He looked directly at Morgan as he continued. “No, Edgar lies. And now we must determine why, and for whom. I could ask Morgan to interrogate him. You all know of his Deryni powers, and you know by now that he could force the truth. But because you distrust him, there would always be the suspicion that Morgan controlled the answers, too.”

He dropped his eyes from Morgan’s and stepped closer to Edgar. There was silence as he stared at the accused man.

“Gentlemen, I am my father’s son in at least this respect, for I, too, know when a man lies. And I, too, can command the truth!”

He caught Edgar’s gaze and held it. “Lord Edgar of Mathelwaite, look at me,” he commanded. “Who am I?”

Edgar seemed unable to take his eyes from Kelson’s face, and Morgan looked on in amazement. Duncan must have taught the boy to Mind-See!

“Who am I?” Kelson repeated.

“You are Prince Kelson Cinhil Rhys Anthony Haldane, heir to my Lord King Brion,” Edgar stated in a conversational tone.

“And who is that?” Kelson queried, pointing at Morgan.

“Lord General Alaric Anthony Morgan, my liege lord, Sire.”

“I see,” Kelson said, his eyes narrowing in concentration. “Lord Edgar, did Morgan order you to kill me?”

Edgar answered promptly, without batting an eye. “No, Sire.”

The guards shifted uneasily, and a slight murmuring whispered through the room. The captain looked incredulous.

“Then, who did order you to kill me, Lord Edgar?”

Edgar’s eyes widened, as though some internal struggle were under way deep within him. Then he blurted, “It was not t’ kill you that we came, Sire, but to kill Morgan! An’ thus should all murderers die who strike down helpless men in dark places!”

He wrenched himself loose from his guards and flung himself at Morgan, going for his throat, but Morgan side-stepped neatly and controlled him, returning him to the custody of the guards. Edgar continued to struggle in their grasp as Kelson held up a hand for silence.

“Explain, Edgar,” Kelson demanded, stepping closer to the captive. “Who strikes down helpless men in dark places? What are you talking about?”

“Morgan knows!” The captive spat. “Ask him how Michael DeForest coughed out his life at the end of a dagger, while guarding in the darker passages o’ this palace. Ask if he knew that he botched the job, that young DeForest still had enough strength t’ smear his murderer’s sign on the floor wi’ his dyin’ blood—the shape o’ the Corwyn Gryphon!”

“What?” the captain blurted.

Again, there were murmurs of reaction around the room, louder this time. Stunned, Kelson turned to Morgan once more.

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” the boy whispered.

Around him, discussion died away as all strained to hear how Morgan would reply. A dozen swords were still pointing in his direction, and each had drawn a little closer with Edgar’s last statement.