Camber of Culdi (35 page)

And her reaction surprised him. He wondered at the insight she displayed when he described the communion he felt with the Deity—not so much because she was a woman, for that had not even occurred to him (he knew of the great female mystics of past centuries)—but he found it difficult to comprehend that any layman could approach the spiritual ecstasies which he had experienced in his own religious life. He had thought such experiences a prerogative of those totally committed to God—in a word, to those with a religious vocation. And Evaine, married to Rhys Thuryn, had clearly had no call to a traditional religious life.

For a while, he marked it down to her association with her priest-brother, with whom she was very close. But then he began to realize that she shared it with her father and her husband as well, and he wondered whether it was a trait coincidentally common to all four individuals in question, or whether it was somehow related to their Deryniness—that otherness which sometimes set them all so far apart. He examined his own feelings in the matter, and he found that this quality of otherness was really not so alien at all. That, too, surprised him; but again, he kept pushing the growing recognition out of his mind.

The true turning point in their relationship came one day late in March. He had come upon her praying in the chapel, and had found such a look of peace upon her, such tranquil oneness with the Universe as she knelt there, that he had almost himself knelt in awe of it. Shortly, she became aware of his presence—or perhaps she had known it all along—and she opened her eyes and turned to look at him. When she did, there was a glow of such pure radiance, such
sanctity
, about her, that he had not dared to speak until they had left the chapel. Even then, he responded to her few comments mostly in monosyllables until they were safely in his study room and he had closed the door. He felt that he must ask her of what he had seen—felt he
could
ask. But he was having trouble finding just the right words.

As she seated herself before the fireplace, he noticed a small, golden stone in her hand. She toyed with it unconsciously, her fingertips caressing its smoothness with an abstract contentment. Suddenly, Cinhil had to find out what it was.

“What have you there, my lady?”

“This?” Evaine glanced casually at the stone. “It's called
shiral
. It comes from the mountains of Kierney, near my father's seat of Cor Culdi. He gave it to me last year, after I asked an almost identical question of him.”

She handed it to him with a smile, and he turned it over in his hand, watching its surface catch the light in liquid ripples.

“Is it only a trinket a toy?” he asked, after a long pause. “It occurs to me that I have seen you carry it before, though I never paid it much mind. It must mean something very special to you.”

Evaine lowered her eyes, speculating on just how much Cinhil had seen; then she decided to venture an experiment.

“Aye, it is special, Your Highness. Partly because my father gave it to me, of course, but also for other reasons. Would you like me to show you what my father did with it, when I asked your question?”

His eyes flicked to the crystal, his features tensing as his fingers clenched on it spasmodically. Then he shook the emotion and looked back at her again.

“Your words are innocent enough, my lady. And yet, I feel a certain foreboding. Should I?”

She held out her hand, a gentle smile on her lips and in her eyes as she tried to put him at his ease once more. She knew, as he put the crystal into her hand, that he had felt something from it—even if he was not aware of what it was.

“You must not fear it, Your Highness—no more than one should fear to approach the Sacraments when one is in a state of grace,” she breathed, couching her words in terms she thought he might understand. “The crystal itself contains neither good nor evil, though it does have power. But one must approach it with respect and awareness of what one is doing. It can be a link—perhaps with the Deity?”

She moved her shoulders in a shrug, the crystal winking in the palm of her hand. Cinhil leaned forward to look into her eyes intently.

“Does it have something to do with the look I saw on your face in the chapel a little while ago?”

“It did not cause it, though it may, perhaps, enhance it,” she replied softly. “That is but one of its uses.”

Cinhil let out a long breath, never taking his eyes from hers.

“Show me,” he whispered.

With a slight inclination of her head, Evaine sat back and rested her elbows on the arms of her chair, holding the stone lightly between the tips of her fingers, as she had seen her father hold it so long before. Staring into its depths, she took a deep breath and exhaled softly, willing her senses to extend around the crystal. At first, only the reflection of the firelight flared in its depths; but then it began to glow of itself.

Still in light trance, Evaine shifted her eyes to Cinhil's, the crystal pulsating coldly between them.

“It is a focus, and a finding,” she whispered, her face expressionless. “This is but the beginning. From here, I could go—”

She broke off and shook her head, passing a hand before her eyes, and the light in the crystal died. Cinhil sat forward in alarm, not comprehending what he had just seen.

“Is anything wrong?” he asked, reaching out to touch her arm in concern.

Noting the touch, but not daring to react to it, Evaine shook her head and smiled, glancing at the crystal and then back at him.

“Nothing wrong,” she assured him. “It's a trifle difficult to speak while maintaining the light, though,” she lied. “I can better answer your questions in my normal state.”

“Then, what you were doing was not—normal?”

“Well, it was normal for Deryni—or rather, let us say that it was not abnormal,” she smiled. “The
shiral
crystal is an aid to concentration. Anything can be used as a focal point, but the
shiral
is better than most, because it shows you, by glowing, when you've reached the minimum level of concentration. Anything bright will do: a ring, a fleck of sunlight on glass. For that matter, you don't really need anything physical, though it does help, especially in the beginning.”

“You use it as a focus of concentration,” Cinhil repeated. “And that is what you were doing in the chapel?”

“Well, yes, I happened to be using it, but—” She glanced at him shrewdly, knowing that he was about to ask the question she had been leading him to for the past five minutes. “Your Highness, you surely aren't thinking to try the
shiral
crystal yourself? I don't think it will work for humans.”

“At least let me try,” Cinhil pleaded, taking the bait and swallowing, without even realizing the hook was set.

Wordlessly, Evaine laid the crystal in his hands and watched him settle back in his chair with a triumphant glint to his eyes. Holding the crystal as he had seen her do, he stared at it intently, tense with the effort of willing it to glow.

