Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
"I have so few opportunities," murmured the paxman.
This broke the tension, and all of them laughed. When they had stopped, Regis said,
"Now, go on with your tale— and leave nothing out."
Mikhail took a deep breath and began. He talked until his mouth felt dry, documenting
the peculiarities, and real dangers, of the prior months, and reliving the horror of the
last night at Halyn House. When he was finished, his uncle and Danilo looked at one
another, and something passed between them that he could not interpret. Regis looked
sad and tired, and did not move, appearing to be lost in thought.
Then he asked, "This Emelda creature did not arouse your suspicions?"
"Yes and no. I kept finding myself mentally confused, and would think she might be
the cause. Then I would somehow forget. It was really quite subtle, and there were
days when I walked around in a fog, but I did not know it. Liriel says I was enthralled!
What I do know is that if I had gone alone, without my Guardsmen, things would have
turned out very differently. She had limitations, and the greater the number of people
present, the less capable she was. I have never empathized with Marguerida's
overshadowing so much as I do now. It is a monstrous thing to do to anyone." He hated
to admit that the little woman had managed to bewilder him for weeks. The excellent
meal he had just eaten lay like lead in his stomach.
"And you had no clear idea of what was happening?"
"None. Part of that was my own stubborness, however. I was determined to complete
the task you had given me, even though I never wanted the Elhalyn Regency. I just
kept trudging along, like a damn fool. Marguerida commented on my general fuzziness
of mind a few times, and asked if I were ill, but she didn't manage to penetrate the fog
I was in. It was a very humbling experience." There. He had made a clean breast of it.
Why did he feel no relief? Why did he feel that he was being tested—and failing
badly?
"What was it like?"
"That is rather hard to describe. If I had a doubt-—and
I discovered I had a great many—it swelled up in my mind like a wet cask. It was as if
she had the talent to magnify all my fears into great monsters, so I tried to keep my
attention on broken windows and other physical problems instead of anything else.
Those, at least, were things I could fix."
Danilo cleared his throat, and both Regis and Mikhail looked at him. They had almost
forgotten his presence, so quiet had he been. "That must have been painful for you,
Mikhail. And it must have been very subtle, too, for you not to have been conscious of
it." There was a strain in his voice, and Mikhail knew that Danilo was remembering his
early encounters with the elder Dyan Ardais, who had coerced him with the Alton Gift
when Danilo had been in the Cadets.
"I alternated between thinking I was losing my mind, believing I was imagining the
entire thing, and feeling worthless." The tension had returned, and he wanted to break
it, but he found he dared not.
"But why didn't you contact me?" Regis sounded angry and frustrated. "I still don't
understand that!"
Mikhail looked directly at his uncle, narrowing his eyes and trying to control his anger.
"Whenever I thought about you, I became filled with . . . self-loathing. I felt that if I
asked for help, I would have failed you. It took all my strength to send for Liriel, and I
do not believe there is another person on Darkover I could have asked. Not even
Marguerida. The ill service you did me, Uncle, was not in appointing me Elhalyn
Regent and sending me out there, but in failing to know the circumstances completely.
I don't believe you had thought it all through." The bitterness in his tone was
unmistakable, and Mikhail flinched inwardly. Who was he to be telling Regis Hastur
such things? He must sound like a man trying to shift blame, when clearly it was he
who had failed.
"That is what I told him," Danilo commented, then turned and poured himself a goblet
of firewine.
Mikhail gaped at the paxman, relief seizing him. He could feel the rigidity of his
shoulders, and saw that his free hand was clenched in his lap. He made himself shrug,
forcing his muscles to relax. Perhaps things were not as bad as he imagined.
Regis frowned, then shrugged. "If I did not know you were both completely loyal to
me, I would feel as if I were nursing vipers at my breast. But I am wise enough to
realize I made a grave mistake, and grateful that it worked out as well as it did. Now
tell me more about the children." The matter was closed, and Mikhail was left feeling
more than a little frustrated. But at least he was not being lectured.
"There is not a great deal I can say. Alain, the eldest, is hopeless. Any chance he had
for recovery from the neglect of his upbringing was ruined by the effect of the
Guardian's intrusion. Vincent, too, was injured, although I do not know how badly. He
was not a wonderful person to begin "with, for his mother had filled his mind with all
sorts of nonsense, and he imagined he would be the Elhalyn king and, I think, thought
it was a more powerful position than it actually is. He was given to violence and
cruelty before the incident, and while he has become more docile since, he had some
fits on the road that frightened all of us. Poor Liriel. Trapped in a small carriage with a
large adolescent trying to tear out the windows. I never suspected he was Elhalyn of
Elhalyn, either, and I cannot imagine who his father was if Emun is correct. The whole
situation was ... impossible." It took an effort to remain focused on reporting, and he
could feel his weariness more with each passing moment.
"Yes, I know. The healers have examined both of them, and Vincent has suffered a
trauma to his brain that cannot be mended. But what of the youngest, Emun Elhalyn?"
"I don't know. It would be some years before he could assume the duties of the throne.
His
laran
is an unknown quantity, and I never did have a chance to actually test any of
the boys. He seemed to be ready to manifest it, for he showed some symptoms of
threshold sickness, but it never really began. I think that somehow either Emelda or
Priscilla prevented it, and I can only imagine what sort of damage that might have
done."
