“And every time, he turns the conversation into a sermon on righteousness and salvation!” Danilo stormed. “Underneath those oily words, he’s no different from Father Master!”
“Are you quite finished?” Regis asked in a clipped, taut voice. Danilo nodded. “Then I must make one thing clear. This is the last discussion of this kind that you and I will ever have. Whatever your opinions about my brother, I require,” placing an unmistakable emphasis on the word, “that you keep them to yourself. You are not to criticize him in word or action. I never want to hear of this again.”
For a long moment, Danilo stood immobile. If he wrestled with his own thoughts, he gave no outward sign. “As you wish, vai dom.”
Some demon prodded Regis to say, “I am not asking you, Danilo. I am telling you.” He tore his eyes from Danilo’s face and threw himself into the desk chair. “Now, go about your work. I expect that the next time you present yourself to me, everything I have assigned to you will be accomplished.”
Without a word, Danilo bowed and strode to the door. Hand on the latch, shoulders rigid, he paused.
In a spasm of guilt for having provoked yet another quarrel, Regis cried out telepathically. Bredhyu . . .
To his relief, Danilo did not shut him out. Danilo had been waiting—hoping—for Regis to make the overture that he himself could not.
Danilo’s posture softened. He turned back, tenderness warming his eyes. His laranshields dissolved in an outpouring of solace. The air shimmered with their psychic bond. Then Danilo bowed again and withdrew.
Regis stared at the age-darkened wood of the desk, the piles of documents, the papers Danilo had neatly replaced. Despite the season, an insidious chill seeped into his bones. He wondered if he would ever be warm in this place.
That evening, dusk fell quickly. The sudden deepening of the shadows, for which Darkover had been named, shrouded the castle halls. Regis tried to shrug off the sense of foreboding that had dogged him since his fight with Danilo. Stubbornly, it grew stronger with every passing hour. With relief, he set aside the day’s work and returned to his own quarters.
Javanne— May Evanda and Avarra bless her!—had prepared a family dinner, so he need not change into formal courtly wear. He would have a chance to relax, to set aside the myriad administrative details of the day.
His mood lightened as he strode down the corridor toward the apartments taken by his sister’s family. The carpet runner was new, green with an ivy pattern down the center. The corridor led into another, twisting as one architectural style gave way to the next. What a warren the old castle was! Regis hoped Rinaldo would be able to find his way. To his surprise, Gabriel met him at the corner just before the entrance.
Gabriel had changed little since Regis had last seen him, a sturdy, russet-haired man with a hint of squareness in his jaw and the strongly muscled shoulders of a man who had spent his life in military office. He was reputed to at one time have been the best wrestler in the City Guards.
“Lord Hastur, may I have a private word with you before we go in?”
“There is no need for formality between kinsmen,” Regis answered. The knot of foreboding in his gut tightened.
“I would speak to you on affairs of the Comyn, and I would rather not do so in front of Javanne and . . . others.”
“Gabriel,” Regis said, deliberately using his personal name, “you may discuss any matter you wish.”
“Very well, then.” Gabriel moved aside, into the shadowed corner. “Javanne tells me that you plan to not only welcome a nedestrorelative into the family but to have him declared the legitimate son of your father . . . which would make him the eldestson. Is this true?”
“No doubt, the existence of Rinaldo will come as a surprise to many. Grandfather confided it to me on his deathbed.” Regis paused, trying not to sound defensive. “I fear a great injustice has been done. My father undoubtedly meant to recognize Rinaldo, but he died too soon. Grandfather, in his turn, could have done so but chose not to. I do not wish to speak ill of my own relations, but together they have done my brother great harm in denying him his rightful place in society and his inheritance as a Hastur. I intend to make things right.”
“Speaking as both your kinsman and your friend, I beg you to consider whether this is wise,” Gabriel said, his voice lowering with urgency. “Since you left, even this tenday . . . the political balance in Thendara is volatile. The Terrananhave shifted their tactics. They are now trying to purchase the good will of the people with promises of technological miracles and Federation citizenship. Half the old Comyn Council, those who are not outright senile, want to take us back to the Ages of Chaos. The Ridenow are out for all they can get. I fear they see themselves as the next great power in the Domains. You know as well as I that they want to turn Darkover into a Federation puppet state.”
