Duncan frowned as he replaced his candle in the candelabrum, then wiped his palms on his thighs. Holding his hands palms down, a scant finger-span over the body, he proceeded to inspect the strange corpse with his Deryni senses, eyes half-closed. After a moment, he removed his hands, opened his eyes, sighed deeply.

“Well?” Morgan questioned. “What do you think?”

Duncan nodded. “You’re right about the illusion. It is Brion. The shape-changing was done by a master. It has an odd aura about it: a definite impression of evil.” He shook his head slightly. “I’m fairly certain it isn’t insurmountable. Do you want to disperse the spell, or shall I?”

Morgan glanced at the body again, then shook his head. “You do it. I think this one is better suited to priestly hands.”

Duncan took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, then gingerly placed his hands on the forehead of the corpse. After a few seconds, his eyes closed and his breathing became more shallow, strangely harsh in the gloom.

Kelson, who had listened to the exchange of the two Deryni 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. He would be glad when it was over.

Duncan’s breathing came more rapidly now, and cold perspiration sheened his brow and the backs of his hands, even in the icy chill 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—but in that 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.

Duncan nodded weakly and forced his breathing to regularize. “It was—far worse than I expected,” 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, blinked rapidly as his own vision blurred.

Between them, the body of Brion slept peacefully now, the gentle gray eyes closed forever, the lips relaxed, the lines of tension that had been a part of Brion’s appearance for as long as Morgan could remember erased now in death.

Gently Morgan reached down and moved aside the hair over Brion’s right earlobe, carefully removing the Eye of Rom. He gazed into the darkling depths of the stone for a long moment, then placed it securely away in his belt pouch.