Zandru's Forge (44 page)

Felicia wrapped herself in a warm robe and sparked the embers in the fireplace to life. They sat cross-legged on the square of hearth carpet, knees touching, and ate in companionable silence. They had remained in light rapport, each responsive to the other’s shifting emotions. Echoes of their deeper connection remained.

And, Varzil thought as he reached out to stroke her cheek, would always remain. He felt the impulse to make a pledge of some kind, a statement of the bond between them.

You have already given me something of infinitely more value than words,
she thought.

He understood. Without his belief in her, she would have faded into obscurity. Now she had a chance to become the first woman Keeper in recorded history. He had no doubt that she would.

Quicksilver, her mood sobered. He often forgot how small she was, silk and steel. She shivered and her eyes lost their focus, as if she looked upon some private desolation. Her mind turned opaque, barriered.

Another touch of apprehension?
Was it the natural anxiety of embarking upon such a mission, a glimpse into a dire future, or sadness at their parting? Respecting her silence, Varzil made no attempt to reach past her
laran
shields.

“It is not lily days which shape our souls,” she said, as much to herself as to him, “but the frozen winter nights, when we find ourselves in the pit of Zandru’s Forge and there discover who we truly are.”

“I would not have you walk such a path, beloved,” he said, touching her cheek.

“Nor I, you. But the world goes as it will, not as you or I would have it.”

Felicia went to the free-standing cupboard that held her personal belongings. She took out a wooden box, its fine carvings smoothed with age, and set it on the carpet between them. From a wrapping of white silk, she drew out a ring, a curve of silver set with a faceted stone.

At first, Varzil thought it a starstone by its brilliance, the way it sparkled with inner light. But the color was white, not blue. She held it out and he looked into it. No, not a starstone. When he touched it with his mind, it hummed, clearly sensitive to his
laran.
He probed deeper into the crystalline structure. No single person had keyed into the stone, yet it bore the imprint of layers of personalities, just as the stones at the
rhu fead
had been worn away by generations of
Comyn.

“Where did this come from?” Varzil asked. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It belonged to my great-uncle, I think, although my mother never said for sure. She gave it to me with a whole boxful of trinkets, everything from a huge Temora pearl to a string of beads of atrociously badly carved
chervine
horn. She had only a little
laran
and was never trained in its use. I suppose that to her, it was nothing more than a pretty crystal.”

“It’s not a matrix. More like second cousin to one.”

“Yes, that’s what I thought.”

She took the ring back again and cupped it in her hand. Eyes closed, she focused her mind upon it. When she handed it back to Varzil, it sang with her presence. “That’s to remember me by.”

He tried the ring on several fingers before settling on one. The ring had probably been made for a woman, but his hands had always been small. It no longer looked ostentatious, even for his modest tastes.

Soon they would follow their separate destinies, she to Hestral, he remaining here at Arilinn, and Carolin soon to be King at Hali. If they succeeded, they would change the world. What would Darkover be like, with women Keepers and a pact of honor between kings, without the terrible
laran
weapons and constant welfare? He could not picture it clearly, and perhaps that was just as well. For the moment, with Felicia by his side, he was content.

Half a continent away, in Hali Tower, Eduin looked up from the archives as Dyannis entered. She had welcomed him to Hali, at first joyfully, then with growing puzzlement at his refusal to reciprocate. His post here as archivist was temporary. Once he’d found what he was looking for, he would have no reason to linger. He could not afford any entanglements.

Eduin had thought to make another attempt at Carolin, now that the interfering Varzil Ridenow was out of the way. But Carolin was not at Hali; he’d taken his sons to study at Nevarsin, among the monks. Eduin’s efforts to seek an audience with his cousins, Rakhal and Lyondri, had been soundly rebuffed, and the old king was dying anyway, not worth the risk. His turn with Carolin would come again, of that he was sure.

There was work enough at Hali, particularly in the archives. He was not particularly interested in history, but access to the library offered the only hope of tracking down the daughter of Taniquel Hastur-Acosta.

At the approach of Dyannis, he set aside the scroll he had been indexing. She wore an ordinary gown, a pale soft green to set off her eyes and her tartan of Ridenow colors. Her perfume, subtly spicy, caressed him.

The years of study and mastery here at Hali had given her a poise beyond her years. Yet some core of her remained untamed. Once he had relished that rebellious, impertinent manner, but now he pulled away. She was unpredictable, answerable only to herself, and therefore dangerous.

“You’ve been cooped up here for the better part of a tenday,” she said, but without any hint of a pout. “I’ve hardly seen you since your arrival.”

He gestured to the pile of scrolls, some of them in such fragile condition that they would not survive more than another winter or two. “The work—”

“Has lain here for longer than anyone knows and is not about to sprout legs and go anywhere. But you must please yourself.” She pulled up a stool so that, short of unspeakable rudeness, he had no choice but to sit with her. “What have you been excavating?”

“Genealogy records.”

“Oh. Whose?”

