Muriella seized her opportunity on a sultry day late in September, when a series of seemingly unrelated events chanced to spiral into disaster. It began as Lord Seisyll Arilan strolled into the castle gardens, having spent the morning in council with the queen and the Archbishop of Rhemuth — always a less than pleasant prospect, because Archbishop William made no secret of his dislike of Deryni.
Accordingly, Seisyll was always extremely careful never to put a foot wrong, in his dealings with the man. He understood that William MacCartney was likely to be the next Archbishop of Valoret, when Michael of Kheldour died; and while he had no particular quarrel with Gwynedd's Primate, he knew he would be greatly relieved to have William MacCartney as far away as possible.
That afternoon, however, Seisyll had aspirations in another direction altogether. For with both the king and Duke Richard away from court for the past several months, Seisyll had been watching for an opportunity to have his own look at Master Krispin MacAthan — or Krispin Haldane, as Seisyll increasingly believed the boy to be. Not since Michon's encounter with the boy in the cloister garden at Arc-en-Ciel had anyone from the Camberian Council been able to conduct even a cursory examination. But on such a lazy, hazy summer afternoon, with formal training sessions suspended and most of the children of the royal household at leisure, who knew what might be possible?
He had chosen his time with care, at an hour when many of the adults and not a few of the children were apt to be drowsing, even napping — and who would suspect otherwise? As Seisyll strolled, he took himself to the vicinity of the castle's apple orchard rather than the more formal gardens that lay adjacent to the royal apartments, for he had heard mention that some of the younger boys, Krispin included, had lately conceived a passion for toy boats, which they were wont to try out in the fishpond that served the castle kitchens.
He pulled an apple from one of the trees and began to eat it as he passed through the orchard, peering beyond to where he believed the pond to be. He saw the squire first: a reliable young man in Haldane scarlet, reclining in the shade of another tree and also partaking of the orchard's fruit as he watched the three younger boys crouched at the water's edge.
The tallest of the boys was definitely a Haldane prince, as the second sable-headed lad might also be, all of them dressed in a motley assortment of well-worn and nearly outgrown summer tunics, sleeves rolled above the elbows and tunic-tails ruched up between bare legs as they waded ankle-deep in the shallows and shepherded the boats. The creamy sail of the red boat was painted with a Haldane lion, proclaiming it to be the property of Prince Brion. Another boy with brown hair was fiddling with the saffron sail of a blue-painted boat — the lad's name was Isan Fitzmartin, Seisyll recalled.
Krispin MacAthan's boat was green, and sported a sail of the dull red-ochre hue common to the Southern Sea. All three boys straightened attentively as Seisyll approached, and the squire sat forward and started to get to his feet, but Seisyll waved him back as he nodded to the boys and came to crouch down companionably at the water's edge.
«Good afternoon, your Highness — and Master Krispin, Isan», Seisyll said amiably. «Those are very fine boats you have there, but do you think Cook will mind that you're frightening his fish?»
«Good afternoon, Lord Arilan», Prince Brion replied, speaking for the three of them. «They are fine boats, aren't they? Master Edward, the carpenter, made them for us, and some of the queen's ladies sewed the sails».
His sunny smile clearly was meant to distract Seisyll's interest in the frightened fish, and the impish grins of Krispin and Isan were likewise endearing. As the young prince turned to prod at his craft with a stick, and Isan set his boat back adrift, Seisyll reached out with his mind to gently nudge the red and blue boats out of reach of their owners, as if wafted by a wayward breath of breeze. Krispin's, by contrast, drifted a little closer.
«And very fine work it is, too», Seisyll agreed. «Krispin, may I see that one?»
Nodding solemnly, Krispin plucked his boat out of the water and waded closer to Seisyll to extend it for inspection.
«Ah, yes, indeed», Seisyll said, laying hands on the craft but also overlapping the hands of its owner, holding it, turning it to other angles, but not actually taking it — for by doing so, he was able to make and keep contact, at the same time extending a probe.
«Yes, that's very fine», he said, tilting the boat this way and that. «When I was a boy, I had a boat very like this one. My father made it for me — and one for my brother. We used to race them across a millpond in the village green near Tre-Arilan.
«I believe that was the summer I dreamed of becoming a great sea-farer, for my father had taken us to Orsalia earlier that summer, on one of the great galleys of the Duke of Corwyn's caralighter fleet. As I recall, he made the boats for us while we were on that journey. At the time, I didn't realize that sea voyages can actually be quite tedious. To me, it was sheer excitement».
All three boys had been listening with rapt attention as Seisyll shared this boyhood reminiscence — which was time enough for the master Deryni to note several startling similarities between Krispin's psychic resonances and those of the king.
«Was it very fast, my lord?» Krispin asked eagerly.
«Not very», Seisyll said lightly. «I expect your boat is far faster. In fact, mine was appallingly slow. And it hadn't nearly as nice a sail as yours».
He used the boy's pleasure at this compliment as cover for deftly disengaging his probe, also setting a gentle blur over any memory of the contact. It would not hold up to close scrutiny, but no such scrutiny was likely if no suspicion was raised.
«No, yours is far finer than the one I remember», Seisyll went on. «The sail is particularly fine. May I ask who made it for you?»
«Lady Marie did the stitching, my lord», Krispin replied, beaming as he stood a little straighter. «She's ever so nice. But Mother gave her handkerchief, and Lady Muriella helped me gather the right herbs to dye it. And Lady Zoë painted the lion on Brion's one». He cocked his dark head wistfully. «It must be an awful lot of work to be a girl, my lord».
Chuckling, Seisyll gestured toward the other two boats, now beginning to catch the breeze and move back toward their respective owners. Glancing back in that direction, Krispin smiled sunnily and turned to set his own boat back in the water, giving it a gentle push to send it on its way. As its sail caught a breeze and continued to move, the boy straightened to watch it go. Beyond, a duty squire entered the garden with a travel-stained knight in tow — apparently a messenger carrying dispatches, for he was rummaging in a leather satchel slung over one shoulder.
«Look, a messenger!» Prince Brion cried, pointing.
«Where do you think he's come from?» Krispin said.
«Let's go see!» said Isan.
Instantly the three boys bolted in that direction, leaving the boats abandoned in the fishpond. Smiling, Seisyll bent and willed the boats close enough to retrieve, then set them in a row at the edge before following after. Unless he was greatly mistaken, the just-arrived messenger was one of the knights who served Ahern de Corwyn — which meant that there would be news possibly requiring the attention of the crown council.
Deeper in the main garden, not far from the royal apartments, the arrival of the messenger was also noted by Marie de Corwyn, as his attending squire led him in the direction of the queen's solar. She had washed her hair earlier that morning, and was combing it dry in the dappled sunshine underneath a rose arbor. She rose expectantly as the messenger drew near, about to pass not far away, and he saw her and raised one gloved hand in greeting.