"Then we're filthy and corrupt," I raged. "Just to get his support for your political ambitions, you're willing to bribe a man like Dyan by putting him in charge of half‑grown
boys?"
My father's quick rage flared. It had never been turned full on me before. "Do you honestly believe it's my personal ambition I'm furthering? I ask you, which is more important‑ the personal ethics of the cadet‑master or the future of Darkover and the very survival of the Comyn? No, damn it, you sit there and listen to me! When we need Dyan's support so badly ha Council do you think. I'd. quarrel with him over his private behavior?"
I flung back, equally furious, "I wouldn't give a damn if it was his private behavior! But if there's another scandal in the Guards, dont you think the Comyn will suffer? I didn't ask to command the Guards. I told you I'd rather not. But you wouldn't listen to my refusal and now you refuse to listen to my best judgment! I tell you, I won't have Dyaa as cadet‑master! Not if I'm in command!"
"Oh, yes you will," said my father in a low and vicious voice. "Do you think I am going to let you defy me?"
"Then, damn it, Father, get someone else to command the
Guards! Offer Dyan the command‑wouldn't that satisfy bis ambition?"
"But it wouldn't satisfy me," he said harshly. 'Tve worked for years to put you in this position. If you think I'm going to let you destroy the Domain of Alton by some childish scruples, you're mistaken. I'm still lord of the Domain and you are oath‑bound to take my orders without question! The post of cadet‑master is powerful enough to satisfy Dyan, but I'm not going to endanger the rights of the Altons to command. I'm doing it for you, Lew."
*'I wish you'd save your trouble! I don't want it!"
"You're in no position to know what you want. Now do as I tell you: go and give Dyan his appointment as cadet‑master, or"‑he struggled again, ignoring the pain‑"I'll get out of bed and do it myself."
His anger I could face; his suffering was something else. I struggled between rage and a deadly misgiving. "Father, I have never disobeyed you. But I beg you, I beg you," I repeated, "to reconsider. You know that no good will come of this."
He was gentle again. "Lew, you're still very young. Some day you'll learn that we all have compromises to make, and we make them with the best grace we can. You have to do the best you can within a situation. You can't eat nuts without cracking some shells." He stretched out his hand to me. "You're my main support, Lew. Don't force me to fight you too. I need you at my side."
I clasped his hand between my fingers; it felt swollen and feverish. How could I add to his troubles? He trusted me. What right had I to set up my judgment against his? He was my father, my commander, the lord of my Domain. My only duty was to obey.
Out of his sight, my rage flared again. Who would have believed Father would compromise the honor of the Guards? And how quickly he had maneuvered me again, like a puppet‑master pulling strings of love, loyalty, ambition, my own need for his recognition!
I will probably never forget the interview with Dyan Ardais. Oh, he was civil enough. He even commended me on my caution. I kept myself barriered and was scrupulously polite, but I am sure he knew how I felt like a farmer who had just set a wolf to guard the fowl‑house.
There was only one grain of comfort in the situation: 1 was no longer a cadetl
Chapter FIVE
As the cadets walked toward the barracks, Regis among them, he heard little of their chatter and horseplay. His face was burning. He could cheerfully have murdered Lew Alton.
Then a tardy fairness came back to him. Everybody there obviously knew what was going to happen, so it was evidently something that went on now and then. He was just the one who stumbled into it. It could have been anyone.
Suddenly he fe!t better. For the first time in bis life he was being treated exactly like anybody else. No deference. No special treatment. He brightened and began to listen to what
they were saying.
"Where the hell were you brought up, cadet, not to answer
to your name?"
"I was educated at Nevarsin," Regis said, provoking more
jeers and laughter.
"Hey, we have a monk among us! Were you too busy at
your prayers to hear your name?"
"No, it was the hour of Great Silence and the bell hadnt
rung for speech!"
Regis listened with an amiable and rather witless grin, which was the best thing he could possibly have done. A third‑year cadet, superior and highly polished in his green and black uniform, conveyed them into a barracks room at the far end of the courtyard. "First‑year men in here."
"Hey," someone asked, **what happened to the Commander?"
