Free Deryni Checkmate by Katherine Kurtz

whistled lightly under his breath and crossed to the table, never taking his eyes from the amber sphere. He started to reach out to touch it, then changed his mind and merely stood there admiring. Morgan smiled as he joined his cousin and leaned against the back of one chair.
    “How do you like it?” he asked. The question was strictly rhetorical, for Duncan was obviously enthralled with the thing.
    “It’s magnificent,” Duncan whispered, with the awe in his voice of any artisan looking at a particularly fine tool of his trade. “Where did you ever find such an enormous—it is a shiral crystal, isn’t it?”
    Morgan nodded. “The very same. The Hort of Orsal found it for me a few months ago—at an outrageous price, I might add. Go ahead. Touch it, if you like.”
    As Duncan slipped into the nearer of the two chairs, the forgotten saddlebags slung across his arm bumped against the table. He looked down with a start, as though just remembering he had them, and his handsome face went tense, guarded. He lifted the bags to the table and started to speak, but Morgan shook his head.
    “Go on with the crystal,” he urged, seeing Duncan’s discomfiture. “I don’t know what you’ve got in there that you think is so important, but whatever it is, it can wait.”
    Duncan bit at his lip and looked across at Morgan for a long moment, then nodded acquiescence and eased the bags to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he pressed his palms together for an instant, then exhaled and reached out to surround the crystal with his two hands. As he relaxed, the crystal began to glow.
    “Beautiful,” Duncan breathed, the tension draining away as he moved his hands lower on the crystal to better expose it. “With a crystal this size, I ought to be able to form images without half trying.”
    Concentrating anew, he gazed deeply into the crystal and watched the glow intensify. The sphere lost its opacity and became a transparent amber, clouded briefly as though breathed upon from within. Then a shape began to form in the mist, which gradually solidified and took on human aspects. It was a tall man with silvery hair, wearing an archbishop’s robes and miter and wielding a heavy jeweled crozier. He was very angry.
    Loris! Morgan thought to himself as he leaned forward to inspect the image. What the devil is he up to now? He certainly has Duncan riled, whatever it is . . .
    Duncan snatched away his hands as though the crystal had suddenly become hot to the touch, and a look of repugnance contorted his features for an instant. As his hands left the sphere, the image vanished, and the sphere again became translucent. Duncan rubbed his palms against his cassock as though wiping away something distasteful, then forced himself to relax, folded his hands neatly on the table. He gazed down at them as he spoke.
    “I suppose it’s fairly obvious that this isn’t just a social call,” he murmured bitterly. “I couldn’t even hide it from the shiral crystal.”
    Morgan nodded understanding. “I realized that when you got off your horse.” He studied the gryphon signet on his right forefinger and rubbed it absently. “Do you want to tell me what has happened?”
    Duncan shrugged and sighed. “That’s why I came, I suppose. There isn’t any easy way to say it, Alaric. I—I’ve been suspended.”
    “Suspended?” Morgan’s jaw dropped in amazement. “What for?”
    Duncan forced a wry smile. “Can’t you guess? Apparently Archbishop Loris convinced Corrigan that my part in the coronation battle was more than just that of Kelson’s confessor. Which, unfortunately, is true. They may even suspect that I’m half-Deryni. They were going to call me before an ecclesiastical court, only a friend found out and warned me in time. It’s what we always feared might happen.”
    Morgan exhaled and lowered his eyes. “I am so sorry, Duncan. I know how much the priesthood means to you. I—don’t know what to say.”
    Duncan smiled weakly.