“Obscure branches of the Hasturs. There are still traces of the breeding programs from the Ages of Chaos, including some lethal recessives. We need to know who carries them today, if only to prevent their reemergence.”

“Bless Aldones, we don’t do that any longer,” she said. “I think we are living in a great age of progress. You should hear my brother talk, he’s so full of new ideas. An end to
laran
warfare, new ways of treating disease, even training commoners who have talent—and, would you believe?—someday we may accept women as Keepers!”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“No, it’s true. Do you remember the rumor about Arilinn last autumn—Felicia, it was—she’s a technician, but when Auster had his first stroke, she took over as Keeper. They say she saved the whole circle from a
clingfire
explosion.”

Eduin shrugged, feeling only the icy chill in the pit of his stomach. He had done his best to forget the incident. Arilinn had refused to promote him to under-Keeper, when he clearly merited it. Instead, the head-blind fools had chosen that sandal-wearer, Varzil, and now perhaps a woman! The insult still rankled him. He had not felt sorrow at Auster’s death.

By her expression, Dyannis expected a response, some show of interest. “Yes, I remember hearing something like that,” he said. “I pay such gossip little heed. People who have nothing better to do are always spreading fantastical tales.”

“Well!” She clapped her hands together like a child. “This is a whole lot more than idle talk. Felicia is actually going to be trained as an under-Keeper at Hestral Tower.”

“Another rumor.”

“No, it’s true. Marelie was working the relays and had word directly from Hestral.”

“That’s fitting.” He snorted, barely masking his contempt. “An insignificant Tower for a nobody pretender.”

“Eduin! What’s gotten into you? Don’t you think this is exciting—for a woman to be even considered for such a post? And of course it would have to be a place like Hestral. You wouldn’t expect Arilinn or Hali to take such a chance, would you? Barak’s as hidebound as a Nest of Dry Towners. Besides, Felicia’s not exactly a nobody. She may be
nedestra,
but she’s of the royal Hastur line. She might even be in those records you’re studying.”

Something came alert inside Eduin. “What do you mean?”

“Promise you won’t tell, but she’s the daughter of the famous Queen Taniquel. I know it’s supposed to be a secret, but it’s so exciting that I just had to tell someone!”

Eduin felt the breath leave his body.
Queen Taniquel’s daughter!

“The very same,” Dyannis chattered on. “She visited Hali some time back, along with my brother. I think he’s a bit smitten with her, if you ask me—he could barely think about anything else. He wasn’t indiscreet in his thoughts, and I’m sure he believed himself shielded, but after all, I
am
his sister ...”

Queen Taniquel’s daughter!
Exultation flared within him. Quickly, he clamped down on his emotions, lest they arouse the insatiable curiosity of Dyannis.

“You’re right,” someone said with his voice, “this is an exciting development. That is, if it’s true. It may all come to nothing. No matter how carefully we choose our under-Keepers, many cannot withstand the training. And then there are losses from marriage and family affairs and the normal course of life.”

“I am sorry,” Dyannis said, her voice shifting to gentleness. “That was tactless of me, to bring up your own disappointment. Yet take heart. You may yet find your place, where your talents will be appreciated and cultivated.”

He let her talk on for a little while, making comments when he was expected to. Then he excused himself and made arrangements to work on the relays that night.

Eduin finished the work assigned to him and waited for a pause in the incoming messages. It came early in the evening, because there was little news. He was alone in the circular room. The other worker had retired after a period of silence on the relays. In an offhanded way, he’d offered to stay on alone.

Bending over the glowing blue screen, he reached out his mind to his counterpart at Hestral Tower.

Eduin, came a mental voice, vaguely familiar. It was Serena, a sound enough
leronis
if a bit of a gossip on the relays.
We heard you had left Arilinn. Whatever are you doing at Hali?

Not much. Biding my time. Combing musty old records.
His mouth twisted into a dark smile at her responsive giggle. Then, with all the finesse he could muster, he pitched his mental voice for just the right degree of causalness and impact.

Might there be a place at Hestral for another matrix technician ?

The next spring, Varzil was formally presented as Keeper of Arilinn Tower to the
Comyn
Council. The assembly rose as he entered the very same chamber where, so many years ago, he had stood before them, awaiting their approval. He recognized many of the same faces, although they were more weather-worn and gray-haired. Some of the elderly were absent, replaced by younger men. His brother Harald now occupied the space for Ridenow of Sweetwater, among their more illustrious relatives. In an idle moment, he wished Carolin had been able to attend, but he was at Nevarsin and Rakhal had come instead.

Varzil concentrated on the assembly before him. In a sense, he no longer needed these men; he was a Keeper, above the censure of ordinary people. Yet, to do what he meant to do, to follow through with his dream of a pact of honor, he must have their support and cooperation. Some had already formed their opinions, both good and bad, while others were willing to wait and listen. A few despised him for what they saw as weakness, as a traitor to his caste with his talk of training women and commoners, his willingness to experiment. There was little he could do to persuade them otherwise. Instead, he owed his loyalty to those who saw him as a harbinger of positive change, a way through the darkness of chaos.