Hastur Lord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  22

  Rinaldo showed no interest in keeping Danilo by his side for the festivities. Commenting that he could be as easily attended by servants and protected by Castle Guardsmen, Rinaldo dispatched Danilo back to the Hastur suite to settle into his new chamber and take care of any personal needs, so that he might be ready to direct his full attention to his lord on the following morning. Danilo harbored no illusions regarding the sincerity of Rinaldo’s concern, but he was grateful for the excuse to leave before Regis found an opportunity to approach him.

  The next days blurred together in a quagmire of misery. Danilo did what he was told. He stood, sat, walked, and schooled his features to the proper degree of attentiveness. He answered questions in monosyllables. He felt nothing.

  At night, Danilo lay awake, his eyes open. He found the darkness of his chamber with its single narrow window preferable to the darkness behind his closed lids. It came to him that he might feel relief if he could weep, but no tears answered his prayers. He imagined himself a man pulled from beneath an avalanche in the Hellers, his heart stilled by freezing, with no conception of what had happened to him, so sudden and final was the disaster.

  Sometimes, when he peered at the pitted mirror, he did not recognize the man who looked back at him. The lines of his face, the arch of brow and jaw, the flare of nostril, the pattern of lashes, the eyes—quenched, opaque—seemed barely human.

  It was not just that Regis no longer wanted him. It was that Regis had found someone else, someone better, someone who generated no burden of guilt.

  Gradually, Danilo emerged from the initial shock of his grief. He saw, as if through another man’s eyes, that Rinaldo meant to be kind. Most of his duties consisted in accompanying his new lord about the city, especially to the Chapel of All Worlds in the Terran Zone and various promising sites for the cristoforo cathedral. A priest had been installed in the Castle and charged with the performance of worship services each morning. Rinaldo attended as faithfully as if he were still in orders. Danilo sat at the back of the makeshift chapel, letting the singsong litany wash through him and finding unexpected comfort in the familiar rhythms. He composed a prayer of his own: that when fate and circumstance brought him together with Regis, his heart might be easier and his thoughts less tormented.

  Rinaldo seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid situations like the last flurry of summer festivities or the occasional ceremonial function in which Danilo might encounter Regis or Linnea. On those rare gatherings when Danilo caught a glimpse of Regis, Regis was closely guarded, usually by Haldred Ridenow. A private word would have been impossible.

  Danilo was initially skeptical of Rinaldo’s motives; he doubted that Rinaldo acted purely out of consideration for his feelings. It occurred to Danilo, as he got to know his new lord better, the reason might be simply to give him time to adjust. Rinaldo had acted not from petty spite but from compassion. He had made no attempt to force an artificial intimacy while Danilo was still emotionally vulnerable. Instead, Rinaldo had treated him with courtesy, asking only the obedience of a loyal if unfamiliar servant.

  Every morning, Rinaldo and Danilo worked in Danvan Hastur’s library. As Rinaldo sorted the various documents and ledger books, Danilo provided detailed explanations and historical context. Whatever his other failings, Rinaldo could be painstaking and meticulous.

  A first-year cadet, one of several acting as Rinaldo’s messengers, tapped for admittance.

  “Come,” Rinaldo called. Danilo went to the door, and the cadet handed him a sealed envelope. The paper was smooth and thick, of off-world manufacture, and bore the official insignia of the Terran Federation. Danilo brought the envelope to Rinaldo, who studied it with a frown. The frown deepened as he read the enclosed document.

  Rinaldo shoved the papers into Danilo’s hands. “You’ve had dealings with these off-worlders. You know their ways. Is this the usual treatment for a man of my rank? Do they intend an insult, or do they simply not know any better?”

  The letter was from Dan Lawton, the looping Darkovan script painfully stiff, the casta formal and precise. Lawton acknowledged receiving a communication that Regis Hastur had been replaced as Head of his Domain, without any verification from Regis himself.

  Because of the sensitivity of negotiations . . . required assurances . . . appropriate diplomatic credentials . . . mandated observance of autonomous local laws . . . established protocol . . .

