Hastur Lord d-23

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Regis noticed the officer’s reaction, the confusion that flickered momentarily across his face. He knew, too, that Rinaldo had seen it.

  Indignation stirred. I will not make excuses for my brother’s appearance or anything else. Rinaldo is here under my protection.

  Soon enough, everyone of any consequence in Thendara—in all the Domains, most likely—would know who Rinaldo was. It was better to let the poor man enjoy a little peace before they descended upon him, the courtiers and power seekers, the sycophants and schemers.

  Regis wondered if he had done his brother a favor by taking him away from the peace of Nevarsin.

  Still, the ordinary world was not all bad. If Thendara teemed with unscrupulous men, it also held those who valued honor and justice, the bonds of blood and integrity. If Regis had suffered from the demands of his rank, he had also known great kindness here. At least, he could count on Javanne to extend a gracious welcome to Rinaldo.

  Javanne did not fail Regis. In his absence, she had completed the transfer of his possessions from the townhouse to his grandfather’s rooms in Comyn Castle. A second suite, the best available, had been scrubbed spotless and refurnished for Rinaldo, and a body-servant engaged as well. Regis was astonished at her energy and efficiency, but he was also concerned at the new lines around her eyes. She was using work as a way of holding her grief at bay. She had always thrived when she felt needed.

  After making sure the horses were properly tended and Rinaldo escorted to his new quarters and given everything he needed, and after thanking Javanne for her efforts, Regis was at last free to seek his own rest. He was so tired that even the strangeness of Danvan’s bedchamber could not keep him awake for long. He undressed without the help of a servant, sponged away the worst of the travel dirt, and tumbled into the enormous bed. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he wished it were possible for Danilo to slip between the soft linexsheets beside him. This wasn’t the townhouse, where they might enjoy a certain latitude of behavior, not to mention privacy. This was Comyn Castle, where the servants knew and gossiped about everything, and Regis was not longer Heir but Hastur of Hastur.

  The next morning, Regis awoke to the sound of a servant lighting the fire in the bedroom. He jerked upright. The poor man startled, bowed, and retreated.

  Regis raked his hair back from his face, pulled on the dressing robe that lay across the foot of the bed, and stumbled about in a semblance of his usual morning ablutions. Shortly his body-servant brought in a breakfast tray and an armload of clothing. Suppressing his irritation, for it was hardly the poor man’s fault that proprieties must be observed for the Hastur of Hastur, Regis allowed himself to be dressed, his hair combed into place, and his meal placed before him in the parlor. He forced himself to sip the steaming jacowithout burning his mouth. When he had finished, he asked the servant to send for Danilo as his paxman to discuss the day’s schedule. Then he went into his grandfather’s study, now his own.

  Where to begin? The brief respite was over. The question of Terran Federation membership, while settled for the moment, must be carefully monitored; he should send a message to Lew Alton and find out if there was more news. As the Head of his Domain, he now bore the responsibility for running Carcosa and Castle Hastur. His departure for Nevarsin had postponed a number of ceremonial duties that could no longer be put off—reviewing the cadets, meeting with Gabriel in his capacity as Commander of the City Guards, holding audiences with those Comyn still in the city, and speaking with the Pan-Darkovan League and the trade delegation from the Dry Towns. Regis began pacing to keep his head from spinning at the sheer number of tasks. He should arrange for more help in the management of Comyn Castle, but subtly, so that Javanne would not take it as a criticism.

  Linnea rose in his memory, and his heart ached. If things had gone otherwise, if he had not made such a botch of the marriage proposal, she would be here, relieving Javanne as Castle chatelaine. It could not be helped; no amount of self-recrimination would change the past.

  All the smiths in Zandru’s Forge cannot put a hatched chick back into its egg.

  What was taking Danilo so long?

  And Rinaldo . . .Regis could not leave his brother alone and unguided in the treacherous maze of Castle and city. He must carve out time to continue getting to know his brother, helping him to find his place. The first thing was to have Rinaldo recognized as a legitimate son of their father. In the old times, this would have been a matter for the Comyn Council, but that body no longer existed. The Cortes? The Telepath Council? A simple written declaration?

