The assembly drew back as Regis approached. He knew some of them, city dignitaries, members of the Telepath Council, and a few minor Comyn. All were formally dressed, and many looked pleased with themselves.
Rinaldo’s courtiers are showing off, vying for power and royal favor, Regis thought with disgust. Here and there, he heard whispers and expressions of surprise.
Ignoring several attempts at greeting, Regis drew near the dais. Rinaldo was wearing a long robe in Hastur colors, the fir tree embroidered in silver thread. His belt and ornamental chain were of gleaming copper. A crown perched on his head, bright with Ardcarran rubies and sapphires. Danilo stood in the proper position of a paxman, features waxen, mouth set. His eyes came to life when he saw Regis, but he gave no other sign of recognition.
A man in a suit of opulent bronze brocade knelt at Rinaldo’s feet, hands placed in the attitude of a vassal pledging his loyalty. Rinaldo bent forward, his face intent. A cristoforo priest, who had been standing beside the dais, came forward.
Regis slowed his pace. The ceremony was akin to that used among the Comyn from ancient times. Regis himself had, at various occasions, both given and accepted oaths in just this fashion, but never with the participation of a priest . . .
The meaning of the ritual became evident a moment later: The new vassal had just publicly converted to the cristoforo faith. Regis set his jaw to suppress a shudder. In Darkover’s long past, kings and re-gents and Comyn lords had demanded—and received—fidelity of word and deed, even unto death. A man’s religious beliefs were matters for his own conscience. They had never been the price of royal patronage.
The ceremony concluded as Regis reached the dais. Rinaldo’s head jerked up, his expression momentarily unreadable. The newly sworn liegeman withdrew with alacrity.
Regis schooled his features into a pleasant smile and bowed. He lowered himself to the exact degree due to a kinsman of slightly higher rank. It was the salutation of a Comyn lord to the Head of his Domain, nothing more. How easily such niceties came to him, but, then, he had been drilled in the intricacies of Comyn politics since the time he could walk. If the nuances were lost on Rinaldo, they would be obvious to those few Comyn present.
“Regis! Brother!” Rinaldo exclaimed. “Where have you—I mean—we bid you welcome!”
Regis permitted himself an answering smile. “It gladdens my heart to see you well, my brother. Or should I say, Your Majesty?”
“It seems we have much to say to one another.”
“Then we had best do so privately.”
Rinaldo surged to his feet and raised his voice, addressing the assembly. “No more for today! Out, all of you!” As he strode out the door behind the dais, he barely managed to avoid knocking over the startled priest. Danilo followed closely, as a paxman should. Regis thought he saw a fleeting smile lighten Danilo’s mouth.
Rinaldo rushed along the Castle corridors at such a pace that Regis did not catch up with him and Danilo until they halted outside the study door.
“You’re not needed,” Rinaldo snarled at Danilo.
“As you wish, vai dom,” Danilo bowed with impeccable grace and backed away.
Rinaldo slammed the door and rounded on Regis. “What do you mean, disappearing without a word and then returning in such an ostentatious manner, interrupting my court?”
Regis made sure his own voice was under steady control. “I should as soon ask you, my brother, what you mean by defying custom in claiming the throne no Hastur has wanted for generations. I might inquire whether you feel yourself more worthy than Grandfather,” or myself, for that matter, “or what sudden and overpowering need our people have for a king. But none of these questions will accomplish anything except to widen the rift between us.”
“If there is a rift,” Rinaldo said tightly, “it is your doing. You promised to advise me, and then you vanished! My agents could not find you anywhere! Where did you go? With whom did you meet?”
His eyes narrowed. “What exactly were you up to?”
Regis had never before heard such naked hostility in his brother’s voice. “Let us sit down and discuss matters like civilized men.”
Trying to appear more calm than he felt, Regis walked over to the two chairs before the hearth, thus drawing Rinaldo away from the desk. There was no point in placing such an imposing piece of furniture between them; it would only serve to heighten the antagonism.
