The Worlds of Katherine Kurtz

The remainder of the journey to Grecotha was a pleasant southward trot under a fire-colored treeline enshrouded in morning mists. The two young maids and their hired guard were becoming less wary of one another, but neither side quite understood the intentions of the other just yet. Bede, for one, decided that fortune had been most decent to him lately. Perhaps there were sympathetic ears in heaven after all. He had long ago accepted that his plans and the Divine's would never be one-to-one and who had to win, so the fact that he had failed to so much as cross the threshold of the abbey that was sister to St. Stefan's Priory did not bother him anymore. He had made an almost perfectly clean break from Carbury, with a temporary job and new clothes. Baggy and itchy, even to his skin, and the tunic was the color of a dried-out green olive, but he was covered quite nicely. Mustn't let the girls see you smiling, he thought, though he could not keep from humming choruses from his youth. What business they had in Grecotha, he cared not, as long as he could keep them from harm for about the length of a week. The job should not take longer than that, by his reckoning.

The path seemed apparent enough for Bede to take the lead when they had set out that second morning, but the mists were reluctant to abate. Instead, they seemed to cling to the trees and roads like a man to his life. Not a problem until they reached a fork in the road, one where there should have been a post with signs to guide them. The knee-high sharp stump where the path split suggested that there once was one.

When he hesitated, Elspeth spoke up. "Bede, have you not been this way before?"

He saw no point in distorting the truth. "No. It's easier to guess right about new directions with proper signage, I admit."

She clicked her pony to take the lead and assured him she knew the way from times past. Amy made a sound indicative of similar knowledge and guided her pony to follow Elspeth's closely. Bede protested. "Why do you suppose the sign was taken down? And who would have done it?"

"You're the man-at-arms. You tell us."

"This could not be the work of legitimate lumberers or anything of the sort. Mistresses: I suspect brigands, if not men of the woods."

"If we run into any Mearan silvatici, then it's good indeed that my father hired you, Bede."

He sighed in exasperation. "Come along, Winnie," he said.

Amy raised an eyebrow beneath her cloak. "Who?"

"My mare," he answered, pulling the horse up closer to the pair. "We make a good team, she and I. With her help, I'll keep up with your endeavor yet." He adjusted his bow meaningfully.

Curiosity overcame the young serving girl, and she asked, "How did you acquire such a fine horse, yet lack the funds for a shirt?"

"Hard work and care, mistress. It is like a troubadour with his instruments. The horse gets taken care of before the rider."

Elspeth nodded her understanding. "Like a mother with her child."

Furtherance of the discussion of maternal philosophy was hindered by a sight that confirmed Bede's suspicions. A mile out from Grecotha, by Elspeth's estimation, they encountered a cluster of men on the side of the road. Those wearing livery wielded pikes and arming swords. The ones who were dressed strangely yet fiercely, as though they had salvaged souvenirs they had no right to, had surrendered their assorted arms in a pile next to their few fallen comrades and had already begun filing into an iron-caged wagon.

While the trio scanned the scene, Bede was thankful not to recognize anyone in either of the new parties. And why should I? I was telling the truth about never having been this way. He ventured to ask the leader of the liveried men what had transpired. With a curt bow, the man said, "I am the captain of the guard at Grecotha. These men had been a thorn in the side of innocent travelers for long enough. We merely needed the weather to turn in our favor to undo their traps and catch them in our own."

Bede bowed in his saddle. "Bede, archer. A brilliant stroke, if I may say so myself. How much farther is it to your city, sir?"

"No more than a mile the way you're going. What business do you have there?"

Bede sat up straighter. "I'm making sure my friends stay out of trouble."

Phineas crossed his arms. "I believe you. What is their business?"

Suddenly, Bede wished that he knew. Elspeth whispered something to Amy, and then the raven-haired girl spoke. "We come at the direction of the Infirmarian of the hospice at Saint Stefan's Priory, to seek knowledge at the university of healing herbs."   

Phineas nodded at that. "On your way, fair ladies," he said with a gesture towards the road.

Sometime later, the fog finally dissipated, revealing their destination at last. Three story-high curtain walls of advanced masonry loomed against the grey-blue sky, guarding cathedrals and similarly empyreal towers from the wild elements of the woods, and compared with the scene on the road, the guards at the gate were lax. That suited the visitors from Carbury just fine. Just within the gate, Bede dismounted Winnie amidst the bustle of the midday crowd, full of students and others with an aura of enlightenment. This time he helped the women from their ponies, and spoke up with grandiosity. "Mistresses of The Broken Mast, may I present: Grecotha!" He said it with a habitual flourish telling of more awe than he felt. Of what use were universities to him? He addressed the group. "Now, I was given plain but simple instructions, mistresses. I am at your command, but I beg a little boon of you: that you stay in sight." With a brief reflection, he added, "Or failing that, with each other." It might be good to have a single tolling of the bells to himself. Then again, if what Amy had said about their business was true, far be it from me to judge, but . . . "You don't want to put too much faith in these learned men."

