Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
she decided the comment was meant ironically.
Istvana took Margaret's arm in a firm but gentle hold, and drew her away from Caitlin,
much to her regret. Then she was introduced in rapid fashion to Baird Beltran, a man
about Istvana's age, Moira di Asturien, a pretty woman about thirty, Hedwig Hart, the
woman with the wonderful golden hair, and finally to Merita Rannir, who peered at her
nearsightedly. Each welcomed her in a friendly fashion, and she could sense the
general air of acceptance, so differ-
ent from her entrance into Arilinn. Her unease lessened as she sipped the wine and
answered questions, so that by* the time they left the comfortable common room and
moved into a dining chamber which lay a few paces away, she was almost relaxed.
There was a long table, covered with a white cloth, with chairs along the sides, and one
at the end, clearly for Ist-vana. It was set with the pretty blue-and-white china which
Margaret knew came from the kilns of Manila Aillard, the mother of Dyan Ardais, and
clear glass goblets from the Dry Towns. There were platters of roasted fowl and
cooked meats, bowls of vegetables and grains, and others full of preserved fruits.
Everyone took a chair, and Istvana indicated to Margaret that she should sit at her
right. Jose Reyes took the chair beside Margaret and reached with a graceful hand for a
bowl of roots that looked like mashed potatoes. Before he could grasp it, Caitlin, who
was sitting on his other side, slapped his hand playfully.
"None of that! He is quite greedy about that dish, and if he serves himself first, there
will be none left for the rest of us," she informed Margaret, leaning forward to peer
around Jose.
"And who gorges on the featherberry pie whenever she gets the chance?" Jose did not
appear in the least deflated by Caitlin's words, and Margaret could not help but contrast
this meal with those she had endured at Arilinn, when she could bring herself to eat
with the others within the Tower.
There was a fairly strict hierarchy at Arilinn, a kind of formality that seemed utterly
absent here. Meals were taken separately, and while she had remained in the Tower
itself, she had always eaten with the youngest people. The technicians took their meals
at one hour, and the mechanics at another. Mikhail had been placed with the monitors,
which pleased him not at all. She had been deeply grateful that her sensitivity to matrix
screens was so great that she could not endure to continue living there, and after she
had moved into her little house, she had eaten most of her meals there.
Neskaya was another situation entirely. Food was passed, jokes were made, and
everyone ate as if it might be their
last meal for some time to come. They were a boisterous bunch, except Merita, who
ate in silence, a little remote from the rest. More than that, they seemed to be a curious
group of people, not just Caitlin, but Jose, Baird, and Hedwig all wanting to know
about everything from the Big Ships to the size of the harvest in the south. It was as if,
Margaret thought, this was a different Darkover from the one she had entered a few
months before.
The meal was finished at last, and she was longing for her bed. Most of the company
left, to begin their nightly labors at the screens above, but Caitlin remained at the table.
"So, how do you like us thus far?"
"Very much. I was expecting to sit with the other students—except there is only
Bernice Storn, it seems. Unless there are others I have not met yet."
"There are a few, either upstairs minding the relays or sleeping. Conal is abed with the
fever—he's a technician, too. You will meet everyone eventually. But we are a small
Tower compared to Arilinn, a circle plus eight or nine more. And we all know how
Arilinn is, so we wanted to make you feel as welcome as we could. Is Camilla
MacRoss still looking down her nose at everyone?"
Margaret laughed. "She is, I'm afraid. The rest of the students seemed almost
frightened of her, and I suppose it would have been tactful if I had pretended to be as
well. But I know her sort—the university was rife with such."
"What do you mean—her sort? Here, have a little more wine."
"I don't know if I should, Caitlin. I don't want to be put to bed with my boots on my
first night here. Oh, well, just a little won't hurt." Margaret was relaxed for the first
time in months, feeling that here she was almost safe, that she would not be criticized
or made to think she was doing something wrong. She sipped at her glass.- "There are
people, I think, who find something they can do ... um, say juggle. And they learn to
juggle quite well, perhaps even become champion jugglers. And then, for no reason I
can understand, they stop learning, and pretend that juggling makes them superior to
everyone, and particularly to aero-, bats and wire walkers and equestrians and animal
tamers." Listening to herself, she wondered if the wine was a good idea. She was as
close to drunk as she ever became. But it
was so nice to be able to talk without fear of censure that she could only hope she was
not making a fool of herself.
Caitlin nodded. " 'That dog only knows one trick,' we say in the mountains. That is
Camilla, for certain."
"Are you from the mountains, then?"
"Yes, from the foothills of the Hellers. My family has been there for centuries,
grubbing out a living with the sheep and goats and a few crops. I was glad to leave
home, though I miss them sometimes. When I arrived at Arilinn to begin training, I
thought I had fallen into Paradise. The Plain of Arilinn is very beautiful, particularly in
summer. I had two dresses, one with many patches, and one with only a few, and my
boots were almost worn through. Some of the others looked at me as if I were a spook,
because while the Leynier name is old and respected, I did not come from the branch
of the family that was wealthy. But my
laran
was enough to win me some respect, and
as soon as I could, I left Arilinn and came here."
"Why Neskaya?"
"My mother is a connection of Istvana's."
"I see. Tell me, if you will, how you came into possession of that book you mentioned?
The one your brother had?"
"You mean, why am I not semiliterate like so many other females?"
"I would not have been so blunt about it, but yes."
