Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
this pain to reach him completely.
Only a little. In between crying my eyes out and talking to my father about how much I
hate it at Arilinn now that you are gone.
Really?
Mikhail felt heartened.
Yes, of course. I mean, you know I never wanted to come to a Tower to begin with, and
only did it because I had no other choices. And I didn't want to come to Arilinn either
—
the only thing that made it acceptable was that you were here training too. And, of
course, Dio is here. Since you left, things have become much more uncomfortable for
me
—
the others, you know
—
and if it were not for Liriel
... no
matter.
Are they plaguing you again? Damn them.
Some. But I told the Old Man everything, and I think he is going to try and persuade
Uncle Jeff that it is time I go up to Neskaya and study with Istvana. It would be easier
to travel now than later in the year, and, truthfully
I
think if I don't get away from
Arilinn soon, I am going to go quietly mad. Or maybe noisily!
That would be tragic.
•
Well, it wouldn't be a very long trip
—
going crazy, I mean. Getting to Neskaya will be,
but maybe I can hire Rafaella to come with me. I would love to see her again. I miss
her so much. Are you sure nothing is wrong? You seem so foggy.
I am only tired, my love. And missing you.
Well, go to sleep, then. I am glad to hear your voice,
however distantly, but if you are herding small children, you will need your strength.
Indeed, I will. They are none of them that small, Marguer-ida. The youngest of the
children is twelve, I believe. Valenta. A very pretty little girl, though it is her sister,
Miralys who is going to be the beauty.
Are you trying to make me jealous?
No. Are you?
Just a little. But not of a child! I was never jealous before, that I can remember, so I
can't be sure. I know you have resisted the charms of an entire panting generation of
comely lasses, Mik, but I still worry. I mean, it would solve so many problems if you
married one of the Elhalyn daughters, even though you are almost old enough to be. . .
.
Precisely. I am just old enough to have fathered them, which makes any alliance
scandalous. Though, frankly, the idea of bedding Priscilla Elhalyn is repugnant.
Good!
Wicked woman!
How old is she?
Priscilla? About thirty-eight, though she looks older.
A hag! I am delighted to hear it!
Not quite that, but she seemed to be working toward hag-dom. Marguerida
—
you are
the only woman in the world for me!
Oh, Mik. I love you so much, and I miss you. If I were not so sad about little Domenic,
I would be dancing around the room with joy.
I will tell you something that came into my mind today
—
the names of our children. I
have never, in my entire life, considered that.
Me either. What names did you pick?
I decided there were enough Gabriels and Rafaels in the family, but I thought Lewis
would be a good name for a son, and perhaps Yllana for a daughter.
I would never have thought of Yllana, but she was my grandmother. Wouldn't that
choice make Aunt Javanne furious.
My thought exactly!
I think, though, that I would wish to name my first daughter Diotima.
Why didn't I think of that?
He knew that the reason he
did not think of that name was because he could not bear the thought of Marguerida's
mother not being alive.
It doesn't matter. But it was a nice thing to think
—
Mik, would you mind terribly, if we
have a son, if we called him Domenic?
Mikhail was then swept with a powerful sense
of sorrow and Tightness, at the same time. And he had a feeling that perhaps
that
Domenic, if he ever came into the world, would live long enough to fulfill a real
destiny, instead of dying young, or being murdered, as had Domenic Lanart-Alton,
after whom the Alars had named their son. Third time was a charm, they said. And he
chided himself a little for being superstitious and silly with exhaustion.
No, Marguerida. I think that would be wonderful!
I'm glad. I was afraid you would not like the idea.
Actually, it is perfect, and fitting. You seem to have some instinct for choosing well, my
dearest.
You only say that because I picked you to love!
He had a sense of her easy laughter.
You are falling asleep on me! Go to bed! Good night, my Mikhail, my beloved! Sleep
well.
Good night, Marguerida. Peace to you.
5
Two days later, Margaret and Lew Alton set out from Arilinn. The morning was
overcast and there was a chill in the air that had not been there before. Dorilys was
unusually frisky, -as if the brisk autumn breeze excited her. Lew was astride a big
black with a white star on his brow, an older horse which seemed to find the mare's
antics annoying, since he kept snorting at her.
Margaret was glad to shake the dust of Arilinn from her skirts, although parting from
Liriel had been sad. She did not know when she would see her cousin again—certainly
not for months—and she found she was going to miss her a great deal. But that was her
only regret, and if she never set eyes on
Mestra
MacRoss again, or some of the others
at the Tower, she would tie content.
Domenic's death had disturbed her more than she could have anticipated. She had
somehow managed to avoid Ariel before her departure, even though she wanted to
offer her heartfelt condolences. Liriel, coping with the main brunt of Ariel's grief, had
assured her it would create more anguish for her sister to see Margaret. While she
packed her things, she wept, her emotions veering wildly from anger to sorrow. How,
she wondered, did anyone take the risk of having children, when such terrible things
could happen to them? It was not a question which had occurred to her previously, and
it perturbed her until she realized that what she was really wondering was whether she
could ever take such a risk herself.
