The Bastard Prince (21 page)

It was all but accomplished. His sword running with the blood of good Haldane men, Albertus dismounted and strode exultantly through the carnage of dead and dying men. The wounded Charlan was cradling the dying king against his chest and weeping. In that sudden stillness amid the continuing battle around them, Albertus was not even certain they were aware of his presence.

Prolonging the moment served no purpose. As Albertus gazed down at them pitilessly, one of his men moved in behind Charlan with sword poised to finish the young knight. At Albertus' nod, the sword plunged downward to pierce Charlan through the lungs. Blood gushed from his mouth as he collapsed across the king with a mortal gasp, still trying to protect his prince, even in death. But Javan, too, was dead by the time they could shift Charlan's body aside …

If you desire his life for this, take it
, Dimitri's thought came.
You are his king. He killed your brother. You have the right
.

Show me how!

I will do it, then. There is no time. Learn by observing, even
—
so
.

Before Rhys Michael could object, the spell was welling up in Dimitri's mind, spilling over into Rhys Michael's consciousness but forbidding interference. He flinched from the power now uncoiling from reserves deep inside Dimitri, surging down a muscled arm as Dimitri lifted a cupped right hand above Albertus' chest. He could sense the energy filling Dimitri's palm, spreading out to his fingertips; and as that puissant hand turned toward Albertus, he could almost see a ghost-hand of fire plunge downward from the physical one to penetrate the earl marshal's chest, fiery fingers curving around the pulsing heart and squeezing.

Though unconscious, Albertus fought it. Pain contorted the angular face, and his body arched against it, one booted foot agitating the straw as his limbs went into spasms. He seemed to take a long time to die, though when Rhys Michael blinked himself back to normal consciousness, now shaking in after-reaction, he realized that the entire thing, both the killing and the Reading before it, had taken less than a minute.

“I will deal with this now,” Dimitri said, glancing up at Cathan, who immediately brought Fulk closer. He reached up and touched Fulk's hand, closing his eyes briefly, then returned his attention to the still form before him.

“Sir Fulk, you had best summon another surgeon,” he said quietly, beginning to loosen the neck of Albertus' garments and perform the other tasks one would expect of a physician. “He has suffered a seizure of some kind. I think it was his heart.”

As Fulk raced off to obey, Cathan following as far as the doorway, Rhys Michael glanced at the Deryni.

“I know you had no choice in what you did, but I want to thank you,” he said in a low voice.

Dimitri shrugged. “I have worked in the cause of my prince; you are struggling to retain your Haldane crown. I cannot resent you for that, and I hope you do not begrudge me my loyalty to
my
prince. I thought I knew the risks I ran. I still do not comprehend how I was taken, or how I am compelled now to serve your interests above my own. But rest assured that I will not betray you, for I cannot. I will die before I allow you to come to harm.”

The pounding of footsteps in the corridor outside forestalled any further discussion, and he set a hand urgently on Rhys Michael's sleeve.

Stand up. You should not be seen kneeling here beside him or me. Remember that you are meant to fear Deryni. When you are questioned, keep your answers vague but tell as much of the truth as possible
—
that Albertus brought me here to Truth-Read you regarding Udaut's death; that he bade me probe you as well, which you protested. You remember nothing of that experience, save that only a short time elapsed. Of Albertus' death, you know only that he appeared to suffer a seizure, and I tried to aid him. If pressed, wonder whether I might have had a hand in his death. Go now!

The instructions were conveyed in the blink of an eye. The approaching footsteps still had not yet reached the door as Rhys Michael lurched to his feet and staggered far enough away to flatten himself against a wall, trying to make himself as inconspicuous as possible. He had to keep reminding himself that Dimitri was an enemy, only doing what he did because he had no choice. That did not alter the fact that the Deryni was about to sacrifice himself to divert suspicion from Rhys Michael.

Rhun was the first to arrive, closely followed by Paulin and Master Stevanus, but the second battle surgeon could do no more than Dimitri apparently had been able to do. Manfred brought the abbey's infirmarian as well, but by then the room was getting far too crowded. Paulin confessed himself too shaken to give his brother the Last Rites and had to summon another of his
Custodes
priests to come and administer that Sacrament.

