The plea gave all of them an excuse to back down from any immediate decision, especially until the child could be examined. After further discussion, it was agreed that the matter might be tabled until Seisyll should return from Meara, since he had most ready access to the court. Michon, meanwhile, would linger in Rhemuth, on the chance that he might find opportunity to pursue the investigation.

«It only remains, then, to make a final decision about our vacant Council seat», Michon said, with a confirming glance at the others. «Khoren, as you undoubtedly have gathered, it is not our usual practice to immerse a new member in our affairs before certain oaths are sworn, but you have acquitted yourself well. May we assume that you are, indeed, willing to serve?»

Khoren flicked his gaze to each of them, in return, well aware of the extraordinary responsibility that went with agreement, then inclined his head.

«Volo», he said. I am willing.

«Excellent», Michon said. «You are aware, of course, that those certain oaths will still be required of you».

«Of course».

«Tonight perhaps is not the best time», Vivienne said. «We have summoned you from a wedding feast, and the oaths by which we bind our number are best sworn… with a clearer head».

Khoren quirked her a grim smile.

«It's certain I've not been fasting», he said. «When would you prefer?»

Casually Oisín reached across to clasp Khoren's wrist, using the physical link to probe his degree of inebriation.

«It can be done in a few days», he said. «Meanwhile, I shall only remind you that what is discussed here goes not beyond these walls. One of us can bind you to that prohibition, but I think there is no need. You're aware what is at stake».

At Khoren's nod, both of acknowledgement and agreement, Oisín withdrew both his hand and the link.

«Perhaps a week, then, if we are all in agreement», Michon said. «You shall be given ample time to prepare».

And so it was agreed.

In fact, several weeks passed before that task could be accomplished, though this changed nothing regarding access to Jessamy's infant son. Prince Khoren Vastouni was duly pledged to the Camberian Council at midsummer: a season that brought its own new worries for the court of Gwynedd.

At least the crises of that summer of 1082 were of a more common variety than what the Council feared. Negotiations in Meara continued to stall, and Seisyll Arilan's return along with them, but domestic matters throughout the Eleven Kingdoms gave increasing cause for more immediate concern.

Little rain had fallen for many months. As the verdant plains of Gwynedd dulled to gold and then to brown, farmers turned their energies to hay-making, which was abundant, but other crops began to suffer. And as a sultry June gave way to even fiercer heat in July, word came of the sudden illness of the queen's mother, Gwenaël, Sovereign Queen of Llannedd, beset by a canker of the breast.

Immediately Queen Richeldis made ready to depart for Llannedd, to attend on her mother during this time of crisis. Jessamy, though but lately recovered from childbed, made certain of her own inclusion in the queen's party, for the journey would provide a timely ploy to remove her from the court for a few weeks, hopefully beyond the reach of any of Sief s friends who might have suspicions about his death. Seisyll Arilan was safely removed in Meara, for the moment, and Michon de Courcy had not been seen at court since Krispin's christening, but she knew not what others might come sniffing around. It was somewhat worrisome that, if they did, Donal would be somewhat left to their mercy, should a connection somehow have been made between the king's presence and Sief’s death; but after seeing him matched against Sief, she decided that Donal probably was well capable of looking after himself.

As for young Krispin, surely he could not be safer than in the royal nursery with Prince Brion. Whatever Sief’s friends might think of her — and there was nothing whatever to link her with her husband's death, other than that she was present when it occurred — what part could a two-day-old babe have had in it? She knew that, later on, signs of his true paternity might start to emerge, to the consternation of her enemies; but not yet, and probably not for many years. No, for now it was safe enough to leave him — and infinitely safer for her to absent herself from closer scrutiny.

The queen's party sailed for Llannedd the day after receiving the news: Richeldis and Jessamy and four more of the queen's ladies, plus a handful of domestic servants from the royal household and a score of knights as escort, under command of Duke Richard Haldane. They went by royal barge as far as Concaradine, for it was thought that travel by water would be easier on the women than a journey overland, especially in the heat and with the queen still suffering from morning sickness.

But the weather remained sultry and hot, with nary a breath of air stirring as they made their slow progress downriver. Spirits wilted and tempers began to fray. At Concaradine, the party transferred to a royal galley, better suited for sea travel along the southern coast of Llannedd, but still with no wind to swell the sail. The men at the galley's sweeps suffered from the heat, and the river was sluggish, running low, making a navigation hazard of sandbars that ordinarily were well-covered.

Not until they were passing off Nyford did a light breeze at last rustle the galley's red canvas; even then, the heat hardly abated. But as they sailed at last into the bay below the Llanneddi capital of Pwyllheli, with Gwynedd's royal banner flying at the masthead, they could hear the muffled knell of the great cathedral bells tolling the passing of Queen Gwenaël.

Shock and grief, coupled with the heat, caused Queen Richeldis to miscarry, too soon even to determine the gender of the child. Beset with weeping, grieving over this dual loss, she lay despondent at Pwyllheli for several days, recovering physical health with the relative resilience of youth but less quick to heal in spirit.

«I should have been here for her», she told Jessamy that first night, in between disconsolate sobs. «She never even got to see little Brion, much less the child that I lost. And now Brion will never know his grandmama. She would have been so proud of him».

«Of a certainty, she would have been», Jessamy reassured her. «But remember that she is with God now, embraced in His love. And you would not have wished her suffering to continue. From all that you have told me of her, she was a good woman».

«She was», Richeldis whispered. She paused to dab at her eyes and blow her nose, then glanced uncertainly at Jessamy. «You believe that, don't you? That she is with God now».

«My faith tells me that she is», Jessamy replied. «Do you not believe it as well?»

Richeldis lowered her eyes, twisting her handkerchief in her hands. «I do», she said in a small voice. «I must. But you — Jessamy, you're Deryni. You know, don't you?»

Jessamy looked at her in some surprise, for she and the queen had never discussed what she was. She supposed that Donal must have told her.

«My lady, I — we have no special relationship with God, other than to believe that, like all His creatures, He made us and cares for us».

Richeldis glanced at her quickly, then dabbed at her eyes again. «You needn't deny it», she said. «I am not frightened of you. Well, perhaps I should be», she conceded. «The Church teaches that Deryni are evil; but I have never known you to do harm to anyone. And my husband trusts you implicitly, as he trusted your husband».

Jessamy glanced away, feeling vaguely guilty over the deceptions she and Donal had carried out, both by engendering young Krispin and for their part in Sief’s death. But she told herself that both had been done in the service of Gwynedd, and therefore could involve no true betrayal of Gwynedd's queen.