Brother Jerome shuffled over to the cabinet where the special vestments were stored and patted the counter top reassuringly. “Ah, ye needn’t have worried, laddie. I’ve kept everything in order, as I have for forty-five years. ’Tis no second-rate king ye’ll be makin’ tomorrow, if I have anything to say about it. Our young lord will be a bonnie king, if he lives through the night.”

Duncan stiffened slightly, and he felt a chill finger raise the hackles on his neck. “What do you mean, ‘if he lives through the night’?”

“Why, laddie, do ye not harken to the rumors? ’Tis said that monstrous evil powers stalk the streets of Rhemuth this night, an’ their target is young Prince Kelson, God bless him.” Jerome crossed himself piously. “ ’Tis said that Deryni magic guides them to his chamber.”

“Deryni magic?” Duncan repeated. “Who told you that? The Deryni lords of this time have always been friends of the Haldane line.”

“Not all the Deryni, Father,” the old monk contradicted. “Some say ’tis the spirit o’ that dead Deryni sorcerer that the lad’s father, God rest his soul, killed in that terrible duel many years ago—that he’s returned to take his revenge. An’ some say ’tis the sorcerer’s daughter, Charissa, the Shadowed Lady of the North, what means to kill our prince an’ set herself upon the throne of Gwynedd.

“Still others say ’tis a coalition of all the evil powers in the world, come to destroy our prince and despoil his kingdom, because we dinna pay homage to the Dark Ones anymore.

“But I think—an’ there be those who agree wi’ me—that it’s all the fault o’ that Morgan fellow, his Deryni blood finally gettin’ the better o’ him. Mind ye, he’s the one to watch out for!”

Duncan forced a sickly chuckle, though he was extremely troubled by what he had just heard. For even if the old man’s ramblings had been liberally laced with superstitious embellishment and legend, there was a hard core of truth to much of what he said. Charissa was involved—and her father’s spirit, too, if one believed that parents lived on in their children. And he had no doubt that the forces of darkness were massing even now, ready to move in on the entire world once mighty Gwynedd fell.

As for the stories about Alaric, he’d heard them. And that part of the rumors was utter nonsense. At least he could attempt to correct Brother Jerome on that point.

Duncan moved closer to the old monk and leaned against the cabinet there. “Brother Jerome, you don’t really believe all that nonsense about Morgan, do you?”

“Ah, now, laddie, ’tis all gospel truth.”