“Alaric, I have been Bishop of Dhassa for four years now. During those four years, and during the tenures of at least the last five of my predecessors, there has never been a breath of scandal associated with the See of Dhassa.”

“Perhaps you should have considered that point before joining the schism, my lord,” Morgan said softly.

Cardiel looked pained. “I did as my conscience bade.”

“Your mind agrees,” Duncan said. “But your heart is afraid of what two Deryni might do. Is that it?”

Cardiel glanced up at them and stifled a nervous cough. “I—perhaps.” He cleared his throat. “Perhaps it is.” He paused.

“Duncan, I require your promise that you’ll not use your powers tonight—either of you. Whatever happens, I must have your solemn assurance that you’ll do nothing, nothing whatsoever, to make you appear different from any other penitent who has ever entered my cathedral to make his peace with the Church. Surely you understand the importance of what I am asking.”

Morgan looked at the floor and pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I assume that Arilan knows you’ve come to us?”

“He does.”

“And the subject of conversation?”

“He agrees. There must be no magic.”

Duncan shrugged and glanced at Morgan. “Then, it appears that you must have our word on it, my lord. You have mine.”

“And mine,” Morgan said, after an almost imperceptible pause.

Cardiel gave a low sigh of relief. “Thank you. I shall leave you alone for a few more minutes, then. I suspect you will wish to prepare yourselves for the ceremony. Denis and I will return for you shortly.”

As the door closed behind Cardiel, Duncan glanced at his cousin. Morgan had turned away as the bishop left, and now the single candle at the end of the bench was casting long, dancing shadows on the stone walls, planing Morgan’s face into a mask of concentration. Duncan stared at him for a long moment, a thread of unease rippling through his mind, then started to move across the chamber to Morgan’s side.

“Alaric?” he said in a low voice. “What—”

Morgan snapped out of his reverie and held a finger to his lips, then eyed the door as he crossed to the bench and dropped to his knees in front of it.

“Duncan, I fear that I have been a stranger to prayer in these past weeks,” he murmured, motioning for Duncan to join him, and glancing at the door again. “Will you pray with me?”

Wordlessly Duncan knelt at his kinsman’s side, his eyes narrowing in question as he made the sign of the cross. He started to speak again, hazarding another glance at the door, but he saw Morgan’s lips shape the single syllable, No, and he bowed his head instead. Watching Morgan from the corner of his eye, he formed his words so that he was certain only Morgan could hear. He was reluctant to use mind-speech when they had promised Cardiel they would use no magic.