“Surely, things cannot have deteriorated so badly.”
Gabriel pressed his lips together. “Not only that, Valdir Ridenow and his allies are doing all they can to consolidate the Comyn against you. He’s been arguing that the Telepath Council is incapable of making a decision and should be done away with. If the remaining Comyn unite with the Pan Darkovan League and malcontents in recognizing Rinaldo’s claim over yours, thinking him more easily bent to their will, then—”
“Gabriel, I must do what I feel is right. Besides, who is to say that Rinaldo might not be the better man, trained as he is in modesty and service? I never wanted such responsibility. It was thrust upon me. You, who have known me for so many years, must understand.”
“What I understand,” Gabriel said in a heavy, sardonic tone, “is that you are quite mad. Such a change would throw the Domains into chaos.”
Wearily, Regis shook his head. “If we are so dependent upon any one man, then we Comyn have outlived our usefulness. It would be better for Darkover if we all disappeared.”
Before Gabriel could respond, the door swung open. Javanne peered out. Despite the gown of cream wool trimmed with delicate silver and blue embroidery at neckline and cuffs and the garland of tiny white flowers tucked into the coiled braids covering the nape of her neck, she looked tense and weary.
“Are you two going to stand there while dinner gets cold? We are all assembled, waiting for you. Men’s talk is very well,” she said, slipping one hand through her husband’s elbow, “but folk must be fed, and roasted meat is not improved by congealing.”
Gabriel nodded and, patting her hand affectionately, allowed himself to be led inside.
“You, too, Regis.” Javanne affected a stern expression. “Our brother has superceded you and is anxious for us all to be together. And—” when he opened his mouth to reply, “no mention of politics, do you hear me? This is a familydinner, and I’ll not have everyone’s appetite destroyed by talk of Councils and trade delegations and Terranan!”
With a trickle of relief, Regis bowed his head and yielded to the inevitable.
Some demon from Zandru’s Seventh Hell had prompted Regis to don his court finery for the presentation of Rinaldo to the Comyn. The suit of velvet in Hastur blue embellished with silver-trimmed lace was the most ornate garment he had ever worn. He refused to wear the matching sword, however, with its hilt and scabbard filigreed in the same lacy design as the jacket trim. As a small blessing, the boots were comfortable, if impractical for outdoor wear. Danilo wore more modest clothing, a bit on the somber side but still tasteful enough for the occasion.
At least the meeting would not take place in the Crystal Chamber or the chamber in which he had addressed the Telepath Council. Instead, Danilo had prepared a smaller room, one designed for informal gatherings and furnished with comfortable chairs around a central table. Instead of the echoing spaciousness of the stately chamber, this room afforded a degree of intimacy. Regis would be able to make easy eye contact. There would be no telepathic dampers, nor would any be needed. This was not a debate, but a simple introduction. It was as much an honor for the other Comyn as it was for Rinaldo, so there was no reason why
it should not be a pleasant and enjoyable affair.
Bless Danilo, there was but a single Guardsman standing at attention at the door. Regis waited until he could be reasonably sure the others were already assembled. Then Rinaldo arrived.
The tailor had done his best. Rinaldo’s raiment, although minimally ornamented, was of exquisite quality, the gray wool so fine it shimmered like snowfox fur. The jacket had been shaped to enhance Rinaldo’s spare frame. Had he been dressed as Regis was, the sumptuousness would have turned his complexion gaunt and rendered him pretentious. As it was, he looked grave and dignified, a man who had lived simply but meaningfully.
Rinaldo bowed, the salute of one of noble birth to another of higher rank. He took no notice of Danilo. Regis inclined his head and together they went in.
