But Danilo, who was an adherent to this faith, what must this tirade be like for him? Regis stole a glance at his companion, sitting a short distance away. Danilo’s cheeks had gone pale.
As they made ready to depart, Danilo was taut and silent. He answered Regis in monosyllables. Regis did not press the issue. Danilo would speak to him in his own time or deal with his feelings in his own way.
Rinaldo was in high spirits, excited by every aspect of the journey. When he was presented with his mount, however, he seemed less than pleased. The horse Danilo had found for him was almost as small and shaggy as the local ponies. The rust-brown gelding had a scrawny neck and a loose, hanging lower lip, but the slope of his shoulders and the sturdy bone beneath the knee promised an easy gait. Regis knew enough of the mountain breeds to have confidence in the animal’s ability to carry a large man over rough terrain and to thrive on poor forage. This horse was a practical choice, if less than beautiful.
Danilo had also obtained warm, serviceable clothing, trousers, jacket, and riding cloak of mixed sheep and chervine wool for extra water repellence. Neither the garments nor the boots were new; the pants were stained, and the leather was worn to softness that would minimize blisters.
Regis caught a flash of quickly masked disappointment in his brother’s face. It was gone in an instant, as if it had never been, a faint tightening of eyes and mouth, a glace at Danilo. Regis opened his mouth to explain that such clothing and such a horse were the best that could be had and would be far more comfortable than anything new or flashy. He stopped himself. What was he doing, making excuses for Danilo? Surely, Rinaldo could see the true quality of these things, and when they were settled in Thendara, more elaborate garb, suitable for a Hastur Lord, could readily be ordered.
11
Several days later, the party set off from Nevarsin, traveling at an easy pace. As a peace offering to Danilo, Regis suggested that they break their return journey at Syrtis, Danilo’s ancestral home.
“There’s no need to hurry back.” Regis did not need to add that it might be a long time before he had another opportunity to escape the city and the weight of his new duties.
“I would appreciate that,” Danilo replied. “Since my father’s death, I have had few opportunities to oversee the estate. My coridom manages well enough, but it is still my responsibility to examine the accounts and ascertain for myself that all is in order. It—” and here a shade of emotion crept into his voice, “—it will be good to be home again.”
Rinaldo responded with easy-going cheerfulness to the change in plans. Regis supposed that his brother had traveled so little in the world that any new place must be a pleasure. Despite his disappointment at being given worn clothing and an ugly mount, Rinaldo was a pleasant traveling companion. Regis never heard him utter a syllable of complaint.
Syrtis lay half a mile off the road to Edelweiss, where Javanne and her family had once lived. The manor was situated at the end of a valley, leading downward to the lake country around Mariposa. Grass grew lush along the road. Mice and rabbithorns scurried away at their approach. Cattle grazed in the fields, lazily swishing away flies. One of the Guardsmen, a fine baritone, began an old ballad from the Kilghard Hills.
As they traveled through a little village, Danilo was instantly recognized and welcomed. Drawing near the main house, the party passed orchards of apple, pear, and ambernuts. The trees looked well-pruned and healthy, laden with fruit.
“It will be a good harvest,” Regis commented.
Danilo, who had been riding silently at his side, turned to Regis with an expression of bittersweet contentment. “Yes.” But I will not be here to see it.
“Perhaps . . .” Regis hesitated, his boyhood diffidence rising once more, “perhaps you could return this fall.”
Dark eyes hardened. And leave you to the wolves?
Dani, I will not be alone. I have Rinaldo now.
Danilo looked away, his laran barriers tight. Regis kept silent with an effort.
Seeing the house, it was impossible for Regis not to remember his first visit to Syrtis, so many years and so many sorrows ago . . . At the time, he had not realized how poor Danilo’s family was. One wing of the house had fallen into such disrepair that it was not safe for human habitation. Now the house sat like a jewel amid its gardens. The old moat had been drained, ditched, and turned into plots of vegetables and pot-herbs. Rosalys and star-lilies glowed like bits of sun-touched colored glass. Bees hung in the air. Regis took a deep breath, drinking in the fragrances of flowers and rich earth. A layer of tension slipped from his shoulders.
