The Shadow Matrix

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  had not thought about it before, being much too busy just trying to keep alive. How could he have failed to consider how much possessing this artifact might shift the balance of power on Darkover? It was all very well for Varzil the Good to have wanted to get his matrix away from Ashara Alton, into a future where she no longer existed, but the long dead tenerezu could not have foreseen the problems it would cause.

  Marguerida scowled as she grasped the implications. "Yes, and everyone will shout and pound on the tables, and slam doors, and have a wonderful time yelling themselves blue in the face!"

  The elation he had felt half an hour before, finding out that he would be a father, dissolved. Mikhail was overwhelmed with a sense of unworthiness. Was he really now the most powerful man on Darkover? It was almost too much to bear. He wanted to pull the hateful thing off his hand and cast it into the fire on the hearth. The ring did not belong in the time he lived in. It was a relic of another era, a terrible past that Mikhail did not wish to see reborn.

  Mikhail shuddered all over. His eyes burned. If only he could sleep, and forget everything. He did not want this power, did he? Then he felt a bit of laughter bubble in his chest. What did he imagine—that now he could wave his hand and make miracles? What a fool he was, to be sure!

  "I won't let it change things," he muttered to Lew.

  "You . . . what?" Lew gave a sharp bark of bitter laughter. "I admire your sentiments, son, but now is not the time to discuss this. Off to bed with the two of you. I cannot wait to see Regis' face when you tell him your tale—but I will have to forego that pleasure for a while."

  "Regis' face—think of Aunt Javanne's!"

  "True, Marguerida, true. She will be fit to be tied. As if she isn't already, with the two of you dashing off in the middle of the night! Well, my life is going to be more exciting than I thought." Lew seemed oddly pleased by the prospect.

  "Father ... I know what to do for Dio now." Marguerida's voice was heavy with drowsiness, her chin slipping towards her chest. "I cannot cure her, but I can give her more time," she whispered. "More time." Then her eyes closed.

  Lew Alton stared at his daughter, his scarred face under-

  going a transformation, from solemn to stunned, then widening into disbelief and hope. He stood up, and for a moment it seemed that he would try to shake her awake. Instead, he shifted her limp body around, lifted her up, and started toward the stairs that led to the upper story of the inn. Her head rested against his shoulder, and Mikhail had a stab of jealousy that he was too tired to sustain. "Do you think she knows what she is talking about, Mik?"

  Mikhail staggered to his feet. "I have an inkling, yes. She can heal with that hand of hers, or cause harm. She means what she says, Uncle Lew."

  "That she does. Now, to bed with the pair of you!" I have my child back, and perhaps my Diotima as well. It is all too much. Thank the gods for this miracle.

  Three mornings later, a large carriage creaked into the innyard, accompanied by several Guardsmen. Mikhail was in the taproom, and he heard the ruckus in a vague way. He was still very tired, and had spent his days doing little besides eating and sleeping. Marguerida was upstairs still, fighting a cold.

  He stood up slowly, feeling ancient for a man of twenty-eight, and started toward the door. They were going back to Thendara, but he was not entirely eager to get there. If he had had a choice, he would have stayed at the inn with his wife until they were completely recovered, avoiding the intrigues he knew would ensue. He resigned himself to the uproar that awaited them, shrugging away his anxiety with difficulty.

  Mikhail heard a slight scuffle behind him, and turned and found Marguerida walking down the stairs. Her nose was red from her cold, but her hair was brushed to a glossy sheen, and she was wearing a brown wool dress that had belonged to the innkeeper's daughter. She smiled at him, snuffled slightly, and coughed. "I wish I had pneumonia," she muttered.

  "Why would you want that, caria?"

  "They can cure pneumonia," she answered darkly, then glared at him when he laughed. "The only thing I can think of is that if Gisela gives me any trouble, I can just sneeze _on her.'"'

  "Surely you would prefer to give her something more potent than a cold."

