A Flame in Hali

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Harald’s eyes widened, but Dyannis could not read his expression. With this many people around, she had raised her laran barriers. Lerrys turned in the saddle to stare at her. The guards bowed as they passed through.

  Dyannis found Thendara very much as she remembered when she’d left it half a year ago, a great walled city with palaces and towers, marketplaces and mansions. Here the Comyn had ruled for unimaginable centuries, since before the Ages of Chaos.

  They rode past shops and inns, tables set out upon the cobblestones, between carts laden with rolled Ardcarran carpets, carriages, riders on horses and antlered chervines, and curtained sedan chairs trailing perfume. The noise and mingled smells surrounded Dyannis. They came almost to a standstill while several enormous wagons laden with furniture negotiated a difficult turning.

  At last they reached the gates of Castle Hastur, a fortress within a fortress. The guards here wore the badge of the King’s household, and if any of them recognized Dyannis, they gave no sign. They searched the entire party for weapons, except for Dyannis herself. It would have been unthinkable for any commoner to lay hands upon a Comynara, even if she were not also a leronis. Unasked, Dyannis handed over the small eating knife that she carried in her boot. Then she accompanied Harald and Lerrys inside, leaving their attendants to tend to the animals in the courtyard.

  It had been Harald’s plan that they arrange for an audience with King Carolin, as befitted their rank as Comyn, and then obtain lodging in an inn of suitable respectability. While they were waiting in the outer foyer where other petitioners had gathered, a courtier appeared and immediately ushered them into Carolin’s presence chamber.

  Dyannis remembered being presented to old King Felix in a similar chamber shortly after she had arrived at Hali. Prince Carolin had just returned from Arilinn, along with Varzil and Eduin. Felix Hastur, over a century old, occupied the throne, attended solicitously by his nephew, Rakhal.

  The world had gone on, through Felix’s dotage and his death, Rakhal’s treason, and Carolin’s exile and restoration. This chamber was very much like its fellow at Hali, with its rich furnishings and courtiers like extravagantly feathered birds in their costly robes and ornaments of copper and gold.

  They halted where the courtier bid them, to be announced. Carolin, smiling warmly, gestured them to come forward.

  “Dom Harald, I am delighted to welcome the brother of my friend Varzil to Thendara. Lady Dyannis, it is good to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, Your Majesty,” she replied.

  “And who is this fine lad?” Carolin asked.

  Harald bowed, stiffly but with dignity, and introduced Lerrys. He had anticipated a wait of hours or days before being presented formally to the great king, and certainly not with trail dust clinging to his boots. Lerrys held himself well, although his awe and delight were obvious.

  Carolin, with his characteristic graciousness, said, “All three of you must dine with us tonight. Maura will be pleased to see you again. Meanwhile, be at your ease in Castle Hastur. My coridom will find suitable chambers for you and your people, and stabling for your animals. Once you have settled in, Dom Harald, I will send word to Varzil of your arrival. I believe he has been waiting to see you.”

  “Para servirte, vai dom,” Harald replied in formal casta.

  A middle-aged man in the garb of a highly-ranking coridom stepped forward and made a deep reverence. Dyannis recognized him from years before, although he had held a far lesser rank then. After receiving orders from Carolin, the coridom led the party from the presence chamber.

  “Mestre Ruival, isn’t it?” Dyannis asked as they followed the coridom down the long corridors laid with runners of wine-colored carpet. “How fares your family?”

  “Very well, vai leronis. Thank you for your kind inquiry.”

  She laughed. “The kindness was all yours once, for I think we would all have starved without you, that first Midwinter season.”

  “If you will follow me to your chambers, I pray you will find them appropriate.” Without waiting for a reply, he led them to a suite of luxurious rooms.

  The furniture was comfortable but not overly ornate, the wood oiled to a satiny sheen, the air freshened with bowls of rosalys and lilias. Thick carpets cushioned their steps. A central sitting room gave way to several interconnecting bedchambers. Harald and Lerrys proceeded to their own.

