Before she could begin the second verse, Kelson began the counterspell, and the mists began to recede.

Drathon kill,
Power fade.
Senses still
Conquer shade!

Charissa’s eyes seemed to darken with menace, but she said nothing. Clearly she had thought to have an easy victory, but it was obvious the boy knew much more than she had bargained for. Not that she doubted the outcome of the battle. No upstart boy with newfound powers could best a full Deryni sorceress with years of experience. Nonetheless, her puissance was being challenged.

Patiently, for she had the edge in stamina at least, she continued the standard testing spells, designed to feel out the weaknesses of an opponent. It would take longer this way, but the outcome, at least, was more certain.

Spells flew across the circle: attack and counter, parry and riposte, as those outside the circle watched. Charissa’s men stood impassive in the aisle behind their mistress, long accustomed to her activities in magic, mostly concerned only that the duel should take no longer than necessary.

Once their mistress defeated this upstart prince, it was quite likely that physical force would be needed to suppress the resentment of some parts of the populace—a most satisfying occupation impatiently awaited by most of them. The half-dozen Moors among them watched the contest with a more clinical interest, for many among their people likewise claimed some acquaintance with magic, and they were always looking for a new spell.

Other observers prayed for an altogether different outcome, and some had concerns not directly related to what was now taking place. As Nigel watched the duel, spellbound by the horror of what might happen, yet too fascinated to tear his gaze away, Morgan raised his head to look again, then touched Duncan’s elbow lightly with his good hand.

“Duncan . . .”

Duncan looked down with concern, for Morgan’s face had gone even paler than before, with the lines of pain etched yet more deeply in the fine features.

“What is it? Is the pain worse?”

Morgan clenched his teeth, nodding weakly. “I’ve lost a great deal of blood. I can feel my strength ebbing. What we did to save the queen almost finished me.”

Duncan nodded. “What do you want me to do? How can I help?”

Morgan tried to ease himself to a more comfortable position on the hard steps, winced as the movement set his wound to throbbing again.

“You remember how I told you about healing Derry last night? Well, I must try to do it again, this time on myself.” He brought his left hand up on his chest so he could see the gryphon seal. “I think I know the way now, but I’ll need your help. Support me. Reinforce the direction of my thoughts, but don’t interfere. I say that last because I think I touch on some areas that are—well, questionable.”