For all her talk with Mikhail about naming a yet unborn child Domenic, the entire
notion of bearing children frightened her. Not just the idea of becoming pregnant, but
the consummation, the sheer physicality that must precede it, almost revolted her. She
knew that while she was now free
of the overshadowing that Ashara Alton had placed on her while she was a child, she
still shrank from the thought of sex. It terrified her, even when she imagined Mikhail
as her partner. She could mentally get to the undressing part, but after that Margaret
found that she got chilly all over, and her throat closed up, so she could barely breathe.
She had never even kissed a man until she pressed her lips to Mikhail's, with the entire
city of Thendara laid out beneath them. It had been wonderful and terrifying. Maybe it
was for the best that
Dom
Gabriel and Lady Javanne were so utterly opposed to any
marriage between them, since she suspected that she would balk at the last minute. Her
entire adult knowledge of that came from what she had seen in vid-drams, and it did
not look very appealing. It was so
physical!
Damn Ashara for leaving her crippled like
this! That thought was so silly that she chuckled, and the sound caused Dorilys to prick
her ears and neigh in comment.
I
have lived too much in my mind, I suppose, and not enough in my body. If only the
cure for it were not so . . . animalistic. And awkward! I don't know how anyone
manages it, but it seems they must, or else the species would have died out long ago. I
wish I could ask someone
—
but Liriel is as virginal as I am. It is something I might
have been able to talk to Dio about. . . but. . . and I would die before I asked Father.
Both of us would be
very,
embarrassed. Maybe Lady Linnea . . . no, I couldn't! Or
even
—
God help me
—
Javanne!
Still, the farther they got from the huge complex of matrix screens, the more relaxed
she felt. It was as if some great pressure in her skull had gone away. Now, if she could
just get her heart to behave, could cease longing for Mik and being repelled by the idea
at the same time, perhaps she could feel peaceful as well as relaxed.
After so many years of keeping herself apart from other people, of living a life of
music without any real friends except Ivor and Ida Davidson, she found that she
genuinely enjoyed the increasing intimacy she had with Liriel. It was a shame she had
made no other friends at Arilinn, unless she counted Haydn Lindir, the archivist. He
reminded her a little of Ivor—a pleasant, fussy old scholar with a vast
store of knowledge. And, likely, Neskaya would be different, but not any better.
Margaret was looking forward to returning to Thendara for a few days. She wanted to
visit Master Everard in Music Street, and see Aaron and Manuella MacEwan in
Thread-needle Street. She wanted -to see the headstone she had ordered for Ivor's
grave, which was now finished and put into place. She missed her late mentor very
much, and the death of Domenic Alar had opened a wound she thought had been
healed. Margaret could remember seeing the dead when she was just a child, at the end
of the Sharra Rebellion, but she had been-so young, and she had not grieved for those
people. This was different, it was personal, and she had no recent experience to prepare
her for the swings of mood and the deep emotions that battered her.
Margaret was going to need some warmer clothing, for Neskaya was miles farther
north, on the knees of the mountains. It was not, she had been informed, as cold as
Nevarsin, the City of Snows, where the
cristoforos
had their monastery, but was likely
very cold for her taste. She must remember to visit the glover as well. She tried not to
think about the Tower at Neskaya, though, because she was afraid she would encounter
the same silent resentment she had met at Arilinn. Someday she would know enough to
never have to enter a Tower again, but not yet. She was still too raw, too dangerous, to
be out on her own. She knew she could leave Darkover, that no one could restrain her;
she also knew this was not the proper course to follow, much as she might long to.
Margaret forced herself to stop chasing her .demons. She wanted to look on the bright
side, and so she began to think of Rafaella n'ha Liriel, her friend and former guide. She
hoped the Renunciate would be in Thendara, and not off guiding traders or doing other
business. Rafaella had been her first real friend on Darkover, and she treasured the
woman. Besides, she was curious about how the budding romance between the guide
and Margaret's uncle, Rafe Scott, was faring. She had sniffed it out while the two
women had been in the Kilghards, and thought it amusing that if Rafaella chose to
make Captain Scott her freemate, she would then, if in name only, be Margaret's aunt.
This
was a relationship she rather fancied, unlike the blood kinship she had with Javanne
Hastur, Mikhail's mother.
Fortunately, she and Lew had managed to escape Arilinn before Javanne arrived. She
was coming to take her grandson's body for burial. They might meet upon the road, but
Margaret hoped that they would not, for while Javanne was much too proud and
dignified to say anything, just being around her made Margaret feel stuck full of pins.
It would have been more proper to remain at Arilinn, to have accompanied the coffin
back, but once Jeff Kerwin had been persuaded that she would be better served by
studying with Istvana Ridenow, Margaret was too afraid he'd change his mind to
chance staying longer.
There had been some opposition to the idea of her leaving Arilinn after only a few
months. It was still the most important Tower on Darkover, at least in reputation, and
there was a degree of pride in being there. Those who had lived and worked at Arilinn
for most of their adult lives regarded the other Towers as provincial, lacking in tone
and character. And Istvana had, Margaret had discovered, a certain reputation for
innovation that the older folk, like
Mestra
Camilla MacRoss, looked at askance. There
was, it seemed, some small rivalry between the two Towers. To leave Arilinn after such
a brief time smacked of subtle insult, and voices had been raised. She had not been
privy to these discussions, but Lew had, and he had favored her with a rather biting
commentary on the entire scene.
She felt torn, as usual. Margaret wanted to avoid Javanne more than anything, but she
felt like a coward because of it. Things had been so much less complicated before she