  As he read on, Danilo wanted to laugh aloud at the audacity of the letter. Someone had coached Lawton on Darkovan law regarding inheritance of Domain-right.

  In carefully nuanced language, the Federation declined to acknowledge Rinaldo as successor to Hastur. Lawton indicated he could not in good faith recognize a previously undocumented claimant without ascertaining that his claim was legitimate and not subject to peremptory challenge from his own people. If Hastur spoke for Darkover and if inheritance passed only through biological descent, then Rinaldo must prove he was not an imposter. The Terranan stopped just short of accusing Rinaldo of lying about his parentage.

  Then came the pivotal point: If Lord Rinaldo would consent to a simple genetic test, a comparison of his DNA with that of Regis Hastur, his authenticity could be verified. The message concluded with formulaic protestations of sincerity.

  Danilo stared at the letter. Not in his wildest dreams could he imagine such a strategy for delaying action on Federation membership. Regis must have had something to do with it.

  “Well?” Rinaldo demanded. “Is this an affront or just plain foolery?”

  Danilo collected his thoughts. “These Terranan have strange notions about honor, but I do not believe this was meant to give offense.” He generated an approximation of a tolerant sigh. “If you intend to represent the Domain of Hastur in any official capacity, you must comply with their requirements, however petty. Of course, there is no need for you to do so for domestic purposes. No one will dispute your legitimacy, not after Lord Regis has declared it so. But—” this time, with an careless lift of his shoulders, “—the off-worlders know little of civilized politics.”

  Rinaldo took the letter and read it over. “This implies that my brother will be obliged to submit to the same procedure.”

  “Yes, that does seem to be the case. I believe it would be possible for Terran Medical to send a technician to collect the samples if it is not convenient for you to go to them.” Danilo did not add that, with a little finesse, the process of setting up those appointments might stretch out for some time.

  Rinaldo agreed, as much for the purpose of exercising his power over Regis as satisfying the Legate’s certification requirements. The cadet was dispatched back to Federation Headquarters with the reply.

  Summer passed its height, and the days began to grow noticeably shorter. Many of the Comyn who had journeyed to Thendara for the seasonal festivities prepared to return home while the weather was still good.

  Danilo attended Rinaldo in a small sitting room overlooking one of the inner courtyards of the Castle. He stood at his ease a respectful distance from where Rinaldo sat, a book of prayers open on a table. Late afternoon sun cast slanting crimson-tinged shadows across the dwarfed trees that even now intimated the coming brilliance of autumn.

  Rinaldo directed the conversation to his own role in extricating Danilo from Valdir’s clutches. “Indeed, I was the one who convinced the Ridenow to release you, over many protests.”

  An expression of thanks seemed to be called for, so Danilo murmured, “I am grateful, vai dom.”

  “Dom Valdir made it clear that your continued freedom is contingent upon your good behavior.” Rinaldo stared meaningfully at Danilo, expecting a response.

  “What would he,” or you, more like, “consider ‘good behavior’?” Rinaldo gestured with one long- fingered hand. “You should know. To make no trouble, especially not to conspire with Regis Hastur—”

  For all his outward calm, Danilo shivered inside. He had thought himself past hurting, past hoping.
r />   Never to speak with him, to walk with him, to touch him . . .

  “—in any manner,” Rinaldo went on as if the world had not just shuddered on its axis. “Those are Valdir’s demands. As for my own: to serve me loyally and honestly, as you have. To comport yourself in a morally correct and responsible manner . . . particularly in regard to the faith in which you were raised.”

  Regis! It always comes to Regis!

  And then, in a rush of self-loathing: I wish I had died before I ever met him!

  Rinaldo had gone on, in that gently persuasive voice, “It has troubled me greatly that you and my brother share this . . . sinful practice.” He sighed as might a parent over the disobedience of a beloved child. “I have done what I can to save Regis. He has fulfilled my expectations in turning away from—in changing his course to a more righteous path.”

