He checked the peephole again, then formulated a plan.

Very well. Let them be suspicious. If the queen’s guards insisted on complicating the matter, it was all the same to him. He was not above using a little sacerdotal sleight of hand to mask his real intent. And if that failed, there was always the traditional authority of the monsignori to fall back on. When dealing with men such as these, intimidation was generally not too difficult, especially when one had the threat of anathema to work with.

Breathing deeply once to compose himself, Duncan opened the side door and entered the chancel. As expected, one of the guards immediately left his position and hurried down the center aisle.

All right, Duncan thought, making a deep genuflection to give the man time to get closer. He’s alone, and he hasn’t drawn steel. Let’s see what he’ll do.

As Duncan rose, he listened to the hollow echo of the man’s footsteps approaching and let his hand go casually to his waist to remove the tabernacle key from his sash. Then, as his senses told him the man had nearly reached the altar rail, he let the key slip from his fingers.

A carefully blundered attempt at interrupting its fall sent the key skittering down the marble to land at the feet of the surprised guard. With a look of embarrassment on his face, Duncan turned innocent blue eyes on the man, then hurried down the steps with a show of concern. His manner so disarmed the guard that, by the time Duncan reached him, he had bent and picked up the key almost without realizing what he did. With an embarrassed half grin, he dropped the key gingerly into Duncan’s outstretched hand.

“Thank you, my son,” Duncan murmured in his best paternal tone.

The man nodded nervously but made no move to leave.

“May I be of any help?” Duncan asked.

The man squirmed uncomfortably. “Monsignor, I have to ask you this. Is General Morgan with you?”

“You mean, in my study?” Duncan asked patiently, innocence still at peak efficiency.

The man gave a slight nod.

“General Morgan has come to me as a penitent son of the Church,” Duncan said softly. “He wishes to receive the Sacraments before his trial, as does Prince Kelson. Can there be any harm in that?”

Duncan’s explanation took the man by surprise. Evidently, the idea of Morgan being anything but a heathen and infidel had never occurred to him before. It was obviously not what he’d expected to hear. And who was he to interfere with a man’s salvation—especially one in so great a need as a Deryni?