Legends Of Camber Of Culdi - Saint Camber Part 34

All but gasping inwardly, Camber wondered whether Jebediah realized what he had said.

The statement had to have been a chance one. Jebediah was concerned about his apparent replacement in Alister's affections by Joram. He was not worried about the year-dead Camber, at least for now. Jebediah could not know the truth, or even suspect. He was too blunt to pretend innocence on that important an issue.

But suspicion could grow, if Camber did not do something, and quickly. Jebediah was a very astute observer, and might even guess the truth, in time. And in his present bitter state, if Camber could not immediately ensure his cooperation and silence, then he could not be allowed to leave this room.

That judgment was a harsh one, Camber knew. It was not one he even wished to consider, but there might eventually be no other way around it. Jebediah was strong, both physically and psychically. If it came to a purely physical confrontation, Camber doubted very much whether he could beat the battle-fit younger man. At one time, Alister and Jebediah had been well matched in speed and skill; but Camber, though competent, had never been the swordsman Alister had been, and certainly had not been able to keep up his practice in these past grueling months.

Even an arcane confrontation was not a certain victory, though here Camber would have the decided edge. Jebediah would not be expecting a psychic ambush. Alister had always been somewhat reticent about using his Deryni abilities except for inner exploration, whereas Camber had honed all his talents to a fine edge.

But Jebediah knew Alister's mental touch intimately. Part of the great, attraction between the two men had always been their similar levels of potential and intuition, the groundpoint for frequent communion of minds in deep spiritual sharing-a sensitive side to the grand master which few other warriors even suspected.

Yes, given the alternatives, a psychic approach was undoubtedly the best; but it would have to be on Camber's terms from the beginning. If Camber were to succeed, he must overwhelm Jebediah's defenses before he even realized that battle had been engaged -and that would depend upon how much control he could secure before Jebediah realized he was not dealing with Alister. Total success would enable him to take Jebediah into his confidence and win him as an ally; even partial failure would make of Jebediah a prisoner or, worse, a casualty. Camber did not even want to think about the latter possibility.

Whatever the outcome, the task must be begun. Only a few seconds had elapsed while Camber weighed the possibilities, but now he must make his move or risk complicating an already delicate situation. Shifting his weight uncomfortably, he chanced a hesitant, sidelong glance at Jebediah, allowing the pale, sea-ice eyes to mirror some of the real pain which Alister would have felt at Jebediah's jealous words.

"I'm-sorry, Jeb. I hadn't realized."

"No, I don't suppose you did," Jebediah whispered, head still bowed.

Wetting his lips nervously, Camber continued, letting the part of him that was Alister come to the fore, there at the most surface level of his awareness.

"Can you forgive me?" he asked. "It's a fault to become so wrapped up in one's own affairs that one hasn't time for comfort. It must have been terrible for you."

Jebediah dared to lift his head, though he still could not bear to meet the sea-ice eyes.

"Aye, it was terrible. I doubt you can even imagine how it hurt to see you struggling alone, before Camber's funeral. You wouldn't share your burden. You totally shut me out. I never did understand why."

As he finally looked Camber full in the face, Camber realized that this was the opening he had been trying to build, to set Jebediah up for the psychic encounter which would decide both their futures.

Swallowing, Camber returned Jebediah's gaze, letting just a trace of Alister's most surface levels, of concern and remorse, open to the other's query. Instantly he saw a spark of hopefulness igniting in the other's eyes, caught Jebediah's quick intake of breath as he finally met something in his friend's mind beyond rigid shields.

"Dare I hope?" Jebediah murmured.

"You know it cannot be as it was before," Camber breathed, neither opening further nor shutting down what contact had been made. "I have promises to guard now which were not mine before."

Jebediah nodded, wide-eyed, accepting without question.

"But if you are willing to yield control," Camber continued, "to let me be the one who guides the depth of our exchange-then perhaps I can share some of what has occupied my mind these many months of separation. Later, when I am more certain of my own limitations, perhaps a more equal sharing will be possible."

A shy, hopeful smile twitched at Jebediah's mouth, almost out of place on the rugged, handsome face. "Hardly the promise of our former communion, but I understand the reason. You will forgive me if I mourn that necessity just a little?"

"I should always forgive you, Jeb," Camber answered quietly, himself mourning the necessity as he acknowledged his own intentions. "Shall we sit here on the steps? It's been a long day, and my bones ache from the cold."