Nothing happened.

After a little while, he clasped the crystal in his hand and looked up at her, his swallow audible in the stilled room. It was obvious by the very line of his body that he had not given up.

“Show me how.”

His harsh whisper was a command, and with a nod Evaine moved her chair a little closer so she could observe him from slightly to one side.

“Now, you must follow my instructions exactly,” she warned, touching his empty hand lightly and gathering his full attention upon her. “I have never allowed a human to try this, and I would not see you harmed. I have told you, the crystal has power.”

“I will do only what you tell me to do,” Cinhil said. His eyes were bright and intent upon her as she turned slightly toward him.

“I want you to look at the crystal,” she said, noting that the firelight caught and flared in the stone even as he steadied it before his eyes. “Stare at the crystal and let all else in this room recede from your mind. Let my voice guide and guard you; for to enter the peace of the crystal, you must let all else slip away and recede for a time. Concentrate all of your consciousness upon the crystal, and let my voice be your guide. Imagine all the light of your essence pouring through your fingertips to gather in the matrix of the crystal. You see nothing but the fire of the crystal, hear only my voice guiding you, and now your universe is the crystal, and you are entering its domain …”

As she spoke, her voice low, almost a chant, his attention did focus on the stone, his breathing deepened and slowed, the taut lines of his face relaxed. Cautiously, then, lest she disturb the delicate balance which was forming, she extended her own senses around him and felt the resistance melt away, felt his consciousness receding. He was on the verge of a trance; he was in a trance. She closed her eyes and let her senses guide her around the interstices of his outer consciousness, felt them part before her as his shields crumbled and dissolved.

Insidiously, then, she entered and made certain adjustments, left certain instructions, forged certain bonds of will which would be undetected when she withdrew. She found his outer mind a place of order and beauty, as she had long suspected; but she dared not go deeper this time, for his trance was light and she must not tax his trust in her. Still, the seeds had been sown, and she knew that next time she could return him to this state—and deeper—at will.

Evaine withdrew then, erasing all signs of her passage as she went, and opened her eyes slowly. She glanced at him, his eyes unseeing, his face calm and untroubled—then felt her gaze drawn unbelievingly to the crystal between his fingertips.

It glowed!
Faintly and haltingly. But
it did glow!

Controlling the impulse to make some sudden motion, to let some word of wonder escape her lips, she softly began to speak again and lead him back to consciousness.

As his eyelids fluttered and his hands twitched a little in the coming back, the light in the crystal died—but not before she was certain he had seen it, and had realized that this had been his work. He blinked several times and breathed a sigh of wonder, then carefully put the crystal on the chair arm between them, not yet willing to meet her eyes.

“Did I—did I really see what I just thought I did?” he finally asked, when he had stared at the crystal again for several heartbeats.

“Yes, Your Highness, you did.”

He looked up at her then, a beseeching look on his face. “I know I should not ask, but I would like to keep the crystal, at least for a time. I—should like to examine this feeling more closely.”

“What did you feel?” she said, not really needing to ask, but knowing he would expect such a question.

“I—don't know. A strange peacefulness, a—suspension of time.” He turned his gray Haldane eyes upon her and his lips parted again. “May I keep it? Please?”

“Very well. But there is a condition: you must not try to use the crystal unless I am with you.”

“That is understood.”

“Your royal word on it?” she insisted. “And more, your priestly word?”

He picked up the crystal again and looked at it, then nodded and gave a sigh of relief; he stood and slipped the crystal into a small box over the fireplace. He caught himself on the edge of the mantel and rubbed his eyes, then half turned toward her with an ill-disguised yawn.

“I'm sorry. I don't know why, but I'm suddenly very tired. I think I ought to rest now.”

“Work with the crystal can be very taxing,” she said, rising and taking his arm. “Come. Let me help you to your bed.”

Half an hour later, Evaine was telling Camber and Rhys and Joram of the afternoon's developments, sharing the experience with them arcanely. Camber's face beamed with pride as she told her tale. When she had finished, Joram let out a raucous whoop of delight and Rhys kissed her soundly. Camber sat back in his chair and poured mulled wine for all of them.

“Let us drink to Evaine,” he said, handing cups around and lifting his in toast, “for doing what no one else could do, for breaking through our prince's shields without a hint of battle. The way is clear now. We can go in and assess him, and he will never know, until it's time to do what must be done. To Evaine!”

“To Evaine!” Rhys and Joram echoed, and drank her salute in joy.

They talked more, then, long into the night, evaluating and assessing what she had learned in the very shallow sampling she had made that afternoon, making plans, venturing theories.…

The following afternoon, after Cinhil had finished his studies for the day and taken his noon meal, she sought him out again. He had been waiting for her; and as soon as she was seated, he wasted no time in procuring the crystal and taking his place beside her.

“I have not touched it since yesterday,” he told her, putting it in her hand. “When I awoke this morning, I was initially angry at what you made me promise; but then I realized that it was too powerful a thing to tamper with on my own, and that it were best to go slowly. I had not thought to be so tired yesterday.”

“That is a common reaction when learning to use new abilities, even among Deryni,” she smiled. “But, you awoke refreshed this morning, didn't you?”

“Yes, and in my bed, my clothes removed. I”—he lowered his eyes—“I don't even remember falling asleep.”

“You were very tired when I left, Your Highness. I had Father Nathan come in and make you comfortable for the night, since I suspected that you might not awaken before morning. I hope you are not angry at the presumption.”

“No, of course not.” He folded his hands and studied them for a few seconds, obviously much relieved by her explanation, then looked up at her again.

“May—may we try it again?” he asked.

“Sit back and relax.” She smiled, moving the crystal before his eyes. “And as I now place the crystal in your hand, you will sleep.”