  The one indicated for Dyannis clearly was meant for a lady with attendant maids. Rella was already laying out the contents of the clothes chest. The girl’s face flushed with excitement. The journey to Thendara had been more adventure than she’d known in her short life, and she had never dreamed of staying in the royal castle.

  Dyannis closed the door and lowered herself into the cushioned chair beside the fireplace. It had not yet been lit, but the room was warm enough. She could hear the faint rumble of Harald’s voice from across the suite. She had not realized until now, when she was to leave him forever, how much she would miss her brother. Even the thought of seeing Varzil again only increased her sadness, for she must disappoint all his hopes for her. They would never join their minds in a circle again.

  Dyannis never once considered telling Harald she’d changed her mind. She had given her word, as Ridenow, as Comynara, and, for the last time, as leronis.

  With a heavy heart, she allowed Rella to bathe her face and hands, dress her, and arrange her hair for dinner with the King.

  Dyannis followed Harald and the bright-eyed page sent to summon them to the royal wing. In the central chamber, a table had been set for an intimate family meal. Banks of candles cast a honey-soft glow across the polished wood, the ornaments of gold and white. Maura Hastur-Elhalyn, once leronis of Hali and then Tramontana, and now Queen, stepped forward to greet them. She had not worked in a Tower since her marriage to Carolin, but she still held herself with quiet reserve. Her flame-bright hair was simply dressed and she wore her favorite colors, sea green and gray.

  How good it is to see you again! she spoke mentally to Dyannis.

  Dyannis had only a moment or two while Harald was still bowing. For a wild moment, she thought of sharing her sorrow with Maura, as one leronis to another. Maura, of all people, would understand her situation. But if Maura then spoke to Carolin on her behalf, he might intervene—

  No, Dyannis thought, it was dangerous to think such things. Hope would weaken her resolve, erode her acceptance. Her fate was in the hands of the gods.

  The moment vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving a wave of longing. Blessed Cassilda, give me strength!

  Whatever distresses you, my dear?

  Varzil! From the clarity of his thought, he must be quite near. She had been so caught up in her own misery, feeling so isolated, that she had missed his approach.

  The next instant, the door at the far end of the room swung open and Carolin entered, along with Varzil. There were exclamations all round as the two brothers, Varzil and Harald, greeted one another. Much to everyone’s amusement, Varzil behaved just like a doting uncle, remarking how Lerrys had grown.

  “I met your father once, Dom Harald,” Carolin said, as they sat down at the table and servants began bringing in the meal. “He was at Arilinn for Comyn Council season while I was a student there. You look very like him.”

  “I did not know you had ever met,” Harald said. “He never spoke of it.”

  “He did not know me as Carolin Hastur, but only as the nameless courier who chased him down on his way to Sweetwater.”

  “Father had just refused to let me study at the Tower,” Varzil said, smiling. “Everything changed when news came that Harald had been taken by the catmen. We were only a half-day’s ride out of Arilinn, and there was no possible way of getting home within a tenday. Carolin arranged for an aircar and then insisted that Father take me back.”

  “So you are responsible for Varzil being there, to bargain with the catmen as no other man could have done,” Harald said, inclining his head. “For that, vai dom,
I owe my life to you as well.”

  “At the time,” Carolin said, “I thought only that someone of Varzil’s talent must be given a chance at the Tower. I don’t think any of us realized what would come from it—the Compact, the rebuilding of Neskaya . . .”

  “It is unwise to claim personal credit for those things that are the product of the dedication and good will of many men,” Varzil said.

  “And women,” Maura said.

  “Indeed,” Carolin answered her, “sometimes I think that women do more to reshape our world than we do, but so skillfully and modestly that no one ever notices.”

  “No one notices?” Maura teased. “How can you miss Lady Liriel, your own kinswoman? Or Queen Taniquel, or Romilly MacAran, or even Jandria in her red vest, fighting as bravely as any man?”

