Duncan's throat went dry and he had difficulty swallowing.  For the man had called him by a name he had thought known to only three living men: himself, Alaric, and the young King Kelson.  There was no way that this person could know that Duncan was half Deryni, that his mother and Alaric's had been twin sisters, of the high Deryni born.  It was a secret Duncan had guarded zealously all his life.

And yet the man before him had called him by his secret name.  How could he know?

"What do you mean?" he managed to whisper, his voice a quarter octave higher than normal.  He cleared his throat.  "I'm a McLain, of the lords of Kierney and Cassan."

"And you are also a Corwyn, of your sainted mother's right," the stranger contradicted gently.  "There is no shame to being half Deryni, Duncan."

Duncan shut his mouth and managed to regain most of his composure, then wet his lips nervously.  "Who are you?" he asked, holding his ground, but unconsciously letting his hand drop from the sword hilt he had clutched until now.  "What do you want?"

The man chuckled amiably and shook his head.  "No, of course you don't understand, do you?" he murmured almost to himself, still smiling easily.  "You needn't be afraid.  Your secret is sealed within me.  But, come.  Dismount and walk with me awhile.  There is something I would have you know."

Duncan hesitated for an instant, uncomfortable under the man's serene gaze, then complied.  The man nodded gravely.

"You may consider this a warning, Duncan - not a threat from me, for it is not that, but for your own good.  In the weeks to come, your powers will be sorely tested.  More and more you will be called upon to use your magic in the open, to either accept your birthright and take up the fight as is your duty, or else to forever renounce it.  Do I make myself clear?"

"You do not," Duncan whispered, his eyes narrowing.  "To begin with, I am a priest.  I am forbidden to practice the occult arts."

"Are you?" the man asked quietly.

"Of course I'm forbidden to practice magic."

"No.  I mean, are you a priest?"

Duncan felt his cheeks begin to burn, and he had to avert his eyes.  "According to the rite by which I was ordained, I am a priest forever, 'unto -"

"'Unto the order of Melchizedek,'" the man quoted.  "I know what the scripture says.  But are you really a priest?  What happened two days ago?"

Duncan looked up defiantly.  "I'm merely suspended.  I've not been degraded from the priesthood, nor excommunicated."

"And yet, you yourself said that the suspensoion didn't really worry you, that the more you use your powers, the less important your vows become."

Duncan gasped, instinctively drawing closer to the man, and his horse tossed its head in alarm.

"How do you know that?"

The man smiled gently and reached his hand to the horse's bridle to keep it from stepping on his sandaled feet.  "I know many things."