Hear, Hear!  I will toast to that. Love our team, I can not wait to see what mischief they can accomplish together. And I am sorry Airich/Eric, but I do hope it takes you a bit of a struggle to locate that which you are searching for.

Wishing both sisters beautiful birthdays for beautiful people.

Thank you all.

Wonderful cake, Evie.

*pops the cork*

And now, every player has strode upon the stage! This calls for celebration.

Happy birthday, Demercia! I hope you have the greatest birthday you've ever had today!

Happiest of birthdays Revanne! Here's to another year in the rearview mirror!

Airich O'Flynn set down the book he'd been studying and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Another dead end. Natural Magiques had been no more useful than The Heretical Heritage. His quest so far was an utter failure.

He pushed back the stool he sat on and stood, stretching his back and neck; his body was accustomed to saddle and sword, not stool and book, and after two days in the library, it was loudly voicing its displeasure.

Airich turned and surveyed the stacks, wondering where he was going to find this needle in the haystack that was the Grecotha library, the oldest and largest depository of knowledge in the whole of the Eleven Kingdoms. He'd briefly considered asking the rector in charge of the library, but in truth, what would he tell the man? I'm trying to find the lost secrets of the Deryni so I can reject my heritage and possibly be disowned by my family as a result, would I find that near the Poetry section? As if he could hear Airich's thoughts, the old man glanced over at him, his eyes almost begging for a task to relieve the boredom and provide a little gossip.

No, Airich was not desperate enough to ask the rector. Yet.

Airich scanned the other patrons scattered around the room, few enough as there were in these days before the beginning of Term; perhaps one of them might be more familiar with this library. A group of squire-aged boys argued quietly among themselves in the corner after having been shushed by the rector twice already and threatened with expulsion from the library. Their debate? Of course it was "the Deryni question."

Also a pass. No sense getting involved with strangers who might want to string you up, even if you did agree with most of their complaints.

It had seemed so obvious in the Spring. Deryni Studies was not an uncommon topic for a student to research, despite the current troubles down south. Airich had been sure Grecotha's library would be robust with books and scrolls and old parchments about any topic a man might be interested in. But Deryni Studies? No, the library in the schola at Rhemuth had far more to say on the subject of Deryni abilities and their limitations than Grecotha's grand university. Searching through history books wasn't any more fruitful since any mention of Deryni as anything other than demons had been wiped from the records centuries previous.

Another young man wandered slowly across Airich's field of vision, his nose firmly planted in the book he was studying while ignoring everyone else in the room. Airich recalled noticing him a time or two these past days. His scholarly robe hung open over his spare frame, revealing a well-tailored shirt of quality linen paired with brown wool hose and forest-green cotte. The man himself wore his chestnut-brown hair in a proper border braid, if a bit short. As the student took his seat without lifting his eyes, Airich decided he looked to be just the type of man to seek advice from.

As Airich approached him, the young man looked up at him, a sunny but slightly wary smile on his face. "Pardon me," Airich said, "Could you perchance help me find some reference materials? You look like you're familiar with this library."

Edwin pursed his lips, wondering the best way to shoo away this nobleman without causing offense. "My studies run toward the unexceptional. If you need help with Grammar or Rhetoric, then I'm your man. Otherwise..." Edwin shrugged and smiled helplessly.

Now, go away, I need to study my Latin.

The other man looked consternated, brows furrowed. "My research is a little more specialized," he admitted. "Truth, man, you don't know this library any further than these base categories?"

He was not going to take a hint. Furthermore, Edwin felt his own chin rise at this challenge to his own knowledge of the library. "What are you researching?" he asked. He could figure out what this fellow needed, then send him on his way.

"It's a delicate topic." The man glanced back at the group of rowdies in the far corner, then lowered his voice. "It's a theoretical matter regarding the Deryni and their supposed abilities."

Well, now he certainly had Edwin's full attention. "Are you Deryni?" he asked. He didn't necessarily look Deryni, although Edwin knew by experience that appearance had little to do with it. He seemed a straightforward nobleman, perhaps a touch older than Edwin himself. His tooled leather jerkin and embroidered silk shirt spoke of a modest wealth, at least, and his weapons belt—sans weapons left with the Rector—looked serviceable and well-cared-for. The light-brown hair was twisted and clubbed in the back.

"Human," the other said, looking down, then looked back at Edwin. "This is just research I'm doing to help out... a friend."

This man was no more a scholar than Edwin was a king. But he had been wondering about what it meant to be Deryni, and fate or God had dropped this man into his lap; he might have answers. Edwin decided the Latin could wait while he picked the brain of someone who could conceivably know more about the subject than he did.

"I might be able to help you," he said, then put out his hand. "The name's Edwin Scrivener, by the way."

"Eric Banner," the other man said, placing an odd stress on his first name.

"Very well, Eric," Edwin said, "If I were you, I'd probably start my search with the Derynianus scrolls by Aubert."

"Naturally," Eric said, "That's where I started, but that's all pretty basic."

"Then let's find Deryni Studies and see where that takes us..."

Happy and blessed birthdays be yours!