“So,” the man said. It was the same voice that Derry had identified as Wencit’s earlier, and this but confirmed his growing fear. “So, you are the illustrious Sean Lord Derry. Do you know who I am?”

Derry hesitated, then permitted himself a curt nod.

“Splendid,” Wencit said, much too amiably. “Tell me, have you made the acquaintance of my esteemed colleague? Permit me to introduce Rhydon of Eastmarch. The name may be familiar to you.”

Derry glanced instinctively at the other man, who was leaning casually against the wall to his left, and the man dipped his chin in acknowledgement. Rhydon was dressed much like Wencit but in midnight blue and silver instead of the amber gold. The more somber attire, the shadow-side of Wencit’s sunlit hues, seemed to suggest that it was Rhydon who should be more feared, made Wencit seem almost a trifle soft and even effeminate by comparison.

But, no! Derry sharply reminded himself that he must not allow himself to be lured into that illusion. Wencit was to be feared more than ten Rhydons, regardless of Rhydon’s reputation as a Deryni of the highest powers. Derry must not let them throw him off his balance. It was Wencit who was to be feared.

Wencit gazed at his prisoner for a long moment, noting Derry’s reaction to the darker man, then smiled faintly and crossed his arms on his chest. The soft rustling sound of the long silk robe instantly brought back Derry’s attention. Wencit’s broadening smile worried Derry even more than had his sterner countenance.

“Sean Lord Derry,” Wencit said again. “I have heard much of you, my young friend. I am given to understand that you once served as Alaric Morgan’s military aide, that you now sit on the Haldane kinglet’s royal council. Well, not precisely now, I suppose.” He watched Derry bite his lip at that.

“Yes, indeed, I have heard a great deal about the derring-do of Sean Lord Derry. It appears that we shall soon be in a position to learn whether that sterling reputation of yours is merited. Pray, tell me about yourself, Sean Lord Derry.”

Derry tried not to let his consternation show, but he feared he was not succeeding. Very well, let Wencit know that it was not going to be easy. Why, if Wencit thought he was going to give in without a fight, he was sadly mistak—

Very suddenly Wencit moved a step closer. Derry tensed and froze, but he forced himself to meet the sorcerer’s gaze defiantly, hardly daring to breathe—and was surprised when Wencit drew back slightly, was a bit dismayed to see that the sorcerer had dropped one hand to the hilt of the dagger at his waist.

“I see,” Wencit said, casually withdrawing the dagger to turn it between his two hands. “You presume to resist me, eh? I think it only fair to warn you that I am delighted. After everything I had heard about you, I was beginning to fear you would disappoint me. I so dislike disappointments.”