Rinaldo hesitated for a moment, then threw himself into one of the chairs. He was clearly angry at having lost the initiative.
Regis moved into the breach. “I was attending to necessary family business, if you must know. Am I not free to do so? Or do you intend to take care of our entire Domain single-handedly?”
When Rinaldo glared at him, Regis shifted to a more conciliatory tone. “You trust me enough to ask for my advice. Can you not trust me to handle my own affairs and fulfill my other responsibilities?”
Rinaldo had the grace to look abashed. “I was wrong to be angry when I did not understand. I had thought—erroneously, I see—you would be by my side. Everyone said it was an insult that you did not attend my coronation.”
“I am here now, and we have much to discuss. How did it come about that you are now king? What crisis required such a drastic step?”
Not to mention usurping the old faith with a relatively minor sect and then demanding conversion as proof of loyalty?
“If you are going to lecture me on how change takes time, save your breath!” Rinaldo snapped. “I have already heard more of such nonsense than I can stomach. I have been charged with the spiritual welfare of our people. The rightness of my calling has been verified by miracles—or do you think an emmasca siring a son is an event that happens every day?”
“That is indeed an extraordinary thing,” Regis admitted, choosing his words with care, “but not one that requires a supernatural explanation.”
Rinaldo leaned forward, his face alight with the fervor Regis had come to know. “I had been granted worldly power, but I needed more of it to fulfill my mission. We Hasturs are the most powerful Domain on Darkover. Men listen when we speak, and our word is accepted as an oath. At first, I thought that prestige was enough, but I was wrong. The very people I have been sent to succor refused to alter their vile practices. All my pleas and exhortations could not reach them.”
“You have been Head of Hastur for only a short time,” Regis pointed out. “Even Grandfather could not sway tradition in a single season. A better strategy might be to lead by example, by attraction rather than by force.”
Rinaldo responded with a dismissive gesture. “That is all very well when debating women’s fashions or the mode in musical entertainments. It is criminally negligent when men’s souls are at stake! Who knows how many have already died in sin, condemned to eternal torment, when quicker action on my part might have saved them?”
Regis was startled into momentary silence, although upon reflection, what had Rinaldo said that did not follow from everything that had gone before?
“How can you hold yourself responsible for the fate of all men?” Regis asked incredulously. “Is not each free to choose as his conscience dictates?”
Rinaldo replied, as if this were the most reasonable thing in the world, “Why else have I been placed in a position of authority over so many?”
Regis thought bitterly that the real reason Rinaldo had been given such power was that he, Regis, had so readily relinquished it. He wrenched his own thoughts back to the present problem. With those sentiments and ambitions, Rinaldo would naturally seek the means to compel what he could not persuade.
“It is a very serious matter to assume a crown,” Regis said. “Long ago, wiser men than you and I decided that the best way to influence the course of history was by wise counsel and restraint, by inspiration instead of command.”
“They must have been fools! No, no, of course not. They were men without divine purpose. They could afford to work subtly. I have not the luxury of such patience
. I see you do not approve, my brother, just because you yourself would never take such a bold step.”
“If—” Regis began.
“If you had been here, and if you had counseled me otherwise, my decision would have been the same. Come, do not look so grim. A coronation is not a funeral! Think of the good we can accomplish!”
Regis thought of Javanne, half out of her mind, of Gabriel thrust from the office he had held so honorably for so long. Of Ariel, torn from her mother. Of Linnea, begging him to take Kierestelli to safety. Of Danilo . . .
“Power cannot coerce good will,” Regis declared, “nor can bad means serve good objectives. That is the lesson we have learned in our long and bloody history from the Ages of Chaos.”
“Ah! This is why I need you here to advise me, to be sure that I use the power of the crown in a worthy manner. I know what I am called to accomplish. I have been given the means. All I lack is guidance as to prudent yet effective methods.”
