“‘Considerations?’” Though Bran’s tone was still suspicious, it was evident that he was becoming intrigued. A spark of calculating greed had kindled behind the honey-colored eyes. Wencit chuckled softly.

“So, you are interested. I was beginning to fear that you could not be corrupted.”

“You are speaking of treason, sir. Even if I were to agree, what makes you think I could be trusted?”

“You are not without your own kind of honor,” Wencit observed. “And as for treason—ah, that is such a weary term. I know for a fact that you have opposed Alaric Morgan in the past—and King Kelson, too, for that matter.”

“Morgan and I have had our differences,” Bran allowed. “But I have always been loyal to my king. As you say, I am not without my own kind of honor. Besides, I would hardly consider myself in the same league with our good Deryni duke—or Kelson, either, for that matter.”

“Kelson is a mere boy.” Wencit said evenly. “A boy with power, yes. But still only a boy. And Morgan is a Deryni half-breed, and a traitor to his race.”

“‘Ah, traitor is such a weary term,’” Bran quoted without a flicker of emotion.

Wencit measured the younger man through pale, narrowed eyes, then stood abruptly, though he let his features soften. When Bran made as though to rise as well, Wencit waved him back and went to a small, carved chest on a shelf across the room. Lifting its lid, he withdrew something bright and sparkling, which he enclosed in his left hand before closing the chest and returning to his chair. Bran watched with suspicion but also curiosity.

“Well, well,” Wencit said dryly. He propped his elbows on the carved arms of the chair and leaned back, his hands clasped before him. “Now that we have determined that you possess a ready wit, suppose you tell me how you feel about Deryni.”

Somewhat taken aback by the question, Bran could only stare blankly at Wencit for several seconds.

“In general, or in particular?” he finally replied.

“In general, first.” Wencit shifted the object between his palms back and forth from one hand to the other without allowing Bran to see it. “For example, your Church Militant ruled in 917, at the Council of Ramos, that the use of Deryni magic is anathema and sacrilegious. The Duchy of Corwyn is now under curial Interdict because its duke, an acknowledged Deryni, was excommunicated for using his magic and now refuses to surrender himself to the judgment of that Curia. For that, I cannot say I blame him.

“However, if you yourself entertain any religious or moral scruples about spellbinding, it would be wise to mention them now, before we proceed much farther. You cannot fail to be aware that I am very much a practicing sorcerer. I expect my allies to be able to function within that framework. Your Curia would not understand. Does that bother you?”

Bran’s expression remained guarded, but it was evident that his interrogator had struck a responsive chord. In addition, he was finding it difficult to restrain his curiosity about the object in Wencit’s hands. Suddenly aware that his gaze had turned to the hands again, he brought his attention back to Wencit with a conscious effort.