“I’m not certain anyone can really say, my son,” he answered thoughtfully. “It may well be that kings are not so different from ordinary men, after all. Except, of course, that they have a graver responsibility. I think you need have little worry on that count.”

“But some kings are not ordinary men, Father,” Kelson said quietly. “How do they cope with what is demanded of them? And suppose a king finds that he is not so extraordinary after all? What does he do when the same demands are still made, when—”

“You are not an ordinary man, Kelson,” Duncan stated flatly. “And you will be an extraordinary king. Do not doubt it. And never forget it.”

Kelson mulled the answer for a long moment, then turned and knelt at the feet of the priest.

“Father, give me your blessing,” he whispered, bowing his head. “Extraordinary or not, I am frightened. And I don’t feel at all like a king.”

MORGAN fussed and fumed as the royal wardrobers swarmed around him, trying hard to stand still and submit gracefully, since he knew Kelson could see him from the balcony. It was difficult, however. He was simply ill at ease when surrounded by so many attendants.

Two of the squires were kneeling at his feet, carefully affixing the gilded spurs to his boots, giving the smooth black leather a final polish. The one called Giles removed Morgan’s sword and handed it to one of his companions, then took the red leather baldric and looped it across Morgan’s chest. As he reattached the sword, Morgan breathed a little easier, for he had felt almost naked without his blade. And the stiletto in its wrist sheath would have been little use, if any of these men had decided to rid the world of another Deryni.

As Morgan adjusted the hilt of the sword to his liking, Giles went to the wooden jewel chest and took out a dark golden chain of office with a pendant badge. He was not permitted the satisfaction of further ceremony, however, for Morgan took the chain from him before he could even try to assist, and placed it around his own neck. The sooner he could get through with this, the better he would like it.

The two squires kneeling at his feet gave his boots a final wipe with their cloths, then stood, and a third adjusted the sleeves of his doublet for at least the third time. Then they ushered him before a mirror held by Giles, where the squires of the spurs now held out a magnificent black velvet cloak collared in black fox and lined with deep crimson silk.

Morgan was forced to raise an eyebrow at that, for never before had he worn so sumptuous a garment. As the squires fastened it in place on his shoulders, adjusted the chain of office so that the collar did not interfere, Morgan had to admit that the overall effect was impressive.