“No doubt my captain will introduce me to a few. We’re here for a vacation, of sorts, by invitation of Dom Ridenow.”
“Ah,” was all he said, and I could not judge whether or not I had overstepped.
“Will you be performing again?”
“Not tonight.”
“Elsewhere? Do you have recitals?”
I feared I was making a fool of myself, sounding too pleading, but at last he answered. “I have, but not recently, and not in the foreseeable future.”
“Oh.” This time, I couldn’t keep the disappointment from my voice. He’d been the only light in my life, lately, and already it was extinguished. “I was never much of a dancer. Always clumsy, even before...” I gestured at my empty trouser legs.
“Then you had a poor teacher.”
“My sister. She didn’t have much patience.” Our relationship had never been good; I hadn’t talked to her in years. “I bet you’re a good teacher.”
“Some think so. Some do not.”
I wondered what he meant by that. “Is that why you have guards?”
I’d meant to be lighthearted, but that was the wrong question. He stiffened, then forced himself to relax. “My attendance was requested. It is safer for me with an escort.”
Requested, or ordered? I was making him uneasy. There was something about him, an air of strangeness. Loneliness. It was easy to recognize, having felt it keenly these past few months. “I wasn’t eager to come here, either. My captain insisted on it after...well.”
“And now that you’re here, what do you think?”
“I think you’re the best part, so far.”
“You are kind to say so. Is that why you wanted me to stay, messire? Merely to ogle?”
Heat sprang to my cheeks, momentarily countering the chill. “I’m sorry. I wished merely to express my admiration. Now that I’ve done so, I will not keep you. Forgive me if I’ve been offensive; I’ve done a lot of reading about your world, but I’m sure I’ve missed some protocols.”
He stood, and I feared he would leave without another word, but he faced me and said quietly, “It is I who should apologize. I know you meant no offense; I am fatigued from my exertions, as well as my company.” He nodded slightly at his bodyguards.
“It’s completely understandable.” I eyed him, wishing I had some of that mind-magic that allegedly ran through Darkovan society’s upper echelon. He wasn’t just a dancer. There was something more about him, beyond those six-fingered hands that set him apart.
And gods, he was handsome.
“You are so innocent, Terran. Stay that way.” He brushed my cheek with a feather-light touch and left me there, shivering with more than cold...
...and free of pain.
~o0o~
Captain Maeda found me the next afternoon, resting in my quarters and reading up on whatever Darkovan cultural files I could dig up. There was plenty of archival information, journals written by anthropologists, scientists and other visitors to Darkover. A few mentioned dance and how important it was to the people here.
Only men laugh. Only men weep. Only men dance. It was one of their favorite proverbs. So was, Any time three Darkovans get together, they hold a dance.
Yet there was nothing at all on the stranger who’d performed the night before. I didn’t even know his name.
She leaned against the wall just inside the door. “Dom Ridenow sends his regards and hopes you are feeling better.”
“That’s kind of him.”
“He also offered a ride outside the city, if you’re interested. He’ll arrange some horses.”
While it would be better than walking, I wasn’t entirely sure I was up to the challenge of dealing with an animal. “I’ll probably fall off.”
“He promised to be gentle and to lend you his most sedate horse.”
This was likely another attempt to get us out of our routine. I owed her my company, I supposed, for all her support. I also wondered if it was because she needed a male escort so her sharing company with a Darkovan noble wouldn’t seem improper.
So back to Comyn Castle we went. The skies were overcast, hinting at snow, but Captain Maeda would not be swayed from her adventure. Dom Ridenow met us in the courtyard, where grooms held the reins for three horses. At his gesture, a groom urged one of the horses to lie down.
Well. That solved my problem of how to mount. With the groom’s assistance, I managed to get a leg over the saddle and then hung on tightly as the horse lurched upright once more. A little fussing with the stirrup lengths, and we were fit to ride.