  Danilo halted at the library door and bowed. “Vai dom.”

  Regis strode over to his grandfather’s desk, now hisas well, and sat down. “Close the door.”

  Danilo held out his hands. Regis, in a spasm of inexpressible relief, took them. Danilo’s fingers felt warm, so his own must be half-frozen.

  “It will be hard at first,” Danilo said softly, “adjusting to new arrangements, but that cannot change how I feel, what I want . . . You are the lord of my heart as well as of my sword. Nothing can take that away from us.”

  Although he had heard these words before and had spoken them in his own turn, Regis could not respond aloud. He did not need to. A pulse of wordless understanding gathered them both. Regis felt his heart grow calmer.

  “Meanwhile, I have need of my paxman, my friend and advisor.”

  Danilo gestured theatrically. “He stands before you.”

  “Then we had best get to work.” Regis outlined his thoughts on the duties ahead of him. Danilo nodded, making suggestions about what must be attended to first and what could be easily put off.

  “No one will expect you to pick up where old Lord Hastur left off,” Danilo observed. “People will understand. They’ll give you time to find your feet.”

  “Bless Aldones and anyone else who will take credit, I don’t have to deal with the Regency as well,” Regis said fervently.

  “The Elhalyns aren’t going to storm Thendara, demanding the throne. Some may expect you to take on the title for ceremonial purposes, but that shouldn’t be onerous.”

  Regis shook his head. “I won’t do it, not even as a token. I told Grandfather I would never be king, and I meant it! Regentis entirely too close to kingfor my taste.”

  “Can you justifiably refuse a title that means nothing?”

  “I can and will,” Regis repeated with a touch of savage heat.

  Danilo would not be derailed. “At the same time, you cannot escape the fact that you are now Hastur of Hastur. You shake your head, Regis, but it is true. The Comyn may be less than we once were, but we are still here.”

  “Not for long.”

  Danilo shrugged, refusing to argue further.

  “Be that as it may, the absence of a formal Comyn Council does present a problem.” Regis briefly described his intention to create a place for Rinaldo in the Domains.

  At the mention of Rinaldo, Danilo stiffened. The warmth that had sprung up between the two men chilled. Danilo agreed that it would not be appropriate to bring the matter of Rinaldo’s legitimacy before the Telepath Council. Traditionally, the Comyn had governed themselves, especially in matters of inheritance, Domain-right, and marriage. Less than a generation ago, the Heir to a Domain could not have chosen a wife without the consent of the Council. Now, there was no authority to petition.

  “There is a precedent,” Danilo pointed out after a little thought. “Historically, when urgent matters arose in between Council sessions, those Comyn still in Thendara would convene an informal decision-making body. They would in due course submit their actions to ratification by the full Council.”

  Regis did not have a full tally of who had remained in Thendara after his grandfather’s funeral, enjoying the fair weather and summer festivities. Even one or two would be enough. Rinaldo’s status was as much social as it was legal. Documents could be drawn up and filed with the Cortes to ensure the latter.

  “I will see to it,” Danilo said. “
You have only to fix a date.”

  “As soon as it can be arranged, after I have discussed the matter with my brother.”

  The next moment, a tap sounded at the door. At a command from Regis, one of the Castle Guards stepped in. Regis did not know him but thought him to be one of Gabriel’s rising young officers.

  “Vai domyn.”The Guardsman bowed in turn to Regis and then to Danilo. “There is a person wishing an audience with Lord Hastur. He is not known to me, but he claims to be Rinaldo Hastur.”

  “He is my brother,” Regis said, “and I expect him to be treated with proper courtesy.”

  The Guardsman bowed again, more deeply. A moment later, he escorted Rinaldo into the library, this time with almost obsequious attention. Rinaldo wore the same suit of clothing in which he had traveled, although it had been cleaned and pressed.

