"Don't fight me," he ordered, sounding almost bored as hands and mind compelled obedience. "It isn't going to do any good. And if you relax and cooperate, we may even be able to make you a little more comfortable."

The man's struggles subsided jerkily, much against his will, and his free hand fell away as Duncan began unwrapping the splinted arm. He winced as the priest's sensitive fingers brushed the angry-looking flesh over the broken forearm, his body arching with new pain as Duncan encased the damaged area between his two hands.

"What are you doing? No magic! No! Please don't!"

At Duncan's nod, Morgan drew his controls tighter and pushed the man into unconsciousness, shifting one hand to cover Duncan's two as he reached for the healing mode he and his cousin now achieved with increasing reliability.

Building the rapport with Duncan, he felt himself sinking into that odd, other- wordly sensation which he had come to a.s.sociate with the rogue healing talent - and felt the fleeting, familiar press of Another's hands atop his own as the connection was made and the bones began to knit beneath their touch. He withdrew when the healing was complete, blinking and partially releasing control to let their patient regain consciousness.

"No," the man murmured weakly, as his eyes fluttered open. "No magic, please..."

"It's a little late for that," Morgan replied, settling on a stool that Nigel pushed closer, so he could keep one hand casually on the man's shoulder for future control. "Suppose you tell us your name now."

Dazed, the man flexed the fingers of his sword arm and rubbed where the break had been, glancing furtively at Duncan, not daring to look at Morgan or acknowledge the Deryni hand still resting on his shoulder.

"You - healed me," he whispered reproachfully.

"Yes, they healed you," Kelson replied, looking a little disgusted. "You're not contaminated, you know. Answer the question. Who are you?"

The man swallowed with difficulty. "I still claim benefit of clergy," he said weakly. "I - "

"The only benefit of clergy that you're going to receive right now," Nigel said pointedly, "is the fact that Monsigner McLain is here to witness your interrogation. Now answer your king's question."

As the man set his lips in a thin, defiant line and started to shake his head, Morgan exchanged a glance with Kelson and extended control again, imposing the compulsions of Truth-Saying.

"Tell us your name," he said patiently.

"Nevan d'Estrelldas," the man replied, his eyes widening as the words tumbled from his lips despite his intention to keep silent.

"D'Estrelldas?" Kelson repeated, glancing at Duncan in surprised question as Duncan, too, started. "That's an unusual name - Bremagni, isn't it?"

Duncan nodded, pursing his Ups in grim suspicion. "It is also the name of one of the itinerant bishops working in Kierney, isn't it, Nevan?"

Nevan nodded, again much against his will, and Duncan scowled even harder. Kelson looked astonished.

"You mean this man is one of our bishops?"

"Unfortunately, I fear he is. Sire," Duncan replied. "I thought he looked familiar. I wonder how many other bishops Loris has managed to subvert."

"Let's see if he knows," Morgan said, turning pale eyes on his subject and locking his attention. "You are Bishop Nevan, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?" Morgan insisted, touching further control.

Nevan moistened his lips and inclined his head in unwilling respect.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"That's better. And as a bishop, to whom do you feel you owe your obedience?"

"To the Bishop of Culdi."

"Culdi?" Kelson blurted, glancing from Nevan to Duncan in dismay. "Does that mean there were Culdi men with those of Trurill? a.s.sisting Loris in his escape?"

"Only one question at a time, my prince," Morgan reminded him, returning his attention to the fidgeting Nevan. "Remember that he's very literal- minded in this state. Bishop Nevan, are you saying that the Bishop of Culdi was aware of the escape plans of Archbishop Loris?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"I see. Did he, perhaps, instigate them?"

"No, sir."

"Someone else approached him, then, with a proposition?"

"Yes, sir."

"Who was that?"

"I'm not sure. Your Grace."

"Then, who do you think approached him?"

Nevan seemed to fight the response, but the name came out nonetheless.

"Monsignor Gorony, Your Grace."

"Gorony!" Kelson breathed.

With a glance, Morgan silenced him and returned his attention to their reluctant informant.

"Was Monsignor Gorony in your company, then?" he asked.

Nevan nodded.

"And Brice of Trurill?"

Again, the nod.

"How many men?"

Nevan thought a moment. "Fourteen now."

"Because you were taken?"

"Yes, Your Grace."

"And where were you bound?" Kelson asked.

"Ratharkin, Majesty."

"For what purpose?"

"To consecrate the Lord Judhael Bishop of Ratharkin."

"Not of Meara?" Duncan interjected.

"No, sir."

"Why not?"

"Meara is to be a patriarchy under Bishop Creoda."

"Under Creoda," Morgan repeated, exchanging glances with the astonished Kelson and Duncan. "And Loris?"

"He will become Primate again, of course."

"Not while I live and breathe," Kelson muttered under his breath. "Tell me this, then, Nevan. Does Bishop Creoda owe his obedience to Loris or to Bradene?"

"To Archbishop Loris, Majesty."

"And there are other bishops who feel the same way?"

