Duncan lowered his eyes, remembering the one, last impediment, for Richenda’s sake.

“Have you forgotten that I am suspended, my lady?”

“No. But my Uncle Cardiel says that continuing the suspension is of your own doing, since Dhassa. He says that he and Arilan saw no reason at the time why you could not resume your priestly office.”

Duncan raised an eyebrow at that, for it was true. Arilan had, indeed, mentioned something about lifting the suspension after the excommunication had been revoked—except that Duncan had wanted it to be done by Corrigan, who had suspended him in the first place. But now, with Corrigan out of power and exiled back to Rhemuth, the question was largely academic. He realized that, for the first time in his life, he was truly free to make the decision.

“Does the fact that I am Deryni mean nothing to you?” he asked, in a last effort to reassure himself of what he wished to do.

She looked at him strangely, impatiently. “It means a great deal to me, Father, for you will, perhaps, be better able to comprehend my anguish. But you ask as though your identity should be a detriment, simply because you are now known for what you are. Do you not intend to practice your priestly calling conscientiously, in the same fashion as you have done in the past?”

“Certainly.”

“And you consider yourself to have been a good priest, in the years before your identity was known?”

He paused. “Yes.”

Richenda smiled fleetingly, then sank slowly to her knees. “Then, shrive me, Father. As a soul in need, I call upon you to perform your sacred office. You have been idle far too long.”

“But—”

“The suspension is lifted, so far as your superiors are concerned. Why do you resist? Is this not what you were born to do?”

Duncan smiled sheepishly, then bowed his head as Richenda crossed herself and clasped her hands. Abruptly he knew that he was doing what he was born to do, and that he would never doubt again. Serene and confident now, he listened as Richenda began her whispered confession.

ACROSS the tent, Morgan lifted his head and exhaled in a long sigh, signing for the guards to release their holds of Derry and withdraw. Derry lay quietly before him now, his eyes closed in natural sleep. As the guards drew back to the doorway, Morgan sat back on his haunches to contemplate a small circle of blackened metal in the palm of his hand. Kelson glanced at the ring, then looked up at Arilan. All of them avoided looking at Derry’s right hand, at the forefinger, white and chill, where the ring had been. The ring and its spell had been removed, but at great cost to all concerned. Morgan tried to suppress a yawn, then gave it up and let himself stretch and luxuriate in it. When he had finished, he glanced lazily at the others, all of them relaxing a little, now that the ordeal was over.