I admit, I enjoyed the novelty of being astride a horse, and appreciated the animal putting up with my awkwardness. Riding was freeing in a way I had not felt in some time; and instead of two good legs, I had four that carried me down roads and over hills, that reacted to my desires and became a companion in my adventure. Other than a dog in my childhood, I hadn’t been around animals at all and enjoyed the novelty.
It was atop a hill while we were admiring the view when I finally had a chance to ask, “Where is the dancer from last night? Does he live in the city?”
“For now, he is a guest at Comyn Castle. We have a Tower there that we use intermittently; he is assisting us with it for a while.”
“Tower?” I couldn’t imagine what he would be doing there. He didn’t seem to be the type to aid in any sort of construction. Designer, perhaps?
“A Tower is like a communications center,” Captain Maeda told me. “Their telepaths work there and can send messages to one another. They also study matrix stones and—am I getting this right?”
“It’s a simplified answer, but yes,” Dom Ridenow said. “I spent some time in a Tower myself when I was younger and quite enjoyed it. Nice to be away from the crowds and family duties.”
I had a dozen other questions, though none of them seemed polite to ask. I was the third wheel in this outing, anyway, and thought it better to keep what distance I could. They were friends; more than friends, perhaps, but it wasn’t my place to pry.
Dinner followed, a lavish meal shared in Dom Ridenow’s suite. The conversation was pleasant and inclusive, and I enjoyed seeing the captain having a good time. Eventually, though, I had to see to my personal needs and took the opportunity to leave them alone for a little while.
The halls were deserted; this wasn’t Council season, so there were few Comyn in residence. Dom Ridenow stayed there largely because of its proximity to the Spaceport. So I was surprised to see a familiar, lithe figure and his bodyguards down one of the corridors.
I’m sure I was breaking some protocol to leave so abruptly, not to mention being extremely rude to wander around uninvited, but I couldn’t miss my chance to speak to the dancer again.
I was slow, though—frustratingly so, even when I used the walls for support. I lost him after the third turn, and after glancing up and down the halls, I had no idea where to go.
Then I saw his guards walking toward me—and he wasn’t with them.
I waited until they passed and went the direction they’d come from, ending up at an ornately carved wooden door. I’d never been very assertive, so it took all my courage to knock on a stranger’s door.
After a few moments, a sharp-faced older woman answered. She looked me up and down and frowned. “Are you lost, Terran?”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, but I’m looking for a dancer that went this way. Is he here?”
“You dare refer to our Keeper in such crude terms?”
“Keeper? I’m sorry. I don’t even know his name. I just—I saw him dance. That’s all I know about him.” I put a hand against the doorway, needing the support just to keep standing.
The woman frowned more deeply. “You are out of sorts. If you do not calm yourself, you will disrupt our work.”
“Forgive me. I don’t mean to be offensive, but I am not used to your customs and I do not know what this place is.”
“Obviously.” She opened the door wider. “Enter. You may wait in
the foyer while I see if Kieran is willing to speak to you.”
Kieran. At least now I had a name.
A crackling fire warmed the room, and I selfishly pulled a chair over and sat close to the flames, leeching as much heat as I could. So pleasant was the feeling that I was not aware of how much time passed, or in fact that I wasn’t alone.
“You are persistent, Terran.”
And there he was, dressed in a loose shirt and pants that spoke of comfort. Indeed, he seemed in his element here, far more at ease than when last I’d seen him. “I was passing by. And it was cold.”
“Is your home planet truly so warm? I think I would perish without snow.”
“And I fear I will perish in the snow.” There came an awkward silence, and I again felt the fool. What had I expected when I found him? “You are well?”
“You seem overly concerned.”
“I just thought...when the guards...”
“Ah. My protectors.”
“Are you in danger?”
He was silent a moment. “I am different.”
I desperately wanted to ask him how, why, but had the sense that would be terribly rude. “Are you happy?”