"The Aldarans are not as reluctant to learn new tricks as the rest of the Domains, which
is one reason they have been exiled from the Comyn Council for generations. My
father's sister married into the Aldarans, and when she was widowed, she came back to
us, and she taught me to read and write, and a great deal more. Not that we had a lot of
books, poor as we were. But I learned everything I could, being a very curious person."
"I was starting to think that everyone on Darkover was incurious, except . . ."
"Except?"
"Well, my cousin Mikhail Hastur is very interested in things that his father says are
entirely unnecessary."
"I see. Is he as handsome as they say?"
Margaret felt her cheeks redden at the question. "He is not a burden to the eyes," she
responded quietly.
Caitlin chuckled. "Tell me, why do you wear those mitts?
Is there some new fashion in Thendara, or are you cold? Istvana told us that you had
lived on a very warm world for a long time—it sounds interesting, and rather fantastic
to me. She said you lived beside an ocean for years and years." There was an
undertone of disbelief in Caitlin's voice, and a little envy as well.
"That is true, I did. Sometimes I dream about it, although it has been over ten years
since I stood on the shores of the Sea of Wines and watched the flower boats come in
at the rising of the morning star. All the folk of the outer islands, wreathed in garlands,
come paddling in, singing and chanting. The wind smells of blossoms and wine, which
is how the sea got its name, of course. They make the first catch of
ferdiwa,
the spring
fish, wrap them in kelp, and build great firepits on the shore. There is nothing like that
wonderful smell. The fish is roasted until the flesh is white and flakes from the bones.
It tastes almost sweet ... as sweet as summer peaches. And everyone eats and drinks
until they cannot budge, except the dancers, who seem to be able to keep from getting
drunk somehow."
Caitlin's eyes were bright with interest, and Margaret hoped she had forgotten about
the mitts. She was grateful to Istvana for not telling her folk about her peculiar matrix,
because it still made her squirm to think about it. "And was the sea warm enough to
swim in?"
"Oh, yes. Everyone who lives on Thetis is within easy distance of the sea, or one of the
rivers, if they live on the Big Island, and everyone swims."
"How strange. We have a sea on Darkover, but I never heard of anyone getting into it
on purpose. It is much too cold."
Margaret's thoughts went to Mikhail, living very near the Sea of Dalereuth, and
wondered if he had gone to look at it. If he had, he had made no mention of it in their
infrequent contacts. As she thought of him, a shiver of unease traced itself along her
nerves. He had been so odd the last few times—vague and preoccupied with the
"Elhellions," as he had called them a few times. "No, from what I have heard about the
Sea of Dalereuth, I don't imagine anyone swims in it voluntarily."
"But you haven't explained the mitts, Marguerida. You
don't mind me calling you that—we are cousins, after all— do you?"
"No, I do not mind. When I was small, I was called Marja, but I feel rather too grown-
up for that now. And I have become very, very weary of
domna
this and
domna
that,
particularly at Arilinn, where everyone seemed to be obsessed with their lineage. I used
to want to grind my teeth sometimes, when someone would get offended that I didn't
know their ancestors for seven generations back, as if who their grandfather was made
them . . . somehow special."
Caitlin was quiet for a moment, looking thoughtful. "I see. Do you know, until this
very moment, I never thought about how much time is spent discussing who married
whom, or the names of their children, and their histories. I take it that such matters are
not subjects of conversations to the Terranan?"
Margaret laughed, relieved that she had once more deflected Caitlin's lively mind from
the matter of her fingerless gloves. "There are worlds where asking a man who his
mother was could get you killed, Caitlin. And others where you and I could not
converse at all, because either we were of different orders of society, or because we
were not connected properly. You have no idea of the diversity. I found a bit of verse,
something that predates Terranan space travel, which makes it about four thousand
years old. Let me see. Ah, yes.
"There are nine and forty ways
Of constructing tribal lays,
And every single one of them is right.
"At least, that is how I remember it. I think what the
author meant is that each tribe thinks their way is the only
way, and that this is not true, since it leads to wars and
feuds."
,
"You must find us terribly ignorant and backward." "No, Caitlin, I don't. Infuriating,
yes. And often puzzling, because I don't understand why the Darkovans do some things
and not others. But I understand the pride of our people, and sometimes I want to take
my uncle,
Dom
Gabriel, by his broad shoulders and shake some sense into
him. He is not a stupid man, but right now he is behaving in a rather stupid way."
"You mean his taking the matter of the Alton Domain to the Cortes?"
"Yes, I do. I know that he thinks he is doing the right thing, but it is pretty hard on my
father, and none too pleasant for me. He wants me to be declared his ward."
"Uh-huh. Even up here, we have heard about that. Ist-vana says that once
Dom
Gabriel
gets an idea in his head, nothing short of a bolt from Aldones will cause him to change
his mind. This is a very unpleasant subject for you, I am sure. So tell me about the
mitts. They are quite fetching, and I have never seen anything quite like them. All
those layers of colored silk!"
Margaret was torn between confiding in this woman, and pushing away from the table
and running away to her room. After a moment, she reached for the wine carafe, tipped
a bit more into her glass, and looked at Caitlin, lifting the glass vessel and gesturing.
Caitlin nodded, and Margaret poured some wine into her glass.
"I don't know how much Istvana has told you about me, so please stop me if I repeat
what you already know. When I arrived on Darkover, I had no notion of
laran,
Gifts,
or any of the rest of it, and, frankly, I could have gone my entire life without finding
out. But, before I left Darkover, when I was about six, I was overshadowed by Ashara