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Arilan returned. The fatigue-banishing spell did not seem to have worked very well, even though he tried it several times.
    â€œI’ve been questioning some of the guards,” the Deryni bishop said, sitting beside Morgan after he had looked in on their patient. “Apparently the boy came from Ballymar, up on the north coast. He was trained in Duke Jared’s household and page to one of the local barons for a while, but was dismissed. One of my informants seemed to think it had to do with Mearan sympathies.”
    â€œMearan sympathies?” Cardiel murmured. “How old is the lad?”
    â€œOlder than he looked,” Arilan replied, “and old enough to risk paying for his actions with his life. What puzzles me is why he tried to kill Duncan. It can’t be over the Mearan bishopric. Everyone knows that Duncan was not a candidate.”
    Duncan and Meara. Suddenly Morgan sat up straighter, remembering the conversation he and Duncan had observed between Judhael and old Creoda. They had assumed that Judhael was campaigning for his coveted bishopric. What came to Morgan now was an oblique approach to Judhael getting what he wanted, but its further potential was yet more chilling.
    â€œNo, it wasn’t about the bishopric—at least not directly,” he said softly, reviewing the genealogical relationships in his mind just to make sure. “But Duncan is Duke of Cassan and Earl of Kierney. That makes him almost a prince in his own right—and his lands have not always gone by their present names.”
    Arilan’s deep blue-violet eyes lit in sudden comprehension. “The other half of ancient Meara,” he said with a nod. “Now, wouldn’t that be a power base, if one wanted to break away from one’s overlord and establish an independent holding? The two Mearas reunited!”
    â€œAnd Duncan has no direct heir,” Cardiel added, catching the gist of what they were suggesting. “Who is his heir-at-law, Alaric? You? You’re cousins, aren’t you?”
    Morgan grimaced. “Not in the right degree for this, I fear—and I say that not out of any greed to amass more titles and land, but out of concern about who comes ahead of me. There are three, actually—though I’d only thought about the first two until today. Neither Duncan’s father or his grandfather had any brothers, but his grandfather had two sisters. The younger, my paternal grandmother, produced one son: my father. The elder sister also produced a son, however; and he married the Princess Annalind of Meara.”
    â€œQueen Roisian’s twin sister,” Cardiel whispered. “Then, Caitrin’s eldest son is Duncan’s heir!”
    Morgan nodded. “Ithel; and after him, his brother Llewell. The girl isn’t in the succession, though any eventual son of hers would be, if her brothers failed to produce heirs.” He paused to moisten his lips as the two bishops stared at him expectantly.
    â€œYou’re still wondering who the third heir is, then. I’m surprised you haven’t guessed.” He paused. “Caitrin also had a sister, and that sister had a son. Who else could he be but your good Father Judhael of Meara?”
    As Cardiel’s jaw dropped in disbelief, Arilan slapped an open palm against the arm of his chair and swore softly.
    â€œI’m not saying he had anything to do with the attack on Duncan, mind you,” Morgan went on. “I simply point out that if it had succeeded, Judhael and his kin certainly stood to gain. All we really know about his politics at this point is that he wants very badly to be Bishop of Meara. If one of his Mearan cousins were Duke of Cassan and Earl of Kierney, that might make the whole thing fall together. The Bishop of Ballymar would have no choice but to support the candidate of his new duke’s choice: Cousin Judhael. And with Judhael in the bishopric, that’s added leverage to put his