Part 19 (1/2)

There was still the sense of loss, and his throat still ached from the continual constriction it had suffered for the past eight days since Camber's death. But he felt strangely at peace.

He wondered idly whether Father Cullen had put something in the wine to make him feel so calm.

He was mulling that idea around, vaguely aware that he seemed to be thinking somewhat more slowly than usual, when he suddenly began to sense that something in the room had changed. A cold draft stirred his hair, and he started to huddle down under the furs to escape it. But then it suddenly struck him that the draft had come from the door, and that someone else was in the room.

He rolled over and opened his eyes, expecting to see Brother Johannes or Father Cullen; but Johannes snored softly in his chair beside the fire. And somehow he knew that he would not see Father Cullen as he turned his head toward the door.

What in-?

He blinked, thinking that perhaps his eyes were playing tricks on him, then stared in amazement as a tall, light-shrouded figure began to move slowly toward him. He was not afraid, though the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he should be. He was feeling rather a sense of expectation-and that, too, seemed odd. He could not see the figure's face-it wore a long gray cloak, the hood drawn close about the head. A silvery glow extended around the whole figure, wispy, amorphous.

Childhood fantasies swept through his mind then, and the thought occurred to him that this could very well be a ghost-it certainly did not appear to be of this world. He started to sit up straight at that-then froze halfway up, leaning on one elbow, as he saw the face.

”Camber!” he breathed, awe wiping his face of all other emotions.

The figure came a few steps closer, then stopped. The gray hood fell back from the well- remembered silver-gilt hair. The face was serene and untroubled, the pale eyes glowing with an intensity which Guaire could not remember having seen before.

”Don't be afraid,” the figure said, in a voice astonis.h.i.+ngly familiar. ”I return but for a moment, to ease your grief and to a.s.sure you that I am at peace where I now dwell.”

Guaire swallowed and nodded, but could not quite find the courage to reply.

”I have seen your sorrow these past days,” the figure continued, ”and I am saddened that you should mourn so much for me.”

”But-I miss you, Lord,” Guaire managed to whisper. ”There was so much to do-and now it will go undone.”

The figure smiled, and to Guaire it was as though the sun shone in the darkened chamber.

”There are others who will do it, Guaire. You, if you only will.”

”I?”.

Guaire finished sitting up and stared at the apparition in disbelief.

”But how can that be, Lord? I am only a human. I have not the resources, the talent. You were the heart of the Restoration. Now, with you gone, the king will endure unchecked. I fear him, Lord.”

”Pity him, Guaire. Do not fear him. And help those who remain to carry on our work: Joram, and Rhys, my daughter, Evaine-my grandsons, when they are older. And Alister Cullen, who brought you here. He, most of all, has need of your support, if you will only give it.”

”Father Alister? But he is so gruff, and sure of himself. How could I possibly help him?”

”He is not so self-sufficient as he would have men think,” the apparition replied, the familiar smile playing about his lips. ”Gruff he may be, and sometimes far too stubborn for his own good. But he, even more than my children, will miss that companions.h.i.+p we used to share. Will you help him, Guaire? Will you serve him as you served me?”

Guaire dropped his gaze to the figure's feet, which he could not see beneath the voluminous cloak, then glanced up shyly at the s.h.i.+ning face once more.

”I could truly help him?”

”You could.”

”To serve him, as I served you?”

”He is more than worthy, Guaire. And too proud to ask you for your help.”

Guaire swallowed.

”Very well, Lord. I will do it. And I will keep your memory alive, I swear it!”

The figure smiled. ”My memory is not important. The work we began is. Help Alister.

Help the king. And be a.s.sured that I shall be with you, even when you are least aware. I count on you to carry out my work.”

”I will, Lord.”

The figure turned to go, and Guaire's eyes grew round.

”No! Wait, Lord! Do not leave me yet!”

The figure paused to gaze at him in compa.s.sion.

”I may not stay, my son. Nor may I come to you again. Be at peace.”

Guaire stared at him in despair, then slid out of the sleeping furs and knelt with hands upraised.

”Then leave me with your blessing, Lord. Please! Do not deny me this!”

The figure's face became more serious, and then a graceful hand was emerging from the folds of the cloak to trace the sign of blessing. Guaire bowed his head.

”Benedicat te omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius, et Spiritus Sanctus.”

”Amen,” Guaire breathed.

And for an instant, as a hand touched lightly on his hair, his senses reeled.

But when he raised his head and opened his eyes, the figure was gone, the air dark and empty where before there had been light.

Guaire gasped and scrambled to his feet, staggering unsteadily to where the figure had been. For a moment he stood there as one dumb, holding himself up against the door frame, silently reliving what he had just seen-or thought he had seen. Then he was struck by a soaring sense of joy and jubilation.

Camber had come back to him! Abruptly, he wanted to run through the corridors of the archbishop's palace, shouting to wake the dead, that Camber had returned, if only for a little while-and that the great Deryni Lord had charged him, Guaire of Arliss, a humble human of very little worth, with the awesome responsibility of carrying out the great man's work!

But he could not do that. Camber had judged wisely, at least in this, and the drugs which Guaire had ingested would not permit him to do anything that decisive. Already, the details of the encounter were fading, transforming themselves into a blurrier, dreamlike set of memories far more in keeping with what the actual occurrence was supposed to have been.

No, he could not announce his wonder to the world. As Guaire mulled the problem in his sluggishly functioning mind, he realized that what had happened was far too precious to share with just anyone. Besides, who would believe him?

Not Brother Johannes. That pious and devoted monk had not even stirred while the miracle took place. If Guaire woke him and tried to explain, Johannes would say that it had been but a drug-induced dream. No, he could not share this treasure with Johannes.

Then Cullen. Of course! Father Cullen would understand. Father Cullen would have to believe him! After all, it was Cullen himself whom Camber had named as the one Guaire should serve. Surely Cullen had a right to know.

Joyfully, Guaire wrenched at the door, careening down the corridor toward Cullen's quarters.