  Could the truth be any plainer? Regis had abandoned everything they had shared, the love, the passion, the bonds of lord and paxman. What was it these women—Linnea in particular—offered Regis that he, Danilo, could not? Was it merely the ability to bear his children? Or was there something deeper, more fundamental? A flaw or shortcoming in himself?

  “I expect some sign of repentance from you as well,” Rinaldo said. “If not now, then soon.”

  Overcome, Danilo bowed his head.

  Rinaldo appeared to take the gesture as assent. “As for myself, I can hardly expect my own people to follow where I do not lead.”

  Danilo lifted his head. “I’m sorry, vai dom. I was pondering what you just said, and I failed to grasp your meaning.”

  “Yes, that’s understandable.” Rinaldo smiled. “Speaking plainly, I too must marry. I admit, it is a circumstance I never considered in all my years at St. Valentine’s. I never anticipated the bliss of the nuptial bed. But my vows no longer bar me from earthly unions, and I must set a virtuous example. Valdir agrees and has suggested a woman from his own Domain. I had considered another candidate, but that did not work out. So a Ridenow bride it will be. That is where you come in.”

  Danilo felt as if his head were spinning so fast, it might fly off his body at any moment. That a former monk might wish to marry was understandable, but one who was also emmasca? Danilo could not wrap his thoughts around the notion. Rinaldo appeared to respond to feminine allure, so perhaps he could function sexually as a male.

  “Excuse me again, my lord. You are to wed one of the Ridenow ladies? Then I wish you joy. But what has it to do with me?” Do you expect me to court her for you?

  Rinaldo’s expression turned dour. He settled his hands in his lap, clasping his fingers so tightly his knuckles whitened. “I do not altogether trust the Ridenow, so I wish you to escort my bride hither.”

  “Are you sure that is wise, my lord? Should any harm come to the lady while she is in my keeping, I could never prove that it was not my doing.”

  Rinaldo unbent enough to make a scoffing noise. “That is exactly the point. I count on you to make certain nothing happens to her. I have another, even greater reason. Although you have previously shown some lapse of moral judgment, to my knowledge it has involved only other men. You are cristoforo, and my bride is not. Therefore I would have you school her in our faith and take her measure for me, since I do not believe I have received a true report of her character from her kinsman.”

  Danilo could not decide whether he was more appalled or incredulous at Rinaldo’s simplicity. Valdir Ridenow meant to use this poor girl and the resulting obligations of kinship to bind Rinaldo even more tightly under his control.

  But who, Danilo wondered, was the greater fool—Rinaldo for walking into the trap? Valdir for thinking that marriage to a woman of his Domain could keep Rinaldo from pursuing his own goals? Or he himself, for having anything to do with it?

  When Danilo hesitated, Rinaldo pressed his point. His tone was smooth yet implacable. “A cristoforo should never deny such a request of another, not when there is an opportunity to bring an innocent into the true faith.”

  Danilo recognized the futility of argument. He knew Rinaldo well enough to be quite certain that in matters of faith, he was unshakable.

  Danilo sensed no duplicity in Rinaldo’s request; he did not think he was being set up as a scapegoat. He would simply have to make sure that the lady arrived in Thendara as happy as might be expected.

  Danilo bowed a shade more deeply than was necessary. “Para servirte, vai dom,” he said, using the formal casta phrase. “I am at your service. I will undertake to ensure the lady is treated with respect and that every possible comfort is provided for her along the trail. The best way to accomplish this is to hire Renunciate trail guides.”

  “Renunciates?” Rinaldo scowled. “Ah, you mean those disreputable women called Free Amazons. I hear they wear men’s clothing and reject their proper roles as wife and mother. I hardly think they are suitable attendants.”

  “Very well, but I will be hard-pressed to find men who are as capable of seeing to a lady’s comfort and privacy, not to mention her safety.”

  “Her—safety. Yes, yes, that’s a thought.” Rinaldo looked torn between disapproval of women who lived outside social convention and distrust of men apt to act on their baser impulses.

