in wars and affrays. Soldiers try to kill each other every day. Why is it personal?"

Christian is tasting at the wine. Pear scent, he thinks.

"It's not personal in the field. You send up flights of arrows, the other side does the same. You don't see faces. Most of the time, you're not aiming at anyone in particular.  It's just someone on the other side. This thing in Valoret,  now, that was aimed at killing me. I don't like the idea of dying in the street. And once he'd killed me, he'd have come for Charissa, too. That's how it works— once someone gets a taste for blood, they have to keep doing it, they have to go for the next bigger target."

"Stefan... You know it was Stefan?"

"Of course I do. And so do you. It was always coming to this. God's red right hand, that's what Coram wants to be." Christian tosses a medallion on the table in front of d'Aurillac. "He's recruiting his own faction, too. His own little army."

D'Aurillac is staring at the silver medal. He won't touch it.

"I'm sure he asked you," Christian says. "He'd have come all the way down here to Truyére to ask you. He has admirers, Coram does, but you're all he's got as a friend. You've been his co-author for twenty years and more.  So I know he'd ask you."

"Where did you get it?"

Christian looks out the window. It's quiet outside, a mild enough late-winter day in Fallon. He's known Truyére since he was, what, eighteen? Steppe and high desert are his world, but he'd made his career first in seaport towns all over the South.  He looks back at Lucien d'Aurillac. "Took it off a dead man. A Deryni Coram sent to kill me."

"Oh God." D'Aurillac's hands are shaking. "Stefan talked about fighting evil. He talked about fighting Deryni who'd gone over to evil. He talked about all those legends long ago— the Heldurnii fighting the evil Byzanti."

"I don't know a thing about the Byzanti," Christian says. "And Stefan Coram knows less than that. It must be nice, just assigning who's evil and who isn't."

"I told him no. I want you to believe that. He wants to get rid of that woman, your woman, and she doesn't belong on a throne. But I wouldn't join what he was doing. I won't be someone's kept court adept, and I won't be part of politics and spies and armies. I wouldn't join Stefan's Heldurnii creation. I'm a scholar. That's what I am. I'm not a courtier, I'm not a...a....fighting mage. I just teach."

Christian pours more wine for them both.  "You're more than that, Lucien. You're Deryni, even if you keep quiet about it. You're Magister d'Aurillac. But not Doctor yet. You should be, but you're not. Truyére's close to Bremagne. Over the river they say that you're a fine scholar, but...you know...Deryni. Therefore born to heresy. The university here gets a lot of Bremagni money. So you're Magister but not Doctor. And you won't be. So think about that when you're trying not to pick a side." He walks back to the shelves. "Where's Coram these days?"

D'Aurillac stares at him. "You broke my wards, Falkenberg. I saw that— you broke my warding cubes. What's next, you try to rip everything out of my mind? Do you think you can?"

Christian runs a finger over something in Moorish, its covers worked in silvered script. "Don't know," he says. "Maybe not. But the thing about being a prince is that you can hire people who are experts in things. There are Queen's Moors who could probably do it. I'm sure the Grey Death could do it. Or just do it with pliers and hot iron. But, Lucien, I mean...really: we're just talking. So where is Stefan Coram?"

D'Aurillac drains off the cup. "Stefan's everywhere and nowhere. You must know that. He came down here after your woman had her coup in Gwynedd. I wouldn't join his brotherhood. I'll never choose violence. I'm not like you, or even Stefan. He went away. Twice he's sent couriers with letters. He sent to borrow books. He didn't press me on joining. He knows I won't. He wrote that he was going to make the Council see what they needed to do. I burned his letters. I haven't see him since. I have no idea where he is. Is that enough?"

Christian has one of the maps half unrolled. It's a city map of Truyére, probably a hundred years old and badly surveyed. He sighs and looks back at Lucien d'Aurillac. "He lives somewhere. Coram's not a poor man. Dresses well, collects books. Something's paying for that. So he has an estate somewhere.  And he's an adept. That means he has a workroom and all the tools. It's expensive being a Deryni adept. So where do you think, Lucien? Where do you think Stefan is from? And where would he go to ground?"

"I don't know." D'Aurillac opens his hands. "Stefan and I are friends. But I've never seen where he lives. I don't even know where he was born. We'd sit together and write. I'd go with him to disputations at Scholae. But I don't know where he lives."

Christian grins. "I'm imagining Stefan Coram with a secret life," he says. "Stefan Coram with a wife and children somewhere. Stefan Coram having dinner parties and fancy-dress balls in his city house. Stefan Coram arguing with his stewards on his estate. It's too ridiculous."

"Stefan never married. He took minor orders a long time ago, I do know that." He stares at the wine flask. "Am I buying my life?"

