Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
at myself a bit last summer, and I never had the chance to tell you that I was glad of it."
His weathered cheeks reddened. Then he straightened a bit, drew up his broad
shoulders, and went on. "I am a better man- for you calling me a damn fool,
Marguerida, and I think I am man enough to confess it."
Margaret exchanged a glance with Rafael, quite startled by this admission. The middle
brother winked at her. "He is quite reformed, Marguerida, and even listens before he
speaks these days. He is more like an angel everyday."
"I would not go that far," Gabe blustered.
Margaret stepped between her two cousins, touched both their arms lightly, and smiled
from one to the other. "I think it is wonderful, whatever made you better behaved,
Gabe. I am happy for you, and happier still that we can be friends."
"Look at Gisela Aldaran looking daggers at the Old Man," Gabe said. "Pretty woman,
though nothing beside you, cousin."
"Got a bit of an overbite," Rafael offered.
"Set her cap for Mikhail, has she?"
"That does seem to be the way things stand." Margaret was amused by Gabe's clumsy
remarks. And she was too tired now to contain any strong emotions. Her earlier anger
had turned to ashes, and all she wanted to do was get through the meal and go to bed.
"She won't do at all. Father would never allow it, nor would the Council. Besides, we
all know how the wind lies, don't we? Not to put you to blush, cousin. I know Mikhail,
and once he sets his mind to something, he never wavers."
"She looks a bit like you, doesn't she?" Rafael asked the question and gave his brother
a look, as if to tell him to change the subject.
"I suppose she does. In fact, when I saw her coming down the stairs earlier today, I
thought for a second that I was seeing myself in a mirror. But her hair is a bit darker
than mine, don't you think?"
Rafael gave her a nod, along with a thoughtful glance. "Yes. How was your journey to
Thendara?"
"Quite uneventful, which is exactly how I like it! When we arrived, I saw some players
that piqued my curiosity, and I am hoping to find out more about them while I am in
the city. I am expecting a guest to arrive on the next ship, so when I go to fetch her, I
think I will stop in that marketplace and take a look."
"You mean the Travelers? They came to Armida towards the end of summer, and
performed a play, a magic show, and some acrobatics." Gabe smiled in memory. "It
was quite a good thing, though the play was—nothing for the ladies! But the dancers
were good."
"I think we are going to sit down to supper now. Let us hope we can get through the
meal without Father and
Dom
Damon trying to stab one another with the butter
knives," Rafael said. "Come on, Gabe. Let's get Marguerida seated and show some
Alton family solidarity."
Margaret took a deep breath, steeled herself for the ordeal to come, and prayed to
every god she knew of that the meal would pass quickly and without incident. Then
she let the two brothers escort her, seating her beside her father on one side, and Gabe
Alton on the other. He was not the dinner companion she would have chosen, for his
mind was not very flexible, but he was safe. With all the cross-currents in the room,
sitting between her cousin and her father seemed wonderful.
She sensed Mikhail looking at her across the table, where
he was sitting between the two Elhalyn girls. He gave her a cheerful look.
I love you, Marguerida!
And I you
—
but if you make me blush, I will box your ears!
What sweet words!
He laughed, and the girls looked up at him, puzzled. Then Valenta glanced at Margaret,
got a very amused look on her face, and joined in his laughter, as if he said something
amusing. The moment passed, without anyone else being the wiser, and dinner was
served.
20
Margaret set off the following morning wearing her warmest Darkovan clothing, but
carrying her Terran documents in her pouch. She had considered for a few minutes
getting back into her now hated Scholar's uniform to greet Ida Davidson when she
arrived, but it was just too vile an idea. The thought of the cold synthetic against her
skin and the smell of it in her nostrils was repellent. All the years she had been so
proud to wear it seemed like a dream now, and she was determined never to put the
thing on again. She was tired from the journey, and the dinner the previous evening
had seemed interminable. She had a headache-two of them actually. The first was from
drinking a bit too much wine, but the second was a kind of shadow headache, caused
by the presence of all the tensions at the table. After the quiet and harmony of
Neskaya, Comyn Castle seemed noisy, both verbally and mentally.
She had been extremely glad to have Gabe Lanart-Alton as her primary dinner
companion. His
laran
was minimal, -and his interests commonplace. He assumed that
since Margaret was the Alton heiress, she would wish to know everything that had
happened since she had been at Armida. Margaret found herself interested, and amazed
by the amount of work it took to maintain the place. Her respect for her cousin, and for
her Uncle Gabriel increased appreciably, and she knew that either of them would have
been surprised by it. He charitably forgive her vast ignorance of land management, and
his dogged recitation formed a barrier between Margaret and the furies simmering
along the board.
Margaret walked through the stable court toward the barracks where the Guardsmen
lived. She reached the barricade that fronted the barracks, and a grizzled man in the
green uniform of the City Guards saluted her smartly as she approached. He had black
leather belts crossing his chest, and wore a sword on one hip. "May I help you,
domna?"
"Yes, you can. I was wondering if Remy was on duty. I am going to the spaceport, and
I would like an escort." She had gotten more used to not going everywhere by herself,
though she was sure she would never be entirely accustomed to it.
"To be sure,
domna.
But Remy is not here. There was some trouble in the Horse
Market and he went with the company to see to it. But I will find someone. Please,
wait a moment."
He left her, and Margaret spent the time looking at the carvings on the entrance, and
admiring the arrows and swords which adorned the white stone. Then the gatekeeper
came back with a young man wearing a long cloak.
"This is Daryll MacGrath, Domna."
