Jessamy, meanwhile, continued her observations regarding Alyce, recalling her own preparations for the conception of Krispin, and gradually narrowed down a series of optimal target dates.
But Jessamy's health was fast failing. Alyce and the royal physicians nursed her, but there was little they could do besides ease her pain. By October, she was all but bedridden, and early in November asked for Seisyll Arilan.
«I'm told you wished to see me», he said quietly, pulling a stool closer to her bed, at her gesture. Her maid had withdrawn, and they were quite alone.
«I am dying, Seisyll», she murmured. «It may not be today, or even next week, but it will be sooner rather than later».
«I had heard that», he replied. «I am very sorry».
«So am I». She turned her face to gaze at the canopy above the bed.
«Seisyll, we have not always agreed — you and I. I understand, though I do not accept, the reasons that others felt obliged to dictate the course of my life. I have never understood why there was so much antipathy toward my father, but I accept that perhaps there are things I was not meant to understand».
When he said nothing, only lowering his eyes, she went on.
«But you must believe me when I tell you that I have tried to act only in ways that would honor my blood and the love I have come to bear for the House of Haldane».
She paused to cough, and Seisyll watched her in compassion.
«I wish to speak to you of Krispin», she whispered, when she had caught her breath. «He is gone now, so the telling of his tale cannot hurt him, but because of… other things that are in progress, you have a need to know. Take my hand, Seisyll».
As he did so, she closed her eyes and pulled back her shields, inviting rapport… and gave him the full reckoning of Krispin's begetting, the death of Sief, the deceptions thereafter… and now, the plans in train for Alyce de Corwyn, to repeat the king's mission, that another Deryni heir of his body should be conceived to become the protector of Gwynedd's future kings…
Suddenly, so much makes sense», Seisyll told the Camberian Council a few nights later, after leaving Jessamy in a coma from which she was not likely to emerge. «Much we had surmised, but we had imputed malice where there was none. Krispin MacAthan was, in fact, Krispin Haldane — and Sief’s death was unfortunate, but Donal did not set out to kill him. Had Sief not guessed the truth of the boy's paternity — we all know how jealous he was — all might have proceeded according to plan».
«That still does not answer the question of how the king happened to come by his rather extraordinary ability», Michon said. «Nor does it explain why Donal seems never to have exercised that power since killing Sief».
«No, and Jessamy declined to enlighten me on either point», Seisyll replied. «I was grateful enough that she chose to share what she did — and on her deathbed, in all likelihood».
«Could you not have slipped past her shields, in her weakened condition?» Vivienne muttered.
«Dear Vivienne, there are some scruples that even I will not set aside», Seisyll replied. «The source of the king's power is not nearly so important as the fact that he has it — and that he desires to get another child who will share those powers».
«What?» Barrett gasped, as the others merely gaped at Seisyll in astonishment.
«Whether we like it or not», Seisyll went on, «the notion of a Deryni protector for the Haldane princes was a good one. The matter of Haldane paternity for such a protector is a separate issue, and disturbs us mostly because we did not think of it, I suspect — and because that Haldane bloodline is an unknown quantity, proven dangerous because of what Donal Haldane was able to do to one of us. Sief would not have been an easy conquest».
«Definitely true», Oisín said with a grimace.
«That said, you should know that the king intends to repeat the experiment».
«Well, certainly not with Jessamy», Barrett said mildly.
«Sadly, no», Seisyll agreed. «But the stage is already set for a replanting of Haldane seed».
«In what field?» Oisín muttered.
«Alyce de Corwyn!» Michon declared.
«She is the only appropriate Deryni to whom he has access», Seisyll replied. «None of Jessamy's daughters would do, for various reasons».
«That would certainly explain why her husband has been kept so often abroad since their wedding», Oisín said. «Will the king have had her yet?»
«Not yet, so far as I can tell», Seisyll replied. «I have the impression that he is proceeding with great caution, since the deed must be carried out without the lady's knowledge or consent: an additional factor that will be different from his coupling with Jessamy.
«That makes it likely that he may dare to try it only once, lest her suspicions be aroused — or Sir Kenneth's. Hence, the timing will be critical. And regarding Kenneth — if anything, the king is closer to him than he was to Sief. It will be a betrayal — but one that the king is willing to accept, in the service of a greater cause. And hopefully, Kenneth will never know».
«Sief also was meant not to know», Dominy pointed out.
«But Kenneth is human, and can be controlled», Michon said. «Deceiving Alyce will be far more difficult a matter, even with the triggers Jessamy has given over to the king».