  Marguerida slipped her arm into his. "Not really. I am not really feeling vengeful—just a wee bit petty this morning."

  "Well, you look wonderful, despite having a very red nose."

  "I don't feel wonderful."

  The door of the inn opened, and Liriel, cloaked and muffled, swept into the entry. She pushed the hood back from

  her shining red hair, and started to remove her gloves. Marguerida released her hold on Mikhail's arm and almost ran across the remaining space toward his sister. She started to

  hug Liriel, then remembered her cold, and stopped, look

  ing frustrated..

  Liriel unhooked the clasp of her cloak and slipped it off her wide shoulders. She draped it over her arm, and swept her free arm around Marguerida's waist, planting a light kiss on her cheek. For a moment they stood facing him, two tall women, each splendid in a distinct way. Then Liriel released his wife, and embraced him.

  "Mother thinks she should have drowned you at birth, bredu," she said, smiling cheerfully. "And I might agree, if I were not so very happy to see you!"

  "This is a pleasant surprise, Liri. I did not expect you to come with the carriage."

  "Uncle Lew asked me to come, and I was glad enough to do it, though I am beginning to have a real aversion to all manner of wheeled vehicles. But I had no choice. At least the way from Thendara is easier in this direction than to the west. You do not appear to be any worse for your adventures—did you really travel into the past?"

  "We really did, though we do not expect anyone to believe us."

  "Good, because they will be difficult to convince. Both Father and Mother are sure that the two of you just dashed away to irritate them, and, truthfully, Uncle Regis feels almost the same way. If it had not been for that voice at the ball, everyone would think ... no matter. You are both safe, and that is the only important thing, isn't it?"

  "It is, as far as I am concerned, but I do not expect

  anyone to see things my way. I am very glad you came, Liri. But why?"

  "Mik—she came because of me, you idiot," Marguerida interjected. She gave her still flat belly a pat. "She has come to check on little Domenic, of course. You've seen how Father is! He's nearly driven me mad, fussing over me, and he knew I would not want a stranger to assess my delicate condition." She gave a wicked grin. "You would think he was having this child!"

  "Now, daughter," Lew's voice boomed out from beside the stairs. "I am only being careful."

  "You are behaving like an old hen!"

  Lew gave a shrug. "An old rooster, surely. And how are things in Thendara, Liriel?"

  "Monstrous! I was so glad to escape, I nearly wept! We have managed to keep most of your adventures from becoming public—so far. No one knows you are married yet, except Regis and Linnea, Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, and our parents. But that is enough, for Mother is spitting mad, and Father is trying to think of some way to undo what has been done."

  "And Uncle Regis?"

  Liriel looked thoughtful. "He is being very . . . opaque."

  "What about the Aldarans?" Marguerida asked this question.

  "Dom Damon has withdrawn to his apartments, to drink a great deal no doubt, and Gisela has been enjoying frequent bouts of temper." An odd look passed across her face. "She has been sharing them with our brother Rafael," she added mysteriously.

  See! I told you so, Mik!

  You did, but it is not kind to remind me of it. Are you always going to be right? Fifty or sixty years of marriage to a woman who is always right could get a little tiresome.

  Then I shall just have to try to be wrong at least once a week. I can't have you getting annoyed with me!

  Never, not in a million years, caria.

  If Liriel noticed this rapid byplay, she gave no in
dication. She went on with her descriptions. "Robert Aldaran has been a voice of reason, which has given me a very high opinion of him. Of course, when Robert hears the details of your adventures, he may change his ways. If I were to

  be entirely candid, I would say that everyone is having a fine time being upset—everyone except Ariel, who is resting nicely after the arrival of Alanna. No one is in the least bored, I assure you!" Liriel smiled broadly, her eyes alight with humor.

  "I am not surprised," Lew commented. "We are a very passionate family."

  "Mother is sure this is all your fault, Uncle Lew. She has hinted darkly at some Terranan plot, that the voice was only some manner of technology, and all of it done in order to whisk Mik and Marguerida away."