The junior officer in charge said, "Wash your ears next time. He broke some bones in a fall. We aH heard."
Someone said, carefully not loud enough for the officer to hear, "Are we going to be stuck with the bastard all season?"
"Shut up," said Julian MacAran, "Lanart‑Alton's not a bad sort. He's got a temper if you set him off, but nothing like the old man in a rage. Anyway, it could be worse," he added,
with a wary glance at the cadet who was out of range for the moment "Lew's fair and he keeps his hands to himself, which is more than you can say for some people."
Danilo asked, "Who's really going to be cadet‑master? Di Asturien's been retired for years. He served with my grandfather!"
Damon MacAnndra said with a careful look at the officer, "I heard it was going to be you‑know‑who. Captain Ardais."
Julian said, "I hope you're joking. Last night I was down in the armory and ..." His voice fell to a whisper. Regis was too far away, but the lads crowded around him reacted with nervous, high‑pitched giggles. Damon said, "That's nothing. Listen, did you hear about my cousin Octavien Vallonde? Last year‑**
"Chill it," a strange cadet said, just loud enough for Regis to hear. "You know what happened to him for gossiping about a Comyn heir. Have you forgotten there's one in the barracks now?"
Silence abruptly fell over the knot of cadets. They separated and began to drift around the barracks room. To Regis it was like a slap in the face. One minute they were laughing and joking, including him in their jokes; suddenly he was an outsider, a threat. It was worse because he had not really caught the drift of what they were saying.
He drifted toward Danilo, who was at least a familiar face. "What happens now?"
"I guess we wait for someone to tell us. I didn't mean to attract attention and get you in trouble, Lord Regis."
"You too, Dani?" That formal Lord Regis seemed a symbol of the distance they were all keeping. He managed to laugh. "Didn't you just hear Lew Alton remind me very forcibly that nobody would call me Lord Regis down here?"
Dani gave him a quick, spontaneous grin. "Right." He looked around the barracks room. It was bleak, cold and comfortless. A dozen hard, narrow camp‑beds were ranged hi two rows along the wall. All but one had been made up. Dauilo gestured to the only one still unchosen and said, "Most of us were down here last night and picked beds. I guess that one will have to be yours. It's next to mine, anyhow."
Regis shrugged. "They haven't left me much choice." It was, of course, the least desirable location, in a corner under a high window, which would probably be drafty. Well, it
couldn't be worse than the student dormitory at Nevarsin. Or
colder,
The third‑year cadet said, "Men, you can have the rest of the morning to make up your beds and put away your clothing. No food in barracks at any time; anything left lying on the floor will be confiscated." He glanced around at the boys waiting quietly for his orders. He said, "Uniforms will be given out tomorrow. MacAnndra‑"
Damon said, "Sir?"
"Get a haircut from the barber; you're not at a dancing class. Hair below the collarbone is officially out of uniform. Your mother may have loved those curls, but the officers
won't."
Damon turned as red as an apple and duck
ed his head.
Regis examined the bed, which was made of rough planking, with a straw mattress covered with coarse, clean ticking. Folded at the foot were a couple of thick dark gray blankets. They looked scratchy. The other lads were making up the beds with their own sheets. Regis began making a mental list of the things he should fetch from bis grandfather's rooms. It began with bed linens and a pillow. At the head of each bed was a narrow wooden shelf on which each cadet had already placed his personal possessions. At the foot of the bed was a rough wooden box, each lid scarred with knife‑marks, intertwined initials and hacked or lightly burned‑in crests, the marks of generations of restless boys. It struck Regis that years ago his father must have been a cadet in this very room, on a hard bed like this, his possessions reduced, whatever his rank or riches, to what he could keep on a narrow shelf a hand‑span wide. Danilo was arranging on his shelf a plain wooden comb, a hairbrush, a battered cup and plate and a small box carved with silver, from which he reverently took the small cristoforo statue of the Bearer of Burdens, carrying his weight of the world's sorrows.
Below the shelf were pegs for his sword and dagger. Danilo's looked very old. Heirlooms in his family?
All of them were there because their forefathers had been, Regis thought with the old resentment. He swore he would never walk the trail carved out for a Hastur heir, yet here he
was.
