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“Don’t mention this to the women—or to Kennard. We have enough to worry about now.”
Kerwin frowned; but finally nodded. Silently, side by side, they walked up toward the Tower. It wassurprising how much at ease he felt with Auster, in spite of the fact that Auster obviously disliked him. Itwas as if they’d known each other all their lives.
Being isolated with your own kind
, Auster had said, Was Auster his own kind?
He had two facts to chew on. One, Auster, who didn’t like him, had moved—automatically, byinstinct—to shield him from a thrown rock; by standing still, he could have let Kerwin be hurt and savedhimself some aggravation and trouble. But even more than Auster’s strange behavior, was the surprisingevent of the rock. Despite all the deference shown the Comyn by the people of Arilinn, there was
somebody
in Arilinn who would like to see one of them dead.
Or was it the half-Terran interloper who was supposed to be killed? Kerwin suddenly wished he had notgiven Auster his promise. He’d have liked to talk it over with Kennard.
When the joined the others in the hall that night, Kennard looked strangely at his bandaged cheek, and if Kennard had then asked a point-blank question, Kerwin might have answered—he had not promised Auster to lie about it—but Kennard said nothing, and so Kerwin only told him about the shopkeeper andthe boots, mentioning his own disquiet at the custom. The older man threw back his head and guffawed.
“My dear boy, you’ve given the man prestige—I suppose a
Terranan
would say, free publicity—that will last for years! The fact that a Comyn of Arilinn, even one who’s not very important, came into his shop and actually bargained with him—”
“Nice racket,” said Kerwin sourly. He wasn’t amused.
“Actually, Jeff, it makes excellent good sense. We give a good slice of our lives to the people, we can do things nobody else can do. They wouldn’t think of letting us have a good excuse to do anything else. I spent some time as an officer in the Guards; my father is the hereditary Commander, it’s an Alton post; and when he dies, I shall have to command it. I should be at his side, learning; but Arilinn was short-handed, so I came back. If my brother Lewis had lived—but he died, leaving me Heir to Alton, and with that, the command of the Guards.” Kennard sighed. His eyes strayed into the distance. Then he said, abruptly recalling what he had been saying to Kerwin:
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“In a sense, it’s a way of keeping us prisoner here; a bribe. Anything we happen to want—any of us— we’re given, so we have no shadow of excuse to leave the Tower on the grounds that there could be more for us elsewhere.” He looked at the boots and frowned: “—and poor enough merchandise he gave you! The man should be ashamed; it speaks ill of him and his shop!”
Kerwin laughed. No wonder the man had tried so hard to steer him to a better pair! He said so, and
Kennard nodded.
“Seriously, it would please the man if you went back when you next visit the town, and accepted the best pair in his shop. Or better yet, commission him to make a pair for you specially, from some design you happen to fancy! And while you’re at it, let some clothingmaker fit you out with proper clothing for this climate, why don’t you? The Terrans believe in heating their houses, not their bodies; I nearly suffocated when I was there…”
Kerwin accepted the change of subject, but he still did not wholly understand what the Towers
did
thatwas so important. Messages, yes. He supposed the relays were simpler and less troublesome than asystem of telephones or wireless radio communication.
But if that was all they wanted, a radio system would be simpler. As for the other things, he hadn’t yetconnected the simpler tricks with crystal to the overwhelming importance that the Comyn telepathsseemed to have on Darkover.
And now there was another piece of the puzzle that did not fit; a rock, thrown in broad daylight, at twoof the revered Tower telepaths. Not accident. Not mistaken aim on the fringes of a riot somewhere. Arock thrown deliberately, to disable or kill—and it had come near enough to doing it. It didn’t fit, and hecursed having given his promise to Auster.
He got the answer to one of his questions a couple of tendays later. In one of the insulated rooms,supervised by Rannirl, Kerwin was working on elementary mechanics, practicing simple force-emissiontechniques, not unlike the glass-melting tricks Ragan had shown him. They had been at it for over anhour, and Jeff’s head was beginning to throb, when Rannirl said abruptly, “Enough for now; something’sgoing on.”