Regis bit back a caustic reply. He should take his own advice: Persuade, reason, shift gradually . . . do not provoke a man so set in his opinion by outright confrontation.
“Your goals are noble indeed,” he said slowly, “and there is no question that you now have the power to do much good. You have spent the better part of your life among men of faith and discipline, so of course you are disappointed in the failings of those who have not had such benefits.”
Rinaldo nodded, the tension in his features lightening.
“I suspect that men are more stubborn about their faith than almost anything else, even their choice of wives.” Regis kept his tone easy. “They will fight for their religion when they will fight for nothing else. I believe the Federation worlds have strict laws against the imposition of one faith over another.”
“Yes, that much is true.” Rinaldo looked thoughtful. “Lady Luminosa said as much. Even when the One True Faith is reviled, it is never proscribed.”
“It would be a terrible thing,” Regis suggested, “if its followers were forced to turn against their own consciences and worship false gods.”
Rinaldo nodded agreement.
“That being the case,” Regis went on in the same tone, “might not men of other faiths feel the same way? Most of our people know little or nothing of cristoforo ways. Who knows what lies they may have been taught? Surely, once the truth is known, and the virtues of the faith have been demonstrated to them, they will eagerly embrace it.”
And if they did not, Regis would have bought time to soften his brother’s stance.
Rinaldo expelled a sigh, half frustration, half resignation. “I suppose you are right. But I cannot allow anyone of prominence in my court to follow any other religion. How could I trust their counsel? How could I be sure they were not under the influence of demons masquerading as this absurd pantheon?”
“How can any man be sure of any other?” Regis returned, thinking of all the betrayals and shifting alliances in his life. If a man behaved honorably, did it matter which god he answered to? He already knew what Rinaldo would say to that.
For a moment, the two brothers fell silent. Regis debated whether to press the issue or let it go, resting with what he had already achieved. The next opportunity for moderation might come slowly, in its own time, but it would surely come. Briefly, he considered bringing the conversation to a close with whatever cordiality might be expressed.
I have failed Javanne once. I cannot leave without trying to restore Ariel to her.
“I mentioned that I was absent on family business,” he began, and he saw Rinaldo’s interest rouse. “There is still more of that to be discussed. And, hopefully, an accord reached.”
“The Bearer of Burdens reminds us of the holy nature of blood connections,” Rinaldo replied.
Regis knew he was taking a risk, that he might well cross an invisible line and send his brother into another fit of self-righteous indignation. Carefully, he said, “You and I, for all the estrangement of our early lives, have reached an understanding. But we are not the only members of our family. We have a sister who is also a devoted wife and mother.”
“A woman of virtue. Yes, I do believe our sister is that. I have never heard a word spoken against her.”
Regis wished his heart were not pounding quite so loudly. This was an argument he must win, but not by laran Gift or skill with steel, not even with cleverness of words.
“As a loving parent, she is of course concerned with the welfare of her children,” he ventured.
Rinaldo nodded, apparently not yet seeing the thrust of the argument.
“She is worried about her daughter. No, she is beside herself.” Thoughts flowed more clearly now, words rising to his lips. Compassion, Regis realized with no little surprise, was a stronger foundation from which to argue than confrontation. He reminded himself that he had not yet heard Rinaldo’s side of the story or his rationale for separating children from their parents. Perhaps Rinaldo truly believed he was doing good.
“Brother, I do not know the details of how our niece Ariel came to be taken from her mother or the child’s feelings about the matter, but I do know how much it distresses Javanne. As her nearest kinsmen, it is our obligation to ease her suffering. Can we not work together for her sake?”
Rinaldo protested, “Surely she understands as do the other parents—”
Blessed Cassilda, there are others?
