“You are mad!” he whispered when he was finally able to speak. “The Deryni corruption has addled your mind. Deryni cannot heal!”

“I healed Sean Lord Derry as he lay dying of an assassin’s blade in Rhemuth last fall,” Morgan said quietly. “Later, in the cathedral, I healed my own wounds. I speak the truth, Warin, though I cannot explain how I have done this. Both human and Deryni have felt my healing.”

“That is impossible,” Warin murmured, almost to himself. “It cannot be. The Deryni are spawn of Satan. So we have always been taught.”

Morgan laced his fingers together and studied his two thumbnails. “I was taught that as well, by some. At times, I have almost been willing to believe it, when I consider the terrible punishments meted out to Deryni in past years.

“But, I, too, was taught that healing comes of God. And if my hands can heal…well, then, perhaps God favors me as well, at least in this small way.”

“No, you lie!” Warin shook his head emphatically. “You lie—and you attempt to draw me into your lies!”

Morgan sighed and glanced at Kelson, at Cardiel and Duncan, then noticed that Duncan was sheathing his sword, a tiny, odd smile quirking at his lips. The priest raised an eyebrow at his cousin as he strode casually to join his colleagues before the fire. Warin and his men drew back suspiciously, a few of them eyeing the now unguarded door.

“Alaric Morgan does not lie,” Duncan said easily. “And if you are willing to listen instead of plotting an impossible escape, perhaps I can prove that to your satisfaction.”

Warin’s men quickly returned their attention to Duncan, and the rebel leader looked suspiciously at the priest.

“What, would you have him heal for us?” Warin asked contemptuously.

“That is precisely what I propose,” Duncan replied, his slight smile returning.

Morgan’s brow furrowed, and Cardiel shifted uneasily, his hand tightening on his crucifix. Kelson sat spellbound, for even he had never actually seen Morgan heal before. Duncan now had all of their undivided attention.

“Well, Warin?”

“But—whom should he heal?”

Duncan smiled his secret smile again. “I do have a proposal that may resolve our apparent dilemma. Warin, you refuse to listen to us unless Alaric can prove to your satisfaction that he speaks the truth. Alaric, you in turn cannot give Warin the proof he requires without someone to heal. I submit that one of us should allow himself to be slightly wounded, so that you may demonstrate your healing power and Warin may be satisfied. Since it was my idea, I offer myself to be the subject.”

“What?” said Kelson.

“It’s out of the question,” Morgan said flatly.

“Duncan, you must not!” came Cardiel’s simultaneous reply.

Warin and his men could only stare in utter disbelief.

“Well, why not?” Duncan asked. “Unless one of you has a better alternative, I think we have no choice. We are deadlocked unless one of us can break the impasse. And it needn’t be a serious wound. A scratch would suffice to prove our point. What say you, Warin? Would this satisfy you?”