were Morganâs hands.
âKeep your eyes closed, take a deep breath and let it out, and try to concentrate only on my voice,â Morgan commanded. âYour shields are nearly gone. Try not to resist what Iâm about to do. This isnât going to be pleasant for either of us, but Iâll show you whatâs happening and how to make the best of it.â
Kelson could not have disobeyed, had his soulâs salvation depended on it. The touch of Morganâs mind was far worse than the touch of his hands. All he remembered of the next hour or two was screamingâthough they told him, later, that he had uttered not a sound.
He supposed they had finally given him Arilanâs sedative, at the end, because when he finally woke, it was the next morning, and Jatham, his senior squire, was rousing him for Sunday Mass, and his head hurt worse than any hangover he could ever remember having or even hearing about.
âGod, how did Duncan function at all?â Kelson whispered, hardly even able to lift his head as he waited for Jatham to fetch Morgan. âThe merasha disruption, on top of everything else they did to him!â He shifted one arm over his aching eyes to shut out the light. âAnd my father! I doubt he even knew what was happening to him.â
Dhugal, stirring from the cot where he had slept at the foot of the kingâs great bed, groaned as he managed to raise himself far enough to clamp both arms around one of the bedposts and look muzzily in Kelsonâs general direction.
âYou mustnât let yourself dwell on it,â he said, âjust as I mustnât let myself think about what my father suffered. It does no good. Whatâs important is that weâve learned what can be done if we ever have to face merasha againâGod forbid!â
But though it was their resolve not to dwell on such troubles, both of them didâuntil Morganâs arrival shifted their attention to more practical concerns.
âWe have to go to Mass this morning, Alaric,â Kelson replied, when Morgan suggested that a day in bed would do both young men far more good than attendance at any ritual. âCardiel will be reading the tribunalâs dispensation from the pulpit. Dhugal should be there.â
Morgan could not fault that reasoning, though he warned both of them that any immediate relief he might bring them was but a temporary measure, cautioning that only another good nightâs sleep would really complete their cure. After applying what healing measures he might, he underlined his advice by going back to bed himself.
At least Cardielâs announcement proved popular. After Mass, dozens of well-wishers flocked around Dhugal and the king to offer their congratulations, for the young border lord had made himself well-liked at court in the past year and moreâand doubly so, now that the social onus of bastardy had been laid to rest. A contingent of Dhugalâs borderers, come to Rhemuth to attend his knighting two days hence, cheered him as he and the king left the cathedral, though Ciard O Ruane, Dhugalâs aged gillie, was quick to observeâand to point gleefully out to his clansmenâthat both their young chief and the king apparently had over-celebrated the night before, judging by their bleary eyes and aversion to light and loud noises.
Neither Dhugal nor Kelson disabused them of that notion, of course. Even were it not expected that all those to receive the accolade should retire early that evening, before plunging into the two-day round of ceremonies and festivities officially marking the event, a hangover gave both of them added excuse to seek seclusion. By the time they had crossed the castle yard and mounted the steps to the great hall doors, only Jatham was still with them, for the clansmen and young warriors who had buzzed around them after Mass or accompanied them back to the keep had drifted on about their business. Besides, Jatham, too,