«I know you don’t, darling», Vera said, giving the boy a quick hug. «And as you grow up, I want you always to remember that. Will you do that for me?»

«Yes, Mummy».

«Thank you! Now, because I love you very, very much, I am going to give you a very special present. It’s another name, besides the ones you already have: a special name, a magical name, a name for you to use when you’re being very, very good, and you’re not to tell anyone else what it is. Would you like that?»

«Can’t tell anybody?» Duncan asked, cocking his head to one side in puzzlement. «Not even Papa an’ Kevin an’ Alaric?»

«Well, perhaps Alaric, someday, but not even Papa and Kevin. This is a very special, secret name, all your own, because one day, when you are a big, grown man like Papa, you will be very strong, and you will have great power to help people or to hurt them. You must promise that you will only help them. Will you promise me that, my love?»

Duncan’s eye had lit with wonder at the story his mother told him of someday, when he was grown up, and he nodded earnestly. Alyce was certain he was seeing his father and other great knights in his young mind, and wished there were some way that she and Vera could impart to both the boys just what their heritage actually meant.

But not yet. Such knowledge was too dangerous to entrust to such young children — especially Duncan, whose Deryni heritage was yet unknown beyond those present in the room. God willing, she and Vera would have many years to train both Alaric and Duncan in the ways that they should go; but if not, then what happened here tonight must be so binding that, even later, their sons would be able to piece together the path they should walk.

Smiling reassurance, Alyce took Duncan’s candle and set it on the table, then laid one hand on the boy’s shoulder as Vera reached under the tablecloth to withdraw a quill and ink, a slip of parchment, a small earthen bowl, never before used. She watched as her sister put the quill in Duncan’s baby hand and dipped the ink and guided it to trace out the letters of the name they had chosen for him.

«Your special name shall be Phelim», Vera said softly, finishing the round stroke of the P and then moving on to the H. «Phelim is a name that means a good person, someone who tries always to do the right thing».

Together, their hands traced the E, the L, moved on to the I.

«Sometimes it may be hard to live up to that name», Vera went on, as they finished the final stroke of the M, «but I know you’ll try ever so hard, won’t you?»

Duncan frowned at an ink blot on one of his fingers and nodded distractedly as his mother laid down the pen and put the slip of paper into the earthen bowl.

«There’s my brave, clever boy. And you must always try to be brave for good things».

«I be brave for you, Mummy», Duncan said gravely. «I always protect you».

«I’m sure you will, my darling».

Vera took the dagger that Alyce passed her from under the table and wiped the blade on an edge of her cloak.

«And Mummy must be brave, too. Mummy must prick her finger, and then Phelim must prick his. Will that be all right?»

As Duncan watched wide-eyed, soft lips agape, Vera touched the point of the dagger to her right index finger and pressed until it drew blood. One drop she allowed to fall on the parchment beside her son’s new name, before briefly sucking the wound clean. Then, as she held the dagger for Duncan, Alyce let her hand slip from Duncan’s shoulder to the back of his neck, extending control and blocking pain as the little boy fearlessly put his own finger against the dagger point and pressed.

He drew back a little as the skin was punctured, but more from surprise than any real discomfort or fear. He watched almost clinically as his mother squeezed a drop of his young blood onto the parchment beside her own.

Then, as the boy sucked on his wounded finger and watched her absorbedly, Vera opened a locket around her neck and withdrew a coiled hair — Jared’s — which she laid on the parchment and anchored with a drop of wax from Duncan’s candle.

«Now, as this parchment burns», she said, putting the candle in Duncan’s hand and guiding him to set the parchment alight, «remember that this is a secret name, which you must tell no one. Because if a bad person knows your secret name, it can make him strong, and he might be able to hurt you».

She watched Duncan watch the smoldering flame until it had died away and there was only a residue of ash in the bottom of the earthen dish. Then she pressed her thumb to the ashes and traced a smudged cross on her son’s brow, the while murmuring the words of a blessing. Eyes closing at her touch, Duncan breathed out with a little sigh as his mother’s mind caressed his. Then Vera laid both her hands on his brown hair, her own eyes closing in trance.

Alyce watched for several seconds, briefly adding her own strength to the patterning being done, then withdrew unobtrusively and got to her feet. Moving to where the sword lay at the foot of the eastern Ward, she lifted it and saluted the east, then touched the point to the floor at the left of the eastern Ward and swept it up and back down in a tall, narrow arc, opening a doorway to the altar steps.

She knelt, her hands on the quillons of the sword, as Vera led the dreamy-eyed Duncan to the threshold with his candle and waited. Fearlessly he passed through the doorway, leaving the circle, and mounted the three shallow steps alone, there to stand on tiptoes while he set his candle on the altar. When he was satisfied with its placement, his head bobbed in a bow and then he rushed back through the doorway and into his mother’s embrace. Vera hugged him close, murmuring words of endearment and stroking his hair to lull him into slumber as she gathered him into her arms, giving Alyce a relieved smile, for Duncan’s part in the ceremony now was complete.

But as Alyce rose and moved to seal the gateway again, she started and then froze as a shadow moved in the chapel doorway, obscured by the haze of the protective circle. She had warned Kenneth not to interfere, to admit no one, but now a slit of dappled moonlight was widening behind him, outlining the silhouette of a second hooded figure in the doorway.

«Kenneth?» she called softly, instinctively raising the sword across the gateway in a guard position and preparing to close it instantly, if needed.

Kenneth did not reply, only stepping aside with bowed head while the second shadow, cloaked and hooded in black, slipped past him and moved westward along the periphery of the circle, still unrecognizable in the shimmer of the golden light. Black-gloved hands pushed back the fur-lined hood as the intruder passed the northern Ward.

«No, it isn’t Kenneth», said a frighteningly familiar voice, low but unmistakable. «There is no need to fear. Do not close your circle».