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raised her head to look at him.
    “You must not allow any of your nobles to inspect the body,” she said.
    At his questioning look, she went on.
    “There are Deryni in your household whom you do not know. What you have just done—leaves certain signs that can be read by those who know how.”
    “There are other Deryni in my household!” Donal repeated, incredulous. “Besides yourselves. And you did not tell me?”
    “I was not permitted to tell you,” she replied. “I was physically incapable of telling you. I still cannot tell you certain things.”
    The king’s face went even more ashen, if that were possible, but indignant question was already stirring in his eyes.
    “They mean you no harm, Sire,” she whispered, still clutching the child to her breast. “There are . . . those who have long been charged to watch over the House of Haldane, and to report back to . . . superiors. I am bound not to reveal their identities. They—have other obligations as well, an agenda of their own, which Sief served. It was they who required my marriage with him, after my father passed away.”
    Donal simply stared at her for a long moment, finally bestirring himself to draw a deep breath.
    “Other Deryni,” he murmured. “Why did it not occur to me before?”
    When she said nothing, he slowly got to his feet, his gaze drifting back to Sief’s body.
    “Is your brother one of them?” he said quietly, after a pause.
    “You know what he is, Sire,” she replied. “And you know that he has always served you faithfully. More than that I may not tell you.”
    “How dare—” He had started to answer her sharply, but broke off and took a deep breath, glancing again at Sief.
    “Jessamy,” he whispered very softly, “you must help me in this. What we have done, we have done for the guarding of Gwynedd. But my guarding is incomplete, if I do not know as many of the dangers as possible. I must ask you again: What other Deryni are here at court?”
    “I cannot tell you,” she said, very softly. “I wish that I could—but I cannot.”
    She was silently weeping by the time Donal summoned help and men came running from outside Sief MacAthan’s suite of rooms, in the part of the castle where the king’s most trusted advisors were privileged to lodge. At that time, only the king himself was to know that the widow’s tears were tears of relief, to be free at last of Sief’s long tyranny.
     
 
THE Camberian Council learned of Sief’s death the following day, shortly after the news began to disseminate within the court at Rhemuth, for Seisyll Arilan attended on the court nearly every morning. Seisyll had been surprised to hear it, since Sief had seemed in good health the previous evening, but he dutifully set in motion the usual mechanism by which the Council was summoned outside their normal schedule of meetings, and continued to gather what further information he could, until time came for them to meet.
    “It seems to have taken everyone by surprise,” Seisyll told his fellow Council members early that evening—now only five of them, for their missing member had yet to regain Portal access. “I’m informed that the king’s own physician was summoned immediately, but there was nothing to be done.”
    “You weren’t able to see the body?” Barrett asked.
    Seisyll shook his head. “Not yet. There was no way I could manage it without calling attention to myself. Besides, they’re saying it was his heart. He was about sixty, after all—the oldest among us.”
    “But not that old, for one of us,” Michon said quietly. “You and I are hardly a decade younger, Seisyll.”
    Seissyl merely shrugged as Dominy de Laney cocked her head in Michon’s direction.
    “Surely you don’t suspect foul play,” she said.
    “No. It’s curious, though, that the king was with him. It would have been late. Did anyone hear him mention that he planned to see the king after he left us?”
    The others at the table shook their