That caught him off guard, and it took him a long time to answer. “Why is that important to you?”
“Because...” I felt silly for saying so, but lying would be worse. “Because other than my captain, you’re the only person I’ve worried about for months. When I saw you before, you seemed...lonely.” Or perhaps it was merely my own projection.
“You are kind to be so concerned, but you need have no fear. I am not in danger here, and while I would prefer some things to be other than they are, I am not unhappy.”
“Good.” It was strange how relieved I was. “I should go. My captain will wonder where I am.” Though my legs had begun to ache, and the thought of standing, let alone finding my way back through that maze of corridors was not appealing.
“Word has been sent. You may bide here as long as you need to.”
I didn’t ask how they’d sent a message. No one had left the room. Maybe it was one of their telepathic messages—or maybe they had another exit and had sent a note with a runner.
“I’ve asked for some—ah, here we are,” he said as a younger woman came in carrying a tray with a carafe, glasses and a plate of cookies. “Thank you, Elorie.”
She nodded at him and grinned at me as she began to pour what looked like some type of cider.
“If I am to be here for a while—forgive me if this discomfits you, but I’ve been upright far too long today.” I rolled up my trouser legs, glancing at my hosts to gauge their reaction, and too sore and tired to care if they stared.
They watched—but it was the supportive interest of a friend, not the gazing anywhere but at my abbreviated limbs like most Terrans. I pressed the releases on my false legs and removed them both, along with the socks that covered the ends of my stumps. The skin—still thin and tender—was red. Damn. If I wasn’t careful, I’d rub it raw and not be able to wear my legs at all.
“You poor thing! Does it hurt?”
“A little,” I admitted.
“I have just the thing. I’ll be right back.” She hurried off, leaving me a little stunned by her zealousness.
“Elorie is a healer in training. Please excuse her curiosity; she’s fascinated by the difference in our methods compared to the Terrans. She will dote on you, if you let her.” The statement seemed more of an order than an observation, but I remained loathe to accept assistance. I’d already overstayed my welcome and had no desire to be a burden.
But when she returned with a pleasant-smelling salve, I saw how much pleasure it gave her to be of use so I let her do as she would and helped myself to one of the sweet, crumbling cookies and spiced cider. When she rubbed the abused skin, she was both expert and gentle and didn’t leave me feeling like just another patient, the way the Terran therapists did. She ran her thumb along the still-visible scar. “This is recent, isn’t it?”
“Eight months ago. Darkover is my first trip since...” Even now, I found it hard to talk about.
“I thought the Terrans were good at saving or re-growing limbs.”
“They are. But there was nothing to save, and they decided I was not a good candidate for regrowth.” In truth, I hadn’t been sure if I could endure the process, despite their reassurances. “I can still feel my legs. My real ones. It’s the oddest sensation.” When they didn’t hurt like hell, at least.
“Really? I’ve heard such tales, though I haven’t seen any cases in person. May I?” she asked, gesturing to a leg, and I assented. She inspected it inside and out, marveling at the construction. The artificial limbs had the shape of human legs and feet, and while the tone matched my flesh, they lacked...hair, for one thing. Real toenails. I was supposed to get an upgrade once my body had gotten used to these, but the adjustment had been slow and not helped by the persistent pain. “They’re made well, but they don’t seem to fit you.”
Somehow, it didn’t surprise me that she’d identified my problem so easily. “They take some getting used to.”
“Men,” she said with an aggrieved look at Kieran. “Always think they have to wear pain like a badge of honor. It’s no wonder he didn’t want to dance at the festival.”
“That’s not why—well, not the only reason,” I said, ashamed. “I was never very coordinated even when I had feet, so I took up piano and guitar, among other things.”
Elorie brightened at that. “We have a harp here. Perhaps you might play for us? I’d love to hear some Terran tunes.”
