Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
There is no reason I should be lonely. Grandfather would be only too happy to arrange a marriage for
me, and I could choose any woman in Thendara for wife, and have as many concubines as a Dry-Towner, and no one could criticize me, not even if I chose to keep a male favorite or two on the side.
I suppose, when it comes to that, I am alone because I would rather be alone, and responsible to no
one…
… except the whole damned population of the Domains! I cannot call my life my own… and I will not
marry so that they will approve of me!
There was only one person in Thendara, he reflected, whom he really wished to send a gift; and because of custom, he could not do that. He would not degrade what was between Danilo and himself by the pretense that it was the more conventional tie. He sat at his high window, looking out over the city, pondering yesterday’s end to the Council, frightened because he had done what he had done, manifested the Form of Fire before them all. Somehow, without training more than the barest
minimum, so that he could use his
laran
without becoming ill, he had acquired a new Gift he did not know he had, nor did he know what to do with it. He knew so little of the Hastur Gift and he suspected that his grandfather knew little more.
If only Kennard had still been alive, he would have gone to the kindly kinsman he had learned to call
“Uncle” and set his puzzlement before him. Kennard had spent years in Arilinn and knew everything that was known about the Comyn powers. But Kennard was dead, under a faraway alien sun, and Lew seemed to know little more than himself. Moreover, Lew had his own troubles.
At this point he was summoned to breakfast with his grandfather. For a moment he considered sending a message that he was not hungry—he had made a point with his grandfather and was not inclined to give way on it—but then he remembered that it was, after all, Festival, and kinsmen should put aside their quarrels for the day. In any case he would have to confront his grandfather at the great ball tonight; he might as well meet him in private first.
Danvan Hastur bowed to his grandson, then embraced him and as Regis took a seat before the laden table, he noticed that his grandfather had ordered all his favorite delicacies. He supposed this was as near to an apology as he would ever have from the old man. There was coffee from the Terran Zone, in itself a great luxury, and various honey cakes and fruits, as well as the more traditional fare of porridge and nut breads. As he helped himself, Danvan Hastur said, “I ordered a basket of fruits and candies sent to Javanne in your name.”
“You might have trusted me to remember, sir,” said Regis, smiling, “but with that brood of children, the sweets won’t go to waste.”
But thinking of Javanne set him to remembering again the eerie power he had somehow acquired over Javanne’s matrix when it had been possessed by Sharra— He did not understand and there was no one to ask. Should he go and demand the audience with Ashara which Callina had denied him?
Lew’s
matrix was overshadowed by Sharra; perhaps I would have power over that too
—
But he feared to try and fail. And then he remembered that there was another matrix, and one within his own reach, which had been overshadowed by Sharra; though at a greater distance than Lew’s; Lew had been in the very heart of Sharra’s flames… Rafe Scott was concealed in the Terran Zone, and Regis didn’t blame him. But did Rafe even know that Beltran was here, threatening all of them? Yes, he would pay a call upon Rafe this morning.
He declined another cup of coffee… although he was grateful for the gesture his grandfather had made, he did not really like it… and pushed his chair back, just as the servant announced:
“Lord Danilo, Warden of Ardais.”
Hastur greeted Danilo with affable courtesy, and invited him to join them at the table; Regis knew that his grandfather was underlining a conceded point. But Danilo, bowing to them both, said, “I am here with a message from Lord Ardais, sir. Beltran of Aldaran has brought his honor guard within the city walls and has invited you to witness his formal giving up of Terran weapons into the hands of his promised wife, Lady Aillard.”
“Send a messenger to tell him I will be there within a few moments,” said Hastur, rising. “Regis, will you join me?”
“Please excuse me, Grandfather, I have an errand elsewhere,” Regis said, and though his grandfather did not look pleased, he did not question Regis.
“I’ll leave you two alone, then,” he said, and withdrew. Regis discovered his appetite had returned; he poured himself the coffee he had refused and some for Danilo too, and passed the platter of honey cakes. Danilo took one, and said, sipping curiously at the coffee, “This is a Terran luxury, no? If Lord Dyan has his way, there will be no more of this…”
“I can well do without it,” Regis said. He took a handful of candied blackfruit and offered it silently to Danilo; Danilo, accepting the sweetmeats, smiled at him and said, “No, and I have no Festival gift for you, either— I am not Dyan, to send presents to his favorites as I would do to my sister if I had one.”