  "My ... my fault! Of all the ... Terranan plot?" Lew sputtered to a halt, and a look of interest began to play across his face. "I had not given Javanne credit for so much imagination."

  Marguerida slipped her arm through his and smiled. "There, there, Father. Don't take it too much to heart. We will get everything straightened out eventually."

  Lew gave his daughter a strange look. "You seem to be very serene, daughter. It's almost . . . unnatural. I expected you to be more emotional, now that you are about to be a mother. But, tell me, just how do you imagine we are going to straighten things out?"

  Marguerida merely shrugged, looking beatific until she erupted into a brief fit of coughing, while everyone laughed.

  Lew lifted his proud head toward the rafters. "Women! I will never understand them, and the gods know I have tried!" Then he smiled at Marguerida, his face lighting up. "But if you can give my Diotima back to me, child, I shall be eternally in your debt."

  "I will, Father, I will," Marguerida promised.

  35

  Mikhail and Marguerida had come back to*Thendara a tenday after Midwinter to a chilly reception. Things had not improved appreciably during the ensuing week, when they had recounted their adventures several times to Regis, to Dom Gabriel and Lady Javanne, and to Danilo Syrtis-Ardais. Everyone else had been kept in the dark, except for the undeniable fact that they were now husband and wife. This had led to several harrowing encounters with Gisela Aldaran, which Mikhail wanted to forget.

  The problem, he thought, was that there were just too many strong personalities residing in Comyn Castle, all of them bent on having their way, no matter what. Mikhail, somewhat refreshed after the quiet time at Samel's inn, was inclined to be amused, but his wife's nerves were strained to the limit by the constant expressions of temper and ill-feeling.

  There was little, actually, to be happy about, other than that they were now safe. Javanne had at first refused to speak to Mikhail, but when she began, she would not stop. She pleaded, raged, cajoled, and snapped. It was as if the pent-up bitterness of a lifetime was spewing out, vicious and furious. She blamed Marguerida for leading him astray—at least this was the most frequent of her embarrassing pronouncements.

  Even the matter of where they should rest their heads had been argued over. His mother, insisting that the marriage was not valid, had wanted her son to continue to reside in the family suite, and Marguerida in the Alton apartment. It was a silly thing, a minor squabble, but Mikhail had put an end to it by announcing he was still Elhalyn Regent, and would take his wife to that part of Comyn Castle. This pleased no one except Miralys and Valenta,

  both deeply distressed by the death of their brother. The young women were tearful, and clung to him in a way that touched him profoundly.

  Now he was sitting in Regis' shabby study, waiting to hear why he had been summoned. His uncle had called the meeting without any warning, and he had no idea what he wanted. The air in the normally pleasant room was charged with unspoken emotions, and he anticipated the worst.

  Javanne, he thought, looked pinched and old for the first time in his memory. There was a glitter in her eyes, an expression of near hatred, whenever she looked at him or Marguerida, that almost seemed to belong to another person. This saddened him more than anything else. He wanted to be reconciled with her, for he knew now how truly he loved and respected this woman, but Mikhail suspected that in her present temper, it was an impossible hope.

  Lew had been right—his gift from Varzil changed everything. Not for the better either, he concluded grimly, looking at the faces of both his parents. Javanne was seething, and Dom Gabriel looked like a man driven to the brink. He felt a curious empathy for his father, an emotion he had never felt before. Mikhail had never imagined how difficult it must have been to be married to Javanne all these years. He had long regarded Dom Gabriel as a rather dull fellow, but now, as if he were seeing him in a completely new light, he recognized him to be a person who was both more intelligent and more courageous than he had ever believed.

  Regis was sitting behind his desk, drumming his fingers against the wood. The strain of the past days showed in his face as well. Beneath the white hair, his brow was lined, and his eyes looked tired. Regis, who rarely raised his voice, had shouted a number of times in Mikhail's hearing, and he knew that his patience must be worn thin. Lady Linnea was beside him, looking as cross as Mikhail had ever seen her. Then she glanced at Mikhail, and a shadow of a smile graced her mobile mouth.

