“Good. And be certain there is no mistake who will be blamed. Earlier tonight, I received another admonition from the Camberian Council, warning me to stop interfering. Naturally, I don’t intend to heed their advice. But it won’t hurt to keep them befuddled a while longer. After all, Morgan is half-Deryni. It’s even conceivable that the Council could blame the whole thing on him, if we execute this properly.”

Ian snorted. “The idea of the Council dictating to a daughter of the Marluk is ludicrous, anyway. Who does Coram think he is?”

He received the distinct impression of a smug smile as the voice replied, “No matter. You’d best get on with your work before you tire your subject beyond recall. His death could arouse the wrong suspicions, and I don’t want your cover broken yet.”

“Have no fear, my pet.” Ian chuckled. “Until later.”

“Even until then,” the voice replied.

The aura faded, and Ian opened his eyes, still keeping his subject under control.

“John of Elsworth, do you hear me?”

“Aye.”

Ian shifted his touch to the man’s eyelids, pressing on them lightly. “You will remember nothing of what has just happened; is that clear? When I release you, you will recall only that I asked for your escort to my quarters.”

The man nodded his head almost imperceptibly.

“Good, then,” Ian murmured, dropping his hands. “You will now awake and remember nothing.”

As Ian returned to the table and picked up his glass of wine, John of Elsworth’s eyes snapped open, and he glanced innocently at Ian.

“Is there anything further you require of me, m’lord?”

Ian shook his head and took a swallow from his glass. “No. But if you would be so good as to stand guard outside my door, I’d appreciate it. What with killers stalking the corridors of Rhemuth Castle, I should hate to be murdered in my bed.”

“Very good, m’lord.” The guard bowed. “I’ll see that no one disturbs you.”

Ian raised his glass in acknowledgement, then drained its contents and put it back on the table as the door closed behind John of Elsworth.

Now for the immediate matter at hand: a simple assassination—no more. Granted, it could be a bit messy, and possibly even physically tiring, since there were three involved. But it presented no serious challenge to his abilities. Boring, really.

He did lament the fact that he could jump only as far as the cathedral with his remaining energy—but that was, at most, a minor vexation. Charissa would replace the power he used—and more—as soon as he returned. In fact, all things considered, a short taste of more conventional transportation would probably do him good, help him unwind. There was nothing like a brisk ride in the November night to clear a man’s head of the thoughts of killing and put him in the frame of mind for more enjoyable pursuits.