“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.

“Are you saying that this must pierce my hand?” Duncan nodded impassively. “I believe this to be 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—if there’s time. . . .”

He looked up at Duncan with a frightened, beseeching look in his wide gray eyes, a boy again, and Duncan nodded.

“Of course, my prince,” he replied gently, rising, 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, Duncan closed the door securely and motioned for Morgan to follow him down the short corridor. When they reached the darkened sacristy, Duncan glanced 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 is 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 pent-up nervous energy.

“So do I. Frankly, I’m becoming increasingly 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 Duncan could speak, “let me ask you a question. Where are you planning to finish tonight’s business—with 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.”

“Very well.” Morgan drew 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,” the priest replied, listening carefully.