“Is this to be a formal confession, Excellency?”

“Only if you wish it,” Arilan replied with a slight smile, “and I suspect that you do not. But I must have your leave to discuss what you tell me with Cardiel. Will you release me thus far from the seal of the confessional?”

“For Cardiel, yes. There is no longer any secret to what we did, since all now know us to be Deryni. But I may have to tell you things which are best kept private from most.”

“That is understood. What of the other bishops? How much may I tell them, should such telling become necessary?”

Morgan lowered his eyes. “I must trust your discretion in that matter, Excellency. Since I must make my peace with all of you, I am hardly in a position to dictate terms. You may tell them as you see fit.”

“Thank you.”

Arilan’s pause became an awkward silence, and Morgan realized that he was expected to begin. He wet his lips nervously, painfully aware how much depended upon what he said in the next minutes.

“I beg you to bear with me, Excellency,” he murmured. “This is very difficult for me. The last time I knelt in confession, it was at the feet of one who had sworn to slay me. Warin de Grey held me captive beneath Saint Torin’s, and Monsignor Gorony with him. There I was forced to begin a similar recitation of sins which I did not commit.”

“No one forced you to come here, Alaric.”

“No.”

Arilan waited for a moment, then sighed. “Am I meant to infer, then, that you claim to be innocent of all the charges brought against you in the Curia?”

Morgan shook his head. “No, Excellency. I fear that we did do most of the things of which Gorony accused us. What I wish to clarify is why we did the things we did, and to ask whether, in your judgment, we could have done any differently, if we hoped to survive the trickery prepared for us.”

“Trickery?” Arilan made a steeple of his forefingers and rested them lightly against his lips. “Suppose you tell me about trickery, then, Alaric. I understand that a trap was set. Tell me about it.”

Morgan stole a fleeting glance at Arilan but realized that he could not meet those eyes if he hoped to recount the Saint Torin affair accurately. With a deep sigh, he lowered his gaze. When he began to speak, his voice was very low, and Arilan had to lean closer to hear what he said.

“We were on our way to plead with the Curia not to lower the Interdict,” Morgan said. He raised his eyes as far as Arilan’s chest and held them fixed there on the center of the cross the prelate wore. “We were convinced, as we still are, that the Interdict was wrong—as you and your colleagues here at Dhassa apparently have since decided as well. We hoped that if we appeared before the Curia, we might be able to reason with you, to at least take the burden of your wrath upon ourselves instead of letting it fall on my people.”