Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
Regis was trying to remember what he had heard of the ancient Keeper of the Comyn Tower. “I think we would have heard if she was dead,” he said. “But surely she is too old to take any real part in Comyn affairs. Is she Hastur, or Elhalyn? I don’t think I ever knew.”
Derik shook his head. “For all I know,” he said, “she could have been foster-sister to the Cassilda of the legends! I suppose she has
chieri
blood—I have heard they are incredibly long-lived.”
“I have never seen a
chieri
,” Regis said. “Nor has anyone, I think, in our lifetimes; though Kennard told me once that once, on a journey into the mountains with his foster-brother, he had been guested in a
chieri
dwelling; he was not out of his teens then. For that matter, our grandfather seems likely to live as long as a
chieri
,” and he smiled. “That is fine as far as I am concerned—may his reign be long! I am not at all eager to take over the Domain of Hastur!”
“But I am ready for the Domain of Elhalyn,” said Derik sullenly. “My first act will be to find you a noble wife, Regis.”
But before they could pursue it further, there was a stir in the Ardais sector, and Dyan Ardais came in through the entrance at the back of the Ardais section, and went into one of the private boxes. Danilo was with him, and Regis went to speak to him, briefly, while he saw Derik and Merryl separate and go to their individual Domains.
“Dom Regis.” As always before strangers, Danilo was excessively formal. “Is your Heir to sit in Council today?”
“No; Mikhail’s only eleven. Time enough for that when he’s declared a man,” said Regis. Six years ago, under the spur of danger, he had adopted the youngest son of his sister Javanne for his Heir.
Mikhail is eleven. In two more years he will be old enough for the Cadet corps, and then for all the
responsibilities of a Comyn son. Javanne’s elder sons, Gabriel and Rafael, are in the cadets now
—
fifteen and fourteen. If their father, the older Gabriel, is made Warden of the Alton Domain, will they be
Alton or Hastur? Rank follows the higher parent; they are Hastur, then
…
He glanced at Dyan Ardais. Today the Ardais lord wore, not his usual unrelieved black, but the glimmering black and silver of his Domain, somber and elegant. He said to Dyan, not quite a question:
“There is no one in the Domain of Alton—”
Dyan, if anyone, would know if Kennard had returned
—
Perhaps I should tell him about
—
about what happened two nights ago, about Marius, and Rafe Scott
—
and Sharra
.
But Dyan said, “Regis, the Domain will not fall unchallenged into the hands of the Hasturs. I promise you that.” And Regis, looking at the flat, metallic eyes of the Ardais lord, unreadable as if shuttered, knew he could not ask Dyan exactly what he had arranged. He bowed and went to his own place in the railed-off section, beneath the blue and silver fir-tree banner of the Hasturs.
Other men and women were coming in now, arranging themselves under the banners of the different Domains. A faint distant hum told him that someone was setting the telepathic dampers; when the Comyn Castle and the Crystal Chamber were built, it had been assumed that everyone here, everyone with blood-right in the Domains, was
laran
-gifted, and by tradition there were telepathic dampers set all about the Chamber at strategic intervals, to prevent involuntary (or voluntary) telepathic eavesdropping.
Everyone here
, Regis thought, is my kinsman, or should be. Everyone in the Comyn held descent from the legendary seven sons of Hastur and Cassilda. Legend, all of that; legend called Hastur a god, son of Aldones who was Lord of Light. Hastur the god, so they said, had put off his godhead for love of a mortal woman. Whatever truth might lie behind the legend was veiled in time and prehistory, before ever the Ages of Chaos came down to split the country of the Domains into a hundred little kingdoms, and at the end of those ages, though the Hastur-kin had reclaimed their powers, all but a few Towers lay shattered and the
laran
of the Comyn had never recovered.
And yet
, he thought,
the Terrans claim, and say they can prove it that we here on Darkover, Seven
Domains, Comyn and all, are descended from a colony ship which crashed here, Terran colonists.
What is the truth
? Even more, what does the truth mean? Whence came the legends? If we are all Terrans, where had the
laran
come from, the Comyn powers? In the Ages of Chaos, Regis knew from the history he had read at Nevarsin, there had been a time of great tyranny, when the Comyn Council had ruled over a breeding program which would fix the gifts of each Domain into their sons and daughters; matrix technology had reached its height, even meddling with the genes of the Comyn children.
