Hastur Lord

“So you would put Rinaldo in my place,” Regis said to Valdir, “thinking him easier to bend to your will.”

Rinaldo flushed visibly. Valdir said, “I would elevate him to his rightful place, completing what you yourself began by declaring him your father’s legitimate firstborn son. But there would be no point in supporting his cause if he were not also a man of vision.”

A moment passed. Regis shifted in his seat. “If you speak for the people of Thendara and you truly represent their interests, then why abduct three—two innocent men? Are these not the acts of a man who has placed himself outside law and custom? Why should I reward these crimes with my cooperation?”

“No man such as yourself, accustomed to unquestioned authority and power, surrenders his position simply because it is right,” Valdir replied. “Do you expect me to believe you are willing to have Rinaldo become Head of Hastur?”

“I think you do not know me at all, if you need to ask.”

“ DomValdir, let me speak privately with my brother.” Rinaldo’s voice betrayed his agitation. “I am sure that once he understands the necessity of such safeguards and that no harm has come to either guest, he will be agreeable.”

Valdir scowled. “This is not wise, vai dom.Your brother wears a sword and has been trained in its use, whereas you are a man of peace. Should he turn on you—”

Regis wanted to laugh, except for the bitterness welling up in his mouth. Did Valdir think him such a villain as that? A man who would murder his own kin for gain? A tendril of suspicion brushed his thoughts, and he wondered at how easily Valdir had come into power in his own Domain, how conveniently those in the line of succession had fallen, one by one. What lessons must Francisco, still young and impressionable, be learning?

Rinaldo was reassuring Valdir in such animated tones that it would have been impossible to resist without restraining the monk. Valdir agreed, although reluctantly. Within a few minutes, Gabriel, Valdir, and both sets of guards had withdrawn.

Rinaldo picked up his chair and brought it closer. “I am sorry the situation has come to this—”

“ What happened? Rinaldo, how in the name of—” he could not invoke Aldonesas he would with any other kinsman, “—the Holy Bearer of Burdens did you come to ally yourself with that man? Have you been deceiving me all along, waiting for your chance? Or has even a brief captivity softened your mind?”

“You cannot believe I plannedthis!” Rinaldo shot back with the first sign of temper during that meeting. “ Plannedto be seized, bound, hauled away like a piece of meat? Plannedto be used against the brother who has shown me nothing but kindness?”

Regis let out his breath. Rinaldo had been taken by force, like Danilo and Mikhail. That fact eased his sense of betrayal. Eased it, but did not entirely erase it.

“Does it matter?” Rinaldo moderated his tone. “However we have been thrust into this situation, we must work together now. Valdir is not an evil man, although somewhat prone to extreme measures. I will teach him better.”

“You intend to collaborate with him, then?” Regis did not know whether to feel relieved or appalled.

“I mean to use whatever St. Christopher has placed in my hands to do good. Why else would the blessed saints have brought me from St. Valentine’s and yet preserved the fire of righteousness in my breast? Look at me, brother. I could never be a military commander or a great statesman like Grandfather. I am not fitted to caper about in finery or sing ballads to ladies, although in my new position, I might soon enjoy the blessings of marriage. Valdir has spoken of an eligible young kinswoman . . . Be that as it may, I have been shaped for better things than frivolity—and what more holy purpose than to bring the teachings of St. Christopher to the larger world? Do you not see all around you the evidence of ignorance and sin? Pride, greed, deceit, lust, violence—do they not stalk the streets in human form?”

“I am glad you see the opportunity to wrest some good from the situation,” Regis said carefully. “But I fear for you and for our world. You know so little of Comyn politics, and Valdir means to influence you, to shape you to his own ends. Those ends do not bode well for Darkover.”

“Valdir is mistaken. It is I who will rule, not he. It will take time to consolidate my position. In order to do that, I must lull his vigilance while I retain his confidence.”

“It seems neither of us has any choice in the matter.”

Rinaldo’s expression turned grim. “Although it pains me to admit it, Valdir does not trust you, and nothing I have said has changed his mind. He means to reform the Comyn Council and become my chief councillor. Mikhail will be released as a token of his good will, but your paxman must remain a prisoner—”

Remain a prisoner—R egis hardly heard the end of Rinaldo’s sentence.

It took every scrap of discipline that Regis had forged over the years not to leap up and throttle the man who had uttered those words. Rinaldo was not to blame. He was merely repeating what Valdir had said.

Valdir, that snake-b rain! That scorpion-ant!

Regis gripped the carved wooden armrests so hard, his joints cracked. Valdir was wrong, damnably wrong, if he thought Regis would give in as long as Danilo still remained a prisoner.

Rinaldo leaned forward, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes were very bright, and his long scholar’s fingers hung gracelessly loose. Let us try to make the best we can of this terrible dilemma,he seemed to plead. Together, as brothers.

“I believe we have said everything we can on this subject,” Regis said. “I understand your viewpoint,” although it is clear you have no comprehension of mine,“and would speak further with DomValdir.”

Valdir was the one he had to face down, and he refused to make any agreement without getting Danilo back.

