“It’s a work of art meant to be given to the one worthy of the owner’s highest regard.” Madoka’s voice held the solid sincerity of absolute truth. “Keep me standing out here and the parchment might well dry out to the point of becoming brittle. When Dom Gavin unrolls it, imagine his distress when cracks appear and spoil the gift.”
The two guards behind their commander exchanged a glance. Madoka knew that look. This was a problem for somebody higher up in authority.
“The Amazons stay out here,” the higher-ranking guard said.
“They were hired to protect the scroll. Where it goes, they go.”
“There is no place safer than inside Comyn Castle.”
“Have you ever tried to stop a Free Amazon from honoring a contract she’d sworn to carry out?”
The guard started to speak, swallowed, then shook his head.
“Don’t start now. Once I put this scroll into the hands of Dom Gavin himself, the contract will be complete.”
“I will have Dom Gavin informed of your arrival. The Council is currently in session, so—”
“Just let us come inside out of the sun. Dom Gavin can take delivery and we can be on our way.”
The guard’s head bobbed up and down in a nod. His right arm jerked upward in a gesture that made the other two guards open the Tower doors.
“Many thanks, messire.” Madoka walked past him into the cool blue interior of the tower. Raziya and Gayla followed her.
Word passed quickly, just as Madoka had hoped it would. People dressed in the colors of the Seven Domains drifted in from various parts of the tower and through the main doors, curious enough to catch a glimpse of two Free Amazons with a Terran. Soon Gavin Alton himself appeared. He made it halfway down the winding stairway when he spotted Madoka. His eyes widened. His teeth clenched. He spun around and ran back up the stairs, shoving his way through the onlookers. Madoka chased him to the Crystal Chamber itself. Two more of the House Guard stood before the doors, backs straight and eyes front.
“Stop her!” Gavin yelled. “She’s a Terran! An assassin!”
The guard on the left reached for his sword. The guard on the right opened the doors ahead of Gavin. Madoka quickened her stride and dove beneath the left guard’s arm while it was still bent in the act of drawing his sword. She slid across the polished stone floor and cleared the doorway just as the House Guard inside slammed the doors shut behind her.
Madoka flung up one hand to shield her eyes from the rainbow brilliance blinding her. It took precious moments for her sight to clear and her brain to register the full glory of the Crystal Chamber. Eight walls. Each of the Seven Domains displayed its own banner, and beneath it that family sat in rows of tiered seats. A good-looking man with flame red hair and a stern expression stared down at Madoka from his throne. He wore silver and blue, Hastur colors. Regis Hastur himself?
Gavin kept running, putting himself on the opposite side of the Chamber, under the green and black banner of the Alton Domain.
“What madness is this?” Regis Hastur demanded. “Dom Gavin, who is this woman?”
“I am Nakatomi Madoka.” She got to her feet. “Daughter of Nakatomi Masahiro, son of fifty generations of samurai.” She stabbed an accusing finger at Dom Gavin. “Lord Hastur, I come to tell you that man is a traitor to the Comyn and to Darkover itself.”
“Lies!” Gavin stalked forward. “She’s a Terran assassin, a hired killer. Even now she wears a sword, here, in the Crystal Chamber itself!”
Regis Hastur beckoned the Honor Guard. Six of them surrounded Madoka. She held up both hands in a gesture of peace. “Hear me out, Lord Hastur. I bring you absolute proof.”
“Show us this proof.”
“Lord Hastur!” Gavin lunged between Madoka and Regis Hastur. “I beg you, take care! For all we know she has some Terran weapon!”
“Dom Gavin plays a good game of misdirection, Lord Hastur. Let me prove my sincerity.” Madoka freed the clasp on the strap holding her katana across her back. The bundle fell to the floor. She unbuckled her belt and let it drop, then caught the silk pouch as it fell out from under her tunic. “In here lies proof of everything I come to tell you.”
She opened the pouch and spilled the crystal out onto the palm of her left hand. The Crystal Chamber erupted in shouts and cries and harsh gasps of wonder. Regis Hastur rose from his seat.
“I will have order!”
The uproar settled down. Regis Hastur remained standing.