As Camber drew his mantle closer and sat on the second step, easing his back against the next, Jebediah folded his lean body to a seat on the bottommost one without a word, the tooled scabbard of his sword stretched between them along the length of his outstretched, booted legs.

"This will be rather different from the old days," the grand master said, taking a deep breath as he raised his eyes to Camber. "I'm as nervous as before a battle."

"I know," Camber replied.

He dropped his hands to Jebediah's shoulders and pulled him back to lean against his knee, at the same time gathering his own essence deep within him, so that only the Alister part of him might show at first. As he raised his right hand, the one which wore the bishop's ring, he hesitated for just an instant to clench and unclench his fist as though warming his fingers-long enough for the purple gemstone to catch Jebediah's eye and remind him, if only on some deep, inner level, of the reason for this unequal sharing.

Then he brought that hand to the back of Jebediah's neck, to cup the already tilting head in the fan of his fingers. Jebediah responded immediately to the familiar touch, breathing out with a sigh and letting his head loll against Camber's hand, eyes fluttering dreamily as he began to open to the contact. Camber let a little more of Alister's personality seep through the bond being forged and felt Jebediah's consciousness stilling in further response, no hint of suspicion yet fogging the clarity of that well-ordered mind.

"Let go now," Camber said softly, as much a thought as a whisper, as he stretched to the furthest limits of revealment which he dared, using only Alister's memories.

And to his amazement, Jebediah did let go, taking the spa.r.s.eness of the Alister contact for natural caution as his old friend explored the limits to which he might share and still retain the security of his office.

Camber marveled at the naive trust, at the same time hating himself for having to betray it. Gathering all his resources for one ma.s.sive onslaught, quick and without warning, he poised and then swooped, seizing so many avenues simultaneously that Jebediah never had a chance to realize what was happening until it was too late to resist effectively.

Jebediah gasped and flinched under Camber's hands at the force of the contact, mind staggering with the shock of an alien consciousness overwhelming his own. He could not do more. Physically and psychically blind now, he struggled helplessly against the bonds already formed, shrinking from the constant new incursions, fruitlessly trying to prevent the imposition of knowledge which he had not expected, had not wanted, would not have considered, had he retained control of his own mind.

Only in sheer body reflex was he at all able to resist Camber's bidding, warrior's muscles responding to the threat even if the warrior's mind could not. Almost independent of his mind's frantic struggling, his right hand crawled to the dagger at his right side, closing half-paralyzed fingers around the ivory hilt, dragging the blade slowly from its sheath.

Camber saw the movement, and shifted quickly to block the rising hand. Relenting not one iota from his task of education, he twisted around to straddle the now-sprawling Michaeline and redouble his a.s.sault, left hand locked around Jebediah's powerful wrist in a separate war of strength as his will forced knowledge into Jebediah's mind, giving all the necessary details, from Alister's death to the present.

Jebediah shook his head in denial and cried out, a despairing animal moan of grief, as he stared up at Camber with blank, unseeing eyes. His left hand lashed out to twist itself in the neck of Camber's mantle, pulling Camber down closer as the dagger hand rose slowly against the grasp of Camber's, nearer and nearer to Camber's throat.

But Camber would not be distracted. Relentlessly he drove home the final realizations: the benefits already accrued to Cinhil; the smallness of their numbers who knew the truth of Camber-Alister; the consequences if the play did not go on, in terms of anti-Deryni backlash already brewing in small ways among the restored human n.o.bility; the trap of all of them who were now committed to play out the charade-and that Camber and his children were willing to make any necessary sacrifice for the sake of Gwynedd. Was Jebediah?

With that, Camber disengaged from all controls save one: a touch which would bring swift unconsciousness and, if necessary, death. At the same time, he bade his long- borrowed shape melt away from him, his own Camber face gazing down at Jebediah in hope and compa.s.sion. The dagger was resting against his throat now, near to drawing blood, but he ignored its deadly pressure, praying that Jebediah's good common sense would keep him from rejecting what had been revealed and forcing Camber to use his ultimate weapon.

And Jebediah, sensing his release but not yet the full significance of what had happened, arched his body from under Camber's in that first instant of freedom and rolled with him to the floor, to straddle his former captor and sit upon his chest, dagger pressed close against the quickened pulse, his other hand twisted in the mantle to choke out what life the dagger spared.

