In the King's Service Read Free

ago. Now it’s too late for the more obvious solutions.”
    “It is never too late to stamp out pestiferous vermin,” Vivienne said coldly. “I’m sure one of my brothers would be happy to oblige.”
    “No, we’ll not risk losing one of them for the sake of the likes of him,” Michon said.
    “Sometimes risks are necessary,” Sief pointed out. “You are aware, I trust, that the bishops already have an eye on him?”
    “For what, chief inquisitor?” Seisyll muttered.
    “Actually, for a bishop’s miter,” Sief replied. “I have that directly from the Archbishop of Rhemuth. Unless Darby puts a foot seriously wrong, it will happen, mark my words.”
    “But—he was only ordained last year,” Dominy said, sounding scandalized.
    “True enough,” Seisyll said patiently. “But keep in mind that he is hardly your typical green young priest. He’s something of a scholar, yes—though he draws all the wrong conclusions. But he also lived in the world before he took holy orders. He trained as a physician, and they say that he has all the arrogance that sometimes comes of both disciplines. That’s a dangerous enough combination in a priest who also hates Deryni. In a bishop—”
    He shook his head, heaving a sigh, and the two women exchanged troubled glances.
    “He isn’t a bishop yet,” Michon said, in a darkling tone that suggested the matter might not be the foregone conclusion everyone else was assuming.
    Sief shot him a sharp glance, but his reply was unexpectedly mild.
    “No, he isn’t. And it won’t happen tomorrow, or even next week. But whatever happens to Alexander Darby, there must be no trail that leads back to any of us. Just keep that in mind.”
    Michon gave a noncommittal shrug, and Sief went on.
    “In the meantime, we have more immediate matters to discuss. I gather that all of you are now acquainted with the recommendation regarding the young Duke of Corwyn?”
    He jutted his chin toward the document lying between Seisyll and Vivienne, who both glanced at it with some distaste.
    “He isn’t the duke yet,” the latter said, looking faintly disapproving. “Not until he turns twenty-five, and has proven his loyalty to Donal of Gwynedd.” Her fair brow furrowed. “Are we really proposing that he be fostered to the Duc du Joux? And would the king allow him to go?”
    “I believe he could be persuaded,” Sief replied. “And what better haven for a known Deryni who is destined for a ducal coronet in Gwynedd?”
    “It’s true,” Seisyll agreed. “Besides, Gwynedd has no other Deryni of high rank—and the current Duc du Joux has spent a lifetime cultivating the perception that he is the most harmless of Deryni. He would pass that survival skill to young Ahern—as he did to Morian ap Lewys,” he added, with a nod to Sief. “I daresay that your wife’s brother would not be where he is today, a trusted officer of the Crown of Gwynedd, if he had not learned to be circumspect regarding what he is.”
    “Morian also has his father’s intelligence and gifts,” Michon pointed out. “Say what you like about Lewys ap Norfal, but he was one of our best and brightest—alas, lacking in self-restraint.”
    “Are you suggesting that young Ahern de Corwyn is similarly gifted?” Sief asked.
    Michon shrugged. “I do not know. Stevana de Corwyn was very much cast in the mold of her father and grandfather. Keryell went against our instructions in seizing her, in marrying her by force, but he, too, carries a strong bloodline. Once Ahern has come into his inheritance, I would hope to see him spend some time at Nur Sayyid, perhaps—or even at Rhanamé or at Djellarda with the Knights of the Anvil. But he is only eleven now. Time enough for that.”
    “Indeed,” Barrett said. “Where is he now?”
    “Back in Coroth, since Twelfth Night,” Michon replied. “Keryell sent him and his sisters to the Orsal’s court for several years after their mother died. You’ll recall that Sobbon is