Kelson, who had listened to the exchange of the two Deryni Lords with awe and only partial comprehension, cast a sidelong look at Morgan, then shuddered as he returned his attention to the priest. He wasn't sure he liked what was happening here, and he would be glad when it was over.
Duncan's breathing was even faster now, and droplets of cold sweat dotted his brow and the backs of his hands, even in the icy cold of the crypt. As the boy and Morgan watched, the features of the body beneath Duncan's hands began to waver, flicker, blur before their eyes. Duncan finally gasped and stiffened slightly, and hi the same instant, the features of the corpse stabilized into Brion's familiar face. Abruptly, Duncan removed his hands and staggered back from the casket, his face drawn and pale.
"Are you all right?" Morgan asked, reaching across the coffin to steady his kinsman.
Duncau nodded weakly and forced his breathing to regularize. "It was—bad, Alaric," the priest murmured. "He—wasn't entirely free, and the bond was powerful. As I released him, I felt him die. It was— unspeakable."
A shudder rippled through Duncan's form, and Morgan gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze, dropped his hand and blinked rapidly as his own vision blurred.
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Between them, the body of Brion slept peacefully now, the gentle grey eyes closed forever, the lips relaxed, the lines of tension which had been part of Brion's appearance for as long as Morgan could remember erased now in death.
Gently, Morgan reached down and removed the Eye of Rom which glittered balefully in Brion's right ear-lobe. He gazed into the depths of the stone for a long moment, then placed it securely away in his belt pouch.
The movement roused the stunned Kelson, who had watched dumbstruck, awed, horrified, throughout the shape changing. The boy reached down and touched his sire's hand one last time, and a muffled sob escaped his lips. But then he swallowed hard and looked up at Duncan beseechingly.
"Is he truly free now, Father Duncan?" he whispered, searching for some reassurance. "She won't be able to harm him any more, will she?"
Duncan shook his head. "He's free, my prince. You have my word on that. And no one can ever harm him again."
Kelson glanced down at his father again, then continued in a small voice. "Somehow, it doesn't seem right to take the Eye of Rom and leave nothing in return. Could we ... ?" His voice trailed off uncertainly, and Duncan nodded,
"How about this?" he asked, reaching deep into the pocket of his cassock and producing a small gilded crucifix.
Kelson smiled wanly and took the crucifix, placed it gently in his father's hands. "Thank you," he whispered, his eyes filling with unbidden tears. "I think he would have liked that."
As the boy turned away, shoulders convulsing silently, Morgan looked across at his cousin and raised one eyebrow in question. Duncan nodded, then
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sketched the sign of the cross over the body. Then he and Morgan eased the cover of the sarcophagus b^ck into place. Duncan snuffed out the additional candles they had lit and returned the candelabrum to its proper place. Then he and Morgan guided Kelson back out of the crypt and through the gate.
As the gate clicked shut behind them, Duncan stepped carefully over to where Rogier still slumped against the wall, and touched his forehead. Immediately, Rogier stood up, still under control, and Duncan replaced the man's sword in its sheath. Another light touch sent the man on his way, and Duncan rejoined his comrades. It was time to return to the study.
Duncan opened the compartment where he had hidden the Ring of Fire and other elements of the power ritual and transferred them to the table in the center of the study. As he took his seat beside Kelson, Morgan went to Duncan's desk and rummaged in several shallow drawers until he found what he was looking for—a small surgical kit in a leather case. Returning to the table, he opened the kit and spread its contents on the tabletop, then dug in his belt pouch until he found the Eye of Rom.
Kelson eyed Morgan apprehensively, then gestured toward the surgical instruments with his chin. "What're you going to do with those?"
"Why, I'm going to pierce your ear/' Morgan replied good-naturedly. He opened a small bottle of pale greenish liquid and dampened a scrap of cotton wool. Then he took the Eye of Rom and wiped it carefully on all surfaces, being especially careful to cleanse the gold wire which would go through Kelson's earlobe.
"Duncan, would you read me the first two stanzas of the ritual verse? I want to be sure I'm doing this right." He took a silver needle from the kit and began wiping it as Duncan read.
