High Deryni Read Online Free PDF Page B

strategies for at least the hundredth time. He spread the calipers and measured off several distances, mentally recalculating his original figures, then stood back to weigh the possibilities again. He only reconfirmed what he already knew.
    â€œDerry,” he gestured to the young lord to join him as he bent again over the maps, “tell me again what Lord Perris said about this road.” He used one arm of the calipers to trace out a thin, wiggly line that meandered across the western slopes of the mountain chain dividing Gwynedd from Torenth. “If this road were passable even a week sooner, we could—”
    Further discussion was curtailed at the sound of a galloping horse being brought sharply to rein outside the tent, followed by the precipitate entrance of a red-cloaked sentry. Derry moved slightly closer, ready to protect the king if necessary, but the man sketched a hasty salute as Kelson spun in query.
    â€œSire, General Morgan and Father McLain are on their way in. They’ve just passed the eastern guard post.”
    With a wordless cry of delight, Kelson flung down his calipers and bolted for the exit, nearly bowling over the surprised sentry. As he burst into the sunlight, closely followed by Derry, a pair of leather-clad riders drew rein before the royal pavilion in a cloud of dust and dismounted, only wide grins and scruffy beards visible beneath their plain steel helms. The gray cloaks and falcon insignia of the day before were long gone. But as the two pulled off dusty helmets, there was no mistaking the pale gold head of Alaric Morgan or the darker one of Duncan McLain.
    â€œMorgan! Father Duncan! Where have you been?” Kelson drew back in faint distaste as the two slapped the worst of the dust from their riding leathers.
    â€œSorry, my prince,” Morgan said with a chuckle. He blew dust from his helmet and shook dust from his bright hair. “Holy Michael and all the saints, it’s dry around here! Whatever made us pick Dol Shaia for a campsite?”
    Kelson folded his arms across his chest and tried unsuccessfully to control a smile. “As I recall, it was one Alaric Morgan who said we should camp close to the border, as near as possible without being seen. Dol Shaia was the logical spot. Now, do you want to tell me what took you so long? Nigel and the last stragglers got back earlier this morning.”
    Morgan cast a resigned look at Duncan, then threw an arm around Kelson’s shoulders in a comradely gesture and began walking him back into the tent.
    â€œSuppose we talk about it over some food, my prince?” He signaled Derry to see to it. “And if someone could call Nigel and his captains, I’ll brief everyone at the same time. I have neither the time nor the desire to tell this tale more than once.”
    Inside, Morgan collapsed into a camp chair beside the campaign table and swung his boots up on a footstool with a grunt, letting his helmet slide to the ground beside him. Duncan, a bit more mindful of social amenities, waited until Kelson had seated himself opposite before sinking into another camp chair beside Morgan, laying his helmet at his feet.
    â€œYou look terrible,” Kelson finally said, surveying them critically. “Both of you. I don’t think I’ve ever seen either of you with beards before, either.”
    Duncan smiled and leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he stretched. “Quite likely not, my prince. But you must admit, we fooled the rebels. Even Alaric, with his brazen manner and outrageous yellow hair, was able to pass as a simple soldier when he put on his act. And riding for the past two weeks in rebel uniforms was nothing short of inspired.”
    â€œAnd dangerous,” Nigel said, slipping into a chair at Kelson’s left and motioning three red-cloaked captains to positions around the table. “I hope you made it worth the risk. Our venture certainly