"Daryll? Are you one of the men who went with Mikhail to Halyn House?"
"I am, Lady." He gave her a bow, but his eyes were twinkling when he stood upright.
"I am Marguerida Alton."
He gave her a broad grin. "I thought you might be." Then he gestured, waving her
ahead. "Where are we going,
domna?"
"The spaceport. I am meeting a friend."
They left the barracks and started through the streets. A light snow had fallen, and there
was a bitter wind that blew down the narrow ways between the buildings. Margaret
decided her curiosity about the Travelers would have to wait for a better day. She was
not sure of the exact arrival time of the ship, and she would rather wait there than be
late.
The morning had advanced considerably by the time they came into the square where
the John Reade Orphanage stood. She glanced briefly at the gray facade of the
building, remembering the anguish of being abandoned in that austere place, and let it
go. She never had to set foot in there again, and she tried not to think about other
children, the offspring of Terran men and Darkovan women, who were still confined
within its walls. They were fed and clothed and, she knew, turned into good Terrans,
unless things had
improved in twenty some odd years. She wondered briefly if it was still forbidden to
speak Darkovan there, or if a more enlightened administration had changed that rule.
In a hundred strides, the bleak building was behind them, and she felt herself relax.
Margaret had not even realized she was tense until the feeling was gone. A knot of
anger lay in her belly, and a deep sense of loneliness rose in her throat when she saw
the place.
Will I ever be really free of my childhood? Is anyone?
When they approached the wall which separated the entrance to the port from the rest
of Thendara, a number of Terran guards in their black uniforms came to attention,
looking at them rather suspiciously. One came forward and blocked the way, scowling.
In a loud voice, he told her to halt.
Margaret was surprised, and she looked at the man as she dug her documents out of her
beltpouch. He seemed tense, as if expecting trouble. It puzzled her until she realized
that dressed as she was, he had assumed she was a native.
Margaret held out her various documents, and the man ignored them completely. "State
your business," he demanded in halting Trade-speech, his voice raised.
"I am meeting someone on the ship from Coronis." Margaret answered in Terran, and
had the deep satisfaction of seeing the man's eyes dilate, and his mouth sag a little.
Then he recovered himself, looked her up and down, and shook his head. "No one is
allowed in the spaceport without papers."
"I have papers, you dolt!"
"And just where did you steal them," he sneered.
"Steal? Of all the . . . what's your name?" She could feel herself start to get angry, and
was disgusted at how much she wanted to vent all her tangled feelings on this total
stranger. Margaret decided she was more out of sorts from the previous night than she
had imagined, and reined herself in sharply.
"My name?"
"Yes, your name. I want to be sure I have it right, so I can tell my uncle, Captain Rafe
Scott, precisely who it was who behaved like a ruffian. I believe the term is being 'put
on report,' isn't it? Then it goes in your record forever,
does it not?" Margaret knew very well how Terran bureaucracy worked, and that once
something was in a file, it was nearly impossible to remove it, even if it was erroneous.
Another black-garbed man came hurrying forward. "What seems to be the problem?"
"This person seems bent on denying me entry to the spaceport, although my papers are
in order, and I am meeting someone on the ship that I believe is landing even as we
stand here, freezing our feet." There was a blazing light in the sky, and the sonic boom
of a ship entering the atmosphere.
"Let me see," the second man said, holding out his hand. He scanned the documents
quickly. "These seem fine." He held them out, and Margaret took them, and put them
away.
"But, sir, she's a ... a native!" the first man protested, his face white with rage. "We
have our orders ..."
"You have a lot to learn about Cottman Four, Ritter."
"How do you know she didn't steal them?"
"Be quiet, Ritter! You must excuse him, Miss Alton. He's only been here a week, and
he doesn't know much."
"Of course, Lieutenant." She knew what the emblems on his tunic meant. "But I don't
understand. Last summer there wasn't this sort of fuss." Margaret looked at the second
man, and instead of meeting her eyes, he looked down at the stones beneath his feet.
"No, there wasn't, Miss. But some bigwigs think that . . . well, there was some
sabotage in the spaceport on Ephebe Three a few weeks ago, and everyone has been
put on alert."
Margaret gaped at him, shocked. She hardly believed him, since such events were rare.
Then she forced herself to laugh casually. "I never thought to be mistaken for a
saboteur, Lieutenant."
"Laugh if you like, but it is serious."
"I am sure it is, but I cannot help finding the entire situation amusing." Margaret
savored the humor in the situation, and felt her earlier anger begin to dissipate. "Now
—may I go? The ship will be down in a minute."
"Yes, you can. But your man here will have to wait. We can't let him into the port.
Orders, you understand."
"I understand that the Federation is jumping at shad-
ows." She turned. "Daryll, wait here for me, and I will be back soon," she told her
Guardsman in
casta.
"Domna?"
"It is all right. No harm will come to me in the spaceport, and the faster we get this
done with, the sooner you can be back in your warm barracks!"
"Yes,
domna.
But, you watch yourself. You know how the Terranan are." His voice was
dark with suspicion, as if he expected someone to harm her.
Margaret sighed. "I do, Daryll, indeed, I do."
She crossed beneath the arch which separated the city from the port, walked through
two more checkpoints without incident, and then entered the building. Margaret went
through several corridors, hating the dry heat of the air, and the stale smell of it, and
finally reached the customs area. There was a long line on. the other side of the barrier,
and she stood on her tiptoes, hoping to spot Ida in the crowd.
And then, there she was, her slender body almost hidden behind a heavyworlder