taken his Th.D. and then specialized under an expert for a time. And there are not many Doctors of Thaumaturgy. Since Lord Seiger is a Yorkshireman, I would venture to guess that the work was done by His Grace the Archbishop of York—a most pious and powerful Healer. I, myself, would not think of attempting such an operation."
"You can, however, tell that such an operation has been performed?"
Father Patrique smiled. "As easily as a chirurgeon can tell if an abdominal operation has been performed."
"Can a geas be removed? Or partially removed?"
"Of course—by one equally as skilled and powerful. But I could detect that, too. It has not been done in Lord Seiger's case."
"Can you tell what channels of freedom he has been allowed?"
"No," said the priest. "That sort of thing depends upon the fine structure of the geas, which is difficult to observe without extensive analysis."
"Then," said Lord Darcy, "you cannot tell me whether or not there are circumstances in which his geas would permit him to kill? Such as, for instance . . . er . . . self-defense?"
"No," the priest admitted. "But I will say that it is rare indeed for even such a channel as self-defense to be left open for a psychopathic killer. The geas in such a case would necessarily leave the decision as to what constituted 'self-defense' up to the patient. A normal person knows when 'self-defense' requires killing one's enemy, rendering him unconscious, fleeing from him, giving him a sharp retort, or merely keeping quiet. But to a psychopathic killer, a simple insult may be construed as an attack which requires 'self-defense'—which would give him permission to kill. No Healer would leave such a decision in the hands of the patient" His face grew somber. "Certainly no sane man would leave that decision to the mind of a man like Lord Seiger."
"Then you consider him safe, Father?"
The Benedictine hesitated only a moment. "Yes. Yes, I do. I do not believe him capable of committing an antisocial act such as that. The Healer took pains to make sure that Lord Seiger would be protected from most of his fellow men, too. He is almost incapable of committing any offense against propriety; his behavior is impeccable at all times; he cannot insult anyone; he is almost incapable of defending himself physically except under the greatest provocation.
"I once watched him in a fencing bout with my lord the Marquis. Lord Seiger is an expert swordsman—much better than my lord the Marquis. The Marquis was utterly unable to score a touch upon Lord Seiger's person; Lord Seiger's defense was far too good. But—neither could Lord Seiger score a touch upon my lord. He couldn't even try. His brilliant swordsmanship is purely and completely defensive." He paused. "You are a swordsman yourself, my lord?" It was only half a question; the priest was fairly certain that a Duke's Investigator would be able to handle any and all weapons with confidence.
He was perfectly correct. Lord Darcy nodded without answering. To be able to wield a totally defensive sword required not only excellent—superlative—swordsmanship, but the kind of iron self-control that few men possessed. In Lord Seiger's case, of course, it could hardly be called self-control. The control had been imposed by another.
"Then you can understand," the priest continued, "why I say that I believe he can be trusted. If his Healer found it necessary to impose so many restrictions and protections, he would most certainly not have left any channel open for Lord Seiger to make any decision for himself as to when it would be proper to kill another."
"I understand, Father. Thank you for your information. I assure you it will remain confidential."
"Thank you, my lord. If there is nothing else . . . ?"
"Nothing for the moment, Reverend Father. Thank you again."
"A pleasure, Lord Darcy. And now, Master Sean, shall we go to my laboratory?"
An hour later, Lord Darcy was sitting in the guest room which Sir Gwiliam had shown him to the day before. He was puffing at his Bavarian pipe, filled with a blend of tobacco grown in the Southern Duchies of New England, his mind working at high speed, when Master Sean entered.
"My lord," said the tubby little sorcerer with a smile, "the good Father and I have identified the substance."
"Good!" Lord Darcy gestured toward a chair. "What was it?"
Master Sean sat down. "We were lucky, my lord. His Reverence did have a sample of the drug. As soon as we were able to establish