“How can this have happened?” Paulin murmured, trembling as Rhun drew him into the corridor, where the king and his aides had withdrawn with Manfred. “What was he even doing here, Sire?”

Affecting to be dazed and a little confused himself, Rhys Michael gestured vaguely toward the maps still spread on the table, aware that every word he uttered was likely to make Dimitri's death more certain.

“He—said something about wanting to make sure I understood the strategy planned for Culliecairn,” he said. “I suppose he noticed that I brought the maps with me after supper.”

“And then he just—collapsed?” Paulin asked, disbelief still mixed with shock.

Rhys Michael let his gaze go a little unfocused, hoping his questioners would read the reaction as uncertainty, something not quite right.

“I—can't quite remember clearly,” he murmured. “We'd been talking, and suddenly he—was on the floor, going into convulsions of some kind. He clutched at his chest and—started gasping for breath. Dimitri tried to help him, but—”

“Why was Dimitri here?” Rhun demanded, picking up on the cue.

Rhys Michael swallowed audibly, all too aware how very vulnerable he was. “He—Lord Albertus wanted him to T-Truth-Read me.”

“What about?”

“Udaut's death.”

Manfred snorted and glanced back into the room, where a priest called Ascelin was bent over Albertus' body, signing the forehead with holy oil.

“He wouldn't let it go,” he muttered. “He just didn't want to accept that Udaut's death was an accident.”

“So, he had Dimitri Truth-Read you,” Paulin said.

Rhys Michael nodded.

“And what else did he have Dimitri do?” Paulin suddenly looked at Rhys Michael in more avid speculation. “Dear God, he's been wanting to have Dimitri probe you for some time. Did he?”

Swallowing, Rhys Michael looked away, knowing that the truth—the only answer that would turn suspicion from himself—would probably seal Dimitri's fate.

“I—think so,” he whispered.

“What do you mean, you
think
so?” Rhun demanded. “Did he touch you?”

“I—don't—I can't—”

“He did, my lord,” Fulk offered. “Only for a few seconds, but he definitely touched him.”

Rhys Michael closed his eyes briefly and swayed a little on his feet. He had hoped to avoid so direct an accusation, but Fulk had taken the decision out of his hands—perhaps on Dimitri's own orders, he suddenly realized. The Deryni had controlled Fulk briefly before sending him for help and must have set the instructions he knew were needed to carry out his own priority—that of protecting the king at whatever cost.

“Sweet
Jesu
, Albertus, how could you be so
stupid
?” Paulin murmured, his gaze shifting disbelievingly to the still form of his brother. “On the eve of a confrontation with Torenth, you allow—nay, you
invite
—a Torenthi Deryni to probe the king, with no way for us to check and see what he's done
besides
probe—”

“What are you saying?” Rhys Michael whispered. “He can't have done more than that. It was only a few seconds, I'm sure. Wouldn't I know?”

“You weren't even sure he touched you,” Rhun said coldly, keeping his voice very low. “We'll hope no serious harm was done in so short a time, but I suggest we try to find out before he realizes we're suspicious. It's even possible he had a hand in Albertus' death. Paulin, have a word with Master Stevanus, would you?”

His subtle gesture with the first two fingers of his right hand sent a chill up Rhys Michael's spine, for he knew Rhun was referring to a Deryni pricker, which would administer a debilitating dose of
merasha
. Though it was intended for Dimitri, not himself, the thought of helping deliver any Deryni to the great lords' ministrations made him almost physically ill.

Back in the deathroom, Dimitri was quietly conversing with Stevanus and the abbey's infirmarian, away from where Father Ascelin was reciting prayers over Albertus' body. As Paulin briefly diverted to kneel with the priest and join in a prayer for his brother, Rhun stepped into the doorway and raised a beckoning hand in Dimitri's direction.

“Master Dimitri, would you come over here, please?”

With a nod to Stevanus, Dimitri came to join Rhun and Manfred and the king, making them a deferential bow. “My lords, Sire.”

“Tell me, Master Dimitri, why did Lord Albertus ask you to accompany him tonight?” Rhun asked.

Dimitri's glance flicked to Manfred, then to Rhys Michael, carefully neutral, but the brief thought that brushed the king's mind confirmed that Dimitri was prepared to play out what now appeared to be inevitable.

