As the crown touched Kelson’s head, the Deryni-seen apparition vanished, and Morgan and all the others stood while Kelson was invested with the rest of his insignia of office.

After a few seconds, as they waited for the prelates to finish, Morgan turned slightly to Duncan and whispered, in a low tone, “Duncan, did you see what I saw?”

Duncan nodded almost imperceptibly.

“Do you know who it was?” Morgan persisted.

Duncan glanced at him sidelong, then returned his glance to the investiture. The clergy were rendering their homage now, and soon it would all be over.

“Let me guess,” Duncan whispered. “It was your mysterious stranger.”

This time, it was Morgan’s turn to nod. “You don’t think it was Camber, do you?”

Duncan shook his head and frowned. “He spoke in the name of Camber, which makes it even more of a mystery.”

Morgan sighed slightly, then tugged at the hang of his cloak. If he pulled it over just a trifle more, it would nearly cover the jagged hole in his doublet and the blood down his side.

“I’m glad it wasn’t Saint Camber,” Morgan whispered, just before mounting the steps to swear fealty to the new king. “I dislike being the target of Heaven’s special favors. It makes me uncomfortable.”

With that, he stepped before Kelson and dropped to one knee, offering his joined hands for Kelson to clasp between his own. Morgan’s voice rang out strong and clear in the hushed cathedral as he recited the ancient formula.

“I, Alaric, Duke of Corwyn, do become your liege man of life and limb, and of earthly worship; and faith and truth I will bear unto you, to live and die, against all manner of folks. So help me God.”

As Morgan rose to receive the royal embrace, other nobles likewise came forward—Nigel, Ewan, Lord Jared, Kevin McLain, Derry, and others—each repeating the words Morgan had spoken, rendering fealty to their new king. Morgan once more took up the Sword of State as they did so, holding it naked and upright beside his king, as all the great lords and barons of the land came to pledge their allegiance. And when all was done, then they began to form for the procession from the cathedral.

Charissa’s retainers had melted into the crowd on her death, and now the throngs proclaimed Kelson with one voice. The ecclesiastics led the procession, passing through the transept and up the aisle. But as Kelson and his attendants came to the edge of the transept, the sun chose that moment to emerge again from behind the clouds.

Once again, jewel-toned sunlight streamed through the high stained glass, casting a pool of color at Kelson’s feet. Kelson stopped before it, and the waiting congregation grew hushed in fearful expectation as they stared at their new young lord—for there had been death before in the colored sunlight.