A stone barn, with its snug roof and new siding, led to a paddock in which several horses stood dozing in the sun. Beyond it lay a mews, and Regis remembered the splendid hawks bred and trained by Danilo’s father. Old Dom Felix had been hawkmaster to Danvan Hastur.
The thought came to Regis, Dani’s brother and my own father died together. ‘The two Rafaels,’ they were called.
Past and present overlapped in his vision. There, down the path that led to an apple orchard, now so old the trees in all likelihood no longer bore fruit, he and Danilo had exchanged vows as liege and paxman, had bound themselves with honor.
Our lives were woven together even before our hearts knew one another.
Was that about to change?
The coridom, a wiry middle-aged man, welcomed them. He seemed neither surprised nor distressed not to have had advance warning of the visit, nor was his manner obsequious. He held himself like a man who took pride in his work. From the ease of his manner and his clear respect for Danilo, they understood one another. There would be no last-minute repairs or beautification; what they saw was how the estate was run every day.
Danilo took his father’s suite, Regis and Rinaldo were given the two best guest rooms, and the Guardsmen were housed in a snug outbuilding. The rooms were in the oldest part of the house, walled in dark gray stone but refurbished with wooden paneling and carpets. Regis suspected the tapestry in his room had been a gift from Dyan Ardais. The furniture was most likely original, so darkened with age and polish that the wood appeared black. With the shutters thrown wide in the warm twilight, the air quickly became fresh.
At Danilo’s insistence, the coridom joined them for dinner. The meal was simple but nourishing: a stew of shell beans and vegetables from the garden, made savory with herbs and dusted with finely grated cheese, several freshly-baked round country loaves called barrabrack, and bowls of deep purple brambleberries and clotted cream. Regis ate slowly, savoring every bite.
Through the meal, Danilo chatted with his steward. Regis found himself drawn into the litany of stories, the daily events and routines of country living. No wonder Danilo spoke of home with longing. Such a place was an oasis, a refuge, a restorer.
With the swift fall of night, the temperature dropped enough to make a small fire delightful. The coridom excused himself, saying he had more business to attend to, and left the three guests to enjoy glasses of firi before the dancing flames.
Rinaldo had been quiet through the meal, often glancing between Danilo and the coridom. He swirled the pale amber liqueur in his glass and looked thoughtfully at Regis.
“Now that we have comfort as well as leisure and need not attend to the menial labors of the trail,” Rinaldo said to Regis, “perhaps you will tell me more about yourself.”
“What can I say? You told me you were well informed about my life.”
“I am, indeed, but only about such things as any man may know. I would become acquainted with you as a man—a brother—and not merely a figure of political importance and common gossip.”
A brother in more than name . . . Regis thought with an astonishing sense of joy. At the same time, the part of his mind that had become accustomed to rumor and insinuation wondered exactly what sort of gossip Rinaldo had heard, cloistered away in a monastery all these years.
Common gossip . . . Danilo had flinched visibly at the last comment. From his expression, Reg
is knew that Danilo was certain it had been aimed at him, at them both.
“Is there any particular gossip you wish to ask me about?” Regis asked carefully.
Rinaldo looked uncomfortable. “I hardly know what to believe. Envy may have caused others to spread malicious lies about you.”
“Power attracts some and stirs resentment in others. We live in a world of many sorts of people. But in my experience, true friends accept that we need not think—or feel—or conduct our private affairs—alike. We each do our best with what we have been given by birth and inclination. Do you not agree?” Regis was acutely aware of Danilo, sitting so still, measuring Rinaldo’s reactions.
“A man can hardly be held responsible for the shape of his features or whether he is naturally talented in music or gardening,” Rinaldo said.
