Carefully, so that he would make no sound to warn the unsuspecting man, Morgan eased his way closer, reaching gingerly toward the back of the man’s neck. Then, gently, his fingers lightly touched the man.

At Morgan’s touch, the guard stiffened, then relaxed, his eyes slightly glazed, staring straight ahead—unaware, helpless, unremembering. Morgan studied the entranced guard carefully for several seconds. Then, satisfied that his control was complete, he motioned Kelson to join him. As Duncan also joined them, Kelson looked at both men admiringly.

“All right?” Morgan queried in a low voice.

Duncan nodded. “Mine won’t remember a thing.”

“Mine, either. Let’s go,” Morgan replied, moving toward the gate to the crypt.

The gate was massive, designed both to keep intruders out and to form a decorative barrier between the world of the living and the dead. A full eight feet high, it was formed of hundreds of sturdy but delicately wrought bars of brass, gilded over with a thin wash of gold, for this was a kings’ crypt it guarded.

Morgan ran his hands fleetingly over the grillwork, peering at the same time through the bars to the crypt beyond. At the end of the short corridor, a simple altar faced the gate, intended, perhaps, to comfort those royal mourners who came here to lay their dead to rest. To the left, the corridor made a sharp turn into the crypt itself. From around that bend, golden light spilled along the polished marble floor and over the altar. Also around that bend lay the royal sepulchers, the objects of tonight’s expedition.

Morgan ran his fingers briefly over the locking mechanism, then knelt to inspect the lock in earnest. As Duncan slipped off to check once more on the guards, Kelson crowded closer to Morgan to peer over his shoulder in fascination.

“Can you open it?” the boy whispered, glancing around nervously.

Morgan held a finger to his lips for silence, then let his sensitive fingertips hover over the lock, his face taut with concentration as he visualized each part of the mechanism. As Kelson held his breath, he heard a soft, metallic click, then another. Morgan’s half-closed eyes opened, and he pushed gently at the gate. It swung back easily.

Morgan stood and opened the gate the rest of the way in a single, continuous motion. As he turned to see if Duncan had returned, he checked momentarily, then set a warning hand on Kelson’s shoulder.

“Good evening, Rogier,” he said quietly, his fingers tightening on Kelson’s shoulder as the boy spun in alarm.

Rogier stood poised just at the edge of the torchlight, a look of outrage and disbelief on his face. His dark green velvet looked black against the shadows behind him, and the torchlight cast eerie highlights on his face and hair. Rogier’s indignation and disgust seemed almost a living thing.