"Kurtz, Katherine - Deryni Chronicles 02 - Deryni Checkmate 1.1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

"What if they found out you were half-Deryni?" the boy persisted. "Would they try to kill you?"
Duncan raised a thoughtful eyebrow. "They wouldn't like it at all if they were to discover that," he agreed, skirting the issue. "I should imagine I'd be excommunicated for sure if that were to happen. However, that's one very good reason I don't plan to let myself be taken. It would be awkward to say the least."
Kelson smiled in spite of himself. "Awkward. Yes, I suppose it would. Could you kill them if you had to?"
"I'd rather not," Duncan replied. "Another reason for not allowing them to catch me in the first place."
"What about Alaric?"
"Alaric?" Duncan shrugged. "It's difficult to say, Kelson. So far, Loris seems willing to settle for repentance. If Alaric renounces his powers and vows never to use them again, Loris will call off the Interdict."
"Alaric will never recant," Kelson said fiercely.
"Oh, I'm certain he won't," Duncan- agreed. "In that case, the Interdict falls on Corwyn and we will begin to get political as well as religious repercussions."
Kelson looked up startled. "Why political? What will happen?"
"Well, since Alaric is the stated cause of the Interdict, the men of Corwyn will probably refuse to rally under his banner for the summer campaign, thus costing you approximately twenty percent of your fighting force. Alaric will be excommunicated, along with me, I'm sure. And that brings you further into the picture."
"Me? How?"
"Simple. Once Alaric and I are anathema, we carry excommunication with us like a plague. Anyone who associates with us is included in the decree. So that leaves you with two choices. You can obey the dire fates of the archbishops and banish me and Alaric, thereby losing your best general on the eve of war. Or you can say the Devil with the archbishops and receive Alaric and end up with all of Gwynedd under Interdict."
"They wouldn't dare!"
"Ah, but they would. Up until now your rank has protected you, Kelson. But I fear that even that will end shortly. Your mother has seen to that."
Kelson hung his head, remembering the scene a week before how, unwittingly perhaps, his mother had set the stage for all that was now happening.
"But I don't understand why you have to go so far," Kelson was arguing. "Why St. Giles? You know that's only a few hours' ride from the Eastmarch border. There's going to be heavy fighting there in a few months."
Jehana calmly continued her packing, choosing garments from her wardrobe and handing them to a lady-in-waiting who was putting them in a leather-bound trunk. She was still in mourning for her dead husband, for it had been only four months since Brion's death. But her shining head was uncovered, the long auburn hair cascading smoothly down her back in a streak of red-gold, held only by'a simple gold clasp at the nape of the neck. She turned to glance at Kelson, and Nigel frowning behind him, then returned to her work, her outward manner calm and dispassionate.
"Why St. Giles?" she answered. "I suppose because I stayed there for a few months many years ago, Kelson before you were born. It's something I have to do if I'm to be able to live with myself."
"There are a dozen places that would be safer if you feel you absolutely have to go," Nigel replied, pleating and unpleating a fold of his dark blue cloak in a disturbed gesture. "We're going to have enough to worry about without wondering if some raiding party has come and carried you off or worse."
Jehana smiled and shook her head gently, looking the royal duke in the eyes. "Dear Nigel, brother, how can I make you understand? I have to go. And I have to go to Shannis Meer. If I were to stay here, knowing what's corning, knowing that Kelson will use his powers when and where he must, I would be tempted to use my own to try to stop him.
"I know in my mind that I dare not not if he's to survive. And yet my heart, my soul, everything I've ever been taught all tell me he must not be permitted to use those powers under any circunstances, that they're corrupt, evil." She turned to Kelson. "If I stayed, Kelson, I might destroy you."
"Could you really, Mother?" Kelson whispered. "Could you, a full Deryni despite your efforts to renounce that fact* truly destroy your own son because he is forced by circumstances to use the powers you gave him?"
Jehana reacted as though she had been struck, turned her back to Kelson and leaned heavily against a chair, head bowed as she strove to control her trembling. "Kelson," she began, her voice small, childlike, "don't you see? I may be Deryni, but I don't feel Deryni. I feel human. I think human. And as a human, I've been taught all my life that to be Deryni is to be evil, wrong." She turned to Kelson, her eyes wide and frightened.