They came out on the landing just as Taniquel darted up the stairs; she almost ran into them, and Rannirlreached out and steadied her.
“Careful,
chiya
! What’s happening?”
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But Neyrissa has had a message from Thendara; the Lord Hastur is coming to
Arilinn.”
“So soon,” Rannirl murmured. “I’d hoped we’d have more time!” He looked at Kerwin and frowned.
“You’re not ready.”
Kennard limped up the steps toward them, holding heavily to the rail. Kerwin asked “Has this somethingto do with me?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Kennard said. “It might be. It was Hastur who gave his consent to bringing you
here, you know—though we accepted responsibility.”
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Kerwin felt sudden fear constricting his throat. Had he been traced here? Were the Terrans going toenforce their deportation order? He did not want to leave Darkover, felt he could not bear, not now, toleave Arilinn. He belonged here; these were his people…
Kennard followed his thoughts and smiled kindly to him.
“They have no authority to deport you, Jeff. By Darkovan law, citizenship follows the parent of higher rank; which means you are Darkovan by blood-right, and Comyn
Aillard
. No doubt, when Council season comes again, Lord Hastur will confirm you as Heir to Aillard, since there is no female heir to that line; Cleindori had no daughters, and she was herself
nedestro
.” But he still looked troubled, and as he went up toward his room he looked over his shoulder, edgily, saying, “But, damn it, wear Darkovan clothes!”
Kerwin had had himself outfitted in the city; as he got into the somber blue-and-grey outfit he hadchosen from the best tailor he could find, he thought, looking at himself in the mirror, that at least he
looked
Darkovan. He felt like one—most of the time, anyway. But he still had the sense of being on trial. Did Arilinn, or for that matter Comyn Council, really have the power to defy the Terran Empire?
That, Jeff decided, was a damn good question. The only problem was that he didn’t know the answer,and couldn’t even guess.
They gathered, not in the big hall they used evenings, but in a smaller, more formally arranged chamberhigh in the Tower, which Kerwin had heard called the Keeper’s audience-chamber. The room wasbrightly lit with prisms suspended from silver chains; the seats were old, carved from some dark wood,and in their midst was a low table inlaid with patterns in pearl and nacre, a many-pointed star at thecenter. Neither Kennard nor Elorie was in the room; Kennard, he knew, had gone to the airfield towelcome the distinguished guest. Kerwin, taking one of the low seats around the table, noticed that onechair was higher and more imposing than the rest; he supposed that this was reserved for the Lord Hastur.
A curtain was drawn back by one of the non-humans; Kennard hobbled in and took his seat. Behindhim came a tall, dark, commanding man, slightly built, but with a soldierly air of presence. He saidceremoniously, “Danvan Hastur of Hastur, Warden of Hastur, Regent of the Seven Domains, Lord of Thendara and Carcosa—”
“And so forth and so forth,” said a gentle, resonant voice. “You lend me grace, Valdir, but I beg of you,
spare me all these ceremonies.” And the Lord Hastur came into the room.
Danvan Hastur of Hastur was not a tall man. Simply clad in grey, with a blue cloak lined in silvery fur, heseemed at first just a scholarly, quiet man, edging past middle age; his hair was fair, silvering at thetemples, and his manner was courteous and unassuming. But something—the stately straightness of hisslim body, the firm line of his mouth, the swift, incisive look with which he summed up the room ofpeople—made Kerwin aware that this was no elderly nonentity; this was a man of tremendous presence,a man accustomed to command and to be obeyed; a man absolutely secure in his own position andpower, so secure that he did not even need arrogance.
Somehow, he seemed to take up more space in the room than he physically occupied. His voice filled itto the corners, without being loud.
“You lend me grace, children. I am glad to return to Arilinn.”
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The clear blue eyes fixed on Kerwin, and the man moved toward him. So compelling was that presencethat Kerwin rose to his feet in automatic deference.
“
Vai dom
,” he said. “I am here at your service.”