  Lew Alton came into the room and took a seat beside Mikhail. He appeared untroubled, and Mikhail took heart from his expression. Marguerida, who was sitting on Mikhail's other side, leaned forward to share a long look with

  her father, then relaxed back into her chair. Mikhail wondered what had passed between them in that moment. Then he looked at Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, aloof and unperturbed, standing behind Regis' chair. Of all the people in the room, he alone appeared unconcerned. Indeed, there was a slight sparkle in his pale eyes, as if he knew something pleasant, some secret he was enjoying.

  Mikhail realized that something was going to be decided at last, and he felt a relief in that. And at least there were no Aldarans present, only family. He would be pleased if he never had to see any member of the Aldaran clan again, except Robert, who was behaving like the sensible man that he was. He silently blessed him, and his own brother Rafael as well. If Rafael had not kept Gisela company, he was sure she would have gone after either him or Marguerida with a knife.

  Javanne Hastur cleared her throat and began to speak. "I have hit upon a solution to this whole nonsense, and I am only surprised no one else has thought of it sooner. Have this farce of a marriage annulled immediately. It is clear to me that if Marguerida is really almost two months pregnant, as Liriel has assured me she is, then Mikhail cannot be the father. She did not arrive in Thendara until just before Midwinter! That makes the marriage invalid—as if it were not already, since neither I nor Gabriel gave our permission." She glared at Lew, as if she suspected he had been behind the whole thing. He returned her look so solemnly that Mikhail almost chuckled. His father-in-law had turned out to be a valuable ally, and a good friend as well.

  Regis looked wearily at his sister. "Don't be a fool! You are the only person who has heard the tale who insists it is a fable, that Mikhail and Marguerida are not telling the truth as they experienced it."

  "Then I am the only one who realizes that she somehow arranged all this—perhaps with the help of Rafe Scott!" Javanne's voice was shrill, and there were blotches of red on her cheeks. Mikhail could see her hands curl into claws, and tremble.

  "Please, my dear," Dom Gabriel began, trying unsuccessfully to calm her.

  "I will not be silenced! You may be beguiled by this

  incredible story, but I am not! Marguerida is too ambitious to be . ..."

  "I think you speak of your own ambitions, not Marguerida's, Javanne," Regis said quietly.

  His sister responded with a look that should have turned him to stone. "Can't you see that she has Mikhail wrapped around her finger, and that she must not be allowed to rule through him!"

  "Mother, stop it! You insult me as well as my wife. The Elhalyn kingship has no real power, so even if I were the spineless weakling yo
u are making me out to be, it would not matter." Mikhail was surprised by the bitterness in his voice, then ashamed at himself. He should have more control.

  Javanne turned on him, almost spitting in her fury. "You cannot sit there with that thing on your hand and pretend you expect to sit complacently on the Elhalyn throne. Regis must declare you his final heir, and you must be guided by wise council to succeed him." Her rage vanished and she gave a half smirk, as if she had settled the matter to her own satisfaction, and assumed that everyone would agree to it.

  Everyone was aghast, then acutely embarrassed. The mask had fallen away at last, and Javanne Hastur's scheme to govern Darkover through her son lay revealed. Mikhail shook his head. "I have never been guided by you before, Mother. Surely you cannot imagine I will be now or in the future."

  "You would have been, if Marguerida had not seduced you."

  This was too much, and his wife began to laugh, and then guffawed until huge tears rolled down her cheeks. Six people looked at her in astonishment,, while Mikhail had to struggle to keep himself from joining in her merriment. When she finally got herself in hand, Marguerida wiped her streaming &yes with the edge of her sleeve and said, "Forgive me, Aunt. I have never seduced anyone in my life, and the words struck me . . . oh, dear." She went off into a fresh stream of giggles, while Javanne simmered in her chair.