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"When shall the Son deflect the running tide? A Spokesman of the Infinite must guide The Dark Protector's hand to shed the blood Which lights the Eye of Rom at Eventide.
Same blood must swiftly feed the Ring of Fire. But, careful, lest ye rouse the Demon's Ire. If soon thy hand despoil the virgin band, Just retribution damns what ye desire."
Morgan nodded and put the needle down on the table, wrapped in a piece of protective cotton. "Good. With you looking on, I pierce Kelson's ear and let the blood touch the Eye of Rom, which activates that. Then we touch the same blood to the Ring of Fire, being careful not to touch the Ring with our bare-hands. That should be simple enough."
Duncan got up and stood beside Kelson's chair. "Alt right. What do you want me to do besides watch?"
Morgan moved his chair closer to Kelson's arid picked up another piece of cotton wool, again moistening it with the greenish liquid. "Just hold his head so it doesn't move," he said, smiling reassuringly at Kelson, "We don't want a lopsided hole in his ear."
Kelson smiled weakly, but he said nothing as he took the Ring of Fire in his hands, being careful not to let his skin come into contact with the bare metal or stones. The deep garnet-red gems glittered darkly from their nest of white silk, mirroring the dark glitter from the Eye of Rom on the table before him.
As Duncan's cool hands steadied his head on either side, Kelson felt a cold sensation on his right earlobe as Morgan swabbed the area with the greenish liquid. There was a pause as he sensed Morgan positioning the needle; then the slight popping sound of the skin being pierced, once going in, once coming out the other side. There was no pain.
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Morgan exhaled softly and bent to look more closely at his handiwork. The thrust had been sure; the needle was positioned hi precisely the right place. With a deft movement, he removed the needle and wiped the earlobe a second time, then watched a small drop of blood well out at entry and exit. He picked up the Eye of Rom hi its insulating lint and touched the stone to the front droplet of blood, then held it down where Kelson could see it.
As all three watched, the dark stone in the earring took on a new appearance. Where the smooth ruby had glowed with a cold and smoky fire before, now it warmed, cleared, glowed with an inner light of its own, the way Morgan remembered it when Brion had worn it
As soon as the Eye of Rom had made this strange transformation, Morgan motioned Kelson to hold out the Ring of Fire. He touched it with the bloody Eye of Rom, and true to its name, the Ring of Fire began likewise to glow with a deep garnet radiance which permeated each of the brilliant cut stones.
Morgan breathed a sigh, then wiped Kelson's earlobe again and inserted the Eye of Rom. With the touch ta the Ring of Fire, the huge ruby had given up all its blood. Now it glowed darkly in Kelson's ear, tangible sign of the power to come, first fulfillment of the ritual verse.
Duncan took the glowing Ring of Fire from Kelson's hands and wrapped it securely in its silken shroud. It would not be used again until tomorrow at the coronation, so Duncan took it quickly to his security vault and locked it up. Returning to the table, he found Kelson fingering the velvet-covered box which housed the Crimson Lion.
Morgan spread the ritual verse out on the table once more and scanned the third stanza.
"How do we get this open, Morgan?" the boy asked,
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shaking the box gently and listening for some telltale rattle which might give them a clue.
As the box neared his ear, it began emitting a low, musical hum, which ceased when Kelson lowered it in surprise.
Duncan leaned closer, then spoke. "Do that again, Kelson."
"Do what?"
"Shake the box gently."
Kelson shook the box as he was bidden, this time a bit more gingerly. But he did not hold it as near his head as the previous time. Morgan noticed the fact.
"Bring it closer to the Eye of Rom, Kelson," he suggested.
Kelson did, and the hum resumed.
"Now touch the box to the earring," Morgan ordered.
Kelson complied, and there was a soft, musical click as the lid of the box sprang open a crack. Lowering the box, he raised the lid the remainder of the way; and there was the Crimson Lion. All three looked at the open box in awe.
The Crimson Lion was not really crimson. That was a misnomer coined many years ago by some long-forgotten cataloguer of royal gems. The man had gotten his terminology twisted, and the name had stuck.