  Before either Regis or Rinaldo could say anything, Danilo begged leave to be about his duties and hurried out of the room.

  “Please make yourself comfortable.” Regis gestured to the chairs drawn up by the fireplace. “This was Grandfather’s library.”

  “It’s very impressive,” Rinaldo said. His gaze lingered on the rows of books.

  “You will of course have full access to the collection,” Regis said.

  “Thank you, brother. That is most kind. But I wonder if I might prevail upon your generosity—” With a sheepish expression, he indicated his clothing.

  “I will have my own tailor get to work immediately. Other than that, are you well? Your quarters are adequate?”

  “More than adequate,” Rinaldo assured him. “I am ready to take on whatever work you assign me.”

  “Rinaldo, you are my brother, not my secretary. It is for others to serve, not you.”

  “But I cannot remain idle. I must make myself useful, as I have been accustomed.”

  “I welcome your assistance once you have familiarized yourself with the way things are done here in Thendara,” Regis said. “One man alone cannot hope to perform all the duties expected of a Hastur. I don’t know how Grandfather managed it all and the Regency as well. Our first step must be to secure your position and inheritance.” Regis outlined what he and Danilo had discussed. Excitement and pleasure flared in Rinaldo’s face.

  “I will have the legal documents drawn up and filed with the Cortes. You will not need to make an appearance. My declaration should be sufficient. Javanne is eager to arrange a ball in your honor. Have you had much opportunity to dance?”

  Rinaldo shrugged. “Only as much as is seemly for a monk. Which is to say, none at all. I do not object to dancing if it is modest and innocent in nature. But the third thing you mentioned, presenting me to a body of Comyn as in olden times—I think that is the most important of all. Even though the Comyn Council no longer rules Darkover, their consent is essential, is it not?”

  “It is of less importance than in the past,” Regis agreed guardedly. “Certainly, it would smooth things to have their approval. Do not underestimate the power of our family. Grandfather managed to ram all kinds of unpalatable truths down their collective throats. I am no Danvan Hastur, but I have had some experience in the arts of persuasion.”

  “As Hastur or as Regent?”

  Regis suppressed a grimace of exasperation, reminding himself that his brother could have no way of knowing how sensitive that issue was. “The Regency,” he explained patiently, “no longer exists. The Elhalyn, what is left of them, are scattered. No one even knows what the proper lineage is, except maybe a few moldy old scholars. There hasn’t been a single one capable of ruling since Grandfather’s time.”

  “If there are no Elhalyn contenders for the throne,” Rinaldo said thoughtfully, “then the honor would pass to Hastur, would it not? One of us could be king . . .”

  “There is nothing to be king of,” Regis said wearily. “The Comyn have collapsed as a power, the Council is gone, and we ought to direct our energies toward Darkover’s future, not reenacting her past.”

  “Yes, yes, I see your point. Still, it is a pity the Council has been replaced by a less prestigious body. I would have liked to see the Crystal Chamber in all its glory, the color and pageantry, everything I have missed in my life. Now it is gone, and I have lost my chance.”

  Regis shook his head, unable to come up with a way of explaining that no rational man would wantto attend a meeting in that ancient hall. Even with the larandampers to block out psychic energy, the memories of so many painful conflicts, schemes and coercions, even deaths, lingered. He said, “I hope that a ball will provide a happy substitute.”

  “It is overwhelming; I have never been an observer, let alone the object, of such an honor.”

  12

  Later that day, Regis sent for his personal tailor and instructed the man to furnish Rinaldo with a wardrobe suitable for his rank. Whatever Rinaldo wished, even silver lace or Ardcarran rubies, he was to have. No expense was to be spared, and all materials must be of the finest. Additional sewing women and tailors were engaged so that Rinaldo might be properly resplendent for the ball.

  Danilo reported on the progress of the various arrangements. “I’ve set the date to allow sufficient time for the guests to respond and make their preparations. If it meets with your approval, I’ll send out the invitations today.”

  Regis glanced through the notes, written in Danilo’s graceful script, and nodded his approval. “As usual, your efficiency and thoughtfulness are everything I could wish for. What about the formal presentation?”

