When they entered the torchlit yard again, Queron Kinevan was far easier to face.  He had gathered the entire complement of the abbey while the two of them were inside the shrine, and all knelt respectfully as the bishop appeared at the portico.

But Camber was no longer anxious at having to be among them.  After chatting amiably with several of the brothers and sisters, he pronounced a general blessing on the house and the work.  Then, with apparent reluctance, he requested that his party's horses be brought around, Guthrie and Caleb having returned.  Queron thanked the bishop for his visit, then himself held the stirrup so that Camber might mount.

Soon Camber and his son were on their way to Valoret once more, their road lit by torches and the ever-brightening moonlight and their number swelled by half a dozen monks whom Queron had insisted upon sending with them for their further safety.  They reached Valoret shortly after Compline.

The king was not yet abed.  His eldest page met them as soon as they had stepped into the great hall, before they could even divest themselves of their heavy travelling cloaks.  Cinhil was waiting for them in the private chapel adjoining his apartments, kneeling at a prie-dieu in heavy scarlet nightrobe and a fur-lined cap with lappets that covered his ears.  He raised his head and half-turned toward them as the page went out and closed the outer door.

"Alister!  It's about time!  Is Gregory -"

"He's well, Sire," Camber reassured him.  "Re be able to ride in a few days.  I gave him your message.  He had nothing to do with our delay."
"No?"

Camber let Joram take the damp cloak from his shoulders while he began peeling clammy gloves from fingers stiff with cold.

"Unfortunately, not.  We met Bishop Hubert's brother and sister-in-law on the way back, near Dolban.  Manfred, I believe, is his name.  I expect you'll be hearing from him far sooner than you would like."

"Why?"

"He and his lady wife apparently were harassed by a band of - ah - young Deryni nobles," Camber said tersely.  "Joram and I had encountered them ourselves, a short time earlier, but they cried off when they found out who we were."

Cinhil brought a fist down softly on the armrest of the prie-dieu and swore a mild oath.

"The blind fools!  How can I hold off reprisals against Deryni when Deryni themselves keep agitating the countryside?  God knows, we don't need another incident like Nyford.  Would you like to see one of your Michaeline houses burn next?  How about Grecotha?  Or Jaffray's Saint Neot's?  Or perhaps Valoret itself?"

Camber sighed and took a seat on a stool which Cinhil had indicated.  The king did not need to say more about Nyford.  The previous summer, rioting peasants led by a handful of disgruntled human lordlings had utterly destroyed Nyford town and slaughtered most of its inhabitants.  The spark which began it had been a senseless incident of irresponsibility not unlike that which had just occurred on the Dolban road.