The cadet officer was walking along the room, making some kind of final check. At the far end of the room was an open space with a couple of heavy benches and a much‑scarred wooden table. There was an open fireplace, but no fire was burning at present. The windows were high and narrow, unglazed, covered with slatted wood shutters, which could be closed in the worst weather at the price of shutting out most of the light. The cadet officer said, "Each of you will be sent for some time today and tested by an arms‑master." He saw Regis sitting on the end of his bed and walked down the row of beds to him,
"You came hi late. Did anyone give you a copy of the arms‑manual?"
"No, sir."
The officer gave him a bartered booklet. "I heard you were educated at Nevarsin; I suppose you can read. Any questions?"
"I didn't‑my grandfather didn't‑no one sent my things down. May I send for them?"
The older lad said, not unkindly, "There's no one to fetch and carry for you down here, cadet Tomorrow after dinner you'll have some off‑duty time and you can go and fetch what you need for yourself. Meanwhile, you'll just have to make out with the clothes on your back." He looked Regis over, and Regis imagined a veiled sneer at the elaborate garments he had put on to present himself to his grandfather this morning. "You're the nameless wonder, aren't you? Remembered your name yet?"
"Cadet Hastur, sir," Regis said, his face burning again, and the officer nodded, said, "Very good, cadet," and went away.
And that was obviously why they did it, Regis thought Probably nobody ever forgot twice.
Danilo, who had been listening, said, "Didn't anyone tell you to bring down everything you'd need the night before? That's why Lord Alton sent me down early."
"No, no one told me." He wished he had thought to ask Lew, while they could speak together as friends and not as cadet and commander, what he would need in barracks.
Danilo said diffidently, "Those are your best clothes, aren't they? I could lend you an ordinary shirt to put on; you're about my size."
"Thank you, Dani. Td be grateful. This outfit isnt very suitable, is it?"
Danilo was kneeling in front of his wooden chest, brought out a clean but very shabby linen shirt, much patched around the elbows. Regis pulled off the dyed‑leather tunic and the
fine frilled shirt under it and slid into the patched one. It was a little large. Danilo apologized. "It's big for me too. It used to belong to Lew‑Captain Alton, I mean. Lord Kennard gave me some of his outgrown clothes, so that I'd have a decent outfit for the cadets. He gave me a good horse too. He's been very kind to me."
Regis laughed. "I used to wear Lew's outgrown clothes the years I was there. I kept growing out of mine, and with the fire‑watch called every few days, no one had time to make me any new ones or send to town." He laced up the cords at the neck. Danilo said, "It's hard to imagine you wearing outgrown clothes."
"I didn't mind wearing Lew's. I hated wearing my sister's outgrown nightgowns, though. Her governess taught her needlework by having her cut them down to size for me. Whenever she was cross about it, she used to pinch or prick me with her pins while she was trying them on. She's never liked sewing." He thought of his sister as he had last seen her heavy‑footed, swollen in pregnancy. Poor Javanne. She was caught too, with nothing ahead of her except bearing children for the house of Hastur. "Regis, is something wrong?"
Regis was startled at Danilo's look of concern, "Not really. I was thinking of my sister, wondering if her child had been born."
Danilo said gently, "I'm sure they'd have sent word if anything was wrong. The old saying is that good news crawls on its belly; bad news has wings."
Damon MacAnndra came toward them. "Have you been tested yet by the arms‑master?"
"No," said Dani, "they didn't get to me yesterday. What happens?"
Damon shrugged. "The arms‑master hands you a standard Guardsmen sword and asks you to demonstrate the basic positions for defense. If you don't know which end of it to take hold by, he puts you down for beginners' lessons and you get to practice about three hours a day. In your off‑duty time, of course. If you know the basics, he or one of his assistants will test you. When I went up last night, Lord Dyan was there watching. I tell you, I sweat blood! I made a damn fool of myself, my foot slipped and he put me down for lessons every other day. Who could do anything with that one staring at you?"
**Yes,'t Julian said from the cot beyond, where he was trying to get a spot of rust off his knife. "My brother told me he likes to sit and watch the cadets training. He seems to enjoy seeing them get rattled and do stupid things. He's a mean one."
