Arilan shook his head wearily. “I know what antidote he must have taken. Even a Deryni cannot cure that. The poison must have done dreadful damage already, for him to be feeling such pain. He tries to hide it, but the end is very near.”

Morgan looked down at Coram again and shook his head, unconsciously moving closer to Duncan as he sat back on his haunches. Coram’s eyes flicked open once again, but this time it was evident that he saw only Arilan.

“Denis,” he whispered, “I just saw the strangest thing. There was a man’s face, a blond man with a cowl—I think it was Ca-Cam—Oh, God, Denis, help me!”

As a vast shudder wracked his body, Coram seized Arilan’s hand with both of his and grasped it hard, eyes squeezed shut. Arilan laid his other hand on Coram’s forehead, trying to ease some of the pain, and gradually the older man calmed. When his eyes opened again, they were clearer, free of pain, but Arilan knew that it could not be much longer.

“Your cross, Denis,” the dying man whispered. “May I hold it?”

Arilan looped the chain over his head and pressed the cross into his friend’s hand. Coram gazed at it for several seconds, scarcely breathing, then pressed it briefly to his lips.

“In manuus tuas, Domini…” he whispered.

Then the eyes ceased to see, and the hands relaxed. With a sigh, Arilan bowed his head against his chest, lips moving in silent supplication for the soul now departed. Morgan and Duncan, after exchanging solemn glances, got slowly to their feet to back around toward Kelson.

“He’s dead?” Kelson whispered, scarcely daring to break the awesome silence.

Duncan nodded, and Kelson bowed his head.

“There was nothing you could do?”

Morgan shook his head. “We asked if we might try to heal him, but Arilan said it was too late. One must assume that it’s the same case with the others, except that it will take longer. What are you going to do?”

Kelson glanced at the three remaining opponents still lying on the ground but a few yards away and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t want to kill them in cold blood, helpless as they are, and yet Rhydon—uh, Coram—said that they would die slowly and painfully if I didn’t.”

“He said it would take at least a day,” Duncan whispered.

“Aye, and if Coram’s death was relatively quick and painless, I hate to think what may be in store for Wencit and the others,” Kelson said softly.

Arilan rose abruptly and turned to face them, his eyes moist and shining. “We must end it, Sire. There is no other way. Coram was right—they are doomed. And I know what Coram felt as he died. There is no logic or mercy in putting even Wencit through that. It would be needless cruelty.”

“But we have no weapons,” Kelson said, practicality intruding. “We can’t just—choke them to death, or smother them, or—or beat them in the heads with rocks while they’re helpless. Besides, there aren’t any rocks in this circle,” he finished plaintively.