Read Online The Harrowing of Gwynedd by Katherine Kurtz - Free Book Online Page B

concentrating most of his attentions on two surprisingly plain young girls who hardly could have been older than himself. Neither looked pleased at his attentions, especially the middle-aged woman sitting with them—who was Ansel MacRorie’s mother, Javan suddenly realized!
    Which meant that the girls must be the famous MacLean heiresses, much the topic of court gossip since the reported slaughter of their cousin Adrian MacLean and his son at Trurill. Adrian’s father, Iain, the sixth Earl of Kierney, was still alive; but with the death of his son and grandson, his dead brother’s children now became his heirs—these two young girls.
    No wonder Iver MacInnis was interested—though how he would choose one, Javan had no idea. The girls were co-heiresses, so would inherit the Kierney lands jointly, on their uncle’s eventual death, but the title would remain in abeyance until one of them died, the survivor then becoming Countess of Kierney. What if Iver picked the wrong one?
    But Javan did not think Iver would move too quickly in choosing his bride—though Ansel certainly should be told that Hubert’s nephew was courting them. Javan wondered whether Ansel even knew his MacLean cousins were at court.
    And so, as the next course was announced, to fanfares of trumpets and a jaunty little pipe tune as the servants brought it in, Javan resolved to convey that bit of information as well as his more tragic news, and wondered how he could bear to stay in the hall until it was time to go and meet Tavis.
    Tavis had known of the tragedy for days, of course. In fact, he had attended the Requiem Mass that Joram and Bishops Niallan and Dermot celebrated in the little Michaeline chapel for Alister, Jebediah, and Rhys, and he had watched the bodies laid to rest in the chapel’s vaults.
    He had planned to stop in that chapel to meditate for a few minutes, as he usually did before going on to the sanctuary’s Portal to meet Javan, but he recalled that Queron had reserved the little chamber for some mysterious Gabrilite ritual that he needed to perform. So he was surprised to see the door standing ajar as he came abreast of the chapel doorway. Curious, he paused to push it further in and peer inside.
    â€œAh, Tavis, I had hoped you might drop by, before I got started,” Queron said, turning away from a small table he had set up in front of the altar and lifting a hand in invitation. “Please, come in and close the door. I wanted to ask you something.”
    Surprised, for he and the former Gabrilite had never spoken privately, Tavis entered and pulled the door shut behind him. He also was surprised to see that Queron had donned Gabrilite habit again, the fine, snow-white wool badged at the left shoulder with the green, star-pierced hand of an ecclesiastical Healer.
    â€œâ€™Tis Gabrilite work I do tonight,” Queron explained, noting Tavis’ look of question, though he was careful to keep his body between Tavis and whatever lay on the little table. “Once a Gabrilite—” He shrugged. “But, I did not ask you in to discuss that. I—gather that you were able to learn from Rhys what I was never able. I hoped that perhaps you might teach me.”
    â€œTeach you to block Deryni powers?” Tavis replied, getting right to the point. “I don’t know if that’s possible, if Rhys couldn’t teach you. He was far, far more adept than I.”
    â€œAnd more adept than I, at least in that respect,” Queron murmured. “But I would learn it, Tavis. It’s important. A few weeks ago, I left a very brave but helpless man out in the hills near Dolban. I left him in the midst of a band of Willimite extremists who are beginning to look to him as some sort of prophet or savior—which could save hundreds of our race, if they come truly to believe in him. But in order to succeed, he has to have someone to work with him who can do what Rhys could do.