"We're just talking, Lucien. It's just a colloquy— two scholars talking."  Christian re-fills his cup. "Put your mind to it. You've heard him speak and debate. What's in his Latin? What does he talk about— country life or city life? What wines does he like? He called me names in Latin and Torenthi once, but I couldn't hear any accent. But you're his friend. What do you hear when he talks? Take a guess at what he was speaking as a boy."

D'Aurillac shakes his head. "We only spoke Latin. He has a pure Latin. I don't know where he learned it. Stefan...Stefan has houses. He said that once, that he had houses that had to be kept up, that he had to leave them warded. It sounded like he had houses everywhere. That would be like Stefan. He  enjoys watching things built. A long time ago, he taught at Laas for three years. He lived there once, but not any more."

"Who were his couriers, Lucien? Tell me what they were like."

D'Aurilllac thinks. "They were young. Well-bred. One sounded like he was Forcinn-raised.  Brecault, Joux, somewhere like that. The other was Andelon. You could hear that when he talked; you could hear Andelon and Logreine. But that's not Stefan, just two of his followers. And no, I don't know where they went. You don't ask people like that their travel plans."

"Andelon. Ever been to Logreine, Lucien?"

"Who goes to Logreine? There's nothing there, Lognac's a merchant town. There's nothing there for a scholar. And the only other thing is..." He stops. "Djellarda. Djellarda's there. Oh."

Christian raises his wine cup. "That's something to know. Item, Djellarda. Nothing good comes from there."

D'Aurillac reaches out to touch the Heldurnii medallion. "Stefan is a fine scholar. But he...he's a synthesizer. He can take a pair of propositions he's read and make them into something different and new. He's very, very good at putting pieces together and making something out of them. But he's not an original thinker. He isn't. He doesn't have whatever makes a thinker creative. If you show him something, though, if you tell him about something you've thought or done, he can make it new. But he's not the one with the idea first."

"You're saying...what?"

D'Aurillac pushes the medal back towards Christian. "I"m only saying that if Stefan does something, it'll be well-done. But he didn't have the idea first. He always found a model to work from. That's all I saying. Just...he needs a template for things he does."

Christian tilts his head to one side, "His couriers. Were they Council staff?"

"The one from Joux or Brecault, he had that clerk's look.  Like he spent his days sorting papers. Council staff? Probably. The Council staff always admired Stefan. The other one, though. Young. Not a clerk, and not some Council bravo. Very, very polite but cold. Very de haut en bas when he spoke to me. Arrogant."

Christian laughs. "Oh, Lucien! Was I like that at nineteen or twenty?"

"You're arrogant when you write. But not in person. You...I can think about you back then. Standing there in the lecture hall with a stack of manuscript pages. You were dressed like a horse soldier. I had no idea why you were there. You asked me to read what you'd written. You were...well...I liked your courtesy. If you'd been a younger son, we could've made you into a scholar.  You wouldn't have become the Witch Queen's man." He makes a face. "This one, though— he was polite, high-born, but he'd have been willing to burn cities, too. He had that look Stefan gets sometimes— absolutely certain of being right, Absolutely justified."

Christian raises his wine-cup. "That's one thing I never needed. I never needed to always be justified."

"No. You're a mercenary. You turned into a hired soldier. The Witch Queen's hireling."

"Now I'm a courtier. And I'm Charissa's husband. What I do, I'm not doing for pay."  He looks at the cup and reaches for the bottle. "I wonder if he's watching you, Stefan Coram. I wonder if he's keeping an eye on you. You spent all those years arguing that the Council shouldn't take sides. You didn't end up wearing one of those Heldurnii medallions. You turned away his men. You write that Charissa shouldn't be a queen, but you're not doing it for Coram. You're not one of his brotherhood. So maybe he's watching you. Maybe he wonders how reliable you are. Maybe he wonders why the Queen's man came to see you. You might think about it— the next people who visit you might not be the Grey Death or the Queen's Moors. They might be wearing those medals."

"Stefan would never— he wouldn't."

"Stefan would do whatever forwards his plans. He'd be sorry if he had to do it, but if you were in his way, he would do it. You know that."  He  picks up the wine bottle. "I like this wine.  Like pears. Good flavor. Be a waste to use it to poison anyone."

Christian is looking at the shelves again. "Coram in Laas. Coram's people in Djellarda. Tell me what you meant about Coram needing a model."

"You know who's in Djellarda, or at least used to be. If he needed a model, he could look there."

Christian is looking at the Moorish texts again. Classical Moorish, antique script, not the Darija of the western Moors. He wonders where Lucien got some of them. "There's a thing I learned in the Forcinn," Christian says. "About conspiracies and secret societies. Nothing's ever really secret. And people who join secret societies are like drunk troopers on a street full of taverns. If they try one, they'll have to try the next one, too. So— is Stefan talking to the Anvillers, or whatever they're calling themselves now?"

