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Firelight winked on the blade as he unsheathed it and kissed the relic enclosed in
the hilt. Then he stood wordlessly.
"I must ask," said Duncan, "that you limit yourself to a wound which you yourself
could heal." His linen shirt was half unlaced, and he pulled it from the waistband
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of his breeches preparatory to removing it, "Also, if you choose to deliver a
potential death blow, I must insist that it be a slow one. I shouldn't like to have
my life slip away before Alaric could bring his powers into play."
Warin glanced away uncomfortably, tightening his sweaty grip on the dagger's
ivory hilt. "I shall not wound you beyond my own power to heal."
"Thank you." Duncan pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to Morgan,
who dropped it on the chair Kelson had vacated. The priest was pale but unafraid
as he stood before Warin.
Warin brought the dagger to waist level and approached, cautious, reluctant, yet
drawn in horrified fascination that this enemy would permit what was about to
transpire. The thought crossed his mind that he could, if he choose, kill, at least
this one Deryni; but another part of him strangely shrank from that thought, as
though already entertaining the possibility that these Deryni were telling the
truth, terrifying though that was to contemplate.
When he had come within arm's length of Duncan, he stopped and forced himself
to meet the calm blue eyes which gazed back at him, then dropped his glance to
the body below. Duncan's torso, rarely exposed to the sun, was a pale ivory,
almost like a woman's though there the similarity ended. The shoulders were
broad and strong, sleek with well-tempered muscles, with little body hair. There
was a faint scar across the ribs below the left breast, another on the right bicep
training scars, probably.
Slowly Warin raised the dagger point to eye level and brought it lightly to rest
against Duncan's left shoulder. The priest did not flinch as the steel touched his
skin, but Warin could no longer meet the eyes.
"Do what you must do," Duncan whispered, steeling himself for the thrust.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
You have probed me, and you know me.
Psalms 139:1
There was a sharp, searing pain in Duncan's left shoulder, and then he felt a vast
shudder wrack his body. In the shock of that first instant of anguish, he was
aware of Warin's eyes blazing insanely, of Kelson's gasp of alarm, Alaric's arm
under his good shoulder as he began to sag limply.
Then he was sinking to the floor, Alaric snapping at Warin, the grey eyes flashing
in anger, Warin's face returning to sanity and recoiling in horror from what he-
had done. He felt Alaric's fingers at the blade which still impaled his shoulder, the
reassuring strength of his cousin's strong arm supporting his head. Then the
others were all standing back all except Alaric with Warin the closest other one in
the room. And Alaric was bending down to look into his eyes, lips moving in
words Duncan could not quite understand.
"Duncan? Duncan, can you hear me? Damn you, Warin! You didn't have to hit
him so hardl Duncan, it's Alaric. Listen to me!"
Duncan found that, by concentrating, he could make the lips' movement match
the words which were now being spoken. He blinked and stared up at his cousin
dazedly for what seemed like an eternity, then managed to nod weakly. Going out
of range beyond his chin, he could just see the hilt of Warin's little ivory-fitted
dagger, the ivory strangely stained as he inspected its whorls and carvings.
He looked again at Alaric, then felt a calm brush his mind as his kinsman's right
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hand touched lightly on his forehead before moving on to rest against the hilt of
the dagger.
"It's a bad wound, Duncan," the golden Deryni murmured, searching his eyes.
"I'm going to need your help. If you can stand the pain, I'd like you to stay awake
while I do this. I'm not certain I can handle it alone."
Duncan turned his head slightly to glance at the dagger again, his cheek resting
momentarily against his kinsman's hand.
"Go ahead," Duncan whispered. "Ill manage."
He saw the grey eyes close once in agreement, then felt the arm beneath him
raising him slightly so that he was resting against Alaric's chest. The left hand was
ready to staunch the wound now, once the dagger was withdrawn by the right.
Duncan raised his right hand to Alaric's left, ready to add whatever assistance he
could, then braced himself for the new pain which he knew must come when the
steel was withdrawn.
"Do it now," he murmured.
He felt the scrape of metal against bone, the sear of steel in muscle, sinew, nerve
and then his shoulder was flowing red, his life's blood pumping into the still night
air. He felt Alaric's hands press over the wound, his own right hand warm to the
feel of blood seeping past anguished fingers. And then Alaric's mind was reaching
out to touch his own, soothing, calming, taking away the agony.
His mind detached itself from the pain then. Abruptly, he was able to open his
eyes and stare up into Alaric's deep grey ones. Rapport was found and established
in a heartbeat, minds linked stronger than the link of hands could ever be,
Then Alaric closed his eyes and Duncan did the same, And Duncan seemed to
hear a deep, musical hum through some faculty other than his ears. The bond
deepened, and an all-pervading peace began to descend upon him, almost as
though a shadowy hand, without form or substance, was laying itself, across his
feverish brow. He had the fleeting impression that there was another Presence
linked with them, Someone he bad never seen or heard before. And then the pain
stopped, the bleeding stopped. He opened his eyes to find Alaric's golden head
still bowed over him, felt the bond begin to dissolve away. He stirred slightly
against Alaric's arm as his kinsman opened his eyes, lifting his head far enough to
peer down at the three bloodstained hands which rested on his left shoulder. The
top hand Alaric's was removed; and simultaneously his own and Alaric's other
hand fell away. The wound was gonel
197
There was a very faint line on the skin where the blade had entered a line which
was fast fading but even of the monstrous quantity of blood which had escaped
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