Nevan nodded agreement.

"How many?"

Nevan thought a moment. "Six, Majesty."

"Six besides yourself and Creoda?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"And I suppose you know who they are?"

"Yes, Majesty."

"Name them."

"Bel - " The pattern of obedience had been well set, but Nevan stopped in midsyllable, fighting the command. Impatiently Morgan twitched at his controls, taking up just a fraction more of Nevan's ability to resist.

"Name the other bishops, Nevan," he said softly. "We haven't all day."

The eyes closed, but the lips parted once more.

"Belden, Bishop of Cashien; Lachlan, Bishop of Ballymar; and the four itinerant bishops, Mir de Kierney, Calder of Sheele, Gilbert Desmond, and Raymer de Valence."

"And he's consecrating Judhael - he'll have a whole rival hierarchy!"

Duncan muttered. "d.a.m.n his impertinence."

"His impertinence doesn't bother me nearly as much as the fact that he's succeeding," Kelson said grimly. "He thinks he's scored the advantage, that there isn't a thing I can do to stop him until the spring. Well, maybe he's made a fatal miscalculation. Guards!"

Kelson's council judged that their king was making a fatal miscalculation at first.

"It's sheerest folly. Sire," Ewan argued, from his place three seats down from the king at the council table. "You can't hope to mount a successful campaign this late in the season! It's December, for G.o.d's sake!"

"Which is precisely why I'm going now," Kelson replied. "They won't be expecting me. Ratharkin is well fortified, but I won't believe the citizenry could have been won over that completely to Loris' leadership already. At best, he probably has control of the episcopal forces and nominal control of the city. A show of royal force, especially in December, when he thinks I can't do it, may be sufficient to break his strength."

"Perhaps he hasn't even gone to Ratharkin," ventured Saer de Traheme, sitting opposite Ewan. "If he has the support of the Mearan Pretender, he may be heading straight for Laas."

Kelson shook his head. "No, Nevan said Ratharkin. Loris has episcopal business to settle before he takes the time for secular politics. And I have a bishop in Ratharkin that I've sworn to protect."

"And you also have a friend in hostage there. Sire, if Loris has indeed gone to Ratharkin," Archbishop Bradene observed. "Might that not be clouding your judgment?"

"I have a duty to protect them both. Archbishop," Kelson replied. "And Loris must not be allowed to gain any more of a toehold than he already has. I shouldn't have to lecture you, of all people, about Loris."

"I still don't like it. Sire," said Arilan, who had already made it quite clear what else he did not like, when he heard of the manner of questioning Nevan.

"Loris is clever - "

"Even if he has Ratharkin fully garrisoned, which I doubt," Kelson interrupted pointedly, "he does not have sufficient strengh to come out from behind the city walls and defeat a force the size I plan to bring. We would have heard of any large ma.s.sing of troops. Even in Laas, there's been no report yet of anything larger than a household guard. At worst, it's a standoff and we come back home."

"I can think of worse. Sire," Cardiel sighed, "but be that as it may. Perhaps you're right. I shall pray that you are. But suppose that you aren't? If you were to be captured or killed - "

"If it will ease your mind. Archbishop, then be a.s.sured that my uncle is remaining here as regent," Kelson answered. "If anything should happen to me, he will be your king - and he has three sons to succeed him."

"And you should have sons to succeed you," Ewan muttered petulantly, "before you go charging off on such harebrained ventures."

Kelson grinned, almost glad for the old argument.

"Don't I need a wife for that, Ewan?" he quipped.

"Then stay home an' take a wife, lad!" Ewan returned. "Spend the winter in bed with a bonnie queen, making baims - not dashin' about in the snow, taking on rebel archbishops and G.o.d knows what else! There'll be time enough in the spring for making war."

Chuckling, Kelson motioned Duncan to take up pen and parchment, shaking his head in affection.

"I wish I could stay home, Ewan. Nothing would please me more. Now, I'll need the household troops, Nigel - and gentlemen, precisely because it is winter, I'll need to raid each of your personal guard units to augment my own. I'll want a hundred knights, lightly mounted for maneuverability and speed, and the minimum support force. I'll take Morgan, of course, and Jodrell and Traheme; the rest of you I'll leave to begin preparing summons of array for the spring, in case this doesn't resolve everything. Duncan, as Duke of Ca.s.san I'd take you as well, but Nigel may need your good offices here in Rhemuth."

He did not say that Duncan would also be his Deryni link back to his capital, but Arilan seemed to sense it.

"Shouldn't you take a bishop to represent the legitimate episcopal hierarchy. Sire?" he asked, as prelude to including himself in the campaign.

"The matter is best handled by secular authorities at this point.

Excellency," Morgan answered for the king, before Kelson had to stumble over a reason not to include Arilan as that bishop. "Unless His Majesty particularly wants to risk one of his loyal bishops in this venture - ?"

He glanced at Kelson, ready to back down if the king had strong reasons for wanting to include the disputed Arilan, but to his relief Kelson shook his head.