D'Aurillac has his head back in his hands. "I can't say that. I don't know that. That boy who came here with Stefan's letter, all I'm saying is that he was from someplace in Andelon or Logreine. Well-born, well-educated, Deryni. You make of that what you want. Maybe there are Anvillers who think Stefan's brotherhood is a better choice. Maybe they want to be part of a holy war. That's all I'm saying. Just...am I paying enough for my life? Is this what you want?"

Christian brushes a hand along the spines of the books. "I should do some reading," he says. "People who join secret things and closed Orders, they all like secrets so much they can't stop writing about them."

D'Aurillac keeps his head down. "You're a soldier. You were in the South, but you're an easterner, a northerner. You don't know the universities and Scholae here, Everyone's in love with knowing secrets and hearing whispers. Just remember that. And remember that Stefan wouldn't just look to one model. Stefan synthesizes things he finds, things other people say and do. So many whispers out there, so many tales of things in the shadows. Djellarda isn't all there is. It never was."

"No names on the whispers?"

"No names, just hints. Third and fourth-hand things from the shadows. Things maybe Stefan would listen for and use."

Christian inclines his head. "Look into the dark, and the dark looks back into you. Up in Valoret, now, that was Stefan Coram pulling Tiercel de Claron's strings—"

"Claron's a popinjay and a whoremonger."

"Just so. But someone may have strings on Stefan Coram...is that what you're saying?"

"I'm not saying anything. I'm just saying that there are things out there even Stefan only knows about as hints. But maybe at the end of the road, the whispers mean something.  Maybe Stefan is putting together his brotherhood because he wants to use the whispers. Maybe they want to use him. Wherever they come from."

Christian is back at the window. "You're buying a long life, Magister. Maybe long enough to become a Doctor, even with the Bremagni against you. I'll give you advice, though. Fallon's very close to too many things. Take that to heart. And this, too— pray more, write less. One scholar to another."

The breath goes out of d'Aurillac. He shudders. "I thought...I thought...you'd walk out of here and tell me I was safe, and then they'd come in— your bravos or your woman's Moors. That's how I thought it would end."

Christian opens his hands. "I keep my promises, Lucien. The wine's not poisoned, and you get your servants back. Your dogs, too. I'm not even walking away with half your books. That's something. Just remember what I said. Fallon's too close to what's about to happen. All the backstage things happening in the Deryni world are about to come to full view. It won't any of it be pretty."

"You're going back to your woman and help her burn the world down."

Christian sighs. "I'm going to listen for whispers. I'm going to find Stefan Coram and kill him.  And I'm keeping Charissa on the throne in Valoret. And burning the world down?  We could make a long list, you and I, of all the people who'd be more than happy to do that. Stefan Coram's name is on it. And he's not even the only one from the Council."

Lucien d'Aurillac draws his scholar's gown around himself. "I didn't tell you anything.  Nothing you didn't find for yourself. Tell your woman that.  And just...maybe you don't want to find whoever the whispers are about. I'll say that to you. You were a good writer. That's worth something."

Christian walks over to the doorway.  "I'm light cavalry," he says. "We're a reckless sort. I'll find Coram, and I'll find whatever else is out there. Keep the wine. I'll have your servants back in a bit. You should think about other places to be. Pray much, write little, and don't do any whispering back into the dark. You know what you bought, and what you didn't."

[Nezz]

*Whew* I was pretty sure Christian wouldn't kill him, but not 100% sure. I'm relieved.

Intrigues upon intrigues upon intrigues... I still want to hear the story about what the other side is up to. This "what if" is just all kinds of fascinating.

[DoctorM]

*Whew* I was pretty sure Christian wouldn't kill him, but not 100% sure. I'm relieved.

Intrigues upon intrigues upon intrigues... I still want to hear the story about what the other side is up to. This "what if" is just all kinds of fascinating.

Christian is someone who keeps his promises, and he's not bloodthirsty for its own sake. He's not shy about killing, but it's not something he enjoys. And I think he liked Lucien-- after all, someone encouraging you to write is no small thing!

[Jerusha]

This chapter is fascinating on so many levels.  I always thought I liked Stefan Coram, But now I'm not too sure. I certainly like Christian's style! 

[DoctorM]

This chapter is fascinating on so many levels.  I always thought I liked Stefan Coram, But now I'm not too sure. I certainly like Christian's style! 

Christian is quiet, and ironic, and very well-read. And rather good with information.