In reality, though, the Crimson Lion was the Hal-dane arms: a golden lion rampant guardant on a crimson enamel background, a massive brooch the size of a man's fist, secured with a heavy clasp at the back. Gold-etched scrollwork traced the deeply carved edges of the piece—the work, again, of the fine craftsmen of the Concaradine.
As Kelson carefully lifted the brooch from its bed of black velvet, Duncan sat down again and pulled the parchment of the ritual verse before him.
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"Now that the Eye of Rom can see the light, Release the Crimson Lion in the night. With sinister hand unflinching, Lion's Tooth Must pierce the flesh and make the Power right."
Kelson turned the brooch over and over, then held out his left hand. " 'With sinister hand unflinching ...',! understand that part, but . . .** He placed the brooch on the table. "Look, Morgan. The Gwynedd Lion is rampant guardant. It faces toward us."
Morgan looked puzzled. "So?"
"Don't you understand?" Kelson continued. "Rampant guardant is the one heraldic configuration where the lion faces outward, toward the viewer. And that means the Gwynedd Lion has no tooth!'*
Morgan frowned and picked up the brooch. ''No tooth? But that's impossible. If there's no tooth, there's no ritual. And if there's no ritual. ..."
Kelson gingerly touched the brooch, then looked unseeing at the polished tabletop. There was no need for Morgan to complete his sentence, for Kelson already knew the answer. And the enunciation of that answer chilled him worse than anything he had ever known. For there was only one way to complete the sentence: if there was no ritual, he would die.
CHAPTER NINE
n the unknown lies terror, and in the night, deceit.
No TOOTH on the Lion of Gwynedd! No tooth on the Crimson Lion!
Duncan reached for the brooch, took it in his two hands, turned it over and over in his fingers as he mulled over the seeming inconsistency.
Somewhere—he did not remember where; perhaps it had been one of those obscure and highly technical treatises on the ancient magic that he had read many years ago—somewhere, he seemed to recall something about verses of this sort, some detail about double meanings, figures of speech, standard requisites for—yes!
Turning the brooch over, he lightly fingered the clasp of the ornament, his eyes not focused on it as he murmured, "Yes, of course. There is always the obstacle, the barrier, the need for bravery."
Morgan stood sJowly, his face dark with suspicion, as he, too, realized the meaning of the verse.
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"The clasp is the Lion's tooth?" he whispered chillingly.
Duncan's gaze flickered back to the present.
"Yes."
Kelson stood and reached across the table to run his_ fingertip along the three inches of chill, gleaming gold. He swallowed.
"And it is this which must pierce my hand?"
Duncan nodded impassively. "It seems this is the true key, Kelson. Everything before was but preparation for this event, and all else is postscript. Also, it must be done by you alone. We can prepare the way for you, we can stand by you, guard you afterwards. But this you must do yourself. Do you understand?"
Kelson was silent for a long moment. Then he nodded slowly. "I understand," he said very quietly. "I'll do whatever is necessary." His voice caught. "I—I'd like to think about it for a bit though—jf there's time...."
He looked up at Duncan with a frightened, beseeching look in his wide grey eyes, a bpy again, and Dun-can nodded.
"Of course, my prince," he replied gently, rising and catching Morgan's eye as he moved toward the door. "Take as long as you need. Alaric will help me to vest for the ceremony."
As soon as he and Morgan had left the room, Dun-can closed the door securely and motioned for Morgan to follow him down the short corridor. When they reached the darkened sacristy, Duncan glanced briefly through the peephole to satisfy himself that there was no one there, then struck a light and leaned both hands against a storage cabinet, his back to Morgan.
"There's no real preparation on our part, Alaric," he finally said. "The boy needed a few minutes to collect his wits. I hope we're doing the right thing."
Morgan began pacing the floor energetically, his hands clasping and unclasping with nervous energy.
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"So do I. Frankly, I'm getting more uneasy as the night progresses. I didn't tell you what happened just before we came here, did I?"
Duncan looked up sharply.