We do not need to gift one another
…
Still, it is a sign I wish I might show…
Regis said aloud, breaking the moment of intimacy that was more intense than any physical caress, “I must go to the Terran Zone, Dani; I must see if Captain Scott knows what is going on…”
“I will go with you, if you wish,” Danilo offered.
“Thank you, but there is no need to anger your foster-father,” Regis said, “and if you go there against his will, he will take it as defiance. Keep the peace, Dani; there are enough quarrels within Comyn, we need no more.” He put his honey-cake aside, suddenly losing his appetite again. “Grandfather will be angry enough that I am not there to witness the Aldaran men giving up their Terran weapons. But Beltran will never love me, no matter what I do, and I would as soon not be there to see this—” he searched for a word, considered and rejected “farce,” then shrugged.
“Dyan may trust Beltran; I will not,” he said, and left.
Some time after, he gave his name and business to the Spaceforce guard, black-leathered, at the gates of the Terran Zone. The Spaceforce man stared, as well he might—one of the powerful Hasturs here with no more escort than a single Guardsman? But he used his communicator, and after a moment said,
“The Legate will see you in his office, Lord Hastur.”
Regis was not
Lord Hastur
—that was his grandfather’s title—but there was no use expecting Spaceforce men to know proper courtesy and protocol. Lawton, in the Legate’s office, rising to greet him, used his proper address and got his title right, even saying it with the proper inflection, which was not all that easy for a Terran. But then, of course, Lawton was half Darkovan.
“You honor me, Lord Regis,” Lawton said, “but I hadn’t expected to see you here. I suspect I’ll be at the ball in Comyn Castle tonight—the Regent sent me a formal invitation.”
“It’s Rafe Scott I came to see,” Regis said, “but I didn’t want to do it behind your back and be accused of spying, or worse.”
Lawton waved that aside.
“Would you rather see him here? Or in his own quarters?”
“In his quarters, I think.”
“I’ll send someone to show you the way,” Lawton said. “But first, a question. Do you know the man they call Kadarin by sight?”
“I think I’d know him if I saw him.” Regis remembered the picture he had seen in Lew’s mind, the day the Alton townhouse had burned.
“What kind of chance would we have of finding him, if we sent Spaceforce into the Old Town? Is there anyone there who would try and hide him from justice?”
“He’s wanted by the Guardsmen there too,” Regis said. “It’s fairly certain that he was responsible for a fire and explosion with contraband explosives…” Briefly, he outlined to Lawton what he had seen.
“Spaceforce could find him faster than your guards,” the Terran Legate suggested. Regis shook his head.
“I’m sure they could,” he said, “but, believe me, I wouldn’t advise sending them.”
“There ought to be a treaty that we could at least look for a wanted criminal,” Lawton said grimly. “As it is, once he sets foot in the Old Town he’s safe from our men—and if he somehow sneaks into the Trade City, safe from your Guardsmen. I’d like to know why we can’t have that much cooperation at least.”
So would I, sir. If I were in charge, you’d have it. But I’m not, and Grandfather doesn’t feel that way
.
Regis realized suddenly that he was ashamed of his grandfather’s views. They had indeed sworn to a certain amount of cooperation with the Terrans, many times over the past years; more especially after the epidemic in which the Terran Medic division had sent an expert to assist them. But now Kennard, who had started this kind of cooperation, was dead, and it seemed the informal alliance was falling apart; Regis wished Lawton had enough
laran
so that he need not explain all this, through the slow and clumsy medium of words.
He said, fumbling, “It’s—it’s not a good time to ask for that, Mr. Lawton. It would take a lot of arranging. We’ll deal with Kadarin if we find him, and I assume you will if you catch him here. But this is not the time to ask for formal cooperation between the Guard and Spaceforce. The important thing is to catch that man Kadarin and deal with him— not argue about whose jurisdiction he should be under.”