Camber went totally limp, quicksilver eyes beseeching as they stared calmly up into Jebediah's crazed ones, arms outflung to either side in an att.i.tude of total physical surrender.

And finally Jebediah saw, and knew, and realized what he was about to do. With a strangled gasp, his eyes once more reflected reason and his hand opened in reflex horror at what it held. Camber could almost see the succession of memories which flashed through Jebediah's mind as he froze there, open-palmed hand still poised beside Camber's neck, though the dagger now lay on the floor beside the silver-gilt head.

Then the staring eyes closed, and the frantically working throat choked out a single sob, and Jebediah was collapsing to weep unashamedly in Camber's arms.

Slowly Camber eased from under Jebediah's weight, struggling to a cramped sitting position, the while cradling the sobbing Jebediah in his arms as he would have soothed one of his own children, as Jebediah mourned the loss of his friend and brother. After a while, when the sobs had subsided somewhat. Camber stroked the trembling head lightly, calling Jebediah back to the present.

"I'm sorry I had to do that," he finally whispered, when he was sure that Jebediah's reason was once more regaining control over sheer emotion. "I suppose I should have told you sooner. You, of all people, had a right to know.

"But we were paranoid, all of us. We thought- and rightly, for most, but not for you- that the fewer people who knew, the safer we would be. I almost didn't tell you, even tonight, but I was afraid you were about to guess and that I wouldn't be able to control your anger if you did. I almost couldn't, as it was. I know now that I should never have done what I did in that hall this afternoon in front of you. I was afraid you might see something not of Alister in me."

With a loud sniff, Jebediah drew away, to wipe a sleeve across eyes and nose and sit up against the bottom of the stair, knees drawn close against his chest. Camber, too, took advantage of the opportunity to ease to a less-cramped position, though he would not have moved before that and disturbed Jebediah's settling for all his body's ease.

"I-didn't, really," Jebediah murmured, responding to Camber's last statement. "I mean, I realized that something was different, and I-I was jealous of Joram-but I never dreamed that it wasn't Alister- or that it was you."

As he looked up, he made a visible effort to regain control of at least his expression, swallowing with difficulty and taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"What-" He gulped and began again. "What would you have done, if you hadn't been able to make me accept-this?"

As he gestured toward Camber's face, Camber pursed his lips and glanced down for an instant, then reached out to his final control and exerted the slightest amount of pressure as he looked up again.

"I'm afraid I was not as honest as you would like to believe," he whispered, as Jebediah felt the effect and reeled on the edge of unconsciousness. He released the pressure and the final control and grasped Jebediah's upper arm in a steadying hold. "As you can see, I held back one last, desperate weapon. If I'd really had to use it-I'm not sure what I would have done."

Jebediah winced, nodding slowly in acceptance of that revelation. "You would have killed me," he said, quite dispa.s.sionately. "And you would have been right. You couldn't let me leave here as anything less than an ally. The cause you've been working for is far too important to endanger by my angry betrayal." He paused. "My G.o.d, what agonies you must have endured in these past months since his death! Why, my disappointment was nothing beside your-"

"Hush." Camber held up a hand and shook his head. "You had a right to feel the way you did. Your grief was no less real for being based on a lie unknown to you. I wish I could have been more bold, to give you truth before today. He would never have subjected you to the loneliness and rejection which I forced upon you."

"No, but he would have understood the things you did," Jebediah whispered. "And-had he been you, I think he might have done the same."

"Perhaps."

A moment of thoughtful silence, mutually shared, and then Jebediah drew breath and spoke again.

"A year and more ago, I made you an offer, Camber-Alister," he breathed, hardly daring to speak aloud in the solemnity of the moment. "I did not know you fully then, though I thought I did, but I offered you my help, to ease the burden which you carried. You refused me. And now I find I know you even less than I did then. But please do not refuse me again. Let me help."

For an instant, Camber searched the sorrowing eyes -bloodshot now, with their former weeping-reading the trust and loyalty which he had always known was there for Alister, and which he had sensed he might find for himself but had never dared to verify, for fear of losing all. As he stretched out his arm, to lay his right hand on Jebediah's open palm, he let first Alister and then Camber flow out and mingle with the timidly offered Jebediah, gasping with the sheer delight which the unexpected three-way interaction evoked.