“You are Cleindori’s child, then, the one they sent to Terra,” Danvan Hastur said. He spoke the Thendara dialect of Kerwin’s own childhood. Somehow, not knowing precisely how he sensed it, Kerwin knew Hastur was not a telepath. “What name did they give you then, son of Aillard?”
Kerwin told the man his name; Hastur nodded thoughtfully.
“Well enough; although
Jeff
has an unnecessarily barbarian sound. You might well consider adopting one of the names of your clan; your mother would certainly have given you one of the family names, Arnad or Damon or Valentine. Had you thought about it? When you are presented before Council, surely, you should wear a name befitting an Aillard noble.”
Kerwin said tightly, resisting the man’s charm, “I’m not ashamed of wearing my father’s name, sir.”
“Well, please yourself,” Hastur said. “I assure you I meant no offense, kinsman; and I had no intention of suggesting that you deny your Terran heritage. But you look Comyn. I wanted to see you myself and be sure of you.”
Kennard said dryly, “You did not trust my word, Lord Danvan? Or— ” He glanced at the dark sallowman he had called Valdir. ”Or was it you who could not accept my word, my father?” A look half hostile,half affectionate passed between them, before he said formally to Kerwin, “My father, Valdir-Lewis Lanart of Alton, Lord of Armida.”
Kerwin bowed, startled; Kennard’s father?
Valdir said, “It did not occur to us that you would attempt to deceive us, Kennard, even if you could. But Lord Hastur wished to be certain that the Terrans had not duped you all into accepting an imposter.” His sharp eyes studied Kerwin briefly, then he sighed and said, “But I can see that it is true.” He added,directly to Kerwin, “You have your mother’s eyes, my boy; you are very like her. I was her foster-father;will you embrace me as a kinsman, nephew?” He stepped forward, embracing Jeff formally, pressing hischeeks to each of Kerwin’s in turn. Kerwin, sensing—correctly—that this was a very meaningful act ofpersonal recognition, bowed his head.
Hastur said, frowning a little, “These are strange days. I never thought I would welcome the son of a Terran to the Council. Yet if we must, we must.” He sighed and said to Kerwin, “Be it so then; Irecognize you.” His smile was wry. “And since we have accepted the son of a Terran father, we must, Isuppose, accept the son of a Terran mother. Bring Lewis-Kennard to Council, then, if you must, Kennard. How old is he now—eleven?”
“Ten, sir,” Kennard said and Hastur nodded. “I cannot speak for what the Council will do. If the boy has
laran
—but then, he is too young to tell, and the Council may refuse to recognize him; but I, at least, will not fight you any further, Ken.”
“
Vai dom
, you are too kind,” said Kennard, in a voice heavily overlaid with sarcasm. Valdir said sharply, “Enough. We will fly that falcon when her pinions are grown. For the moment—well, Hastur, young Kerwin here would not be the first of Terran blood to stand before Comyn Council by marriage-right. Nor even the first to build a bridge between our two worlds, to the betterment of both.”
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Hastur sighed. “I know your views on that, Valdir; my father shared them, and it was by his will that Kennard was sent to Terra when he was no more than a boy. I do not know if he was right or wrong;only time will tell. For the moment, we are confronted with the consequences of that choice, and we mustdeal with them, will we nil we.”
“Strange words for the Regent of Comyn,” Auster said from his place, and Hastur gave him a fierce hawk-blue stare, saying, “I deal in realities, Auster. You live here isolated with your brothers and sisters of Comyn blood; I, at the very edge of the Terran Zone. I cannot pretend that the ancient days of Arilinn are still with us, or that the Forbidden Tower has never cast a shadow over every Tower in the Domains. If King Stephen—but he is dead, sound may he sleep, and I rule as Regent for a child of nine, and not a very clever or sound one; one day, if we are all fortunate, Prince Derek will rule, but until that day comes, I do what I must in his place.” He turned with a gesture of finality that silenced Auster, and took his seat—not, Kerwin noticed with astonishment, the high seat, but one of the ordinary seats around the table. Valdir did not seat himself but remained standing by the door. Although he wore no weapon, Kerwin somehow thought of a man with a hand on the hilt of his sword.