[DerynifanK]

So many threads here. I agree that Christian would have made a great scholar, he is quite the historian and so good at explaining things. It almost seems a shame that he fell for Charissa because I also agree that she really does not belong on the throne. Kelson Haldane would make a much better ruler for the kingdom than she does because he does put the needs of his people before his own which she does not. I am disappointed in Christian for his destruction of half of Rhemuth. I do not  see at all his rationale for that and I am sure it turned many of the people against them.
I also always liked Stefan Coram because I thought his focus was doing what was best for Deryni and the 11 Kingdoms. Of course he was always quite a mystery and we didn't really know much about him. Now I'm not so sure. I may have to rethink that. Anxiously awaiting the next installment.

[DoctorM]

So many threads here. I agree that Christian would have made a great scholar, he is quite the historian and so good at explaining things. It almost seems a shame that he fell for Charissa because I also agree that she really does not belong on the throne. Kelson Haldane would make a much better ruler for the kingdom than she does because he does put the needs of his people before his own which she does not. I am disappointed in Christian for his destruction of half of Rhemuth. I do not  see at all his rationale for that and I am sure it turned many of the people against them.
I also always liked Stefan Coram because I thought his focus was doing what was best for Deryni and the 11 Kingdoms. Of course he was always quite a mystery and we didn't really know much about him. Now I'm not so sure. I may have to rethink that. Anxiously awaiting the next installment.

I'll be spinning out more threads.

I think Christian's plan at Rhemuth was a mix of revenge and tactical diversion. The fires would keep the Haldanes from getting troops to the cathedral and disorganize any defense. And I think he feared that Charissa (and he himself) was going to die that day. In "Smoke and Sunlight" he says it simply enough: "If they won, I wanted them to taste ashes."

[DerynifanK]

It seems that there is ongoing conflict concerning who will reign eventually in Gwynedd yet there is really no mention of the Haldanes or what they are doing. I feel sure they are not just sitting around letting Charissa and her minions do whatever they like.  Also, I do feel that a lot of what Charissa and Christian do serves to turn the people of the kingdom against them. That is not a good strategy for the long term. I remember a Ukranian on TV speaking for the people, "We will not forget and we will not forgive."

I really liked the scholar and would like to know about him. He seemed to have ethical standards which so many people do not. It's a shame that Christian didn't pay more attention to his advice.

[DoctorM]

It seems that there is ongoing conflict concerning who will reign eventually in Gwynedd yet there is really no mention of the Haldanes or what they are doing. I feel sure they are not just sitting around letting Charissa and her minions do whatever they like.  Also, I do feel that a lot of what Charissa and Christian do serves to turn the people of the kingdom against them. That is not a good strategy for the long term. I remember a Ukranian on TV speaking for the people, "We will not forget and we will not forgive."

I really liked the scholar and would like to know about him. He seemed to have ethical standards which so many people do not. It's a shame that Christian didn't pay more attention to his advice.

I will be trying to write some things focused on the Haldanes and what's happening in the south and southeast-- and in the lines forming around Rhemuth. It's odd, but...I have stayed away from using Haldane POV characters. I'm not at all sure why. Maybe it's that I feel a bit awkward trespassing into characters that are more established than the ones I usually write about. But I do have to take a look at the southern fronts. I can see Warin de Grey and Duke Nigel both having some page time.

I liked d'Aurillac, too. He does remind me of people who taught me in my past (and is drawn from them). Christian is someone who could've been a scholar and been happy at it. Of course, his own life has been in and out of different worlds-- raised to be a light-horse commander, but also sent off to become a courtier at Beldour, and a protege of Duke Lionel. He may have Historians' Syndrome-- seeing the world around him as just chapters in a history written in another time and another place.

We'll see about Charissa and how she governs. But it is a fear for her-- that she'll destroy her family's enemies but just by being who and what she is provoke anti-Deryni risings and pogroms.

[DerynifanK]

I am afraid that, not only by being who and what she is, but also by her actions, she will make a lot more enemies both for herself and for those around her.

[DoctorM]

I am afraid that, not only by being who and what she is, but also by her actions, she will make a lot more enemies both for herself and for those around her.

We'll have to see. She's a decent administrator-- did well enough ruling Tolan and Marluk, but a kingdom, and especially one in wartime, is a very different thing.

[Nezz]

Hey Doc, got something for you. I hope it works for you.

https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?action=gallery;sa=view;pic=396

[Laurna]

Wow! Nezz, that is a great portrait. Quiet a lady/Pretender Queen. Great job!

[DoctorM]

Hey Doc, got something for you. I hope it works for you.

https://www.rhemuthcastle.com/index.php?action=gallery;sa=view;pic=396

Very nice! Thanks!

[DoctorM]

Wow! Nezz, that is a great portrait. Quiet a lady/Pretender Queen. Great job!

I for one am impressed!