He had not realized the fullness of the Alister part of him before this very instant, feeling it interact with the mind of the man who had known and loved Alister Cullen perhaps better than any other living person. Jebediah, too, was astonished at the contact, his own memories and experiences of Alister merging and fusing with the pseudo-Alister almost as if a physical presence held that essence and urged its partic.i.p.ation in this strange sharing which neither Jebediah nor Camber had dreamed possible.

They sat there, wrists clasped across the s.p.a.ce between them, for nearly an hour, delighting in their mutual discoveries, sorrowing at their disappointments, even laughing aloud from time to time as some new facet of sharing fell beneath their scrutiny. Then finally they stirred, Camber to resume the shape of the man he now understood far, far better than he had ever dreamed possible, and Jebediah to watch in awed fascination as a new friend took back the form of an older one who was not totally lost after all.

CHAPTER twenty four.

For neither at any time used we flattering words, as ye know, nor a cloak of covetousness; G.o.d is witness: nor of men sought we glory.

-I Thessalonians 2:5-6 The tale of Camber's sainting was not finished, much to Camber's distaste. The Council of Bishops, when it reconvened early the next morning in the castle's great hall, showed every sign of being as awful as Camber had feared. A festival atmosphere prevailed. He even overheard one monk remark to another that today's testimony would probably be almost boring, the question no longer being whether sanct.i.ty should be accorded Camber of Culdi, but to what degree!

That bothered him, as he and Joram wound their way among the milling clerics and tried to reach their seats, though he had forced himself to accept the probability that canonization was now a foregone conclusion. He had consoled himself by ensuring that, if it was inevitable, further testimony by those who knew the truth could not be turned in such a way as to reveal the secret they were preserving at such cost. His princ.i.p.als, now including Jebediah, had all been briefed as thoroughly as he dared the night before. Unless something totally unexpected happened, the hearing would progress to the logical conclusion which Queron and the Servants of Saint Camber had planned all along.

Compared to the day before, he felt almost safe-at least from discovery by mortal agents involved in the situation. Immortal agents were quite another story; he still had not resolved where he might stand with his Creator as a consequence of what he was allowing to be done.

As he took his seat, he saw Jebediah come onto the dais with Jaffray's chamberlain, apparently arguing over the arrangement of additional stools for clarks who would take down the proceedings. He could not hear what they were saying, but after a few minutes Archbishop Oriss got up from his chair to the right of the dais-he having been relegated to a lower position to accommodate the king's throne-and suddenly there was no argument.

The chamberlain bowed, Jebediah bowed, and the stools were returned to the places they had occupied before the argument started. Jebediah, with a shrug and a quick glance in Camber's direction, melted back into the crowd still milling in the center of the hall and disappeared through a side door, through which the king would shortly enter.

Many seemed to take their cues from that, moving noisily into the three rows of chairs along each side of the hall and beginning to settle in their places. In the packed gallery above the far end of the hall, Camber thought he saw a flash of Rhys's red hair, but he could not be certain.

He was not given time to ponder further, though, for at that moment, Bishop Eustace slipped into place beside him with a hearty greeting. The jocular Eustace could not fail to notice his colleague's subdued response, and, on pursuing the matter, learned that his distinguished fellow had spent much of the previous night in prayer for guidance-which was true, if not in precisely the sense that Eustace understood it- and had concluded that he should accede to the will of the majority of the Council of Bishops when it came to the vote, counting himself too personally involved, however indirectly, to pa.s.s objective judgment. Eustace, human that he was, could hardly be faulted for not catching all the shades' of Camber's meaning and thinking he was only tired.

Nor was Eustace content to stop at that. Garrulous as ever, he noted that even Joram seemed to have gained a certain resignation with his recovery from the previous afternoon's ordeal. Of course, Eustace was quick to point out that Joram's sister and brother-in-law, present, so he understood, in the gallery with the queen and various other of the n.o.bility, could hardly be expected to appear as resigned as Joram, not having had the benefit of witnessing the previous day's remarkable testimony. But if today was anything like yesterday, Eustace had no doubt that they, too, would soon be convinced of the sanct.i.ty of Camber MacRorie.