And we are suffering still from that great inbreeding and genetic meddling. Look at Derik. And many of
the Ardais are unstable; Dyan’s father was mad for decades before his death, and there are those in
Council who think Dyan himself is none too sane.
Javanne Lanart-Hastur, with her husband, Gabriel, came in through the rear doors of the Hastur enclosure. She embraced Regis, in a flurry of scent, curls, ruffles, and took her seat. Gabriel—tall, burly, wearing the uniform of the Castle Guard as Commander—nodded good-naturedly to Regis as he took his place. Their oldest son, Rafael, a scrawny, darkhaired youngster of fifteen, who reminded Regis of his own mirrored face at that age, bowed to Regis and sat down on one of the back benches.
He wore cadet uniform and side-arms.
Two more years and I will be expected to enroll Mikhail in the cadet corps. And in the name of Aldones, Lord of Light, and Zandru, lord of all the hells, what sense does it make for me to send the Heir to Hastur into the cadets, as I was sent, as Javanne is dutifully sending her sons? Yes, of course, if Mikhail is one day to inherit the power and might of the Hasturs—and I have never seen the woman I wish to marry, so it’s likely Mikhail will inherit—he must learn to command himself, and others. But with the Empire on Darkover, with the inevitability of an interstellar empire at our very doorstep, surely there is a better way to educate the Heir to Hastur than sending him to be schooled in swordplay and the code duello, and taught unarmed combat and the best way to keep drunks off the streets! Regis sighed, thinking of the inevitable outcry it would cause if he, Heir to Hastur, should choose to have his son given the Terran education which Marius, Kennard’s son, had had.
And where was Marius? Surely he should have come into the Alton Domain’s enclosure! He was old enough, now, and if he wished to lay claim to the Domain, before it was declared vacant, surely it should be now!
Perhaps he too has bowed to the inevitable, or decided he would rather leave the Wardenship of the
Domain to Gabriel
. Again, Regis sighed, remembering a time when he had told his grandfather that he would as soon leave the Domain to Javanne’s sons.
One, at least, of my sons, should have a Terran education
. If not Mikhail, he thought, then his son by Crystal di Asturien. It was early to think about that—the boy was a hearty toddler not yet two years old, and Regis had seen him fewer than a dozen times. He had two other children, too, daughters, through similar liaisons.
Terrans educate their daughters. I will see that the girls, at least, are educated, though
I suppose there will be trouble about it; their mothers are conventional enough to think it an honor to
bear a child to a Hastur Heir
. He knew perfectly well the women had not had much interest in him aside from that, and his undoubted good looks— women pursued him for that and it grew a little wearying.
At this point his train of thought was interrupted by a loud cry from the Guardsmen at the door.
“Danvan Hastur of Hastur, Warden of Hastur, Regent of Elhalyn and of the Comyn!”
Regis rose with the rest as his grandfather—Hastur of Hastur, an aging man, his light hair still retaining some gold among the gray, clad in the ceremonial blue and silver of the Hasturs—came into the Crystal Chamber and went slowly to his seat. He seated himself in the front row and looked round the Crystal Chamber.
“Kinsmen, nobles,
Comynari
,” he said, in his rich voice. “I welcome you to Council. Highness—” he bowed to Derik— “will it please you to call the roll of the Domains?”
So Lord Hastur had decided that he must give Derik some privileges and responsibilities, however empty and ceremonial! Derik rose and came forward; like the Hasturs, he was wearing blue and silver with the golden crown of the Elhalyns across the fir-tree emblem.
“I speak for Hastur of Elhalyn,” he said. “Hastur of Hastur?”
Danvan Hastur rose and bowed. He said, “I am here at your service, my lord Derik.”
“Ardais?”
Dyan Ardais stood up and bowed. “Dyan-Gabriel, Warden of Ardais.”
“Aillard?”
There was a small stir behind the curtains of one of the boxes in the enclosure of the Aillards, and Callina Aillard, thin and pale, in the formal gray and crimson draperies of the Aillards, said quietly,
“
Para servirte, vai dom
.” Regis saw Merryl, looking sullen, in a seat somewhat below his half-sister; then a handful of loosely related families, Lindir, Di Asturien, Eldrin. Regis did not know most of them by sight at all.
“Ridenow of Serrais.”
This was out of order, Regis thought; the Alton Domain was higher in rank than the Ridenow. But perhaps he was giving them ample time to answer.
