Childe Morgan by Katherine Kurtz Page B

hand. “Gracious, did you stab yourself?”
    Somewhat indignantly, the boy pulled back his hand and sucked briefly at a finger, then reached for the same flower again.
    â€œAlaric, you just saw that that one has thorns,” his mother said reasonably. “How about this peony? See what a fluffy head it has?”
    â€œNo, want the rose!” the boy said firmly, though his touch was more careful as he picked it up. “Saint Michael likes roses! The thorns are sharp like his sword!”
    â€œI can’t argue that,” Alyce murmured, as he took off at a run toward the statue of the saint. “Zoë, did we just hear what I think we heard?”
    â€œThat he made the connection between the sharpness of swords and of rose thorns?” Zoë answered. “I believe he did. And not yet three.”
    Alyce only rolled her eyes heavenward as she knelt down beside the graves of her father and brother, taking flowers from the basket. “Dear God, what we both have to look forward to,” she murmured, and laid a handful of lavender and rosemary on the grave of Keryell of Lendour. “Here’s rosemary for remembrance, Papa,” she said. “And roses from your grandson, who already knows about sharp thorns and sharp swords.” She sighed as she laid three white roses amid the fragrant herbs. “I wish you could have known him.”
    As she bowed her head in a brief prayer, Zoë quietly took more flowers from the basket and laid them on Ahern’s grave.
    â€œDear Ahern,” she whispered. “Wish me joy, dear heart.”

Chapter 7
    â€œWithout counsel purposes are disappointed:
but in the multitude of counsellors they are established.”
    â€”PROVERBS 15:22
    T HEY left for Coroth two days later, arriving just before Midsummer. Jovett accompanied them, to continue learning his new duties as Kenneth’s official liaison.
    A ducal honor guard met them in the long, slanting light of late afternoon as they wound their way down from the foothills above the city, and escorted them into the city through the St. Matthew Gate. From there, growing crowds watched them ride past the cathedral and on up to the castle itself, increasingly enthusiastic as the identity of the party became known.
    It had been seven years since Alyce’s last visit to Coroth: a time remembered with wistful sadness, since it had been there that she bore her sister’s body for burial, laying her to rest among the remains of most of Corwyn’s past dukes and ducal wives. Zoë had accompanied her on that journey; Kenneth had been present in the king’s party, but with no inkling that he would one day be the father of Corwyn’s heir. Now Lendour’s banner rode beside that of Corwyn, announcing the arrival both of Lendour’s new lord, who was also one of Corwyn’s regents, and of Corwyn’s young heir. Alaric perched happily on the saddle in front of his father, smiling and waving in response to the crowd.
    By the time they rode into the castle yard, most of the regents of Corwyn had gathered on the great hall steps to greet them. Sir James of Tendal, the hereditary chancellor, welcomed them on behalf of his fellow regents and made perfunctory introductions. All of the names were familiar, from years of correspondence with the regents; now faces could be attached to some of those names. The most memorable was Sir Laurenz Udaut, whose resemblance to his son Trevor was unmistakable. It was he who, with his son, conducted the guests to their apartments and offered them refreshment. Since no formal arrangements had been set for the evening of their arrival, the weary newcomers then retired early, to ready themselves for business in the morning.
    The next morning was time for Kenneth to make the more formal acquaintance of the regents of Corwyn. A middle-aged courtier identifying himself as Sir Crescence de Naverie conducted Kenneth and his immediate family down to the