“Am I to speak freely before Lord Manfred, my lord?” Dimitri asked in a low voice.

“I would not have asked you in front of him if I did not expect you to speak in front of him,” Rhun said sharply. “Why did Lord Albertus bring you here?”

“He wished me to be present while he questioned the king concerning Lord Udaut's death.”

“To Truth-Read his answers?” Rhun asked.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Why should that be necessary?” Manfred interjected. “Did Lord Albertus have any reason to suppose that the king knew something about Udaut's death?”

“Not to my knowledge, my lord.”

“Very well,” Rhun said. “And did you Truth-Read the king?”

“I did.”

“With what result?”

“Why, the king was telling the truth, of course. How could it be otherwise? Lord Udaut's death was an accident.”

“Was it?” Rhun asked.

Dimitri did not even blink. “I have said that the king had nothing to do with it, my lord. Why do you question me this way? Have I not served you faithfully these many years and never given you cause to doubt my word?”

“Perhaps we were led to overlook such cause,” Paulin said, slipping back into the conversation beside the Deryni. “What else did you do to the king besides Truth-Read him, Dimitri? Did you perhaps probe him, as you've been wanting to do for some time? And what did you do to my brother?”

Dimitri had led the questioning in this direction. It was the only possible scenario that would satisfy the great lords' questioning and totally divert suspicion from the king, and Rhys Michael knew it—and knew that Dimitri knew it.

“To your
brother
?” Dimitri asked, scorn in his tone. “Surely your grief has made you mad.”

“Dear God, did you kill him?” Paulin whispered, now convinced that he had stumbled onto the truth. “Brother Serafin died of ‘heart failure' a few days before Javan's coronation, and we always wondered about that. You weren't around then, but there were other Deryni who were capable. That's one of the more insidious Deryni spells, isn't it? You can kill a man without even touching him. We'll never know if Udaut actually died of ‘heart failure,' but you could have reached out with your mind and done that—and also made his horse go mad and trample him, to cover your tracks. Did you summon up that swarm of bees, too? Was it my brother who was meant to drown?”

Dimitri shook his head disdainfully, turning to Rhun in appeal. “My lord, I am given far more credit than I deserve. If such conjectures seem plausible to you, small wonder that your people fear mine. Regardless of what answers I may give you, I am damned merely for being what I am. For what good it will do, I remind you that my kind have limitations, just as all men do. Physical contact is almost always required. We—”

In that instant, at a nod from Paulin, Master Stevanus made physical contact with Dimitri via a Deryni pricker, jamming its double needles into the taut muscles at the base of the Deryni's neck. Dimitri gasped and clapped a hand to the pain, dislodging the device as he whirled in dismay to throw off the hands already trying to restrain him, but his eyes told Rhys Michael that the Deryni was well aware of his plight.

In the seconds remaining before the
merasha
rendered him powerless, Dimitri might carry out one more order besides the very last—and over
that
one, he had no control, for it must wait until the very end. Before the drug could begin to diffuse his powers, even as Rhun and Manfred were grabbing at his arms to take him prisoner, he turned the full strength of his magic on Paulin, twining his hands in a death-grip in the neck of the prelate's black robes to pull him closer and will invisible hands of fire to clutch not at Paulin's heart but at his mind.

Paulin screamed and kept on screaming, a bloodcurdling wail of mortal agony that rose on a higher and ever higher pitch, until Rhys Michael thought that vocal cords of mere human flesh could not sustain such a sound. Yet even that was but a poor reflection of the true anguish of a mind being ripped. Surely Cathan must have felt some of the spillover, but he and Fulk boldly dragged Rhys Michael back from the physical struggle to shield him with their bodies, lest Dimitri attempt some attack on the king.

And all the while, unaware of the true magnitude of Dimitri's attack, the others were wrenching at his arms and shouting conflicting orders, Manfred bellowing for them to kill him, Rhun screaming that, no, they must take him alive. Cringing behind Cathan and Fulk, helpless to prevent any of what was unfolding so rapidly, Rhys Michael sensed a faltering in the energies and guessed that the
merasha
must be starting to erode Dimitri's control. Just then, Rhun managed to place a precise blow behind Dimitri's left ear with the pommel of his dagger.