But Morgan also had the good sense to know when his king was serious, as he had known for the boy’s father. This was one of those times. He let his glance drop to the helmet he still held in his lap, then met the king’s gaze once more.

“I have met Arilan only once, my prince—at least to talk to—and Cardiel, never. But as I see it, they may be our only hope. Arilan has always seemed to be at least tolerant where Deryni are concerned; he stood by you at your coronation and did not denounce me or Duncan, even though he must have suspected that there was magic afoot besides yours and Charissa’s. I am also told that he and Cardiel were among our staunchest supporters when the Interdict question arose regarding Corwyn. I think we have no choice but to trust them.”

“But, to walk right into Dhassa, when there is a price on your heads…” Kelson began.

“Do you really think anyone is likely to recognize us?” Morgan snorted. “Look at me. When has the Duke of Corwyn ever worn a beard, or gone about in peasant garb, or even been to Dhassa, for that matter? And what excommunicate fugitive in his right mind would even consider entering the holiest city in Gwynedd when he knows that everyone in the kingdom is looking for him?”

“Alaric Morgan would.” Kelson sighed resignedly. “But suppose that you do reach Dhassa safely, you enter the city, you somehow manage to get inside the episcopal palace undetected—then what? You just told me that you’ve never been to Dhassa. How do you even begin to find Arilan and Cardiel? And if you’re captured before you can find them, then what? Suppose some overzealous guardsman decides he wants all the glory for himself, and kills you before you’re even taken before the bishops?”

Morgan smiled and wrapped his hands complacently around his helmet. “You forget one thing, my prince. Duncan and I are Deryni. The last time I heard, that still counted for something.”

Kelson stared at Morgan speechlessly for an instant, disbelief and astonishment writ all across his face, then threw his head back and laughed delightedly as he sat down again.

“You are very good for me, Alaric Morgan, do you know that? Without preaching, you somehow manage to tell your king that he has been thinking like a fool, but without being the least bit annoying about it. I think it comes of letting me ramble on and on until I run down and realize how ridiculous I’ve been. Why is that?”

“Why do you ramble on and on, my prince? Or why do I let you?”

Kelson grinned. “You know what I mean.”

Morgan stood and brushed dust from his clothing again, then polished across the front of his helmet with his sleeve.

“You are young, you have a natural curiosity, and you lack the experience that only years can bring, my prince,” he said easily. “That is why you ramble on and on. As for why I let you…” He considered it for a moment. “I let you because it is the best cure I know for anxiety: to get one’s fears out in the open and face up to them. Once you realize which are the irrational fears and which are the real ones, you have come a long way toward conquering both kinds. Fair enough?”