Khoren Vastouni slowly shook his head. «One must admire the audacity of the Haldanes», he said. «Can aught be done to facilitate this mating? For I would be interested, indeed, to see a child of Alyce de Corwyn and Donal Haldane».
«Once more, I fear we must sit back and merely observe», Seisyll replied. «With luck, we shall know soon enough».
But it would not come as soon as any of them had hoped, for Jessamy never emerged from her coma, and died shortly before Christmas. Knowledge that she was dying had put a damper on the king's plans in November, and the funeral aftermath and preparations for Twelfth Night and its attendant courts made a December liaison infeasible. It was not until late January that Donal Haldane felt ready to make his move — if ever he was to do it.
The night he finally chose, based on Jessamy's calculations and observations of the laundress she had employed, was one long in careful planning. It was a stormy night toward the end of January, with wind howling among the chimneys and snow piling high in the castle yard. Kenneth had returned two days earlier from a mission down to Desse, exhausted from his ride, and Donal had made certain that Alyce was kept late in the royal nursery that night, tending a feverish child — courtesy of a posset concocted to produce precisely that condition.
The king kept Kenneth very late the next night as well, plying him with drink and a carefully planted suggestion to ensure that he passed out immediately upon reaching his bed, with no inclination to even touch his wife.
On the third night, his hour come at last, the king had also made his preparations, this time with a sedative in the wine he, had had served at a supper shared by the pair at his own table, along with the queen. The ensuing drowsiness of both queen and aide had ensured an early night. Both now slept in their respective beds. Alyce had set her cup aside after only a sip or two, but now slept as well, curled in the curve of her husband's body.
Donal watched the pair for nearly an hour through a spy-hole in the paneling of their apartment — the one he had chosen especially, after their marriage — stretching forth his powers to confirm the depth of their sleep, until finally he summoned sufficient resolve to proceed.
He had prepared carefully, clothing himself, over his nightshirt, in a long dressing gown of goodly wool, lined with fur, for he had not known how long he might need to lurk in the passageway behind the paneling. Soft boots were on his feet, and a fur-lined cap on his head.
Senses finely attuned, he touched the stud that would let the hidden panel slide back soundlessly, slipping inside and closing it behind him. Softly he walked to Kenneth's side of the bed and lightly touched his temple, profoundly deepening his sleep. Jessamy had taught him how to do that, too. He then moved around to the other side, undoing the front of his robe as he went. Pulse racing, he was already aroused, from the simple daring of the deed he contemplated, but he knew he must first make certain she would not stir while he had his way with her.
Pulling back her side of the coverlet with one hand, he reached his hand to touch her as he had touched her husband, reaching for the controls set by her father so many years before and adjusted by Jessamy for the specific purpose of this night's work. Alyce gave a low moan, but did not stir as he gently shifted her onto her back. But when he started to turn back her nightdress, her eyes opened to gaze at him in shock.
«Sire?» she breathed.
Panic overtook him, and he seized her wrist and reached for the controls again, at the same time trying to pull his robe around him, a part of him unable to comprehend why Jessamy's trigger had not worked. His mind surged across the physical link thus formed, but very solid shields flared between them, and he could not get past.
Anger made his own powers stir more potently, coiling in that secret place behind his eyes, but she only scrambled to a sitting position, her wrist still clasped in his hand, her own powers like an impenetrable wall between them as she laid her other hand on the wrist of her sleeping husband — tried and failed to rouse him.
«How have you done this to him, and what did you intend to do to me?» she demanded.
Once again he tried to take her mind, again clashing against those adamantine shields, feeling the killing power start to stir, as it had with Sief, all those years ago — but abruptly he backed down, releasing her wrist as if it were a bar of red-hot iron. Killing her was the last thing he wished to do, even if it meant that there would now be no magical protector for his sons.
«God, forgive me, Alyce!» he breathed.
Burying his face in his hands, he slid to the floor beside the bed, elbows braced against its edge, and wept — for the dead Krispin, for Jessamy, also in her grave, and for the child who now would never be. She watched him in silence for several long moments, again checking the sleeping Kenneth, then shifted to lift his head into her lap, rocking him against her breast as he sobbed on and on — and gradually confessed all.
By the time he had mostly spent his tears, she had wept as well, and scrubbed her sleeve across her eyes as he lifted his head, reluctant to meet her gaze. She said nothing as he hauled himself back up off his knees and gingerly sat on the edge of the bed.