“Or giving sermons, for that matter. But this is why we have the guidance of those older and wiser, that we may endeavor to improve ourselves by discipline, study, and prayer.”
“By your leave, my lords,” Danilo said, setting down his glass and rising. “I must make an early start tomorrow if I am to inspect the boundaries.”
“By all means.” Regis smiled in encouragement, but Danilo would not meet his eyes. “It has been a long day, and tomorrow will be tiring for you while we laze about. You must get what rest you can. I will sit with my brother a while longer.”
Wishing them both a good night and assuring them that they had only to ask for whatever they might desire, Danilo withdrew. Rinaldo acknowledged his departure with a tight-lipped smile. When the door closed and the sitting room once more fell silent, he turned to Regis.
“Your paxman does not like me, I fear. But then, it is only reasonable that he should not.”
“Why might that be?”
“What man in his position would care for anyone with the power to displace him in your affections? I cannot help but think that it displeased him greatly to be sent on errands for my sake like a common servant.”
Regis gave a little, dismissive laugh. “Danilo is not like that at all.”
“You are amazingly unworldly for a man raised and educated in the midst of a political hotbed, my brother. I see you are the kind of person who wishes to think the best of everyone.” Rinaldo grew grave as he continued, “Beware that you do not come to regret your trusting disposition.”
Regis sat back, for a moment speechless. He was as dismayed by his brother’s comment as by his misgivings about Danilo.
“I am no courtier, to couch unpleasant truths in flowery language,” Rinaldo said. “I speak simply, as I think. You have been too sheltered from the realities of life. That is, if you truly believe what you say, and I have no reason to believe otherwise. You are too open, too innocent.”
Regis wanted to laugh. He had been called many things since coming into his majority and accepting the responsibilities of Heir to his Domain. Open and innocent were not among them.
“I have had much time in which to study the ways of men,” Rinaldo went on, his tone shifting now to conciliation. “I tell you plainly that all men are indeed like that. Your Danilo is no exception. Did you see the clothing he got for me?” His voice took on a sullen edge. “It was poor stuff, hardly suitable for a servant. Bah! His actions have betrayed him.”
“There was no intent to slight you,” Regis hurried to explain. Perhaps Rinaldo felt like an interloper, unsure of his welcome, needing tangible proof. Regis did not want to accuse Rinaldo of ingratitude, but at the same time, he could not ignore the insult to Danilo. “After all, Nevarsin is a small town. This was the best available at such short notice. When we arrive in Thendara, we will have fine clothing made to your own measure.”
Rinaldo looked as if he would protest further, then smiled. “Of course, you must be right.”
For an uncomfortably long moment, the two brothers sat in silence. Finally, Regis said, “So you want to know more about me. Ask what you wish and I will do my best to satisfy you.”
“No, no, I do not mean to interrogate you! I have no right to question what I do not yet understand. But I have wondered . . . there are so few of us Comyn left . . .”
“Yes, we are far too few to form a Council or to divide our resources between ruling our own Domains and Darkover. Even before the World Wreckers sent their assassins, the great houses of the Seven Domains had dwindled. Grandfather needed me as Heir to Hastur. I set aside my own dreams of a private life. I thought . . .” Regis stumbled, surprised by the sudden burst of emotion, “I thought I was the only male Hastur heir.”
Now I have a brother to share that burden. But it would be premature to say so, before he knew Rinaldo’s temperament and desires. What could a man who had spent more than three decades behind monastery walls know about the greater world, about power and diplomacy, the skills required of a Hastur of Hastur? More to the point, would Rinaldo want that kind of life?
I will not inflict the same expectations that Grandfather—the Council—Darkover—p laced upon me. I will not make him forswear his dreams even before he has had time to discover what they are!
“Dreams?” As if catching the thought, Rinaldo lifted one eyebrow expressively.
Regis paused for a moment, wondering if Rinaldo might have a trace of laran after all. Or perhaps it was only a facility of observation and following the natural course of the conversation.
