“Thanks for your aid, Cousin. Would you please send your father and Bishop Cardiel to me before returning to your duties? And gentlemen,” he included Warin’s men and the guards in his gesture, “I must ask that you likewise return to your posts. Thank you for your concern.”

Conall and the others bowed and made their way out of the tent, and Warin watched them go, straightening and moving slightly as though to follow them.

“I sense that this is something not for the ears of outsiders, so I’ll leave if you wish. I am not offended,” Warin added hastily.

Kelson glanced at Arilan, but the bishop shook his head.

“No, you have a right to be present, just as we have called for Bishop Cardiel, who is perhaps less Deryni than any of us. Kelson, if you don’t mind, I shall wait until Thomas and Nigel arrive before answering your questions. It will save me having to repeat myself.”

“Of course.”

The king made his way to his chair and sat, unclasping his cloak and letting it fall over the back of his chair. Then he sat back and stretched out his long legs on the fine Kheldish carpeting. Morgan and Duncan took seats on a pair of folding camp stools to Kelson’s right, and Morgan unslung his sword from its hangers and laid it on the carpet between his feet. After a moment’s thought, Duncan did the same, shifting his stool slightly to the left to accommodate Warin, who was propping a cushion so that he could lean against the tent’s center pole. Arilan remained standing in the center of the carpet, pretending to be absorbed in the intricate design woven beneath his feet. He scarcely looked up as Cardiel and then Nigel entered the tent, and it was Kelson who had to direct the newcomers to take seats. When they were settled, the king looked up at Arilan expectantly. The bishop’s blue-violet eyes were hooded as he met Kelson’s gray gaze.

“Do you wish me to review what has happened, Sire, for the sake of Thomas and your uncle?”

“Please do.”

“Very well.” Arilan folded his hands and stared hard at his thumbnails for several seconds, then looked up.

“My lords, Wencit of Torenth has presented us with an ultimatum. His Majesty wished to consult with all of us before replying. If he does not respond by sunset, Wencit will begin slaying more hostages.”

“Name of God, the man is a monster!” Nigel exclaimed, stiffening in anger.

“Agreed,” Arilan replied. “But his ultimatum was quite specific and quite adamant. He has issued Kelson a challenge to the Duel Arcane: himself and his three henchmen, Rhydon, Lionel, and Bran Coris, against Kelson and any three Kelson chooses to name. I think I need not tell you that two of Kelson’s three will be Morgan and Duncan; what may surprise some of you is that I am to be the third.”

Warin looked up with a start

“That is correct, Warin. I am Deryni.”