“I speak for Ridenow, and I am here at your command,
vai dom
,” said Edric Ridenow. An enormously fat man, well into middle age, he sat with his half-grown sons and a small herd of his brothers; Regis recognized Lerrys, and Auster who had been in the Guards as officers. There were others he didn’t know. There were a few women behind the curtains in the private boxes; the Ridenow lived at the very borders of the Dry Towns and were of Dry-town blood, and while they did not follow Dryland customs and chain their women, they did keep them in somewhat greater seclusion than most of the mountain Domains.
“Alton?” Derik called, and for some reason he looked pleased.
Silence.
“Alton of Armida, Alton of Mariposa—”
Gabriel Lanart-Hastur rose within the Hastur enclosure and said, “For the sixth time I answer for the Domain of Alton, as Regent during the absence of the rightful claimants.”
Derik bowed and then he turned toward Lord Hastur. He asked, “Do I ask him now?”
Regis saw his grandfather flinch slightly. But he nodded and Derik said, “This answer has been acceptable for five years. On the sixth year it is time to declare the Domain of Alton of Armida vacant, and accept the claim of the next Heir. Gabriel Lanart-Hastur of Edelweiss, come forward.”
Regis tightened his lips. Gabriel, or Old Hastur himself, had put Derik up to this; the young prince had not the wit to think it out for himself. Gabriel stood up and went forward into the center of the room, the rainbow lights playing over him. He was, Regis thought, a reasonable claimant. He was an
honorable man; he was the grandson of one of the sisters of Kennard’s father, giving him Ridenow and Alton blood; he had commanded the Guards for six years in Kennard’s absence; he was married and had fathered several sons.
Dyan promised it should not go unchallenged. What is he waiting for
? Regis looked over at the Ardais enclosure, but Dyan sat without moving, unsmiling, his face blank and grim.
Danvan Hastur made his way slowly down into the central area and stood before Gabriel. Regis could see that Javanne was hugging herself with excitement.
“Gabriel Lanart-Hastur, Alton of Mariposa,” said Hastur quietly, “for six years you have ruled the Domain of Alton in the absence of Kennard-Gwynn Lanart-Alton of Armida, and of his lawful heir Lewis-Kennard. In the continuing absence of these two, I call upon you to relinquish the state of Regent-Heir to the Domain, and assume that of Warden of Alton and Lord Alton of Armida, over the entire Domain of Alton and those who owe them loyalty and allegiance. Are you prepared to assume wardship over your people?”
“I am prepared,” said Gabriel quietly.
“Do you solemnly declare that to your knowledge you are fit to assume this responsibility? Is there any man who will challenge your right to this solemn wardship of the people of your Domain?”
Gabriel made the correct ritual answer: “I will abide the challenge.”
Ruyven di Asturien, second-in-command of the Guardsmen, commander of the Honor Guard, strode to Gabriel’s side and drew his sword. He cried out in a loud voice, “Is there any here to challenge the worth and rightful wardship of Gabriel-Alar, Lord Alton?”
There was a minute of silence. Regis looked at Dyan, but he was as impassive as ever. Young Gabriel, on the back benches of the Hastur enclosure, was watching his father with excitement. Regis wondered, will Gabriel declare young Gabriel his Heir? Or will he do the decent thing and declare himself willing to adopt Marius as his Heir, giving him Council recognition? I swear by the Lord of Light, if he does not, I shall do so myself…
Then, from two corners of the room, there were two answers.
“I challenge.”
“And I.”
Slowly, Marius came forward from the curtained box in the empty Alton enclosure. He said, “None could challenge my cousin Gabriel’s worth, my lords; but I challenge his rightful wardship. I am Marius-Gwynn Lanart Alton y Aldaran, son of Kennard Alton, and his rightful Heir in the absence of my elder brother, Lewis-Kennard, and I claim the Domain of Alton and the household of Armida.”
And from the rear of the Ardais enclosure came a man Regis did not recognize: a tall, broad-shouldered man with flaming red hair just touched with gray. He came slowly down the steps and said, “I
challenge Gabriel-Alar Lanart-Hastur, worth and wardship; he is Regent, not Heir. I can rightfully claim the Domain of Alton, though many years ago I renounced it in favor of Kennard Alton: now I claim it as Regent for Kennard, since Dom Gabriel has violated his Regency by making claim to the Domain on his own part.”