Saint Camber by Katherine Kurtz Read Free Book Online Page A

spirited him out of Saint Foillan’s Abbey.
    Still, Oriss would be Archbishop of Rhemuth, second only to Anscom; and Cullen would be Bishop of Grecotha. Perhaps the day was not so far off as Cinhil had feared, when he might openly celebrate the Mass again!
    He mused on that for a long time, dreaming of many yesterdays, then sat up with a start. The idea had flashed through his mind so suddenly that he could not even articulate it, dared not give mental substance to what was taking shape.
    Quickly, before he could think about it too much and find a reasoned argument against, he scrambled to the bellpull beside his bed and rang for a servant. Sorle, his valet, appeared momentarily, breathless and anxious-looking.
    â€œSorle, please ask Father Alfred to join me,” he said, avoiding looking at the chest at the foot of his bed. “Tell him to bring parchment and ink. I have work for him.”
    Sorle bowed, somewhat mystified, and left to do his master’s bidding. Cinhil threw himself on his bed and hugged knees to chest in sheer delight.
    What a singular opportunity! With Cullen and Oriss slated for elevation to the purple, it was altogether fitting that Cinhil, as king, make them suitable gifts upon the occasion of their elevations. And what could be more suitable than several sets of new vestments apiece?
    No one need ever know that not all of the vestments so commissioned would find their way to the two new bishops. No one would know that at least one set would find its way into the reverent and longing hands of Cinhil Haldane!

C HAPTER T HREE
    For death is come up into our windows, and is entered into our palaces .
    â€”Jeremiah 9:21
    Camber sat in a cushioned chair before the fireplace in his sleeping chamber, eyes unfocused in the direction of the fire, his feet propped comfortably on a padded stool.
    He felt very peaceful now—ready to cope with whatever might come. After leaving the hall, alone at his own insistence, he had returned to his quarters to shed his bloody clothing and relax for a few minutes before beginning preparations for that evening’s work.
    Others also had plans for him, however. Guaire, who insisted upon acting as his squire most of the time, had appeared very shortly—obviously briefed by Joram or Evaine—and coaxed him to sit and soak in a hot bath, which Guaire had already had drawn. When Camber emerged, clean-clad and feeling far better than he had expected for the experience, there was a simple but hearty meal set for him before the fire: a joint of beef, cheese, crusty bread spread thick with butter and honey, and plenty of good red wine. He knew Evaine had had a hand in that.
    He had not thought he could eat much. Besides, he had the feeling that he wanted to fast at least a little for the ritual planned later that night.
    But Guaire was insistent, and Camber could not really tell him why he did not wish to eat; so Camber complied. Guaire stood over him sternly until he had consumed more than half of what had been put before him.
    After, feeling admittedly restored, Camber dismissed Guaire on the pretext of wanting to rest—which was true, though not quite yet—then spent the next hour and more cleaning and arranging the dressing room to his satisfaction. Following that, he did rest, stretching out supine on the bed while he employed diverse Deryni relaxation techniques to ensure that he would be fresh and alert when the time came for him to do what he must.
    When he awoke a few hours later, the room darkening into dusky twilight, he was feeling quite fit and ready. He spent the hour until the Vesper bell in more-active meditation, making the mental and spiritual preparations he felt necessary for the task approaching. The steady rain outside was a constant reinforcement to his intent, helping to drive him to ever-deeper centering points of consciousness.
    What he planned tonight was not particularly dangerous, though the best-intended dabblings in this