Far too soon, the declining sun told him it was time to go. He refused Kennard’s urgings to stay longer. He did not want his father to be frightened at his absence. Also, at the back of his mind, was a memory like a threat—if he was missing, might his father set the machinery of the Terran Empire into motion to locate him, bring down trouble on his friends? Kennard went a little way with him, and at the corner of the street paused, looking at him rather sadly.
“I don’t like to say goodbye, Larry,” he said. “I like you. I wish—”
Larry nodded, a little embarrassed, but sharing the emotion. “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he said, and held out his hand. Kennard hesitated, long enough for Larry to feel first offended, then worried for fear he had committed some breach of Darkovan manners; then, deliberately, the Darkovan boy reached both hands and took Larry’s between them. Larry did not know for years how rare a gesture this was in the Darkovan caste to which the Altons belonged. Kennard said softly, “I won’t say good-bye. Just—good luck.”
He turned swiftly and walked away without looking back.
Larry turned his steps toward home, in the lowering mist. As he moved between the dark canyons of the streets, his feet steadying themselves automatically on the uneven stones, he felt a flat undefined sorrow, as if he were seeing all this with the poignancy of a farewell. It was as if life had opened a bright door, and then slammed it again, leaving the world duller by contrast.
Suddenly, his feeling of sadness thinned out and vanished. This, was only a temporary thing. He wouldn’t be a kid forever. The time would come when he’d be free and on his own, free to explore all the worlds of his own choosing— and Darkover was only one of many. He had tasted a man’s freedom today—and some day it would be his for all time. His head went up and he crossed the square toward the spaceport, steadily. He’d had his fun, and he could take whatever happened. It had been worth it.
He had the curious sense that he was re-living something that had happened before, as he entered their apartment in the Quarters building. His father was waiting for him, his face drawn, unreadable.
“Where have you been?”
“In the city. At the home of Kennard Alton.”
Montray’s face contracted with anger, but his voice was level and stern.
“You do remember that I forbade you to leave the Terran Zone? You’re not going to tell me that you forgot?”
“I didn’t forget.”
“In other words, you deliberately disobeyed.”
Larry said quietly, “Yes.”
Montray was evidently holding his anger in check with some effort. “Precisely why, when I did forbid it?”
Larry paused a moment before answering. Was he simply making excuses about having done what he wanted to do? Then he was sure, again, of the rightness of his position.
“Because, Dad, I’d made a promise and I didn’t feel it was right to break it, without a better reason than just that you’d forbidden it. This was something I had to do, and you were treating me like a kid. I tried to make sure that you wouldn’t be involved, or the Terran Empire, if anything had happened to me.”
His father said, at last, “And you felt you should make that decision for yourself. Very well, Larry, I admire your honesty. Just the same, I refuse to concede that you have a right to ignore my orders on principle. You know I don’t like punishing you. However, for the present you will consider yourself under house arrest—not to leave our quarters except to go to school, under any pretext.” He paused and a bleak smile touched his lips. “Will you obey me, or shall I inform the guards not to let you pass without reporting it?”
Larry flinched at the severity of the punishment, but it was just. From his father’s point of view, it was the only thing he could do. He nodded, not looking up. “Anything you say, Dad. You’ve got my word.” Montray said, without sarcasm, “You have shown me that it means something to you. I’ll trust you. House arrest until I decide you can be trusted with your freedom again.” The next days dragged slowly by, no day distinguishing itself from the last. The bruises on his face and hands healed, and his Darkovan adventure began to seem dim and pallid, as if it had happened a long time ago. Nevertheless, even in the dullness of his punishment, which deprived him even of things he had previously not valued—freedom to go about the spaceport and the Terran city, to visit friends and shops—he never doubted that he had done the right thing. He chafed under the restriction, but did not really regret having earned it.
Ten days had gone by, and he was beginning to wonder a little when his father would see fit to lift the sentence, when the order came from the Commandant.