"Before I tell you," Morgan continued before Dun-can could speak, "let me ask you a question. Where are you planning to finish tonight's business—the Lion brooch? In the study?"
"I was planning to use the secret chapel behind it," Duncan replied cautiously. "Why do you ask?"
Morgan pursed his lips. "That chapel was once sacred to Saint Camber, wasn't it?"
"Among others," Duncan nodded warily. "Saint Camber was the patron of Deryni magic; you know that. What does that have to do with what happened? Get to the point."
"All right, I will," Morgan said. He took a deep breath, as though reluctant to finish what he had started. "Duncan, would you believe me if I told you I had a vision?"
"Go on," Duncan replied, listening carefully.
Morgan sighed. "Before we came here, I left Kelson asleep under Ward protection so I could go down to Brion's library to look through his books and papers. I thought I might find some clue to help us unravel the ritual verse—perhaps even some of the notes he used in preparing it.
"Well, for a long while, I didn't find anything, so I used the Thuryn technique, hoping I might be able to pick up enough residual energy to give me an idea where to look next. I was using my gryphon seal as a point of focus."
He held up his left hand, let it fall to his side again as he searched for the right words. "I remember, I had my eyes closed, and suddenly I seemed to see the face of a tall, cowled man, surrounded by darkness. At the same time, there was a distinct impression of reassur-
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ance—and urgency. I opened my eyes, but the instant of vision was past. There was no one else in the room."
"Anything else?" Duncan asked, his eyes narrowed in concentration.
Morgan glanced at the floor. "I decided to flip through the books once more, just on the chance that I'd overlooked something important. The first volume I picked up was Talbot's Lives of the Saints, an old copy, and it fell open in my hands to—oh, my Godl I'd forgotten all about it!"
Duncan watched mystified as Morgan began searching furiously through all of his pockets.
"There was a piece of parchment marking this place in the book," Morgan continued excitedly, "I was so surprised at what was hi the book, I didn't even bother to read it—just stuffed it in my—here it is!"
r /> He found the parchment hi an inner pocket of his tunic and pulled it out triumphantly. In his eagerness to get the paper unfolded, his fingers trembled. More calmly, Duncan reached across and took the folded scrap of parchment, moved closer to the candle.
"What was in the book that was more important than this, Alaric?" the priest asked, smoothing the rumpled parchment and holding it up to the light
"It was a picture of the man I saw in the vision," Morgan answered absently, peering anxiously over Duncan's shoulder and trying to see. "And what was most startling was that the section was about Saint Camber."
"Saint Camber?" Duncan questioned, looking up startledly. "You think you saw Saint Camber?"
Morgan nodded and gestured impatiently toward the paper. "Yes, yes. What does it say?"
Duncan returned his attention to the scrap of parchment in his hand as Morgan crowded closer to see. On one side, in Brion's hand, he could make out Brion's
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full name, inked in the familiar, rounded uncials of Brion's script. As Morgan peered over his shoulder, he turned the paper over. His hand began to tremble as he read the other side.
" 'Saint Camber of Culdi, defend us from evil!'" Morgan whispered, echoing Duncan's unspoken words. "My God, Duncan, do you think I really did have a vision?"
Duncan shook his head solemnly and gave the parchment back to Morgan. "I don't know," he whispered, unconsciously wiping his palms against his cassock. "Alaric, I—this puts a slightly different light on what we're doing. Let me think about it for a minute or two."
Turning away from his companion, Duncan covered his face with his hands for a moment to regain his composure, then forced himself to consider this new information.
He was frankly uncertain, now. For as priest as well as Deryni, he was well aware how slender was the balance between Good and Evil. As Deryni, there was no doubt in his mind that Camber of Culdi had, indeed, been the savior of his people in the dark tunes following the Deryni coup. Why, it was Camber himself who had discovered that the Deryni powers could sometimes be shared with humans. That was what had ended the Deryni Interregnum of Terror almost two hundred years ago, what bad made it possible for men like Brion Haldane to stand against the forces of Evil and defeat the awesome powers of the Marluk.