“How did a Terran come to possess a matrix crystal of that size?”
“Ask Dom Gavin, Lord Hastur. He hired me to help him take it from the Comyn who found it.”
All eyes turned to Gavin. As he drew breath to speak, Madoka thrust out her right hand at the Keeper from Neskaya Tower where she stood among the Aillards in all their scarlet and grey finery.
“Ask her what she knows, what she’s seen today, and what Dom Gavin convinced her to do to me. To me, the one this crystal has chosen!”
Fresh uproar made the crystal walls ring with echoes. Madoka held the crystal up over her head and turned a complete circle, staring into the eyes of all the Comyn around her. Light streamed from the crystal, reflecting off of the crystalline walls, taking all sounds and turning them into a song of recognition.
“Hear me, Comyn of Darkover. Every one of you knows this crystal is real, as real as those that almost destroyed your planet during the Ages of Chaos.” Madoka approached Regis Hastur, cradling the crystal in both hands. “Lord Hastur, I come to you as an ally. Dom Gavin killed Anndra Ridenow, who discovered this crystal somewhere north of Tramontana.”
“Anndra?” A Comyn lord in the orange, green and gold of Ridenow shot up out of his seat. “You saw Anndra?”
“Only briefly, Lord Ridenow,” Madoka said. “Dom Gavin made me believe Dom Anndra was being held captive at Sain Scarp. The truth is he was on his way to Thendara, to present this crystal to the Comyn Council.”
Regis Hastur frowned. “How did you, a Terran, key into a crystal this powerful?”
“Word should reach you very soon about the crisis at Neskaya Tower. The Tower circle is dead. You have Dom Gavin and that blood-soaked bitch of a Keeper to thank for it!”
“You killed them!” the Keeper screamed. “Threshold sickness, Lord Hastur. She went mad and killed them all!”
“Elora?” cried a Comyn woman dressed in the black and silver of Ardais. “Is my Elora dead?”
“Silence.” Regis Hastur stared down into Madoka’s eyes. He looked up at the coruscations of rainbow light streaming from all sides, called to the heart of the crystal Madoka held.
“It’s true,” he said. “You have keyed into the crystal. How is this possible?”
“The crystal reached out to me from the place where Dom Anndra had hidden it. I did not ask for this.”
“Lord Hastur,” Dom Gavin said, “I tell you she stole it from Dom Anndra! She—”
“I tell you Dom Gavin injected Dom Anndra with kirian,” Madoka said, “using a Terran syringe!”
“Kirian.” Lord Hastur turned that silvery stare on Gavin. “You used Terran medical equipment to inject kirian into an unwilling subject outside of a Tower and without a Keeper on hand?”
Gavin bowed before Regis Hastur’s rising fury. “Lord Hastur—”
“Such a concentrated dose of kirian could easily kill a man!” Regis Hastur turned to Madoka. “How exactly did Anndra Ridenow die?”
“He couldn’t breathe, Lord Hastur. I tried to help him, to use the emergency rescue breathing, but he was too weak.” She faced the Ridenows and bowed. “I am sorry for your loss.”
“Liar!” Gavin snapped. “Lord Hastur, Dom Anndra meant to deliver the crystal to the Terrans. He plotted—”
“You dare blame the dead?” Madoka fought the urge to bring forth the katana of light and kill Dom Gavin where he stood. “You’d lay your crimes at the feet of the man you murdered?”
A blast of scorching hatred swept the Chamber. Rage poured
from Gavin like boiling oil. Madoka stood her ground against the Alton Gift. The katana of light appeared in her hands.
“A sword!” cried a voice among the Comyn.
“A matrix sword,” cried another. “Kin to the Sword of Aldones!”
Madoka stepped back with her right foot, bent her knees, and brought the hilt level with her jaw.
“Say the word, Lord Hastur, and I will execute this traitor.”
“Mestra Nakatomi,” Regis Hastur said. “I am grateful for your kind offer of assistance. For the moment I will have both Dom Gavin and the Keeper confined to separate chambers while the Council investigates these charges.”
“As you wish.”