  Varzil, it turned out, had returned to Hali Tower for a season. “At least,” he said lightly, “I think I have. I’ve been running around the countryside so much, I sometimes wake up not quite sure where I am.”

  Carolin laughed. “It was selfish of me to take you from Neskaya to act as my emissary to Asturias, but there was no one else who could have carried it off.”

  “A difficult business, that,” Varzil replied, as the others looked up, eager to hear the story. “It was a politely disguised exchange of hostages, while attempting to spread the Compact—I say attempting, for the Asturias lords would have no part in it. I think they are too frightened to give up their laran weapons.”

  “Which makes them even more dangerous,” Harald said tightly, “for they will not live in peace with their neighbors, as the folk of Marenji have learned to their sorrow.”

  “They released our kinsman, Dom Eiric, before I could interview him,” Varzil said, “and he is under truce oath not to attack them for another half year, so something good may yet come from that quarter.”

  “Friends,” Carolin interrupted, “let us not diminish the joy of our reunion with talk of war. There is time and enough for sorrow. Here we have occasion for celebration. We have honored guests, and cherished friends. I don’t believe the four of us have been together since that first Midwinter at Hali.”

  “Goodness!” Maura laughed. “Has it been that long? What a wild bunch we were in those day! Orain was with us then, and Jandria, before she pierced her ear and joined the Sisterhood of the Sword, and your other friend from Arilinn—what was his name, Carlo?”

  “Oh, do you mean Eduin?” Carolin shook his head slightly. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? I heard he came to a rather bad end. Was he ever seen after the battle of Hestral Tower?”

  Dyannis lowered her eyes and pretended to be absorbed in her soup. They all carefully avoided mention of either Rakhal or Lyondri, the cousins who had usurped Carolin’s throne and then instituted a reign of terror across the land. Why could they not forget about Eduin, too?

  “For tonight, however, let all hearts be merry.” Carolin raised his wine goblet. “May that time come speedily when people of good will everywhere will have similar reason to celebrate.”

  “We have yet another occasion for gladness,” Maura said. “Dyannis is back among us. The folk at Hali will rejoice at her return.”

  Dyannis felt the blood drain from her cheeks, leaving her suddenly cold. She raised her voice above the murmur and clink of goblets and knives against fine porcelain plates. “Your Majesty,” she said formally, “I regret—that is not the case. In fact, the opposite is true. I have come here with my brother to be betrothed to a cousin of the wife of Carolin’s kinsman, Geremy Hastur. All that remains is the permission of my Keeper and Carolin’s blessing, as his overlord.”

  There, it was said. She could not turn back now. Even though she knew she had done the only honorable thing, Dyannis felt sick at heart.

  Silence dropped like a thick blanket over the table. Varzil sat motionless. Then he broke out into an enormous grin. Beside him, Carolin and Maura barely suppressed their own smiles.

  “Hali will indeed have cause to rejoice,” Harald said.

  “Please do not mock me!” Dyannis cried.

  “You tell her, Harald,” Varzil said.

  Harald turned to Dyannis. His eyes glowed as if the sun had risen behind them. “My dear sister, did you really believe I would let you enter into a marriage that was not your wish? When I realized what I had done, I sent word to Varzil the very next day to enlist his help in finding a way out of our quandary.”

  “But—but an agreement was made,” Dyannis stammered. “Dom Tiavan’s family—the alliance—”

  “Which is not nearly as important as having you, a powerful leronis, serving all of Darkover,” Varzil said. “As for your intended bridegroom, Maura herself came up with a solution.”

  Maura described how, while Dyannis was on the road to Thendara, she had arranged for an equally advantageous match between Dom Tiavan Harryl and Rohanne’s youngest sister, who had nothing but her sweet disposition to recommend her. Everyone had assumed that as the last of six daughters of a poor but noble family, with no dowry or connections, the sister would die a spinster. Upon their arrival, Harald had agreed to give her the income from a nice stretch of pastureland for her lifetime, with the land itself to go to any children. He felt sure that with such a dowry, and the blessing of King Carolin, the Harryls would be more than content.