Regis looked as uncomfortable as Mikhail had ever seen him. He took a little more
wine, felt it loosen his tongue further, and wondered if he ought to go on. When he was
young, he had been so close to his uncle that Mikhail was surprised at how he felt—the
sharp criticism that hovered at the tip of his tongue. He had a second's longing for that
other time, for the innocence and trust that was their past
together. But now he was a man, not a boy, and he had changed. More, Mikhail
realized, his uncle had changed over the years as well. They were not strangers, but
they were both different people than they had been.
"Priscilla was so caught up in her plans to become immortal, she barely seemed to
know the children existed, except that she believed she had to take them with her when
she went to join the Guardian. I can only guess at the workings of her mind. As for
Emun, if he recovers from all he has gone through, being terrorized by Vincent,
manipulated by the hedge-witch, and all the rest, then it might be possible to restore
the throne. But I confess I rather doubt he will."
"Why?"
"It is a feeling, nothing more." Mikhail paused, trying to put into words the sense he
had about the youngest boy. "I think you might have to wait another generation, Uncle,
to see your plans come to fruition. And I believe your best prospect lies with the
children of Miralys or Valenta, not with Emun. Since they are Elhalyn, and have
comynara
status, any children of theirs will have the best claim to the throne."
"You understand what this means?"
They had come to the crux of the matter at last, and Mikhail did not answer
immediately. He could feel Danilo observing him with his usual care, the cool
objectivity that the paxman seemed to bring to every situation. "If you mean do I
understand that I am going to get stuck with being more than Elhalyn Regent, yes. But
I will warn, you that I am not going to take kindly to it."
"Why not? You are able, sane, and you were trained to rule." Regis was more puzzled
than angry.
"And that is the problem. Do you really think that I would be able to be a figurehead,
or answer to Dani for the next ten or twenty years? The one thing I understand at last is
that I cannot do that. Let one of my brothers do the task. It is not for me, Uncle."
"You will do as you are told."
Bredu,
you raised him to be his own man! You cannot change that
—
he is! How can
you ask of him that he bow to Dani?
Damn it! I loathe it when you are right! What a sorry mess I have made of things.
Mikhail was too caught up in his own emotions to really register what • he was
overhearing. No—not just his own feelings, but those of the other two men in the
room. He felt slightly uneasy, being a party to such an intimate moment between the
two older men. And he was surprised to find Danilo championing him. Perhaps he had
not failed after all.
"We don't have to decide anything now, do we?" Mikhail asked the question that rose
in his mind. He had an inner sense that he had to hold back events, for his own sake,
but also for Regis'. Once again, he had a sense that his uncle was moving too quickly,
for reasons that he did not understand. More, he had the strongest feeling that it was
his duty to slow events down. For the first time in his life, Mikhail felt almost wise. It
was a peculiar sensation, not entirely unpleasant, and different from anything he could
remember.
"No, you are right," Regis admitted grudgingly. "I suppose I am feeling my mortality,
feeling the pressure of time to order things . . . which is rather foolish. And I do so hate
feeling foolish!"
Danilo, in the middle of swallowing his wine, began to laugh, then to cough. Regis
rose and banged him between the shoulder blades, looking a little concerned and
perplexed at the same time. When Danilo had recovered his breath, he looked at Regis
and shook his head. "No one can escape being foolish from time to time."
Regis made a comical face. "Oh, And I did so hope to be the exception!"
This set Danilo off again, and Mikhail joined in the laughter, aware that the moment
had passed, that nothing of great importance would be decided that night. It was an
enormous relief.
He could feel the division within himself, between his loyalty to Regis, to Hastur, and
his desire to pursue his own ends. Since he was part of the power structure, he knew he
was supposed to put his own needs second to those of the Domains. That was difficult,
perhaps impossible, and he admitted it to himself.
Then he saw a troubled expression on his uncle's face. "What is it?"
Regis frowned. "I am trying to escape the feeling that if
I had paid more attention, had even thought of Priscilla and her children, none of this
might have happened. But if I had started to meddle in her affairs, then all the other
Domains would have begun to wonder if I might not try to arrange theirs. I do feel
guilty, I confess."
This was too much. The firewine had relaxed him just enough to throw caution to the
winds. "I like that! You would not meddle in Priscilla Elhalyn's affairs, but you seem
perfectly willing to do so in mine!"
Danilo looked as if he was going to lose control again. His normally pale face became
rather red, and he seemed to be having trouble with his breathing. "He is right, you
know," he finally managed to get out.
"No, I don't know. What do you mean?"
"Regis, old friend, you have been cheerfully meddling in Mikhail's life for years!"
Regis glanced toward Mikhail and quirked an eyebrow. "Have I, Mik? Come, tell me
all my sins." He sounded neither angry nor upset, only interested and intensely curious.
Mikhail did not reply immediately, but he noticed that his uncle had not admitted any
fault. He knew that Regis was unlikely to do so. Well, he had been invited to speak his
mind, and he was not going to get another opportunity soon, if he knew Regis Hastur.
But he decided to choose his words with a little care. "I am not an idiot, Uncle, and
your 'surprise' of Gisela and her father was not lost on me."
His uncle's expression became neutral, as if he were trying to conceal his chagrin at
being caught once again trying to arrange matters for his own purposes. "I thought you
would be pleased to see her—you are old friends, are you not?"
Mikhail was not surprised that Regis knew this, but he was slightly chagrined. "Yes,
we were friends. But I am not the same young man I was at twenty-one, and she is not
the woman she was either. I have put up with all the pretty girls you and Linnea have
thrown in my path since I was _ old enough to notice them, and I have been polite and