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the castle’s outbuildings.
    Soldiers seized two older boys whom he knew to be his brothers and dragged them into the already bloody courtyard, then slew them with swords which hacked and stabbed and were raised up dripping again and again. An infant sister was dashed against the stones of the courtyard paving, another tossed aloft and spitted on a laughing soldier’s lance.
    And then his father, tall and gray-eyed, gory in blood-soaked nightclothes, unarmed but for a bright blade in his hand, roaring defiance as he tried to cut a path to his anguished queen. The rain of arrows falling on the king and cutting him down like a trapped animal—because the butchers feared to come within reach of his blade.
    And his mother’s shrieks as they pinned her limbs and ripped the living child from her belly.…
    Rhys drew back with a gasp and severed the contact, unable to endure the visions any longer. Stunned wordless by what he had seen, he forced himself to focus on his hands and was shocked to find that they were trembling.
    Willing them to calm, his pounding heart to slow, he breathed deeply several times, relaxing as the world settled into its customary order. Gently, he chafed the old man’s hand to bring him back to consciousness. He was hardly aware of the tears welling in his eyes.
    â€œDan?” he whispered. “Dan? Prince Aidan?”
    The gray eyes opened weakly and the old lips parted. “You saw.”
    Rhys nodded slowly, his golden eyes wide with wonder and a little horror still.
    â€œThen, you know I spoke the truth,” Dan said. “Will you guard that truth, against the time when the throne may be restored to a Haldane?”
    â€œA Deryni king is on the throne now, Dan. Would you have me betray him to restore your kin?”
    â€œWatch and pray, Rhys. And then ask yourself if the man on the throne is worthy of the golden circlet. Ask if this is the sort of rule you wish for your children and your children’s children. Then you decide. And when the time comes, and you reach the decision which I think you must, at least consider my grandson. Once I am gone, only you will know, Rhys.”
    â€œYou speak treason, old friend,” Rhys murmured, lowering his eyes as he remembered what he had seen. “But, if the time comes, I—I will consider what you have told me.”
    â€œGod bless you, my son.” The old man smiled. He reached up with his free hand to wipe a tear from Rhys’s cheek with his thumb. “And I, who thought ever to curse the Deryni …” He paused, and a flicker of pain crossed his face. “Around my neck you will find a silver coin on a cord. I do not read, but I am told that it was struck at the abbey where Cinhil, my grandson, took his vows. His name in religion is—is—”
    The old man gasped for breath, and Rhys had to lean forward to catch his next words.
    â€œGo on, Dan. His name?”
    â€œHis name—his name is—Benedict. Benedictus. He … is … a Haldane … and … King.”
    Rhys bowed his head and closed his eyes in sorrow, automatically searching for a pulse but knowing that this time there would be none. He slipped to his knees and knelt there for several minutes, then shook his head and let the old man’s hand go. Folding the wrinkled old hands on the silent breast and closing the dulling eyes, he then crossed himself numbly and turned away. He was nearly to the door before he remembered the coin, and he returned quickly to take it from around the dead man’s neck.
    But though Rhys could read the words inscribed in the silver, they meant nothing to him. And with a sudden, sinking feeling, he realized that Daniel had given him only the religious name of his grandson—Benedictus—and not his secular one. If he ever did want to locate the man, it was going to be very difficult.
    With a troubled mind, he slipped the coin into the pouch at his belt and moved