Madoka let the katana of light fade. Better that Gavin live to suffer the punishments the Comyn inflicted on their own. As much as it would have gratified her to kill him, the death she brought was much quicker than he deserved. After the House Guard had removed both Dom Gavin and the Keeper, Regis Hastur took his seat.
“Mestra Nakatomi. Where do you come from?”
“I was born on Samarra, in the Edo Enclave.”
“Have you family there?”
Old habit made a denial spring to mind. Madoka hesitated. “My father, Lord Hastur. I have made a home for myself on Darkover.”
The graciousness of his smile astonished and confused her. Madoka assumed the Comyn would never let her leave Darkover. They couldn’t kill her, but they could make her stay unpleasant.
“Mestra Nakatomi, you have been through a terrible ordeal. On behalf of my caste, I offer sincere apologies.” Murmurs rippled through the Chamber as Regis Hastur stepped forward to face her. “Although we come from different worlds and different traditions, we are not enemies. Your mastery of this ancient starstone demonstrates the power of your Gift, as your integrity speaks for the quality of your character.”
“Vai dom, thank you,” she said, since a response seemed to be called for. “However, this does not solve the dilemma before us. The crystal must stay with people who know how to contain its power and use it properly, yes? To do so I must be trained, but only Comyn are allowed that training.”
Old doubts rose up in her mind: I’m an off-worlder, a commoner. Unworthy. Then, as if the katana itself became luminous, a beacon and mirror, she heard her father’s words. “Worthy . . . You do not need my praise, child. The whole world can see your strength and your skill.”
Her vision cleared, and she held her head high. Regis Hastur was speaking again.
“Laran runs strongest in the Comyn, true, but is not exclusive to us. More than that, it is increasingly rare, so we cannot afford to lose even a single person possessing it. I foresee a time when Darkover’s future may depend upon all her resources.”
“Are you–are you proposing to offer me a home among you?”
“Not only a home, but a place of honor, where all your Gifts will be celebrated. You will enrich us, and we you. That is, if you truly wish it.”
“I’ve already risked my life three times to bring this crystal to you, Lord Hastur.” Madoka sank to one knee, holding up the crystal in both hands. “Can you think of any greater proof of my sincerity?”
SIEGE
by Diana L. Paxson
We think of citadels as fortifications with high walls, built for defense and protection. But any place can become a citadel when danger rushes upon us. And who better to manage a siege than a group of Renunciates, women trained to rely upon their own resourcefulness and courage? Diana L. Paxson’s work has appeared in almost every Darkover anthology, as well as Sword and Sorceress and Lace and Blade, two other anthologies I’ve had the honor to edit. Here, the skill of her story-telling shines through in this memorable tale.
Diana L. Paxson is the author of twenty-nine novels, including the books that continue Marion Zimmer Bradley's Avalon series. She has also written ninety short stories, including appearances in most of Marion's Darkover anthologies. She is currently working on a novel about the first century German seeress, Veleda.
Gali’s first warning was the “whyfft” of the arrow flashing by her ear. She hauled back on her stag-pony’s reins as the merchant who was riding ahead of her screamed and fell backward, clutching at the black feathers that had sprouted suddenly from his breast.
“Take cover!” came a shout came from the front of the line. The arrows were coming from a patch of brush on the slope ahead of them. Beyond, the red sun turned the clouds a deeper scarlet as it descended toward the tree-clad summits of the Kilghard hills.
The pack train dissolved into a wild scurry of men and animals crowding toward the half-ruined buildings on the other side of the trail. Gali booted her own beast into a shambling gallop. Martina, the other Free Amazon in the caravan, was already urging her mount after them.
A wall loomed ahead, remainder of one of the many forts left from the Ages of Chaos in these hills. Beyond ancient gate-posts she glimpsed a courtyard and the rough walls of the old keep within.
“In here!” Martina gestured toward the gate “Leave the animals!”
Save your breath to get yourself to safety! thought Gali as they stampeded through. This was her first job as a courier, but that was no reason for the older woman to treat her like a child. Or a Terranan...She had been born and raised at Thendara House, but she was Festival-begotten, and on this pale-skinned planet her toast-colored complexion and dark, kinky hair marked her as alien.