  “Many noble families employ Renunciates, especially when their wives and daughters must travel without kinsmen,” Danilo explained. “Renunciates are skilled fighters and understand as only women can the needs of a gently reared damisela. In their care, no insult would come to your intended bride.”

  “You have offered your advice, and I am minded to heed it.” Rinaldo held out a purse. Judging by its weight, Danilo could buy a small village. “The travel arrangements I will leave up to you.”

  “If you have no further need of me, I will take my leave,” Danilo said. “There is still daylight enough to begin preparations. If possible, we must begin our return journey before snow blocks the passes.”

  The woman at the gate of the Thendara House of the Guild of Renunciates eyed Danilo without the slightest trace of friendliness as he explained that he wished to hire guides and a protective escort for a young woman traveling from Serrais. It puzzled Danilo that Valdir had not made arrangements for the journey, since there were surely kinsmen to provide her escort.

  Although the hour was late, one of the Guild Mothers met with him in the Strangers Room. The old woman, her face seamed with decades of working outdoors, asked Danilo a string of penetrating questions. He made no effort to prevaricate; he carried out his lord’s wishes, not his own. He did not know the lady’s name or if she had consented to the marriage. Rinaldo Hastur meant his bride no harm and would treat her with kindness if not understanding. This satisfied the old Renunciate. After a little more negotiation and questions about the desired degree of comfort and warnings about the hazards of traveling so close to winter, she named a fee. Danilo thought it high, but considering the weather and the need for security, he decided it was more than reasonable. The Renunciates would be ready in three days, an unusually short time.

  Danilo spent the three days gathering what intelligence he could. The markets and taverns buzzed with the recent political changes. Popular sentiment ran strongly in favor of Regis. Although Danilo had expected difficulty in hearing the name spoken aloud, the news lifted his spirits. Regis had been more to him than liege and lover; even stripped of former rank, the name of Regis Hastur continued to inspire hope. A chilling thought came to Danilo, wondering what might befall Darkover if something happened to Regis. Regis would live a long time, wouldn’t he?

  But what if—what if Regis died with this estrangement still between them? What if the times Danilo had avoided speaking with Regis were the last chance he would ever have?

  With this thought heavy on his heart, Danilo departed for the Ridenow seat at Serrais.

  23

  Under the expert care of the Renunciate guides, the journey to Serrais was unexpectedly easy. The snowfall was light, far less than a winter storm, and they had come well pro
visioned and warmly garbed.

  The head guide was a lanky, flat-chested woman with graying red hair named Darilyn n’ha Miriam. She furnished Danilo with a fur blanket as if he were a delicate Lowlands lordling. Danilo had traveled under much rougher conditions, but he accepted the blanket. He did his best not to stare at Darilyn, which would have been offensive to any woman and especially to a Free Amazon. She had a touch of laran, enough to increase her sensitivity to such attentions, and had the physical appearance of one who had been surgically neutered. Danilo had heard of the illegal operation but had never before met anyone who had undergone it. He wondered what had driven her to such a desperate measure and found the answer within himself. Here he was, preparing to bring back a wife for his lord as if the girl were no more than a sack of root vegetables without any voice in the matter. If a woman could sense a man’s lustful thoughts and her husband—or father or a stranger on the road—cared nothing for her happiness, what choice did she have?

  At least, he thought, Regis had offered the women who had come to him no false promises or seductions. He had been kind because that was his nature, and he was considerate of their pleasure, from all appearances.

  Danilo had anticipated a long journey, and he was not disappointed. The Ridenow estates lay on the very edge of their Domain on an upland plateau adjoining the Plains of Valeron and very close to Dry Towns territory. The current Ridenow line descended from both the original Comyn family of that name and Dry Towns bandits who, after taking control of the lands, abandoned their own heritage and intermarried with the surviving heirs. Although many generations had passed and some doubted the story, the Ridenow were still held in suspicion in many quarters. Valdir was undoubtedly the least popular Ridenow in modern times. Time would reveal what sort of man young Francisco would become under Valdir’s tutelage.