His father had just come in, one evening, when the intercom buzzed, and when Montray put the phone down, he looked angry and apprehensive.
“Your idiotic prank is probably coming home to roost,” he said angrily. “That was the Legate’s office in Administration. You and I have both been ordered to report there this evening—and it was a priority summons.”
“Dad, if it means trouble for you, I’m sorry. You’ll have to tell them you forbade me to go—and if you don’t, I will. I’ll take all the blame myself.” For the first time, Larry felt that the consequences might really go beyond himself. But that’s not my fault—it’s because the administration is unreasonable. Why should Dad be blamed for what I did? He had never been in the administration building before, and as he approached the great white skyscraper that loomed over the whole spaceport complex, he was intrigued to the point of forgetting that he was here for a reproof.
The immense building, glimmering with white metal and glass, the wide halls and the panoramic view from each corridor window of the Darkovan city below and the mountains beyond, almost took his breath away. The Legate’s office was high up, bright and filled with lowering red sunshine; for a moment, as he stepped into the brilliant glassed-in room, a curious thought flashed through Larry’s mind: He sees more of this world than he wants anyone to know about.
The Legate was a stocky man, dark and grizzled, with thoughtful eyes and a permanent frown. Nevertheless he had dignity, and something which made Larry think quickly of Lorill Hastur. What is it? Is it just that they’re used to power, or to making decisions that other people have to live with?
“Commander Reade—my son Larry.”
“Sit down.” It was a peremptory command, not an invitation. “So you’ve been roaming around in the city? Tell me about it—tell me everything you’ve done there.”
His face was unreadable; without anger, but without friendliness. Reserving judgment. Neither kind nor unkind. But there was immense authority in it, as if he expected Larry to jump at once to obey him; and after ten days of sulking in Quarters, Larry wasn’t feeling especially humble.
“I didn’t know it was against any rules, sir. And I didn’t hurt anyone, and nothing happened to me.”
Reade made a noncommittal sound. “Suppose you let me decide about that. Just tell me about it.”
Larry told the whole story: his wanderings in the city day after day, his meeting with the gang of toughs, and the intervention of Kennard Alton. Finally he told of his last visit to the Alton house, making it clear that he had gone without his father’s knowledge and consent. “So don’t blame Dad, sir. He didn’t break any laws, at least.”
Montray said quickly, “Just the same, Reade, I’ll take the responsibility. He’s my son, and I’ll be responsible for his not doing it again.”
Reade gestured him to silence. “That’s not the problem. ”We’ve heard from the Council—on behalf of the Altons. It seems that they are deeply and gravely offended.“
“What? Why?”
“Because you have refused your son permission to pursue this friendship—they say you have insulted them, as if they were unfit to associate with your son.”
Montray put his hands to his temples, wearily. He said, “Oh, my God.”
“Exactly,” Reade said in a soft voice. “The Altons are important people on Darkove
r—aristocrats, members of the Council. A snub or slight from a Terran can create trouble.”
Suddenly his voice exploded in wrath. “Confound the boy anyhow! We aren’t ready for this sort of episode. We should have thought of it ourselves and made preparation for it, and now when it hits us, we can hardly make good use of it! How old is the boy?”
Montray gestured at Larry to answer for himself, and Reade grunted. “Sixteen, huh? Here, they’re men at that age—and we ought to realize it! What about it, young Larry? Are you intending—have you ever considered going into the Empire service?”
Puzzled by the question, Larry said, “I’ve always intended that, Commander.”
“Well, here’s your chance.” He tossed a small squarish slip of paper across the table. It was thick and bordered, and had Darkovan writing on it, the straight squarish script of the city language. He said, “I understand you can read some of this stuff. God knows why you bothered, but it makes it handy for us. Figure it out later when you get the chance; as it happens, I can read it too, though most people in Administration don’t bother. It’s an invitation from the Altons—coming through Administration as a slap in the face: they don’t like the way Terrans tend to go through channels on every little thing—for you, Larry, to spend the next season at their country estate, with Kennard.”
