“Lord Dyan-Gabriel, Regent of Ardais.” Whatever my personal feelings about him, I had to admit he looked impressive. “Edric, Lord Serrais. And—” I hesitated a moment as the gray-cloaked woman entered, realized I did not know her name. She smiled almost imperceptibly and murmured under her breath, “For shame, kinsman! Don’t you recognize me? I am Callina Aillard.”
I felt like an utter fool. Of course I knew her.
“Callina, Lady Aillard—” I hesitated again momentarily; I could not remember in which of the towers she was serving as Keeper. Well, the Terrans would never know the difference. She supplied it telepathically, with an amused smile behind her hood, and I concluded, “leronis of Neskaya.”
She walked with quiet composure to the remaining seat. She kept the hood of her cloak about her face, as was proper for an unwedded woman among strangers. I saw with some relief that the Legate, at least, had been informed of the polite custom among valley Darkovans and had briefed his men not to look directly at her. I too kept my eyes politely averted; she was my kinswoman, but we were among strangers. I had seen only that she was very slight, with pale solemn features.
When everyone was in his appointed place, I drew my sword again, saluted Hastur and then the Legate and took my place behind my father. One of the Terrans said, “Now that all that’s over, can we come to business?”
“Just a moment, Meredith,” the Legate said, checking his unseemly impatience. “Noble lords, my lady, you lend us grace. Allow me to present myself. My name is Donnell Ramsay; I am privileged to serve the Empire as Legate for Terra. It is my pleasure to welcome you. These”—he indicated the men beside him at the table—“are my personal assistants: Laurens Meredith, Reade Andrusson. If there are any among you, my lords, who do not speak cahuenga, our liaison man, Daniel Lawton, will be honored to translate for you into the casta. If we may serve you otherwise, you have only to speak of it. And if you wish, Lord Hastur,” he added, with a bow, “that this meeting should be conducted according to formal protocol in the casta language, we are ready to accede.”
I was glad to note that he knew the rudiments of courtesy. Hastur said, “By your leave, sir, we will dispense with the translator, unless some misunderstanding should arise which he can settle. He is, however, most welcome to remain.
Young Lawton bowed. He had flaming red hair and a look of the Comyn about him. I remembered hearing that his mother had been a woman of the Ardais clan. I wondered if Dyan recognized his kinsman and what he thought about it. It was strange to think that young Lawton might well have been standing here among the honor guard. My thoughts were wandering; I commanded them back as Hastur spoke.
“I have come to you, Legate, to draw your attention to a grave breach of the Compact on Darkover. It has been brought to my notice that, back in the mountains near Aldaran, a variety of contraband weapons is being openly bought and sold. Not only within the Trade City boundaries there, where your agreement with us allows your citizens to carry what weapons they will, but in the old city of Caer Donn, where Terrans walk the streets as they wish, carrying pistols and blasters and neural disrupters. I have also been told that it is possible to purchase these weapons in that city, and that they have been sold upon occasion to Darkovan citizens. My informant purchased one without difficulty. It should not be necessary to remind you that this is a very serious breach of Compact.”
It took all my self-control to keep the impassive face suitable for an honor guard, whose perfect model is a child’s carved toy soldier, neither hearing nor seeing. Would even the Terrans dare to breach the Compact?
I knew now why my father had wanted to be certain no hint of gossip got out. Since the Ages of Chaos, the Darkovan Compact has banned any weapon operating beyond the hand’s reach of the man wielding it. This was a fundamental law: the man who would kill must himself come within reach of death. News that the Compact was being violated would shake Darkover to the roots, create public disorder and distrust, damage the confidence of the people in their rulers.
The Legate’s face betrayed nothing, yet something, some infinitesimal tightening of his eyes and mouth, told me this was no news to him.
“It is not our business to enforce the Compact on Darkover, Lord Hastur. The policy of the Empire is to maintain a completely neutral posture in regard to local disputes. Our dealings in Caer Donn and the Trade City there are with Lord Kermiac of Aldaran. It was made very clear to us that the Comyn have no jurisdiction in the mountains near Aldaran. Have I been misinformed? Is the territory of Aldaran subject to the laws of Comyn, Lord Hastur?”