Eustace was. So were at least three of his esteemed colleagues. Surely Evaine MacRorie Thuryn, devoted daughter of the late earl, as everyone knew, could not for long deny her father's saintliness in the face of such conclusive evidence; and all knew of the Healer Rhys Thuryn's lifelong loyalty to the man who had become his father-in-law. Why, the queen herself had been Camber's ward before her marriage to the king. How could any of them doubt that Camber had been a very holy man?

A trumpet fanfare silenced further verbal speculation, much to Camber's unqualified relief, and then king and primate-archbishop were simultaneously entering from opposite sides of the hall to the chanting of a spirited Te Deum. As all rose to bow, the two pa.s.sed to the dais with their several attendants, the king in a robe of somber but formally cut forest green, the state crown of leaves and crosses gleaming on his white-winged raven head.

Jaffray, not to be outdone, had donned full ecclesiasticals for today's session, down to the jeweled cope and miter, where the day before he had been content with the purple and simple skullcap of any other bishop.

The point was not lost on the a.s.sembled company as the two men sat, Cinhil a trifle before the archbishop. Though this was Cinhil's hall, it was still Jaffray's court. As Primate of All Gwynedd, Archbishop Jaffray of Valoret held total precedence in matters spiritual.

The morning's business progressed smoothly enough at first. Following Jaffray's introduction and a brief summary of what had been established the day before, Queron presented two of his brother Servants of Saint Camber who had accompanied him on a certain visit to Camber's tomb at Caerrorie and had them relate their findings-or lack of findings-to a spellbound court.

The two men told a chilling story: how they, with Queron, had secretly gained entry to the MacRorie family chapel one dark, moonless night the previous summer and stolen into the crypt where lay the tomb of their revered master. Queron had countered the standard Deryni-set spells customarily placed on a Deryni grave to protect it from grave robbers, and then the three of them had pried open the door to the tomb.

But when they had lifted the lid of the sarcophagus and held their torches close, fully expecting to see the lead-wrapped coffin of the Earl of Culdi-there was nothing there! The tomb was empty!

The audience breathed sighs of wonder, as if that information had never been explored the day before, so caught up were they in the unfolding story. Queron noticed the effect, but did not dwell upon it, turning instead to a scholarly examination of his two witnesses: How did they know that Camber had ever been in the tomb? Perhaps the tomb had always been empty.

But, no, one of the witnesses reminded him-one Charles, who had been a baker in the village below Caerrorie at the time of Camber's death. He had seen the burial with his own eyes, the day Camber's body came home from Valoret. Of course the tomb had been occupied.

Further, neither of the men could explain how the body might have been removed by any human agency-human here being taken to mean mortal, as opposed to supernatural. Nor could they discern any motive for some secret removal by Father Joram MacRorie, as the young priest had claimed. On the contrary, the same Charles had seen Father Joram and the Lord Rhys come to visit the tomb several months ago, he having been sent by his brethren to watch for any sign that someone knew the body was no longer there. Why, after so long, should Joram and Rhys come disguised to look at the tomb, if they had known that the tomb was empty as Joram claimed? Charles could only conclude that Joram and Rhys had not known.

On that point, Queron rested this portion of his argument, there being no way to determine whether Charles's subjective judgment had or had not been valid. Rhys, having been thoroughly briefed by Camber when he attended Joram the night before, denied any knowledge of the removal of Camber's body by Joram or anyone else, deriving moral justification from the fact that they had not moved Camber's body, but Alister's. His denial also tallied with Joram's implication that he had worked alone, at his father's command, such a request obviously having been made before Rhys had become a member of the immediate family.

Queron even questioned the expectant Evaine on the matter, feeling that perhaps Camber might have confided something of his burial wishes to her, as well as to Joram.

But of course, Camber had not; and Evaine could truthfully say that she had neither moved nor known of moving her father's body. Since the Lady Evaine had no connection with any of the other evidence which Queron proposed to present, and since she was obviously in a delicate condition, Queron permitted her to retire once more. Camber could not help a small smile of satisfaction, deftly shielded behind one hand ostensibly raised to cover a yawn, as Evaine curtsied innocently and made her way back to the gallery with the studied gravity so often exhibited by very pregnant ladies. Had Queron only known her true part in the matter of "Saint Camber," he would not have been so quick to be so gracious.

All of this took half the morning; and those who had not been present the day before and seen the arcane presentations of evidence were beginning to fidget with boredom by the time Queron had finished his cross-examination regarding the disappearance of Camber's body. But the next presentation brought evidence new to all the observers save those who did not wish to talk about it. From a door by the left-hand fireplace entered at Queron's summons one Lord Dualta Jarriot, his garb proclaiming him a Knight of the Order of Saint Michael.