“—it is for the children’s salvation to be properly instructed—” Rinaldo broke off at the clamor of voices and footsteps outside the door. Tiphani Lawton burst into the room without knocking. Her lips were unnaturally pale, her hair had been slicked so tightly to her skull that it appeared painted, and she wore a bizarre combination of the brown robe of a cristoforo monk and a costume from a musical entertainment. An enormous yellow stone, off-world amber, swung between her unbound breasts on a chain of copper.
“I was told—Holy saints, he is alive!” She did not look at all pleased to see Regis sitting companionably with Rinaldo.
Regis did not rise, as he would have had he encountered her as the wife of the Terran Legate. Instead, he inclined his head in her direction. “I am well, as you see.”
Rinaldo’s expression shifted to anxiety as he got to his feet. “Lady Luminosa, you lend us grace. Is anything amiss? How fares my wife and unborn son?”
“All proceeds in accordance with Divine Will,” she hastened to reply. Rinaldo’s question had broken the momentum of her entrance. “I heard—” she stumbled, recovered herself, “I felt myself summoned to Your Majesty’s presence.”
With the practice of years under his Grandfather’s tutelage, Regis suppressed his incredulity.
“Of course,” Rinaldo said warmly. “Your inspiration never fails our holy mission, even before I myself have recognized the need. Now all is made clear. My good brother here has heard slanderous tales about the new school we have established for the uplifting of moral values in our children. I was about to assure him that this strategy is not only beneficial but necessary.”
Tiphani settled herself with a lift of her chin and a smile that was more triumph than pleasure. She moved so that Regis would be forced to look up at her. Before she could draw breath to speak, however, he broke in.
“Mestra, nothing would give me greater pleasure and edification than to listen to you, but I am here on pressing family business and have not the luxury of time. Please accept my thanks for your dedication.” Then he stood, towering over her. Instinctively, she moved back.
“I—I—” Tiphani stammered, glancing from Regis to Rinaldo. She was enough a diplomat’s wife to know when she was being dismissed. As she took her leave, she gave Regis a venomous glare. Regis responded with a neutral bow.
Alone again with his brother, Regis picked up the thread of his argument. “No matter how worthy or virtuous the goals, if an action harms innocents, it cannot be good. Can we not find another way of accomplishing what you desire, one that does not cause our sister so much anguish?”
/> “I have been graced with this power and the vision of what it was intended for. I must not flinch from using whatever means come within my grasp.”
“I have heard very much the same more times than I ever wished,” Regis said, unable to keep a shading of bitterness from his voice. Some of the men who had uttered those sentiments had been his friends, others his enemies. Most of them were dead now, leaving piles of bodies and smoking ruins in their wake.
“Javanne is not an obstacle but your sister, a woman of your own flesh and blood who grieves the loss of her daughter,” Regis went on. “You have the means to ease her pain and restore her family.”
With a restless gesture, Rinaldo shifted in his chair. He looked at the fire, about the room, anywhere but his brother’s eyes. “I cannot rely on men of uncertain faith to reform an entire world. You yourself said change comes slowly, and men must learn to accept new things. What better way to accomplish this than by the education of the young, who have not yet been polluted by false doctrines and sinful practices?”
“Rinaldo, that is besides the point. You—or if not you yourself, on your orders—forcibly removed these children from their families. You can disguise what you did in all the fancy language you like, but it is still kidnapping!”
With an effort, Regis reined his temper under control. He was only a breath away from words that could not be unsaid. From Rinaldo’s expression, both stricken and adamant, it would not take much to push him too far.
“There are better ways of promoting tolerance of the cristoforo faith,” Regis said in a more moderate tone. “I myself can testify that indoctrination imposed unwillingly upon the young rarely works. If it had, I would have converted during my student years at St. Valentine’s. The monks certainly tried to convince me of the error of my ways.”
“You always were a recalcitrant student,” Rinaldo said, softening.
“I believe the correct term is blockhead.” Regis returned his brother’s grin. “Remember, too, that I went there at Grandfather’s wish, if not my own. Can you imagine the situation if he had been forced to send me?”
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