Montray’s face went dark as if a shutter had dropped over his eyes. “Impossible, Reade. I know what you have in mind, and I won’t go along with it.”
Reade’s face did not change. “You see the position this puts us in. The boy’s not prepared for the tremendous opportunity this opens up, but we’ve still got to grab this chance. We simply can’t afford to let Larry refuse this invitation. For God’s sake, do you realize that we’ve been trying to get permission for someone to visit the outlying estates, for fifteen years? It’s the first time in years that any Terran has had this chance, and if we turn it down, it may be years before it comes again.”
Montray’s mouth twisted. “Oh, there have been a few.”
“Yes, I know.” Reade did not elaborate, but turned to Larry. “Do you understand why you’re going to have to accept this invitation?”
Suddenly, with the visual force of a hallucination, Larry saw again the tall figure of Valdir Alton, and heard him say, as clearly as if he had been in that white Terran room with them, I have a feeling we’ll see you again before long. It was so real that he shook his head to clear it of the abnormally intense impression.
Reade persisted. “You are going to accept?”
Larry felt a delayed surge of excitement. To see Darkover—not only the city, but far outside the Terran Zone entirely, the real world, untouched by Terra! The thought was a little frightening and yet wildly exciting. But a tinge of caution remained and he said warily, “Would you mind telling me why you are so eager to have me, sir? I understood that the Terrans were afraid of any—fraternization with Darkovans.”
“Afraid of it causing trouble,” Reade said. “We’ve been trying to arrange something like this, though, for years. I suppose they felt we were a little too eager, and were afraid we’d try something. Larry, I can explain it very easily. First of all, we don’t want to offend Darkovan aristocrats. But more than that. This is the first time that Darkovans of power and position have actually made an advance of personal friendliness to any Terran. They trade with us, they accept us here, but they don’t want to have anything to do with us personally. This is like a breach in that wall. You have a unique opportunity to be—a sort of ambassador for Terra. Perhaps, to show them that we aren’t anything to fear. And then, too—” He hesitated. “Very few Terrans have ever seen anything of this planet except what the Darkovans wanted us to see. You should keep very careful records of everything you see, because something you don’t even realize is important might mean everything to us.”
Larry saw through that at once.
“Are you asking me to spy on my friends?” he asked, in outrage.
“No, no,” Reade said quickly, even though Larry felt very clearly that Reade was thinking that he was a little too clever. “Just to keep your eyes open and tell us what you see. Chances are they will be expecting you to do that anyhow.”
Montray interrupted, pacing the floor restlessly, “I don’t like having my son used as a pawn in power politics. Not by Darkovans trying to get next to us—and not by the Terran Empire trying to find out about Darkover, either!”
“You’re exaggerating, Montray. Look, at least a few of the higher Darkovan caste may be telepaths; we couldn’t plant the kid on them as a spy, even if we tried. It’s just a chance to know a little more about them.”
He appealed directly to Larry: “You say you liked this Darkovan youngster. Doesn’t it make sense—to try and build friendly relations between the two of you?”
That thought had already crossed Larry’s mind. He nodded. Montray said reluctantly, “I still don’t like it. But there’s nothing I can do.”
Reade looked at him and Larry was shocked at the quick expression of triumph and power in the man’s face. He thought, He enjoys this. He wondered, suddenly, why he could see into the man this way. He was sure he knew more about Commander Reade than Reade wanted him to know. Reade said softly over Larry’s head to Wade Montray, “We’ve got to do it this way. Your son is old enough, and he’s not scared—are you, Larry? So all we have to do is tell the Altons that he’ll be proud and honored to visit them—and say when.”
Back again in their own apartment in Quarters A, Larry’s father swore under his breath, ceaselessly, for almost a quarter of an hour. “And now you see what you’ve gotten yourself into,” he finished at last, viciously. “Larry, I don’t like it, I don’t like it, I don’t like it! And damn it, I suppose you’re overjoyed—you’ve got what you want!”
