“Does the gryphon seal open that, too?” Kelson asked eagerly, edging his chair closer to Morgan and the box. “Look, there’s a gryphon imprinted on the cover.”

Morgan touched his seal to the indicated area, and the lid snapped open with a musical chime. Inside were a piece of parchment, much folded, and a slightly smaller box, this one covered with red velvet and stamped with a golden lion. As Duncan plucked out the parchment, Morgan removed the second box and inspected it briefly.

“This one takes a different seal,” he said to Duncan, putting the box down on the table beside the silk-shrouded Ring of Fire. “Are those our instructions?”

“So it appears,” Duncan replied, smoothing the creased parchment and holding it closer to the light. “Let’s see:

When shall the Son deflect the running tide?
A Spokesman of the Infinite must guide
The Dark Protector’s hand to shed the blood
Which lights the Eye of Rom at Eventide.

Same blood must swiftly feed the Ring of Fire.
But, careful, lest ye rouse the Demon’s Ire:
If soon thy hand despoil the virgin band,
Just retribution damns what ye desire.

Now that the Eye of Rom can see the light,
Release the Crimson Lion in the night.
With sinister hand unflinching, Lion’s Tooth
Must pierce the flesh and make the Power right.

Thus Eye and Fire and Lion drink their fill.
Ye have assuaged the warring might of Ill.
New morn, ring hand. Defender’s Sign shall seal
Thy Force. No Power Below shall thwart thy will!

Morgan sat back in his chair with a low whistle. “Did Brion write that?”

“It’s in his hand,” Duncan replied, dropping the parchment to the table and tapping it with a well-manicured forefinger. “See for yourself.”

Morgan leaned forward and gave the verse a cursory inspection, committing the lines to memory, then leaned back again with a sigh. “And we thought Brion’s power ritual was obscure. . . . If he’d given it a little thought, I think he could have made this difficult.”

Kelson, who had been following the exchange with wide-eyed awe, could no longer contain himself. “You mean, this isn’t the same ritual?”

Duncan shook his head. “The ritual is changed with each inheritance, Kelson. It’s a safeguard to keep the power from falling into the wrong hands. Otherwise, someone could theoretically learn the technique, gather the elements of the ritual, and assume the power for himself. Strictly speaking, the power is only supposed to pass to the legitimate heir, but there are sometimes ways to get around such technicalities.”

“Oh,” Kelson said, his voice small and uncertain. “Then, where does one start with something like this?” He picked up the parchment as though it were a small, not-quite-dead creature that might bite, regarded it suspiciously, then dropped it to the table again.

“Alaric?” Duncan queried.

“You go ahead. You know more about these things than I do.”