"And if the people I love most are Deryni, use Deryni powers Kelson, don't you see how it's tearing me apart? Kelson, I desperately fear that it's going to be human against Deryni again, as it was two hundred years ago. I don't think I can bear to be in the middle of it."
"You're already in the middle of it," Nigel snapped, "whether you like it or not. And if it does come to human against Deryni, you don't even have a side!"
"I know," Jehana whispered.
"Then why St. Giles?" Nigel continued angrily. "That's Archbishop Loris' bailiwick. Do you think he can help you resolve your conflict an archbishop who's known for his anti-Deryni persecutions in the north? He's going to act soon, Jehana. He can't ignore what happened at the coronation much longer. And when he does make his move, I doubt that even Kelson's position will protect him for long."
"You can't change my mind," Jehana said steadily. "I'm leaving for Shannis Meer today. I intend to go to the sisters of St. Giles to fast and pray for guidance. But it has to be that way, Nigel. Right now, I am nothing. I can't be human and I can't be Deryni. And until I can discover which I am, I'm of no use to anyone."
"You're of use to me, Mother," Kelson said quietly, gazing across at her with hurt grey eyes. "Please stay."
"I cannot," Jehana whispered, choking back a sob.
"If if I commanded you as king," Kelson quavered, the cords in his neck rippling as he fought back the tears, "would you stay then?"
Jehana stiffened for an instant, her eyes clouding with pain, then turned away, her shoulders shaking. "Don't make me answer that, Kelson/' she managed to whisper. "Please don't ask me."
Kelson started to move toward her, to try to entreat her further, but Nigel put his finger to his lips and shook his head. Motioning Kelson to follow, he moved to the door and opened it quietly, waited as Kelson reluctantly joined him.
But the steps of both had been slow and heavy as they left the room. And the quiet sobbing closed behind the door still lingered in Kelson's mind.
Kelson swallowed hard and studied the flames in the fireplace before him. "Do you think the archbishops will attack me, then?"
"Perhaps not for a while," Duncan said. "So far, they've chosen to ignore the fact that you're Deryni too. But they won't ignore it if you defy an interdict."
"I could destroy them/" Kelson murmured, fists clenching and eyes narrowing as he considered his powers.
"But you won't," Duncan stated emphatically. "Because if you use your powers against the archbishops whether or not they deserve it that will be final proof to the rest of the Eleven Kingdoms that the Deryni do, indeed, intend to destroy Church and State and set up a new Deryni dictatorship. You must give the lie to that charge by avoiding a confrontation at all costs."
"Then, is it stalemate, Father? Me against the Church?"
"Not the Church, My Prince."
"Very well, then. The men wKo control the Church. It's the same thing, isn't it?"
"Not at all." Duncan shook his head. "It's not the Church we fight, though it may seem that way at first glance. It's an idea, Kelson. The idea that different is evil. That because some men are born with extraordinary powers and talents, those men are evil, no matter to what purpose they put those powers.
"We're fighting the idiotic notion that a man is responsible for the accident of his birth. That because a few men made grave errors in the name of a race over three hundred years ago, the whole race is damned and must forever suffer the consequences, generation after generation.
"That's what we're fighting, Kelson. Corrigan, Loris, even Wencit of Torenth they're merely pawns in the larger struggle to prove that a man is worth something for himself alone, for what he does with his life, wh'ether for good or for evil, with the talents he was born with, whatever he may be. Does any of that make sense?"
Kelson smiled self-consciously and lowered his eyes. "You sounded like Alaric just then. Or my father. He used to talk to me that way."
"He'd be very proud of you, Kelson. He was very fortunate to have a son like you. If I had a son . . ." He looked down at Kelson and a glance passed between them. Then Duncan squeezed the boy's shoulder reassuringly and stepped back to the table.
"I'm going then, My Prince. Alaric and I will make every effort to keep you informed of our progress or lack thereof. Meanwhile, trust Nigel. Rely on him. And whatever you do, don't intimidate the archbishops until Alaric and I have time to circumvent them."
"Don't worry, Fafher," Kelson smiled. "I won't do anything hasty. I'm not afraid any more."
"Just as long as that Haldane temper doesn't get out of hand," Duncan admonished with a grin. 'Til see you in Culdi in a week or so. The Lord keep you safe, My Prince."
"And you, Father," Kelson whispered as the priest disappeared through the door.