Regis did not expect a formal announcement of their entrance, complete with the recitation of all his titles, and he received none. Instead, the reaction was exactly what he had hoped for: conversations paused, heads swiveled, and eyes brightened as he took his place at the head of the table with Rinaldo beside him. Danilo slipped into the chair beside Marilla Lindir-Aillard, whose son, Kennard-Dyan, was to inherit Ardais. Whether this gesture on Danilo’s part was a subtle reminder that, as former Warden of Ardais, he claimed the right to sit among the Comyn lords or simply that it was the most convenient unoccupied chair, Regis could not tell.
Not everyone who had attended the funeral for Danvan Hastur had remained in Thendara, but most of the great houses were represented: Regis himself, Javanne and Gabriel, who was acting as Warden of Alton, Marilla Lindir-Aillard, Ruyven Di Asturien, one of the Eldrins, and a few from lesser families—Castamir, Lindir, and a very elderly man from the Montereys, distant cousins of the Altons. At the far end of the table, Valdir Ridenow watched calmly, his nephew Francisco at his right elbow.
Where Danilo had found all of them, Regis had no idea. Most wore courtly dress in the beautiful colors of their houses, like a flock of exotic birds filling the otherwise somber chamber. Jewels and precious metals glinted in the headdresses of the women. Chains draped the chests of the men. Their expressions ranged from distantly polite to courteous. In the absence of telepathic dampers, their emotions curled like smoke through the room. Regis did his best to block them out. Danilo’s face was a shade paler than usual; he had always been the more sensitive of the two. It must be costing him an enormous amount of psychic energy to remain free of the outside mental influences.
“ Vai domyn,kinsmen, lords and ladies,” Regis said. “Thank you for coming and on such short notice.”
“The honor is ours.” Ordinarily, it would fall to the member of the next highest-ranking Domain to speak, but in this informal setting, Ruyven Di Asturien answered. His dignified gaze took in the assembly.
“You have brought us together, as we Comyn have always gathered at this season since before our sun turned red. We never thought to do so again. But now, we welcome you, Lord Hastur . . .”
“And the man who sits beside you,” Valdir Ridenow broke in.
Regis rose with all the dignity at his command. “It is my pleasure to present to you my father’s nedestroson, Rinaldo Lanart-Hastur. I declare Rinaldo legitimate and desire that he should enjoy all the privileges and responsibilities of our caste. It is my intention that my brother take his place among us, and I call upon you to acknowledge him now.”
The announcement could not have come as news. Regis knew all too well the pervasive and insidious currents of gossip that saturated Thendara in general and the Comyn in particular. Yet there was no mistaking the unease that rippled around the room.
“ DomRegis,” Lady Marilla began tentatively, then corrected herself,
“Lord Hastur. We are of course delighted to receive any kinsman to our midst. There are so few of us that every new addition must be precious. Your brother looks to be a fine, sober man, a credit to your Domain and to us all. But . . .” Her eyes shifted between Regis and Rinaldo, although her composure did not waver. “You are proposing more than a simple welcome. Such a step requires careful consideration of all the . . . implications.”
Regis found the woman’s indirection maddening. What she meant was she thought it inappropriate to discuss Rinaldo’s position in front of him. He sensed, from DomRuyven’s air of disapproval and the downturned curve of the old man’s lips, that he was not at all in favor of what Regis proposed. Despite the barriers Regis had summoned in his mind, he could not escape the surge of emotion from where Valdir Ridenow sat.
“Some might say,” one of the Lindir lords put in, “that the Hasturs had too much power even before the demise of the Council.”
“Speak plainly, my lord,” Gabriel said. “What are you insinuating?”
“Why, nothing more than what everyone already knows. The Telepath Council was created by Lord Hastur, and they answer to him with an almost slavish devotion. It is bad enough that the Hasturs have traditionally been the most powerful of all the Domains, more so than their royal Elhalyn cousins. But when personal charisma is combined with exemplary leadership—I say nothing against Lord Hastur, you understand—we are all cognizant of the debt owed to him—when all this is added to political influence and the legends that have grown up over the last few years . . . can it be wise for one man to possess so much power?”
