Finally, Morgan cautioned for silence and beckoned them toward the main door: a wide, deep-carved thing of dark-stained oak signed with a great green gryphon. He put his eye to the gryphon’s eye and peered through to the other side, then held a finger to his lips for silence and eased the door open. There was another door beyond that, and he listened at that second door for a long while before returning and closing the first one securely behind him.

“There’s a guard out there, just as I feared,” he whispered. “Duncan, will you come and listen with me? If he’s receptive enough, we may be able to control him through the door. Otherwise…”

“It’s worth a try,” Duncan said with a nod, before Cardiel could think too much about what had just been said. So saying, he joined Morgan close before the door.

The two stood with heads and hands against the second door for a long time, eyes closed, their breathing light and controlled. But finally Morgan shook his head and opened his eyes, drawing a thin-bladed stiletto and testing its point against the end of his thumb. His lips mouthed Ready? to Duncan, and the priest nodded grim assent as his hand moved to the lock on the door.

As Kelson and Cardiel moved closer, drawn by morbid fascination, Morgan sank to one knee and ran the fingers of his left hand along the door until he found a narrow crack. The blade of the knife was put to the crack, poised for just an instant, then thrust through in a clean, sure stroke.

The blade glinted darker when it was withdrawn, accompanied by a faint moan and a sliding sound from the other side of the door. With a shake of his head, Duncan set his shoulder against the door and pushed it open against some resistance. Slumped outside lay the limp body of a rebel guard, blood welling slowly from a red-stained spot on his lower back. Morgan felt at the man’s throat, then grasped him under the arms and began pulling him into the chamber. Cardiel’s face clouded as the body was deposited on a portion of floor uncovered by carpet, and he signed the air above the man’s head with a cross before stepping across to join the others.

“I’m sorry, but it was necessary, Bishop,” Morgan murmured, closing the door behind them and motioning them to follow. Cardiel said nothing, but merely nodded and did as he was told.

Five minutes of stealthy meandering took them to a series of ornately carved panels at the end of a hallway. A torch burned in a brass cresset beside the panels, and Morgan snatched it up in one gloved hand as the fingers of the other moved across the panels in a quick, agile pattern.

The center panel slid aside, receding far enough for them to pass through, one at a time. Morgan motioned them through, then followed and closed the panel behind them. He led them several dozen yards before pausing to turn toward them once again.