  “I’ve tallied up those Comyn known to be in the city. This is only an approximation, with additional information from your sister and DomGabriel. Undoubtedly, there are more, and I shall endeavor to locate them.”

  “Mmmm. There are more than I expected. The Ridenow are still here?” Regis wished they had stayed in Serrais.

  “We can’t very well exclude them.”

  “No, I suppose not.” Regis handed the written plans to Danilo. “When you have a moment in the next few days, send a letter to Armida. I’d like Rinaldo to have one of the blacks as a gift. I know they are bespoken for years in advance, often before they are foaled, so it’s best to put in my order as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, Rinaldo is to have the free use of any of my horses in the Castle stables.”

  “My lord, surely this is excessive—” Danilo began.

  Regis cut him off. “What would you have me do, Danilo, leave him with the nag you got for him in Nevarsin? He is my brother, a Hastur! I cannot allow him to ride through the streets of Thendara as ill-mounted as a farmer!”

  “Are you saying that I slighted him? That I deliberately chose a horse unworthyof a Comyn lord?”

  “By no means. For mountain travel, a horse like the one you found, strong and trail-seasoned, is far preferable to a prancing, ninny-brained beauty. But this is Thendara, and appearances must be maintained. Rinaldo may have been hidden away and forgotten, but I will not allow him to be treated that way any longer. By anyone.”

  Danilo recoiled. “I did not mean to imply . . . I am altogether conscious of the honor of Hastur, but—”

  “I suppose now you will tell me,” Regis said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “that if I make him such gifts he will succumb at once to greed and ambition. His only thought, of course, is to take my place as Head of Hastur—a place I never wanted in any case!” He began pacing with such energy that the wind of his passing sent a pile of papers slithering to the floor.

  Danilo made no attempt to pick up the fallen documents, although normally he would have done so without thought. “Such things have been known to happen.”

  “Gods, Danilo!” Regis forced a laugh. “Until a tenday ago, the man was a cloistered monk! What kind of monstrous ambitions do you think they foster within the hallowed halls of Nevarsin?”

  “You should know as well as I,” was Danilo’s sullen answer.

  Regis quieted, pensive. He thought of his own life, one of luxury and privilege but also beset by unrelenting respons
ibility. If Rinaldo’s childhood had been one of prayer and discipline, his own had been even more bleak.

  “Actually,” Regis said, “I wish Rinaldo were capable—could be induced—that he might be permitted to take Grandfather’s place instead of me. I have lost all heart for scheming. Even if he were willing, how could I wish such a life on him?”

  What must life have been like for the unacknowledged bastard son of a Comyn lord? Rinaldo had been too young to understand why he was hidden away like a shameful secret. Had he waited for a token of recognition from his father, a message that never came? How had he felt all those years, watching from obscurity while Regis occupied the place of the eldest son and Heir—forced to keep silent, even when set to teaching young Regis his letters?

  Holy Bearer of Burdens,Danilo’s thought shimmered through the light rapport, what resentments, what secret desires must have festered in such a wounded heart? And how dangerous might such a man become?

  When Regis turned to meet Danilo’s gaze, the dark eyes were shuttered, the moment of compassion fled. Danilo’s mind was as tightly barriered as a fortress.

  “Danilo—” Tentatively, Regis lifted one hand in his direction but dropped it when there was no response. Regis hardened his voice. “Of what, exactly, do you suspect my brother?

  “Greed, ambition, envy, I don’t know! I don’t trust him. Can’t you see how he says one thing and does another? He utters the pious words of a monk and then complains about the quality of his garments. I know he’s had a difficult life, but he seems to have learned more about self-interest than brotherly love.”

  Danilo swept up the fallen papers. “When are you going to tell him about us? Don’t fool yourself into believing he won’t figure it out. How do you think he’ll respond? Will he rejoice that his brother is a lover of men?”

  “He needs time to accept the larger world. I’ve been cautiously introducing the topic—”