  Dyannis listened in amazement. She turned to Harald. “How can this be?”

  “Do you not wish to return to Hali Tower? If so, I have most grievously misunderstood you.”

  “Oh, yes! But—”

  “Breda, did you think for a moment that your brothers do not love you?” Varzil broke in. “That we don’t care for your happiness? How could you be content anywhere but a Tower, using your Gifts? When Harald sent word what had happened, how could we not do everything in our power to help you?”

  For a long moment, Dyannis could not speak. Her throat closed up with tears. Only the self-control achieved by years of training kept her at her seat, head lifted. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Even so, her voice came out in a whisper. “I have no words to thank you enough, both of you.”

  “You can thank me by using your Gifts to the fullest,” Varzil said. By being in truth what you are, a Keeper.

  “We did not act solely for your benefit, vai leronis,” said Carolin, “but for the good of all. The Tower needs you. Will you not reconsider Varzil’s proposal that you train as a Keeper?”

  “You and the gods have clearly conspired against me!” Dyannis said, recovering a small measure of composure. “I came to Thendara, prepared to uphold the honor of my family and serve a greater purpose than my own personal desires. At the time, I thought that was to be the marriage Harald had arranged for me. Now I see another destiny in service to you, to Hali Tower, perhaps to all of Darkover.” She turned to Varzil, and her voice trembled a little. “If you and Raimon, who are my Keepers, say I am fit, then I will undertake to train as one of you with all my strength and will.”

  For a long moment, no one spoke, and she realized their silence represented a profound respect for her choice. Then Carolin raised his goblet to her. “This is a moment we will tell our children about,” he said solemnly, “the day Dyannis of Hali joined the ranks of the very first women Keepers.” Dyannis found herself far more deeply touched by the quiet dignity of the moment than by any expressions of mirth.

  After a bit, Carolin turned to Lerrys. “What about you, chiyu? I hear you are to pass a season at Hali Tower, and learn what you can from the wise folk there. Will you follow in the footsteps of your brother and sister, and become a laranzu? ”

  The boy ducked his head. “Your pardon, vai dom, but my place is back at Sweetwater. I will go to Hali Tower if it is my father’s wish, but I will be counting the days until I return home.”

  “Well enough said,” Carolin said, “for without men to till the land and raise fine sons, there would be no one for the Towers to serve.”

  He then called for another toast, and this one Dyannis joined
in with a whole heart.

  33

  The dinner concluded with good spirits and expressions of fellowship. Dyannis said little, for she was emotionally drained from the sudden reversal of her fortune. As they headed back to their quarters, however, she gathered her strength and asked Harald if they might talk a little. She still did not understand why he had changed his mind, and gone to such great lengths to preserve her freedom. Although the hour was late, he dismissed their servants, leaving them alone in the sitting chamber. A small fire had been lit, and Dyannis went over to it, although she did not feel cold.

  “I saw that no matter how advantageous the match might be, the cost was even higher,” he said. “At first, I assumed you had given up your place in a Tower, that no matter what else you did, it would not be to use your laran. But then, when I truly understood . . .”

  He went to her and took her hands in his. Dyannis sensed the deliberation in his touch. He wanted her to read his mind. Caught between the light of the fire and the row of candles on the mantle, his features bore a striking resemblance to their father’s. But Dom Felix Ridenow would never have spoken as Harald did now.

  “I of all men know how important—how rare and precious—laran is to our world and its people.” His voice was low and husky. In his mind, she saw images, layered one over the other—

  —moonlight on flashing swords, the musty reek of catmen, furred bodies twisting and slashing, fire piercing his side, the spurt of hot blood—

  —the desperate flight through the hills, running headlong into a cave—down a series of tunnels—the torch sputtering—fever chills shuddering through his body, lights flickering in his mind, the sweetish rankness of a wound gone bad—

  —HARALD! Varzil’s sure mental voice, calling him back from delirium, torches in the distance, more catmen, a sword at his throat—

  —no hope, no hope at last—