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of usurpation, then he declares himself my enemy as well. Tell him what I have said and warn Marek of Festil that I shall ask and give no quarter where he and his are concerned. You may go in safety.”
    Without further comment, he turned on his heel and strode from the dais to disappear through the curtained doorway in the screen behind. Cathan and Fulk followed, nearly colliding with the king, who had stopped just inside to draw a deep breath, shivering in after-reaction.
    â€œWell said, Sire!” Fulk whispered fiercely, as Cathan urged the king farther from the screen so other of the great lords could come through. Glancing back a little dazedly, Rhys Michael saw the Torenthi contingent making an uncertain withdrawal, for their audience had suddenly evaporated.
    â€œYou handled that very well, your Highness,” Hubert said, suddenly beside him, his touch bringing back the king’s focus in a flash. “Why don’t you rest for half an hour or so? Be assured that Lord Albertus will see our visitors safely out of Rhemuth. Meanwhile, I’ll have Lord Tammaron convene the council. You’ll be called when we’re ready for you again. Having made our decision, I would hope that the royal party could leave first thing in the morning. You’d best advise the queen. Fulk, Cathan, would you please accompany his Royal Highness back to his quarters?”
    If the king objected to this cavalier treatment, he gave no outward sign of it, merely drawing deep breath and setting his hand resolutely on the hilt of the Haldane sword before mounting the turnpike stair that led back to the royal apartments. Hubert watched him go, joined a moment later by his brother, who also had been watching the exchange.
    â€œHe did that far better than I expected,” Manfred said.
    â€œAye, there’s a great deal to be said for Haldane blood,” Hubert replied, “even when it’s been suppressed. Imagine what the sons will be like, who will never have been exposed to corruption from outside.”
    Manfred nodded thoughtfully. “It’s just possible that we may have gotten to him in time. I wouldn’t have predicted it, after our rocky beginning.” He snorted, with an ironic little smile. “Not that he has any choice but to follow our guidance, does he? Still, it’s for his own good.”
    â€œAnd ours,” Hubert reminded him.
    â€œAnd ours, granted,” Manfred agreed. “But it’s for the good of Gwynedd, too, if we’re to keep the Deryni taint out of Court. And isn’t that what keeping the Festils at bay is all about?—besides preserving the Haldane line, of course.”
    Hubert nodded grimly. “Never the Festils again, no matter what else we have to do to ensure it,” he said emphatically. “But, go ahead and help Tammaron begin summoning the council. Take Archbishop Oriss with you. I want to have a word with Paulin. I’ll join you directly.”
    Paulin was waiting for him in the little withdrawing room behind the dais screen, with several of his Custodes brethren and the wiry little man known to them as Dimitri. The latter was cloaked and cowled in black, so that he looked almost like one of them, but he was not—not of their Order, not strictly of their faith, and not even fully human, by their reckoning, for he was Deryni.
    Especially for this last reason, Paulin’s Custodes companions were giving him wide berth, bunched a little uneasily to one side of the fireplace while Dimitri stood before it, hands folded in the sleeves of his robe, gazing into the flames. He glanced around slowly, almost as if awakened from a sleep, as Paulin pulled two chairs closer for himself and Hubert and they sat.
    â€œTell us about the herald and his party,” Paulin said without preamble. “All Deryni?”
    â€œAye, my lord, but very well behaved.” Dimitri made them a profound bow, then folded to his knees before them to