The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [27]
"Keane!" he shouted in delight, stepping forward to clasp the young mage around the shoulders with his good arm and hand.
"Your Majesty… may I present Parell Hyath, Exalted Inquisitor of Helm!"
The patriarch stepped out of the chariot with remarkable agility for a man of his bulk and bowed deeply to the king. If Tristan felt any surprise at the appearance of a priest other than Bakar Dalsoritan, he gave no indication, instead warmly welcoming the huge cleric. The High King graciously apologized for the humble nature of Caer Corwell's surroundings, at the same time announcing that he held a real affection for this, his boyhood home.
By the time they concluded the formalities, the flaming chariot had faded into nothingness. Robyn stood silent, back from the throng that had started to gather. She knew of Helm's worship, knew that this cleric could not be an evil man and still remain true to his faith, yet she couldn't dispel a nagging sense of unease. After all, life was much more than a simple matter of good and evil struggling for prominence. The central tenet of her own faith remained the Balance, the equilibrium of all things. She couldn't bring herself to trust this man who, she knew, would be dedicated to toppling that equilibrium toward his own desires.
Robyn saw her daughter approach the mage and began to feel more comfortable as the king led the cleric toward the widespread doors of the keep.
"Welcome home," Alicia said to Keane as the priest and king entered the great hall. "That was quite an entrance!"
"It was quite a journey," Keane agreed with a wry grin. "Somehow it's a lot more nerve-racking to fly over an ocean than it is to teleport past it. Anyway, I'm glad I've got solid ground under my feet again."
"So am I," the princess said quietly, but with enough meaning to draw her mother's attention. Keane, too, heard the hidden warmth in the words. He looked at the princess sharply, as if he wanted to say something. Instead, he allowed her to take his arm and lead him toward the castle.
"A moment, please," Robyn said as they passed. She had to know something. "Bakar Dalsoritan…?"
The shadow on Keane's face answered her question before he spoke. "He's… dead-murdered, as it happened, before I had a chance to speak with him. I'm sorry, my queen. I know he tutored you well and wisely."
Nodding absently, Robyn felt the news flow right through her. She wasn't surprised, had even prepared herself subconsciously to hear this. Instead, her mind focused on questions and answers.
"That's terrible!" Alicia exclaimed, shaking her head sadly. "I haven't seem him since I was a little girl, but he always seemed like a nice man. How did it happen?"
"There'll be time for details later," Robyn interjected, knowing that the story would do little to soothe her apprehensions. "Let's go inside with your father."
They found the king and the inquisitor engaged in a frank discussion beside the sweeping fieldstone hearth of the keep. No fire glowed there now during the heat of summer, but it was still a place where Tristan liked to go for discussion and contemplation. Attendants and servants stood some distance back in the great hall, allowing the two men their privacy.
"Payment will be no problem," the High King was saying as the trio approached. "Of course, my treasury's in Callidyrr. If necessary, we can journey there beforehand…" His tone clearly indicated that he hoped it was not necessary.
"No need," said the patriarch graciously. He stood and turned to face Keane and the two women. "Incidentally, your young ambassador here did a splendid job of recruitment. I set aside my other affairs only by dint of his eloquent persuasion."
"He's a man I'd trust with my life-or my family's," Tristan agreed warmly. "Well done, Keane."
"Thank you, Sire."
"Now then, to this business." The king raised his arm, showing the cleric the wound at his wrist. The cut had healed cleanly, with skin fully grown over