“Do, by all means.”

Rhydon left in a swirl of indigo leather, and when he was gone Wencit returned to his maps, poring over the red and blue and green lines that outlined his strategy. The ice-pale eyes glittered with power as his fingers roamed the creamy parchment, new tension in the set of his shoulders as he planned and schemed.

“One ruler must unite the Eleven Kingdoms,” he murmured to himself as he traced the lines of advance. “One ruler over all the Eleven Kingdoms. And it shall not be the boy-king who sits on the throne at Rhemuth!”

CHAPTER FIVE

“Behold the great priest, who in his days pleased God.”

ECCLESIASTICUS 44:16, 20

EARLY in the evening of that same day, two others discussed the fate of the renegade Deryni. The men were prelates, self-exiled members of that same Gwynedd Curia mentioned by Wencit with such derision earlier in the day. These same prelates had been largely responsible for the schism that now split Gwynedd’s clergy along diverging lines.

Thomas Cardiel, in whose private chapel the two spoke, had never been regarded as a likely candidate for rebellion. Incumbent of the prestigious See of Dhassa for nearly half a decade, and only a year past his fortieth birthday, he had never expected to become a leader in the events that had taken place two months before. When elected to the episcopate, he had been a seasoned if youthful cleric of steady disposition and unimpeachable loyalty to the Church he served, eminently suited for the neutral role traditionally expected of the Bishop of Dhassa.

Nor had his colleague, Denis Arilan, ever dreamed where the convocation of two months prior might lead. At thirty-eight, Gwynedd’s youngest bishop had begun to carve out an imposing niche for himself from the time he first entered seminary. But now, unless events changed dramatically for the better, neither he nor Cardiel was likely to have much of a career beyond this point. Indeed, they would be fortunate to survive the coming weeks.

From the perspective of most of their more senior colleagues, the sins of Cardiel and Arilan were great, for they and four of their fellow bishops had defied the Curia of Gwynedd in open synod, declaring their intention to split the Curia if the contemplated Interdict of Corwyn was not abandoned.

But the Interdict had not been abandoned. Archbishop Loris, having already decided to force the issue through, had called the bluff of the Six. Now Gwynedd’s loyalties were divided between two rival curias: the Six in Dhassa, who had expelled Loris and his followers from the city’s gates; and the ten others siding with the archbishop, who had withdrawn to Morgan’s captured capital at Coroth, who sided with the rebel Warin de Grey and claimed to retain the true authority of the Church. Reconciliation, if it could be achieved at all, would not be easily won.

Focused and intent, Bishop Cardiel paced back and forth before the altar rail of the tiny chapel, reading and rereading a sheet of creased parchment. He shook his steel-gray head uncomprehendingly as his eyes scanned the text, releasing a perplexed sigh as he skipped back to the top of the page. His companion, Denis Arilan, sat seemingly at ease as he watched from a front pew, one arm stretched along its back, though his own tension was betrayed by the incessant drumming of his fingertips on the wood.