Hastur said with a snap of his jaw, “Aldaran has not been a Comyn Domain for many years, Mr. Ramsay. Nevertheless, the Compact can hardly be called a local decision. While Aldaran is not under our law—”
“So I myself believed, sir,” the Legate said, “and therefore—”
“Forgive me, Mr. Ramsay, I had not yet finished.” Hastur was angry. I tried to keep myself barriered, as any telepath would in a crowd this size, but I couldn’t shut out everything. Hastur’s calm, stern face did not alter a muscle, but his anger was like the distant glow of a forest fire against the horizon. Not yet a danger, but a faraway menace. He said, “Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. Ramsay, but is it not true that when the Empire negotiated to have Darkover given status as a Class D Closed World”—the technical language sounded strange on his tongue, and he seemed to speak it with distaste—“that one condition of the use and lease of the spaceport and the establishment of the cities of Port Chicago, Caer Donn and Thendara as Trade Cities, was complete enforcement of Compact outside the Trade Cities and control of contraband weapons? Mindful of that agreement, can you truthfully state that it is not your business to enforce the Compact on Darkover, sir?”
Ramsay said, “We did and we do enforce it in the Comyn Domains and under Comyn law, my lord, at considerable trouble and expense to ourselves. Need I remind you that one of our men was threatened with murder, not long ago, because he was unweaponed and defenseless in a society which expects every man to fight and protect himself?”
Dyan Ardais said harshly, “The episode you mention was unnecessary. It is necessary to remind you that the man who was threatened with murder had himself murdered one of our Guardsmen, in a quarrel so trivial that a Darkovan boy of twelve would have been ashamed to make more of it than a joke! Then this Terran murderer hid behind his celebrated weaponless status”—even a Terran could not escape that sneer—“to refuse a lawful challenge by the murdered man’s brother! If your men choose to go weaponless, sir, they alone are responsible for their acts.”
Reade Andrusson said, “They do not choose to go weaponless, Lord Ardais. We are forced by the Compact to deprive them of their accustomed weapons.”
Dyan said, “They are allowed by our laws to carry whatever ethical weapons they choose. They cannot complain of a defenselessness which is their own choice.”
The Legate, turning his eyes consideringly on Dyan, said, “Their defenselessness, Lord Ardais, is in obedience to our laws. We have a very distinct bias, which our laws reflect, against carving people up with swords and knives.”
Hastur said harshly, “Is it your contention, sir, that a man is somehow less dead if he is shot down from a safe distance without visible bloodshed? Is death cleaner when it comes to you from a killer safely out of reach of his own death?” Even through my own barriers, his pain was so violent, so palpable that it was like a long wail of anguish; I knew he was thinking of his own son, blown to fragments by smuggled contraband weapons, killed by a man whose face he never saw! So intense was that cry of agony that I saw Danilo, impassive behind Lord Edric, flinch and tighten his hands into white-knuckled fists at his sides; my father looked white and shaken; Regis’ mouth moved and he blinked rapidly, and I wondered how even the Terrans could be unaware of so much pain. But Hastur’s voice was steady, betraying nothing to the aliens. “We banned such coward’s weapons to insure that any man who would kill must see his victim’s blood flow
and come into some danger of losing his own, if not at the hands of his victim, at least at the hands of his victim’s family or friends.”
The Legate said, “That episode was settled long ago, Lord Regent, but I remind you we stood ready to prosecute our man for the killing of your Guardsman. We could not, however, expose him to challenges from the dead man’s family one after another, especially when it was abundantly clear that the Guardsman had first provoked the quarrel.”
“Any man who found provocation in such a trivial occurrence should expect to be challenged,” said Dyan, “but your men hide behind your laws and surrender their own personal responsibility! Murder is a private affair and nothing for the laws!”
The Legate surveyed him with what would have been open dislike, had he been a little less controlled. “Our laws are made by agreement and consensus, and whether you approve of them or not, Lord Ardais, they are unlikely to be amended to make murder a matter of private vendetta and individual duels. But this is not the matter at issue.”