“Yes, please!” My guitar had been lost with the ship, and I’d missed it. Within a few moments, I was provided a small harp-like instrument called a rryl. It took a little getting used to because of the various levers, but I was proficient at enough stringed instruments that I was soon plucking out folk tunes from different areas of Terra.
I admit, I purposefully chose tunes with pronounced rhythm, designed to get people moving. It was entirely selfish because I wanted to see Kieran dance. Badly.
It wasn’t until I was playing a tango that he rose to his feet and started to sway, and it was all I could do to stay focused enough on the rryl to keep my fingers steady.
A strangeness overcame me, as if I, too, was whirling along with Kieran, going faster and faster, overcome with the pure joy of movement. My fingers kept plucking strings, but my mind was elsewhere. Flying.
Dancing.
There came a tune layered over mine, different yet complimentary. The music merged, blended, just as we became one in the dance, although I was not moving at all—
Then, suddenly, everything stopped, and exhaustion swept over me, so profound that I would have dropped the rryl had Elorie not snatched it from my hands.
Kieran crouched at my side, eyes full of concern. “Forgive me. I was careless to let you get caught up in rapport.”
I wasn’t entirely sure what he meant; getting caught up in music was such a natural thing for me that I hadn’t thought it out of the ordinary. “I think I’ve overdone things. If you can communicate with the Spaceport, they’ll send a transport for me. I won’t be your problem anymore.”
“Perhaps I enjoy this sort of problem. Having a musical Terran who is curious rather than close-minded for company is refreshing.”
“I’m glad of that, at least.”
He smiled. “Stay for the night. Rest. We have rooms to spare.”
“Is that wise? He’s not even a telepath,” said the hawk-faced woman who’d opened the door. She’d wandered in sometime during my playing.
“I am Keeper. I will take responsibility and ensure there is no distraction.”
She remained displeased, but gave him a slight nod of acknowledgement. The exchange left me feeling awkward. The offer was kind, if impractical; these rooms were not designed to accommodate anyone with a handicap. “You’re kind, but I really should find my captain and head back to the spaceport.” Which had the wheelcha
ir I hated, grab bars, physical therapists, and a voice-activated emergency system if I fell and couldn’t get up. All amenities I wished I didn’t need.
“I wouldn’t advise it.” He pulled aside the drapes to reveal thick clumps of snow blowing against the panes. “This blizzard will last through the night. Even a Terran transport would have difficulty.”
So I was trapped, though a part of me didn’t mind at all. For a little while, I’d been free of always having to pretend everything was fine for the captain’s sake. I’d remembered what happiness had felt like—and so had Kieran.
“Let’s get you settled,” Kieran said, and between him and Elorie I managed to get my legs on and walk into a nearby bedroom, which was tidy with a comfortable-looking bed and anything I might need within reach, including a bell, a pitcher of water and a chamber pot.
The bed was warm and welcoming, the sheets scented with something soothing akin to lavender. I was exhausted enough to fall asleep easily, but the strangeness of the evening left my dreams uneasy. I’d thought my terror gone, left behind at the hospital on Vainwal.
I was wrong.
We’d all felt the impact; a sharp thud that had rocked the ship just enough to startle us. Turbulence, we’d figured.
Until the alarms sounded.
The consoles lit up with warnings. I had to yell over the emergency klaxons. “We’re losing power and the backups aren’t functioning. Whatever hit us sliced into the engines.”
The ship lurched, then began losing altitude at an alarming rate. The other crew members dived for their stations, and for a while the only sound was a steady screeching from the alarms.
Captain Maeda stood behind me, reading the screens with grim acceptance. We’d practiced for such emergencies, yet those drills were nothing compared to the reality that we would likely die.
“Right the ship, Lieutenant. Pull us out of the dive.”
She may as well have been giving me an order to change course toward Terra, so quiet and calm was she. I’ll never know how I managed to right the ship just enough to prevent a complete nosedive. I’d never been one to believe in miracles, but I did then.
Citadels of Darkover Page 2