Dualta approached the thrones stolidly, bowing with formal correctness to Cinhil before kneeling to kiss the archbishop's ring. He avoided the king's gaze, being very much aware that he was disobeying Cinhil's direct command by coming here to testify and praying that Queron could indeed protect him from the king's wrath when it was all over. Naturally, Cinhil dared do nothing to stop him now.

Queron did not employ any Deryni pyrotechnics in his initial examination of Dualta, confining himself to a normal question-and-answer format while he established Dualta's ident.i.ty and his connection with the incident about to be related. Because of the number of other witnesses who had been present, Queron admitted that he was unable to repeat his energy-draining technique of the day before and show what Dualta had seen; but he did reveal that he had, with Dualta's consent, earlier Truth-Read Dualta's testimony and found the young knight to be telling the literal truth.

But he would let Dualta tell his story. The young man was not Deryni, but he did have remarkable recall, having been trained to the Michaeline military discipline which was as legendary in its field as Gabrilite training was to Deryni. Queron was certain that the court would find Lord Dualta's testimony of interest. So was Camber.

The hall grew hushed as Dualta related the events leading to his "miracle": how he had entered his vicar general's chamber with an unnamed companion to find Cullen unconscious, apparently striving against some overwhelming force which seemed to be affecting everyone in the room.

Camber noted with curiosity that Dualta, too, had refrained from mentioning Cinhil by name as yet. It could only mean that Queron was saving Cinhil's ident.i.ty as a tour de force; for there was no way that this testimony could be completed without revealing the unnamed observer.

Rhys and Joram had tried to ease the stricken man's distress, Dualta continued, but it was obvious that what fought for him was far stronger than they. Lord Rhys had hinted that it was some vestige of the evil Ariella, which had been continuing to threaten Cullen ever since he had defeated her that night at Iomaire.

Then Cullen had stopped breathing, his face slowly going blue as Rhys and a horrified Joram lowered his body to the floor and began to breathe for him, trying to keep him alive.

And as Dualta told his tale, it was as if he had slipped back to that time somewhat the way that Guaire had, though without the apparent aid of Queron or any other agent, now recalling his own part as though the struggling victim again lay before him in the hall which had become no longer hall but bishop's bedchamber in his mind's eye.

"O G.o.d, if Camber were only here!" Dualta cried, falling to his knees and reaching out his hands in supplication. "O G.o.d! Camber could save the vicar general!"

For a few seconds, Dualta knelt there as though transfixed, his audience frozen with him in antic.i.p.ation and gasping as his expression changed from despair to awed wonder.

Then Dualta was describing what he had seen in a low, trembling voice, how Cullen's face had misted over for just an instant and then begun to shift, had seemed to change to the face of Camber MacRorie, as if the one had been superimposed over the other!

The apparition had not lasted long, Dualta finally told them. Rhys, his hands on Cullen's chest, had seemed least affected by what had happened, seemingly accepting the intervention as an a.s.sistance so that he could resume his healing work on his patient. As the Healer had closed his eyes and bowed his head, apparently entering his healing trance, the image had faded, the mist dispelled, and the familiar features of Alister Cullen rea.s.serted themselves. Joram, stonily observant while the apparition occurred, had collapsed with his face in his hands and wept when it was all over.

Dualta's face was whiter than the belt he wore, and his eyes still stared at a spot on the floor before him, where some who watched could almost fancy that they also saw what he still saw in the eyes of his own memory. His hands hung in the air, as if he gripped the arm of someone else kneeling there beside him. He turned his head slightly, as if in response to what that person had said, then swallowed and released his hold on air.

"The Lord's Name be praised!" he whispered fervently, crossing himself and then clasping his hands in reverence. "He sent the blessed Camber to help us!" he cried. "The Lord sent Camber to save His servant Alister!"

As he bowed his head in thanksgiving, Queron moved quietly beside him and laid a hand on his shoulder, bending to speak a few words in his ear which the spellbound audience could not hear. In a few seconds, Dualta raised his head and looked at Queron, then at the king, the archbishop, the watching audience. He flashed a nervous, self-conscious ghost of a smile as he got to his feet with Queron's aid.