I admired his control, the firm way in which he cut Dyan off. My own barriers, thinned by the assault of Hastur’s anguish, were down almost to nothing; I could feel Dyan’s contempt like an audible sneer.
I got my barriers together a little while Hastur silenced Dyan again and reminded him that the incident in question had been settled long since. “Not settled,” Dyan half snarled, “hidden from,” but Hastur firmly cut him off, insisting that there was a more important matter to be settled. By the time I caught up with the discussion again, the Legate was saying:
“Lord Hastur, this is an ethical question, not a legal one at all. We enforce Comyn laws within the jurisdiction of the Comyn. In Caer Donn and the Hellers, where the laws are made by Lord Aldaran, we enforce what laws he requires. If he cannot be bothered to enforce the Compact you value so highly, it is not our business to police it for him—or, my lord, for you.”
Callina Aillard said in her quiet clear voice, “Mr. Ramsay, the Compact is not a law, in your sense, at all. I do not believe either of us quite understands what the other means by law. The Compact has been the ethical basis of Darkovan culture and history for hundreds of years; neither Kermiac of Aldaran nor any other man on Darkover has any right to disregard or disobey it.”
Ramsay said, “You must debate that point with Aldaran himself, my lady. He is not an Empire subject and I have no authority over him. If you want him to keep the Compact, you’ll have to make him keep it.”
Edric Ridenow spoke up for the first time. He said, “It is your responsibility, Ramsay, to enforce the substance of your agreement on our world. Are you intending to shirk that duty because of a quibble?”
“I am not shirking any responsibility which comes properly within the scope of my duties, Lord Serrais,” he said, “but neither is it my duty to settle your disagreements with Aldaran. It seems to me that would be to infringe upon the responsibility of the Comyn.”
Dyan opened his mouth again, but Hastur gestured him to silence. “You need not teach me my responsibilities, Mr. Ramsay. The Empire’s agreement with Darkover, and the status of the spaceport, was determined with the Comyn, not with Kermiac of Aldaran. One stipulation of that agreement was enforcement of the Compact; and we intended enforcement, not only in the Domains, but all over Darkover. I dislike using threats, sir, but if you insist upon your right to violate your own agreement, I would be within my authority in closing the spaceport until such time as the agreement is kept in every detail.”
The Legate said, “This, sir, is unreasonable. You have said yourself that the Compact is not a law but an ethical preference. I also dislike using threats, but if you take that course, I am certain that my next orders from the Administrative Center would be to negotiate a new agreement with Kermiac of Aldaran and move the Empire headquarters to Caer Donn Trade City, where we need not trouble Comyn scruples.”
Hastur said bitterly, “You say you are prohibited from taking sides in local political decisions. Do you realize that this would effectively throw all the force of the Terran Empire against the very existence of the Compact?”
“You leave me no choice, sir.”
“You know, don’t you, that such a move would mean war? War not of the Comyn’s making but, the Compact once abandoned, war would inevitably come. We have had no war here for many years. Small skirmishes, yes. But the enforcement of the Compact has kept such battles within reasonable limits. Do you want the responsibility for letting a different kind of war loose?”
“Of course not,” Ramsay said. He was a nontelepath and his emotions were muddy, but I could tell that he was distressed. This distress made me like him just a little more. “Who would?”
“Yet you would hide behind your laws and your orders and your superiors, and let our world be plunged into war again? We had our Ages of Chaos, Ramsay, and the Compact brought them to an end. Does that mean nothing to you?”