The ruined keep loomed up before her. Gali scrambled out of the saddle, using the pony’s bulk to shield as she jerked her pack free. Most of the animals were already milling around the yard, the men crowding into the only building that still had a roof, a long, low structure next to the tower. The breath went out of her in a startled “oof” as a portly merchant shoved past, knocking her against the tower wall. She grabbed for the hilt of her Amazon not-quite-a-sword and swore as a pack-beast plunged between them, its load swaying dangerously. It squealed, kicking, as an arrow struck its flank, and she jumped back, coughing in the dust kicked up by feet and hooves.
“Anyone with a weapon, follow me!” came a shout from behind her. Still shocked at being attacked by a weapon allowed only for hunting game, to know that someone was taking charge eased a fear she had not recognized. But why should reivers care about the Compact that forbade men to fight with distance weapons when they had committed so many other crimes?
Through the dust-clouds dim shapes were moving. Gali recognized the caravan guards and fell in behind them, sword in hand. The ruins were in better repair than they had appeared from outside, the walls around the courtyard more than man-high. If they could hold the gate they might keep their foes from getting in.
I can do this, she told herself, though her heart was hammering in her chest, or what were all those training sessions at the Guildhouse for?
The arrows had ceased to fall. Over the heads of the men in front of her she saw their attackers coming down the hill. There must be nearly two dozen of them, a rag-tag band of bearded fellows in mismatched clothes and gear, but though their garments were grimy, their weapons gleamed red in the last light of the sun.
Captain MacAran and his guardsmen were already dragging a wagon across the gateway. The others scurried to reinforce it.
“Surrender!” came a bellow from the big, fair-haired man in the lead. With his left hand he brandished a sword. The right was encased in a metal gauntlet with closed fist and spikes jutting from the knuckles.
“It’s Ranald Wrong-Hand!” Gali recognized the voice of Captain MacAran, leader of the guards who had been hired to protect them from situations like this.“Right here in the no-man’s-land between Armida and Serrais! Last I heard, he was still in Shainsa, Zandru damn his soul!”
“On what terms?” The quavering voice belonged to Mestre Andres Cardrow, the leader of the caravan.
“Your lives—” Ranald laughed again. “You’ve found a nice bolt-hole, but it’s a foolish rabbit-horn that dives down a burrow with no back door.”
“When we don’t turn up at Serrais, Dom Kester will come!” Mestre Andres replied.
“You think those lousy Comyn gonna save you?” One of the reivers sneered. “Ridenow’s swilling Terran whisky in Thendara. Alton’s off-planet somewhere, and only the gods know what he be drinking there.”
“Come out, and we give you your lives.” The leader growled. In the fading light the reivers were hulking demon-shapes emerging from the spiky silhouette the Kilghard Hills thrust against a purple sky.
“And our goods?”cried Giorgio Varney, who sold spider-silk. He was answered by a burst of laughter from Ranald’s men.
The medicines Martina and I are taking to Serrais are for women’s ills, thought Gali, no use to these scum. They would be more interested in her body than her possessions. The Renunciate’s oath to lie with a man only “at my own time and season” meant little when you were a prisoner.
“We’re safe here,” Kyril MacRae, the spice merchant, gripped Mestre Andres’ arm. “And we have shelter. Let them kick their heels outside the gate for a time.”
The caravan leader turned to the captain. “Can we hold?”
“If we barricade the gate, and they care about losing men.” MacAran replied in a low voice.
“We’re waiting...” called the big, scar-faced fellow who seemed to be Ranald’s right-hand man.
“We have to discuss this,” Mestre Andres answered him. “‘tis not my decision alone.”
“I give you ´till morning...” there was an odd note in the bandit leader’s laugh. “See how well you like your fortress when you’ve spent a night within its walls.”
~o0o~
“Are you all right?”
Gali stilled at Martina’s whisper, then sighed. They had laid out their bedrolls in a corner of the building where the folk of the caravan had taken refuge. Some of the scribblings on the walls showed it had been used as a barracks; it still had most of its roof, a fireplace, and some rough tables and chairs. The snores of the other survivors echoed from walls of rough stone.
“I’m sorry if I woke you,” she replied. “I was just trying—“
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