Morgan’s fist lashed out and connected with Derry’s jaw in a sickening crack, and Derry went limp. Breathing heavily, Morgan hauled himself back to his knees, motioning the guards to hold Derry’s limbs once more. Kelson straightened and peered at Morgan in concern, waving off several soldiers who had come bursting into the tent at Kelson’s shout.

“God in heaven, what happened? Are you all right?” he breathed, straightening his tunic and looking at Morgan with new respect. “I think he really was trying to kill you.”

Morgan nodded, rubbing his throat gingerly where marks were already beginning to show. “Quite probably. The only thing I can imagine is that Wencit must have placed a very powerful control over him, consisting of many layers. That would explain why I didn’t discover it this afternoon. I did neutralize the outer spell, but there was a level—or levels—below it. That’s what we must break now—either that, or kill him in the trying.” He drew a ragged breath and forced himself to relax again. “When he comes around, will you stay with me, be ready to come in and help fight whatever it is that’s holding him?”

Kelson nodded solemn agreement as Morgan turned his attention on the guards.

“And you men, hold him this time, dammit. I can do very little when he’s thrashing around like a fish and trying to choke me to death.”

The guards nodded sheepishly, tightening their grips as Derry moaned and began to stir. Before he could return to full consciousness, however, Morgan lifted his hands toward Derry’s head, a faraway look coming into his eyes. “Sean, listen to me,” he murmured.

His hands came lightly to rest on Derry’s forehead, but the younger man’s body contracted in a convulsive shudder, nearly throwing Morgan’s hands free, even with the holding of the guards. Shaking his head slightly, Morgan firmed his touch and exerted his will.

“It’s all right now, Sean. You’re safe. We’re going to release you. Now, relax and let me in, as you used to do. I’m going to free you from Wencit’s binding.”

Derry shuddered again, his body writhing under the restraints of his captors as Morgan concentrated. Then he went limp. Morgan remained motionless for a long time before raising his head slightly.

“Kelson, join me now. Follow me, and go where I go. And you men, don’t relax for even a moment, until I tell you it’s safe. He could go violent again without any warning.”

“Aye, sir.”

As Morgan bowed his head, his gaze unfocused, Kelson laid a hand on his arm and joined him in rapport. After a moment, there was no sound in the tent save the gentle sobbing of the Lady Richenda, still huddled in the refuge of Duncan’s arms.

Across the chamber, Duncan gazed past his weeping charge and watched the tableau around the now-silent Derry. Arilan, exhausted from neutralizing the Portal, had summoned up enough strength to leave the circle and move closer to watch Morgan and Kelson; and the only guards now in the pavilion were occupied with Derry. Now, Duncan realized, was the time to attempt easing Richenda out of her despair, to urge her to talk about what had happened.