Then the standards, white and crimson, were drawing aside to flank him and his noble escort, and other faces were peering through gaps in the crenellated battlement above. Squaring his courage with a slow, measured breath, the temporal ruler of Gwynedd stared up at the spiritual ruler of Gwynedd and spoke.

“Good greeting to you, my lord Archbishop. My thanks for your permission to approach.”

Loris inclined his head slightly. “When a king approaches in true contrition, Sire, what priest could refuse?”

“Contrition, Archbishop?” Kelson glanced to Cardiel for reassurance, then returned his attention to Loris. “My Lord, I will not quibble over words. I have resolved to reconcile our differences and be one again in mind for Gwynedd. This internecine bickering must cease, and now, or we shall all be overcome by the peril in the north.”

Loris folded his arms across his chest and raised his chin a trifle higher. “I will be pleased to make a reconciliation with you, Sire, if you will do me the courtesy to explain why you consort with heretics and traitors. Or can you have forgotten what has brought us where we are? Those who ride beside you know whereof I speak.”

Cardiel cleared his throat and eased his horse a pace forward. “My lord, I and my brothers in Christ are satisfied that Duke Alaric and his cousin have returned to us in true contrition. They have been received back into the communion of Holy Mother Church, and with that, all strife among us is resolved.”

“That is absurd,” Loris said flatly. “Morgan and McLain were excommunicated by lawful action of the Gwynedd Curia. Even they are aware of that. You and your rebellious colleagues were party to that action.” He glanced toward the assembled bishops back at the front lines, dismissing their presence with a contemptuous wave of his hand. “And now you presume to rescind the action of that Curia by the will of six men? I will not hear of it.”

“We are eight now, my lord, not six. Two more have joined us, who were not present that day. And we freely acknowledge that we were in error. Accordingly, the Duke of Corwyn and Father McLain have been reinstated in our grace, as have His Majesty and all his loyal followers who suffered by our judgment.”

Loris half-turned away in disgust. “That is preposterous. You cannot overturn the Curia’s ruling. Why should I even listen to you? You are clearly mad!”

“Then, listen to your king, Archbishop,” Kelson said, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he stared up at Loris. “We have another quarrel with you: namely, the actions of your supposed supporter and ally, Warin. His bands have been marauding through Corwyn for nearly six months now, intimidating my barons, burning fields, preaching insurrection against me—”

“Not against you, Sire,” Warin said stiffly. “Against the Deryni.”

“And am I not half-Deryni?” Kelson countered. “And if you preach against them, do you not also preach against me?”

Warin stared down at Kelson with cold gray eyes. “It is regrettable that you bear Deryni blood, Sire; but we choose to overlook that, because you are our king. We crusade against the true Deryni, like the one who sits there at your side. You should not be in such company, Sire.”