A moment Seisyll spared to stabilize the balance between them, then closed his eyes and focused on the pattern of the Transfer Portal beneath their feet, unique to this location, and shifted the energies. The momentary quaver of vertigo was his only sign that anything had changed — except that, when he opened his eyes, they were standing in a niche outside the secret meeting chamber of the Camberian Council, that powerful and clandestine body instituted by St. Camber himself to monitor the magical activities of Deryni and safeguard against abuses of their power.

«I am impressed with young Jamyl’s progress», Michon said approvingly, as he deftly reengaged control and shields and glanced over his shoulder at Seisyll, at the same time moving off the Portal. «He seems to have inherited the Arilan talents in full measure. My congratulations».

«Coming from you, I count that as high praise», Seisyll replied, as the two of them headed toward the pair of great bronze doors. «But you must take credit for at least a part of his training. It’s a pity that my brother shows so little interest in the subtleties of politics».

«Aye, but at least his sons take after their uncle», Michon noted. «And moving Jamyl to court was a master stroke».

«I am certain he will prove equal to the challenge. Prince Brion is quite taken with him».

«We shall hope that the liking continues once Brion is king», Michon said dryly.

Beyond the great bronze doors, four more individuals were seated around a massive octagonal table crafted of ivory. The amethyst dome that crowned the chamber and arched above their heads looked black at this hour, and seemed to swallow up most of the light from the crystal sphere hanging from the dome’s center. Three of the room’s four occupants rose as the newcomers entered: Oisín Adair, who bred fine horseflesh when he was not carrying out the Council’s directives, and Dominy de Laney, wife and consort of a prince of the Connait, who soon would be stepping down in favor of the fresh-faced younger man coming to his feet at her side. Rhydon Sasillion was still but five-and-twenty, but his potential had marked him out early as a mage of great potential, well worthy of the Council’s notice.

Across the table from the three sat Dominy’s younger brother, Barrett, blinded as the ransom price for the lives of several dozen Deryni children when but a new-made knight of eighteen, hardly more than a child himself. It was Michon who had taught him how to see again, utilizing his formidable powers in a manner achieved by few of their race. Of late, he had taken up a scholar’s life, and tonight wore the emerald robes of a scholar of Nur Sayyid, the great R’Kassan university.

«Greetings to you, Barrett», Michon said, clasping a hand to the blind man’s shoulder as he passed to take his own seat. Seisyll made his way to the chair beside Oisín, nearly opposite.

«Khoren will be along shortly», Oisín said, taking his seat again when the two older men had settled. He was wearing fur-lined robes of a deep oxblood hue rather than the worn riding leathers that were his customary attire. «I delivered a new mare to his brother’s stud farm a few days ago. He will plead Twelfth Night obligations like yourselves, but I happen to know that he is also much occupied with a rare manuscript that his wife found for him. Were it not for this meeting, I doubt he would surface for days».

The comment produced an appreciative chuckle from both newcomers, for Prince Khoren Vastouni’s appetite for obscure arcane knowledge was well known.

«Not another of Kitron’s works?» Seisyll asked.

«No, earlier than that», Oisín replied, «though he may have provided some of the marginalia. This one is attributed to a Caeriessan sage known only as Zefiryn, and I am given to understand that Soffrid annotated it. If all of this is true, it is a major find».

The comment elicited sighs of wistful envy, and Michon leaned back in his chair with a feigned look of vexation. «That sounds very like one I’ve been tracking. Perhaps he will share». He glanced around the table. «What of Vivienne?»

«She sends her regrets», Dominy answered. «This pregnancy is proving difficult».

«I trust she is in no danger», Seisyll said with some concern.

«No, but she has been more comfortable», Dominy replied. «But this will pass. She did send me a somewhat disturbing report concerning recent developments within the royal house of Torenth».

«Is it Prince Nimur again?» Michon muttered, as he took the document she handed him.

«And his brother Torval», Barrett replied. «More to the point, Vivienne has concerns about their maternal aunt, the very troublesome Princess Camille — or Mother Serafina, as she prefers to call herself, these days. We can only give thanks to God that it was Camille’s sister, and not Camille herself, who married Torenth, else it would be Camille wearing the consort’s crown. As it is, she availed herself of the training to be had at Saint-Sasile and has left her mark on several generations of Furstán nephews and collateral cousins, and not altogether in keeping with the ethical precepts to which we hold».

Seisyll sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest, looking irritated. «I am aware of the background. What is it this time?»

«Well», Dominy said primly, «we have known for some time that the Princes Nimur and Torval are regular visitors to Saint-Sasile, where they have formed a particularly close relationship with their aunt. She has other students, of course, but Nimur is regarded as being particularly gifted — and ambitious».

«Yes, yes, this is nothing new», Michon said impatiently. «What has changed?»

«The focus of Prince Nimur’s interest», Barrett replied. «Reliable rumor has it that he intends to take up the research that brought Lewys ap Norfal to no good end».

Michon went very still, briefly averting his eyes.

«There is worse, I fear», Dominy said gently, after a slight pause. «Prince Torval also is heavily involved, of course — the two are all but inseparable — and he has far less good sense than his elder brother».

«And why is that worse?» Seisyll asked impatiently.

«Ah», Barrett said. «That, I can tell you. Prince Torval has formed a close friendship with another of Camille’s students: a very accomplished and somewhat arrogant Cardosan called Zachris Pomeroy. He, in turn, is foster brother to another of Camille’s nephews: Hogan, the posthumous son of her brother Marcus. All the Furstáns are dangerous, of course, but Marcus was also the senior male representative of the Festillic line when he died, inheritor of all the Festillic pretensions to the crown of Gwynedd — which made his son Hogan the Festillic Pretender from birth».

«Not that old lost cause?» Michon said impatiently. «Lord, will they never let it go? It is nigh on two hundred years since the Haldanes took it back from Hogan’s very distant ancestor Imre, and for very good cause. And how many wars have been fought in an attempt to reassert the Festillic claim? How many lives lost?»

«Far too many», Dominy said flatly. «And everyone here can recite a litany of the fallen, from his or her own family. But the Festils always were a stubborn lot».

«Aye, and they have long memories», Oisín agreed. «They never forget a slight».

«Of course not. They are Furstáns», Seisyll said.

Scowling, Michon passed the report across to him. «Well, this time I fear that the situation may require some direct intervention». He glanced at the doors, then said, «Perhaps Khoren can shed some light on the question. And here he is at last».

Even as he spoke, the doors opened to admit their missing member: Prince Khoren Vastouni, brother of the Sovereign Prince of Andelon. By his formal robes of state, he appeared to have come directly from his brother’s Twelfth Night Court, though his disheveled hair suggested that he might have been puzzling over his prized new manuscript. He had left behind his coronet.