«In truth, Sire, the Lord Judhael acted before his true intentions became known to us. He has brought men down out of the mountains to the west and raised the standard of rebellion, claiming to be our true prince — and we were content that he should make such claim in local things, so long as he did you proper service as your vassal. But he has seized your Majesty's governor, and I — fear they may have hanged him».

«They've hanged Iolo Melandry?» Richard said disbelievingly.

Donal, meanwhile, had seized the wretched Nidian by the neck of his tunic and jerked him closer, cold anger flaring in the gray eyes. As the man cringed under this sudden onslaught of Haldane anger, hands fluttering weakly upward in a futile warding-off gesture, Donal cast a sharp glance at Morian for confirmation that the man was telling the truth, though he knew from his own abilities that it was so. The Deryni lord inclined his head minutely, but also flicked a meaningful glance in the direction of the altogether too attentive Sir Kenneth Morgan, still waiting near the tent flap.

«The Devil take him!» Donal murmured, enough recalled to the need for caution that he released the hapless Nidian with an apologetic smoothing of the rumpled tunic. «This goes beyond what may be forgiven, even of kin. I should have hacked off the last of that rotten branch the last time I ventured into this stubborn land». He rose and, unable to engage in the restless pacing that usually helped him defuse anger or frustration, glanced back at the bearer of this unwelcome news. «Who else rides with that traitorous dog?» he demanded.

«I… I do not know their names, Sire», Nidian whispered. «But many high-born lords answered his summons to Ratharkin, beneath many a noble banner».

«Hardly noble, if they fly against their rightful king», Kenneth dared to mutter.

The words recalled the king to caution, for even the trusted Sir Kenneth should not be allowed to witness what Donal now had in mind.

«Well, I will know who they are», he said softly. «Kenneth, please wait outside, and let no one disturb us for the next little while. I feel certain that Master Nidian can tell us more».

The Mearan looked briefly alarmed as Sir Kenneth dutifully withdrew, but he was given no time to speculate on his likely fate. As the tent flap fell into place, Morian was already moving forward to drop a heavy hand to the back of Nidian's neck, steadying with the other hand as his subject collapsed back on his hunkers, head lolling forward.

«Ah, yes», Morian said after a few seconds, the look of trance glazing the blue-violet eyes. «Master Nidian is, indeed, deficient in the matter of names, but he has an excellent eye for faces and those traitor banners. Judhael himself, of course… the Earl of Somerdale and his brother… Sir Robard Kincaid and his eldest son… Basil of Castleroo… Blaise of Trurill… Sir Michael MacDonald… and curiously enough, both Judhael’s daughters…»

«Both?» Donal said, surprised. «I had heard that the younger one is with child».

«So she is», Morian agreed, seeing what the other three could not. «Far gone with child. I wonder that they would risk her in such an enterprise. But I cannot imagine what other pregnant woman it might be, desperate enough to ride with the royal party».

«It is said that she and her husband dote on one another», Richard offered.

«So I have heard», Donal replied. «That would account for young MacDonald's presence. Seek out such other details as may be useful», he said to Morian. «How is it that he means to assist us?»

After another long moment, Morian smiled and lifted his head, returning his focus to the king.

«It appears that our Master Nidian can deliver what he promises, Sire».

«Show me», Donal said softly.

With a nod, Morian glanced aside at Josquin, who was putting the finishing touches to his map, at Ahern, then gestured toward the remains of their meal, stacked nearby on a silver tray.

«If Sir Ahern would be so good as to clear the supper things off that tray, we'll see what can be done», he said. Keeping one hand on the kneeling and entranced Nidian, he reached across to touch the scout Josquin lightly on the shoulder. «Have you finished, Master Josquin?»

The scout looked up with a start and smiled faintly, setting aside his quill.

«I have, my lord. Will it serve?»

«I'm sure it will serve very well», the king said, rising to delve into a pouch at his waist. «Here's a silver penny for your trouble, Master Josquin — and my thanks for a job well done». He pressed the coin into the scout's hand and clapped him on the shoulder. «Now, go and get a meal and some sleep. I shall need you on the morrow».

As the scout withdrew, grinning sheepishly at this tangible sign of the royal favor, Donal glanced to where Ahern was clearing the supper tray, then moved the campaign chest closer and sat again on his camp stool, picking up the new map. Morian, meanwhile, had hauled the entranced Nidian to his feet and guided him to the stool just vacated by the scout, pulling another stool near and sitting knee-to-knee with him. At his gesture, Ahern set the silver tray across both their laps and moved back to stand behind Morian.

«You will be familiar with the basic principles of scrying», Morian said to Ahern, at the same time directing Richard to stand before the tent flap. «This will be a demonstration of a military application, for gathering intelligence».

He nodded to the king, who leaned back to snare a flagon of wine from a camp table behind him. As he unstoppered it to pour some onto the tray, the reflected torchlight made of the silver tray a blood-dark mirror.

«Nidian, I want you to imagine that you're looking through the wine and the tray», Morian said very softly, setting both the other man's hands on the edge of the tray and holding them there with his own. «Imagine that you can see your feet through the tray. Don't try to focus; just relax and drift, let it happen. I give you my word that you'll come to no harm».

The Mearan's eyelids flickered, but his gaze did not waver from the shallow wash of wine. Cautiously Ahern set his hand on Morian's shoulder, trying the most tentative of contacts, so that he could better monitor what the more experienced Deryni did — and deepened the contact as Morian allowed it.

«Now recall what you've just told us, Master Nidian, and what you saw», Morian urged softly. «Don't speak. Simply allow your memories to flow, and try to focus on every detail you can remember».

A faint sigh escaped the man's lips, and his head sank a little lower as the tension eased into expectant silence. After a few seconds, as Donal and Ahern watched and Richard craned his neck to see past their subject, a faint miasma seemed to rise from the surface of the wine, clouding the flat expanse of burgundy with a silvery sheen reflected from beneath, resolving then into misty images of stone ramparts, bartizans with conical roofs, portcullises barring sturdy gates, and defenders massed along the battlements of distant Ratharkin.

The colors of old Meara fluttered above the walls of the ancient city, rather than the scarlet and gold standard of Donal's royal governor. And camped before the walls of the city were the Mearan levies — far more than anyone had thought Judhael could assemble.

At Donal's gesture, Richard came softly closer and the two brothers studied what was shown, noting the troop deployments and encampments, estimating numbers. After a silent interval, Richard withdrew to one side to make notations on the map. When it became clear that no more was to come, Donal tipped the contents of the tray onto grass at one edge of the tent while Morian adjusted Nidian's memory of what had just occurred.

«What will he remember of this?» Richard murmured, as Donal wiped off the tray with a cloth.

«Only that he was asked to report again on what he saw, and that he did so, while notes were taken. That is what happened», Donal added, cocking an eyebrow at his brother.