The black and white cubes were called Wards, the entire composite called a Ward Major, once activated; and each step must be performed correctly in order to make the Ward Major come alive. The four white cubes must first be arranged in a square, two sides of each cube touching its neighbors; and then the black cubes must be placed, one at each corner of the large square formed by the white ones, black and white not quite touching.

Morgan arranged the cubes in the requisite pattern, then reached out his right forefinger to rest lightly on the white cube at the upper left of the square, glancing up at Arilan as he whispered the nomen, “Prime.” None of the others had been watching, and as Morgan glanced back down at his Wards, he was pleased to see that the first cube now glowed with a faint, milky light. He had not lost his touch.

“Seconde,” Morgan whispered, touching the white cube in the upper right of the square. “Tierce, Quarte,” he repeated in rapid succession, touching the remaining white cubes.

The four white cubes now glowed in a single, larger square, which reflected coldly off the four black cubes remaining. Morgan moved his finger to the black cube in the upper left corner and drew a deep breath, then murmured, “Quinte.” The process was quickly repeated for the three remaining black cubes as he hurried past their names, “Sixte, Septime, Octave.” The black cubes now glowed from within with a deep, green-black flame. Where the light of the black cubes met the light of the white, there was a vague, shimmering area of darkness, as though the one cancelled out the effect of the other.

Morgan glanced up and was surprised to find that the others were well about their own tasks. Duncan had finished with his candles and set them in place without Morgan even being aware, and now knelt calmly beside the entranced Warin, the rebel leader’s slack head resting against his knee, his own eyes closed. Arilan and Kelson were kneeling on either side of a sleeping Nigel, Arilan apparently assisting the young king with mastering a fine point of control.

But Cardiel was sitting apart from the others, one arm cradled around his upraised knee as he crouched on the rugs folded back at the edge of the octagon. He apparently had been watching Morgan closely for some time, and he looked down in embarrassment as Morgan caught his eye. The downward glance did not last for long, though, for Cardiel was clearly fascinated by what he had just seen.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” he said in a low voice. “Do you mind if I watch?”

Morgan hesitated for just an instant, weighing the advisability of permitting the bishop to learn more than he already knew, then shrugged. “If you wish. Please don’t interrupt me, though. The next part is a bit tedious, and I need to concentrate.”

“Whatever you say,” Cardiel murmured, sidling closer for a better view.