Arilan drew himself to his full height and looked at the three lying on the ground, then at the circle. “No, it must be done by magic, not by physical means. This was a Duel Arcane; magic must provide the means of their destruction.”

“But how?” Kelson whispered. “Arilan, I’ve never killed a man before, even with steel. But at least I know how to do that.”

There was silence for a long moment, Kelson looking at the ground, Arilan lost in his own world, the two other Deryni silent and uneasy. Then Morgan moved to Kelson’s side and laid his hand on the young man’s arm, bowing his head. But he would not look at the slightly writhing figures of Wencit and Lionel and Bran—especially not at Bran.

“The burden will be mine, then, my prince. Unlike you, I have killed. It is hardly more difficult than reaching out one’s hand. Charissa used it to perfection on your father.”

Duncan froze. “No. Not that way…”

Morgan shook his head, deliberately not looking at his kinsman. “There is no other way for us, here, in this place. Wencit and his allies are helpless, even as humans now. They must die as would humans. Wencit, especially, must die as Brion died. His was the ultimate responsibility for Brion’s death. Vengeance comes upon him at last.”

“Then, I should do it,” Kelson breathed. “Brion was my father. I am his son. I should avenge his death.”

“My prince, I had thought to spare you this,” Morgan began.

“No! Vengeance is mine! I will repay. Tell me how to do it. Don’t force me to command you.”

“Kelson, I—” Morgan had intended to try to dissuade him, but the king’s face was set, determined. Gray eyes clashed in a war of wills for several seconds, but then Morgan broke the contact, knowing he had lost. With a tired sigh, he bowed his head, extending his hand.

“Very well, my prince. Open your mind to me and I will show you what you seek.”

Kelson complied. There was a moment of deep silence as his eyes assumed a far look. Then he was bringing into focus the rest of his surroundings once more, lifting both hands slightly in disbelief. His face was grave, incredulous, and more than a little awed.

“Even so?” he breathed, a little frightened at the power he now held in his hands.

“It is even so,” Morgan confirmed.

As though he had not heard, Kelson turned away and scanned the circle around him, saw the four of the Council still turned inward to observe, their faces grave. His gaze passed over the motionless form that had been Rhydon/ Camber/Coram, then moved on to the three on the ground a little way across the circle. He walked toward them slowly, as though in a trance, his fists clenching and unclenching slightly as he came to a halt before Wencit of Torenth. Though the sorcerer could not move, his pale eyes blazed up at Kelson.