education. He hates Rhun. He undermines the authority ofââ
âHave you proof of this, my lord?â Camber interjected, quietly, but with such intensity that Murdoch was cut off in midsentence. âIt appears to me that you are accusing Lord Tavis of sedition, a serious allegation. Unless you have proofââ
âSire! Must I be contradicted in the performance of my duty?â Murdoch retorted, drawing himself up like an angry spider. âIf the Kingâs Grace insists upon surrounding his royal person with Deryni, such as slew Your Graceâs noble family many years ago , that is certainly the royal prerogative! But Your Grace has given me the responsibility of raising up the future heirs of this realm, and if I am to fulfill that responsibility, I must have some authority. The royal nursery is not the place for Deryni, Healers or no!â
Camber opened his mouth, then closed it, glancing at Cinhil for some guidance as to how and whether he should proceed. Cinhil had gone white at Murdochâs words of accusation, his grey eyes darting to Camber almost as if the bishop personally had drawn the bow which sent feathered shafts of death into his great-grandfatherâs body, plunging the kingdom into those dark years called the Interregnum.
All at once, Camber was poignantly reminded of the delicate balance he constantly walked with Cinhil, despite nearly a decade and a half of close association, both as Camber and as Alister. And in all that time, the core of royal doubt about Deryni had not really diminishedânot in that private heart-of-hearts to which Cinhil still retreated under stress.
Camber did not move, only his ice-pale Alister eyes pleading with Cinhil for a return to sanity, a denial of the insinuations which Murdoch had just flung out like a gauntlet. The Interregnum times were past. Cinhil knew that in his head. The Deryni who served the present Haldane line were of a different breed than those who had put the Festils into power nearly a century before.
But Cinhil must say that, not Camber or Alister Cullen.
For a seemingly interminable moment, Cinhil did not stir, his grey gaze darting from Camberâs face to Murdochâs and then back again, until Camber thought he must burst from the tension.
Then Cinhil took a deep breath, as if about to make a major pronouncementâand started coughing instead.
As Murdoch watched, Camber grabbed a goblet from the table next to their gameboard and filled it with wine from a silver ewer, upsetting half the pieces on the board in his haste to get to Cinhilâs side and ease the wine past his lips.
Cinhil drank in grateful gulps between coughing spasms, gaining some ease after he had gotten a few swallows down, and Joram hurried to his other side to offer the king a napkin to wipe his mouth, picking up fallen gamepieces awkwardly as the red-faced Cinhil fought to control the coughing.
Camber laid hands on the kingâs head, willing the coughing to subside and perhaps even succeeding a little. In any case, Cinhil managed to stifle one more coughing bout, then stopped, cleared his throat, and spat into his napkin. His face was composed if ashen as he eased back onto his chair, and he would not let them see the crumpled cloth in his hand.
âI apologize if I have caused you distress, gentlemen,â he said, in a weak but steady voice. âI seem to have a touch of a winter cold.â He cleared his throat again, then swallowed noisily.
âMurdoch, would you mind if we delayed the rest of your report until later? I have been aware of your concern about Javan and Tavis for some months. I think the matter can wait a few more days. However, I hasten to point out that when Tavis was sent away for a time last year, the boy sickened and refused to eat. Under Tavisâs tutelage, he has thrivedâat least as much as he is able. The fact that Tavis is Deryni does not concern me nearly as much as Javanâs