The Terran looked straight at Hastur. I had a curious mental picture, a flash picked up from someone in the room, that they were like two massive towers facing one another, as the Comyn Castle and the Terran headquarters faced one another across the valley, gigantic armored figures braced for single combat. The image thinned and vanished and they were just two old men, both powerful, both filled with stubborn integrity, each doing the best for his own side. Ramsay said, “It means a very great deal to me, Lord Hastur. I want to be honest with you. If there was a major war here, it would mean closing and sealing the Trade Cities to be certain of keeping to our law against interference. I don’t want to move the spaceport to Caer Donn. It was built there, a good many years ago. When the Comyn offered us this more convenient spot, down here in the plains at Thendara, we were altogether pleased to abandon the operation at Caer Donn, except for trade and certain transport. The Thendara location has been to our mutual advantage. If we are forced to move back to Caer Donn we would be forced to reschedule all our traffic, rebuild our headquarters back in the mountains where the climate is more difficult for Terrans to tolerate and, above all, rely on inadequate roads and inhospitable countryside. I don’t want to do that, and we will do anything within reason to avoid it.”
Dyan said, “Mr. Ramsay, are you not in command of all the Terrans on Darkover?”
“You have been misinformed, Lord Dyan. I’m a legate, not a dictator. My authority is mostly over spaceport personnel stationed here, and only in matters which for one reason or another supersede that of their individual departments of administration. My major business is to keep order in the Trade City. Furthermore, I have authority from Administration Central to deal with Darkovan citizens through their duly constituted and appointed rulers. I have no authority over any individual Darkovan except for a few civilian employees who choose to hire themselves to us, nor over any individual Empire citizen who comes here to do business, beyond determining that his business is a lawful one for a Class D world. Beyond that, if his business disturbs the peace between Darkover and the Empire, I may intervene. But unless someone appeals to me, I have no authority outside the Trade City.”
It sounded intolerably complicated. How did the Empire manage to get its business done at all? My father had, as yet, said nothing; now he raised his head and said bluntly, “Well, we’re appealing to you. These Empire citizens selling blasters in the marketplace of Caer Donn are not doing lawful business for a Class D Closed World, and you know it as well as I do. It’s up to you to do something about it, and do it now. That does come within your responsibility.”
The Legate said, “If the offense were here in Thendara, Lord Alton, I would do so with the greatest pleasure. In Caer Donn I can do nothing unless Lord Kermiac of Aldaran should appeal to me.”
My father looked and sounded angry. He was angry, with a disrupting anger which could have struck the Legate unconscious if he had not been trying hard to control it. “Always the same old story on Terra, what’s your saying, pass the buck? You’re like children playing that game with hot chestnuts, tossing them from
one to another and trying not to get burned! I spent eight years on Terra and I never found even one man who would look me in the eye and say, ‘This is my responsibility and I will accept it whatever the consequences.’ ”
Ramsay sounded harried. “Is it your contention that it is the Empire’s business, or mine, to police your ethical systems?”
“I always thought,” Callina said in her clear, still voice, “that ethical conduct was the responsibility of every honest man.”
Hastur said, “One of our fundamental laws, sir, however law is defined, is that the power to act confers the responsibility to do so. Is it otherwise with you?”
The Legate leaned his chin on his clasped hands. “I can admire that philosophy, my lord, but I must respectfully refuse to debate it with you. I am concerned at this moment with avoiding great inconvenience for both our societies. I will inquire into this matter and see what can legitimately be done without interfering in your political decisions. And if I may make a respectful suggestion, Lord Hastur, I suggest that you take this matter up directly with Kermiac of Aldaran. Perhaps you can persuade him of the rightness of your view, and he will take it upon himself to stop the traffic in weapons, in those areas where the final legal authority is his.”
The suggestion shocked me. Deal, negotiate with that renegade Domain, exiled from Comyn generations ago? But no one seemed inordinately shocked at the idea. Hastur said, “We shall indeed discuss this matter with Lord Aldaran, sir. And it may be that since you refuse to take personal responsibility for enforcing the Empire’s agreement with all of Darkover, that I shall myself take the matter directly before the Supreme Tribunal of the Empire. If it is adjudged there that the agreement for Darkover does indeed require planetwide enforcement of the Compact, Mr. Ramsay, have I then your assurance that you would enforce it?”
I wondered if the Legate was even conscious of the absolute contempt in Hastur’s voice for a man who required orders from a supreme authority to enforce ethical conduct. I felt almost ashamed of my Terran blood. But if Ramsay heard the contempt, he revealed nothing.
Heritage and Exile Page 10