“My reputation is not at issue here,” Regis said tightly. “Do you accuse me of deliberately creating a cult of personality? I assure you, I never sought or wanted—”
He reined in his tongue before spilling out that he would far rather have lived an ordinary life. No one would have believed him. A nasty impulse led him to add, “Or are you saying that it’s bad enough to have one Hastur lording it over you without adding another?”
A moment of silence answered him, of indrawn breaths, of sudden stillness of hands. That was exactly what they hadthought. In that hush, Danilo leaned forward.
“If any of you wish to accuse Regis Hastur of an abuse of rank and power, do so properly, openly, but not at this time. We are here at Lord Hastur’s behest and in the presence of one newly come among us. Decency and dignity require that we give Rinaldo Hastur a fair hearing.”
All eyes now turned toward Rinaldo. He had listened, quiet and serious, to the debate. Now he rose to his feet, a movement both supple and dignified. He lifted his head so that they could all see his milk-pale skin, his eyes colorless as an overcast sky, and his delicate, almost ethereal features.
Emmasca . . .?whispered through their minds.
Just as I suspected when I first saw him!
But if he cannot father an heir—
Regis cannot possible expect us to—
Regis can,Regis formed the thought and dropped his barriers so that his mental communication resounded through the ambient psychic space. And Regis does!
“Vai domyn.”If Rinaldo had sensed any of the roiling thoughts, he gave no sign. “I am not here to challenge the established order. Indeed, I have spent my life in obedience to authority. Judge me if you will, as you will, but I beg of you, cast no aspersions upon my brother. He has been the soul of kindness to me. I would hear no evil spoken of him.”
Rinaldo waited for his words to sink in. “As for myself, you see me as I am. I have no ambition for myself nor any desire to found a dynasty.”
With a gentle smile, he invited their agreement and was rewarded by a nod here and there.
Regis did not like the way Valdir watched, careful and intent, as if assessing how hard it would be to mold Rinaldo to his own ends. Now, where had thatthought come from? Regis wondered. He had caught no laranthoughts from the Ridenow lord.
“My work at Nevarsin was primarily copying ancient manuscripts and teaching those younger than I to do the same,” Rinaldo explained. “So you see, I know a fair amount of history and very little of current worldly affairs.”
At this, someone chuckled. Regis felt the iron tension across his shoulders relax a fraction.
“If you have lived your life cloist
ered at Nevarsin, you are cristoforo,are you not?” DomRuyven kept his voice neutral, but he could not disguise the challenge in the carriage of his shoulders, the suggestive angle of his chin.
By ancient law, the sole surviving heir to an estate was forbidden to become a monk, owing to the required vow of celibacy. But Rinaldo was no longer a monk, he was not the only son of Hastur, and those days were long past.
Rinaldo met Ruyven’s stare. “Although I have been released from my vows and am free to marry and lead a secular life, I am now and always will be the servant of the Holy Bearer of Burdens.”
“My brother’s faith or lack thereof is not an issue for public debate,” Regis said, before anyone else could jump into the discussion. “We are not living in the Ages of Chaos. Darkover is part of a confederation of planets, and it is time we behaved like civilized people, not superstitious savages.”
“A confederation?” Valdir’s voice was soft, but it filled the room. At his side, Francisco straightened in his chair.
“A fellowship, if you will,” Regis replied, instantly regretting his choice of words. “An alliance. But on equal footing, on our own terms, not as a poor relation.”
“Change comes upon us, whether we invite it or not,” Valdir said. “Reason dictates that we would be better off to control as much of it as we can. Perhaps our best hope is to return to the days when each Domain was free to direct its own destiny.”
On the surface, Valdir was discussing the right of the Hastur Domain to run its own affairs, to satisfy itself as to the legitimacy of any nedestroheirs and to grant them whatever rights it saw fit. Regis had learned through years of painful experience, of betrayals and schemes and hidden meanings, never to take anything a Comyn lord said at face value. His Grandfather had begun the lessons, and the unfolding politics of Domain and Council had reinforced them.
The implication of Valdir’s argument was clear. If Regis agreed for the sake of Rinaldo’s inheritance, then Valdir could—and most likely was even now readying himself to—apply the same principle of Domain autonomy to negotiations with the Terrans.
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