He considered the question. It had been so many years since he had lifted his eyes to the stars, hungry to journey among them. He remembered that argument with his grandfather, the old man raging.
“Choice? If you wanted a choice, Regis, you should have arranged to be born somewhere else! I never chose to be chief councillor and Regent to the Elhalyns. None of us has ever been free to choose!”
Although it was like peeling a long-hardened scab from an unhealed wound, Regis met his brother’s gaze. “Yes, dreams. When I was young, I wanted more than anything to travel the stars, to see other planets and other peoples. But, as Grandfather told me in no uncertain terms and upon many occasions, I should have chosen other parents.” He sketched a sigh to lighten the mood. “There you have it. Regis Hastur, the great Comyn lord, is at heart a frustrated spaceman.”
“I would not belittle any man’s dreams, let alone those of my brother,” Rinaldo said. “One of the benefits of having lived as I have, cloistered in unvarying routine, is faith in the unpredictability of life. A year ago, I had nothing to look forward to beyond teaching recalcitrant novices and praying on my knees through one winter after another until death took me. Now—” with a gesture, he encompassed the comfortable room, the fire, the glass of firi held lightly between his long fingers, “now an entirely new life unfolds before me. I see not just its sensual pleasures, but new opportunities to be of service. To you, to our family . . . to the Comyn as well. In a world where such miracles can come to pass, who can say?”
Regis did not comment again that the Comyn no longer existed as a power on Darkover. He was too moved by Rinaldo’s offer. It was indeed a miracle to have found a brother, to be able to share the burden of his rank . . . an older brother who had every right to the power and prestige of Hastur . . .
“Perhaps, in good time, you will discover your proper place in this world,” Regis said, acutely aware of how clumsy he sounded. “The important thing is to heed what is in your heart—your dreams—and not be pressured or tricked or flattered into what is burdensome to you.”
“Regis, I have spent my life being told not to consider my own desires. What has given me greatest satisfaction, and I presume will continue to do so, is to make myself useful to others. At St. Valentine’s that meant performing any task set before me, no matter how menial. Now you have given me the chance to do something of importance in the larger world.”
Rinaldo leaned forward. “I know I am unsophisticated and inexperienced, but I am not ignorant. Do you think the monastery is a place devoid of ambition, free from the failures of human nature? You studied there long enough to know better
. It is the world distilled, with all its vanities and cruelty. I know it very well, its strengths and truths as well as its follies.”
Slowly, Regis nodded. “I beg your forgiveness if I sounded patronizing. I meant only to protect you against the harsh demands that have beset me in my own life.”
“I wanted to know you better, and so I do. You have a kind and generous heart. Perhaps too generous. I will not abuse your love. Instead, together we will accomplish—” Rinaldo broke off in a little self-deprecating laugh. “Just listen to me! I do not even know what needs doing! And you have not asked me anything about myself.”
“There is something . . . I could not ask you when the matter first arose because we were still at Nevarsin and you had not yet been released from your vows.” Regis paused, watching his brother’s reaction and noting nothing beyond bland interest. “You freely told me you are emmasca, so I assume the subject is not too difficult to discuss.”
“You mean painful, don’t you? It is not, only a bit awkward. I have never—we did not speak of such matters, you understand. I’d rehearsed that little speech ever since I heard you were coming. I knew it would come up and thought it best to get it over with at the earliest opportunity. I suppose I must be prepared to face more questions at Thendara.”
“Let them keep their questions to themselves! Other than an explanation of why Grandfather hid you away, and that only for my own understanding, it is none of anyone’s business. I won’t have you harassed because of it!” Regis saw Rinaldo’s eyes widen at the vehemence behind his words. He gentled his tone. “I know how it feels to be judged for what I cannot change.”
He was thinking now not only of his sexual preference but also of the late awakening of his laran. For too many years he had believed he had none, and if Danilo had not reached his mind, that might still be the case.
Hastur Lord Page 13