Lawton struck the desk before him with an angry fist. “And while we argue about it, he’s laughing at both of us,” he said. “Listen here. A few days ago, the Orphanage in the Trade City was broken into, and a child’s room was entered. No child was hurt, no one was kidnapped, but the children in that dormitory had a dreadful fright, and they described the man to Spaceforce—and it seems likely that Kadarin was the one. We don’t know what he was doing there, but he managed to escape again, and he’s probably hiding out in the Old Town. And now I’ve heard that Beltran of Aldaran has brought an army down to Thendara—”
This was Comyn business; Regis had no wish to argue it with a Terran, however friendly. He said somewhat stiffly, “Even as we stand here, sir, Lord Aldaran is making a solemn oath to observe Compact, and giving up all his Terran weapons. I know that old Kermiac of Aldaran was a Terran ally, but I believe Beltran feels otherwise.”
“But it was Beltran, not Kermiac, who managed to burn the spaceport at Caer Donn, and half of the town with it,” Lawton said. “How do we know that Beltran hasn’t brought his men here to join
Kadarin, and try some such trick on the Thendara spaceport? I tell you, we have to find Kadarin before that gets out of hand again. You probably don’t realize that the Empire has sovereign authority over all its colonies where there’s a threat to a spaceport; they’re not under local authority at all, but under the interplanetary authority of the Senate. You people have no Senate representation, but you
are
a Terran colony and I
do
have the authority to send Spaceforce in—”
This sounds like what Lerrys was saying
. Regis said, “If you ever want good relations with Comyn Council, Lawton, I wouldn’t advise it. Spaceforce quartered in the Old Town would be looked upon as
—”
As an act of war
. Darkover, with swords and the Guardsmen, to fight the interplanetary majesty of the Empire?
“Why do you think I am telling you this?” Lawton asked, with a touch of impatience, and Regis
wondered if indeed the man had read his thoughts. “We
have
to find Kadarin! We could arrest Beltran and call him in for questioning. I have the authority to fill your whole damned city with Terran Intelligence and Spaceforce so that Kadarin would have as much chance as a lighted match on a
glacier!” He sounded angry. “I need some cooperation or I’ll have to do
exactly
that; one of my jobs is to see that Thendara doesn’t go the way of Caer Donn!”
“The agreement whereby you respect the local government—”
“But if the local government is harboring a dangerous criminal, I’ll have to override your precious Council! Don’t you understand?
This is an Empire planet
! We’ve given you a lot of leeway; it’s Empire policy to let local governments have their head, as long as they don’t damage interplanetary matters.
But among other things, I am responsible for the safety of the Spaceport!”
Regis said angrily, “Are you accusing us of harboring Kadarin? We have a price on his life too.”
“You have been remarkably ineffective in finding him,” Lawton said. “I’m under pressure too, Regis; I’m trying to hold out against my superiors, who can’t imagine why I’m humoring your Council this way with Kadarin at large, and—” he hesitated, “Sharra.”
So you too know what Sharra’s flames can do
—
Lawton sounded angry. “I’m doing my best, Lord Regis, but my back’s to the wall. I’m under just as much pressure as you are. If you want us to stay on our side of the wall, find us Kadarin, and turn him over to us, and we’ll hold off. Otherwise—I won’t have a choice. If I refuse to handle it, they’ll simply transfer me out, and someone else will do it—someone without half the stake I have in keeping this world peaceful.” He drew a long breath. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to imply that any of this was your fault, or even that you could do anything about it. But if you have any influence with anyone in the Council, you’d better tell them about it. I’ll send someone to show you the way to Captain Scott’s quarters.”
Rafe’s voice said a careless “Come in,” as Regis knocked; as he entered, Rafe started up from his chair.
“Regis!” Then he broke off. “Forgive me. Lord Hastur—”
“Regis will do, Rafe,” Regis said. After all, they had been boys together. “And forget that formal little speech about why am I honoring your house.” A grin flickered on Rafe’s face, and he gestured Regis to a seat. Regis took it, looking about him curiously; in his many visits to the Terran Zone he had never before been inside a private dwelling, but only in public places. To him the furniture seemed coarse, ill-made and badly arranged, comfortless. Of course, these were the bachelor quarters of an unmarried man, without servants or much that was permanent.