"I studied swordplay at Nevarsin," Danilo said. "I'm not worried about the arms‑master."
"Well, you'd better worry about Lord Dyan. You're just young enough and pretty enough‑"
"Shut your mouth," Danilo said. "You shouldn't talk that way about a Comyn lord."
Damon snickered. "I forgot. You're Lord Alton's protege, aren't you? Strange, I never heard that he had any special liking for pretty boys.**
Danilo flared, his face burning. "You shut your filthy mouth! You're not fit to wipe Lord Kennard's boots! If you say anything like that again‑"
"Well, it seems we have a whole cloister of monks back here." Julian joined in the laughter. "Do you recite the Creed of Chastity when you ride into battle, Dani?"
"It wouldn't hurt any of you dirty‑mouths to say something decent," Danilo said and turned his back on them, burying himself in the arms‑manual.
Regis had also been shocked by the accusation they had made and by their language. But he realized he could not expect ordinary young men to behave and talk like novice monks, and he knew they would quickly make his life unbearable if he showed any sign of his distaste. He held his peace. That sort of thing must be common enough here to be a joke.
Yet it had touched off a murder and near‑riot in the Ter‑ran Zone. Could grown men actually take such things seriously enough to kill? Terrans, perhaps. They must have very strange customs, if they were even stricter than the cristo‑foros.
He suddenly recalled, as something that might have taken place years ago, that only this morning he had stood beside young Lawton in the Terran Zone, watching the starship break free from the planet and make its way to the stars. He wondered if Dan Lawton knew which end of a sword to take hold by, and if he cared. He had a strange sense of shuttling, rapidly and painfully, between worlds.
Three years. Three years to study swordplay while the Ter‑ran ships came and went less than a bowshot away.
Was this the kind of awareness his grandfather carried night and da
y, a constant reminder of two worlds rubbing shoulders, with violently opposed histories, habits, manners, moralities? How did Hastur live with the contrast?
The day wore on. He was sent for, and an orderly measured him for his uniform. When the sun was high, a junior officer came to show them the way to the mess hall, where the cadets ate at separate tables. The food was coarse and plain, but Regis had eaten worse at Nevarsin and he made a good meal, though some of the cadets grumbled loudly about the fare.
"It's not so bad," he said in an undertone to Danilo, and the younger boy's eyes glinted with mischief. "Maybe they want to make sure we know they're used to something better! Even if we're not."
Regis, aware of Danflo's patched shut on his back, remembered how desperately poor the boy's family must be. Yet they had had him well educated at Nevarsin. "I'd thought you were to be a monk, Dani."
"I couldn't be," Dani said. *Tm my father's only son now, and it wouldn't be lawful. My half‑brother was killed fifteen years ago, before I was born." As they left the mess hall, he added, "Father had me taught to read and write and keep accounts so that someday I'd be fit to manage his estate. He's growing too old to farm Syrtis alone. He didn't want me to go into the Guards, but when Lord Alton made such a kind offer, he couldn't refuse. I hate to hear them gossip about him," he said vehemently. "He's not like that! He's good and kind and decent!"
"I'm sure he doesn't listen," Regis said. "I lived in his house too, you know. And one of his favorite sayings used to be, if you listen to dogs barking, you'll go deaf without learning much. Are the Syrtis people under the Alton Domain, Danilo?"
"No, we have always been under Hastur wardship. My father was hawk‑master to yours, and my half‑brother his paxman.**
And something Regis had always known, an old story which had been part of his childhood but which he had never associated with living people, fell into place in his mind. He
said excitedly, "Dani! Your brother‑was his name Rafael‑Felix Syrtis of Syrtis?"
"Yes, that was his name. He was killed before I was born, in the same year Stef an Fourth died‑"
"So was my father," said Regis, with a surge of unfamiliar emotion. "All my life I have known, the story, known your brother's name. Dani, your brother was my father's personal guard, they were killed at the same instant‑he died trying to shield my father with his body. Did you know they are buried side by side, in one grave, on the field of Kilghairlie?"
The Heritage Of Hastur d-18 Page 7