Larry said, honestly, “It’s interesting, Dad. But I am a little scared. Reade wants me to go for all the wrong reasons.”
“I’m glad you can see that, at least,” Montray snapped. “I ought to let you hang yourself. You got yourself into this. Just the same—” He grew silent; then he got up and came to his son, and took Larry by the shoulders again, looking very searchingly at him. His voice was gentler than Larry could remember hearing it in years.
“Listen, son. If you really don’t want to get into this, I’ll get you out of it, somehow. You’re my son, not just a potential Empire employee. They can’t force you to go. Don’t worry about their putting pressure on me—I can always put in for a transfer somewhere else. I’ll leave the damned planet before I let them force you to play their games!”
Larry, feeling his father’s hands on his shoulders, suddenly realized that he was being given a chance—perhaps the last chance he would ever have—to return to the old, protected status of a child. He could be his father’s son again, and Dad would get him out of this. So the step he had taken, in declaring himself a man, was not quite irrevocable after all. He could return to the safe age, and the price was very small. His father would take care of him.
He found himself wanting to, almost desperately. He’d bitten off more than he could chew, and this was his chance to get out of it. The alternative would put him on his own, in a strange world, playing a strange part, representing his Terran world all alone.
And the Altons would know that his man’s decision had been a lie, that he clung to the safety of being a Terran child hiding behind his society—He drew a long breath, and put his hands up over his father’s.
“Thanks, Dad,” he said, warmly, meaning it. “I almost wish I could take you up on that. Honestly. But I have to go. As you say, I got myself into this, and I might as well get some good out of it—for all of you. Don’t worry, Dad-it’s going to be all right.”
Montray’s hands tightened on his shoulders. His eyes met his son’s, and he said, “I was afraid you’d feel that way, Larry—and I wish you didn’t. But I guess, being who you are, you’d have to. I could still forbid you, I guess”—a wry smile flitted across his face—“b
ut I’ve found out you’re too old for that, and I won’t even try.” He dropped his hands, but then a wide grin spread across his worried face.
“Damn it, son—I still don’t like it—but I’m proud of you.”
* * *
V
« ^ »
THE MORNING mist had burned off the hills, but still lay thick in the valley. Above the bank of pinkish cloud, the red sun hung in a bath of thinning mist. Larry looked down at the treetops emerging from the top of the cloud, and drew a deep breath, savoring the strange scents of the alien forest.
He rode last in the little column of six men. Ahead of him, Kennard looked round briefly, lifted a hand in acknowledgment of his grin, and turned back.
Larry had been at Armida, the outlying country estate of the Altons, for twelve days now. The journey from the city had been tiring; he was not accustomed to riding, and though at first it had been a pleasant novelty, he found himself thinking regretfully of the comfortable ground-cars and airships of Terran travel.
But the slow trip through forests and mountains had gradually won him to its charm: the high rocky trails reaching summits where crimson and purple landscapes lay rainbow-lovely below them, the deep shadowed roads through the forests, with here and there tall white towers rising high against the horizon, or glowing faintly luminescent in the night. At night they had either camped along the roadway, or now and again been guests in some outlying farmhouse where the Darkovans had treated Valdir and Kennard with extreme deference—and Larry had come in for his own share of this respect. Valdir had told no one that his son’s guest and companion was one of the alien Terrans.
The home of the Altons was a great gray rambling structure, too low for a castle, too imposing to be a house. He found himself fitting into the place easily, riding with Kennard, helping him train his hunting dogs, learning to shoot with the curiously shaped crossbows they used for sport, savoring the strangeness of the life he lived. It was all very interesting, but certainly nothing that he could tell Reade which might be of benefit to the Terrans—and he was glad of it. He hadn’t liked the idea of being what amounted to a spy.
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