At Rinaldo’s summons, Valdir and the others returned. Gabriel sought Regis with his gaze, but Regis made no response. He needed all his concentration for Valdir.

With an expression of triumph, the Ridenow lord resumed his place. “Are you now convinced of the necessity of sensible cooperation, DomRegis?”

“I am convinced of the sincerity of my brother’s motives,” Regis replied, “but not of yours. You have stated your demands and my brother has told me your conditions—that my paxman will remain your hostage, regardless of my agreement.”

“Correct.” Valdir’s half-smile did not waver.

“Now I will state myconditions.”

Valdir blinked, for a moment looking unsure. Then his face hardened. “ Youare in no position to dictate terms to me.”

“On the contrary,” Regis riposted, “you need me. You need my public participation in this mad scheme. Not even you, DomValdir Ridenow, are arrogant enough to fake my abdication. If you simply had me killed, the rest of the Domains would rise up against you.”

By the whitening of Valdir’s pale skin, Regis saw he’d made his point. He pressed on. “You want me to cede the ruling of Hastur to my brother. Very well, if he is fool enough to want it. I will do so only when my paxman is free and back at my side.”

No one moved. No one breathed.

“You do not realize you have no say in this matter.” Valdir shifted in his chair, although his gaze remained steady.

“You have nothing to gain by holding the man,” Rinaldo pointed out.

Valdir shot Rinaldo a warning look before turning back to Regis. “How do I know you’ll keep your part of the bargain?”

“I have already said I would.”

“Ah! The fabled Word of a Hastur! I’m afraid that isn’t sufficient. There’s too much at stake. I can’t risk your changing your mind or agreeing now and then blocking me at every turn. I respect your ability to generate all kinds of trouble.”

With a wrenching effort, Regis waited to hear what further demands Valdir would make. Instead, Valdir smiled, an unctuous rictus that left his eyes cold.

“Come now, I have no animosity against your paxman. I hold him only to ensure your good behavior. But if you cross me, if you continue this obstinate defiance . . .” the pale cheeks, which had drained of all color, now turned dusky with emotion, “I will hang Danilo Syrtis and display his body from the Castle battlements as a warning to all who stand in the way of progress.”

For a heart-stopping instant, terror blurred all thought. Then icy certainty swept away all other emotion. Regis dared not deliberate, dared not feel. Dared only to act. “ DomDanilo Syrtis-Ardais is Comyn. He served in the City Guards and as Warden of Ardais. The Comyn will never stand for such an outrage against one of our own.”

If a man as well-born and respected as Danilo could be treated like a nameless outlaw, who would be next? And then Regis realized this was exactly the reaction Valdir wanted.

“Who’s going to stop me? You?” Valdir growled. “Are you willing to wager this man’s life that I am bluffing? That I cannot produce a convincing public justification for whatever I choose to do with him? Or do you care so little for your paxman after all? Are you thinking that once he is dead, I will have no further hold over you? I do not believe you have noother loved ones.”

And what I have done to one, I can do to another.

“You would not dare—” Regis pushed himself half out of the chair.

“I would.”

Valdir wasn’t bluffing. He would do it.

What choice do I have? Oh gods—D anilo!

Slowly, Regis stood up. Gabriel came alert. His Guardsmen looked to him for a signal. The air hummed with adrenaline.

“Commander Lanart, this is not your affair.” Valdir’s tone dropped menacingly. He lifted one hand and four more men in Ridenow colors filed in, swords drawn.

Gabriel’s glance flickered to Regis. Say the word.

Regis shook his head. This is a fight we cannot win.

Gabriel’s expression turned stormy, but he bowed to Regis and withdrew, his men after him.

“How can I be sure Danilo Syrtis is still alive?” Regis said.

A faint lightening passed over Valdir’s features, not rising to the level of a smile. “I anticipated that you would require assurance.” He offered a folded paper to Regis.

The note was unsealed so that anyone could read it. For a moment, Regis could not focus on the words, only on the exquisite, flowing script. As cadets, they had joked that Danilo wrote with the finest hand of any of them.

The words were undoubtedly dictated by Valdir. But the hand that had written them was as familiar as the rhythm of his own heart.

“I would like to keep this.” Regis folded the note again.

Valdir made a gesture of assent. “And of course, your Heir will be returned to his family.”

“Then,” Regis said, gathering himself, “I agree to your terms. I will formally abdicate my position as Lord Hastur in my brother’s favor at whatever venue you see fit, and I will not oppose the reconstitution of the Comyn Council. I think it is a foolish move,” both of them foolish moves,“but clearly, I have no say in the matter.”

Valdir put forth his most charming, amiable manner as he praised Regis for his difficult and honorable decision. With a little discussion on the logistics of the transfer of power, the meeting ended.

The hectic energy that had driven Regis soon dissipated. The corridors had never seemed so long nor the steps so steep. He felt as if he had been living underground for so long, he would never see the sun again. He was too overwrought to attempt a conversation with the two Ridenow guards or to learn their names.

The guards made no objection as he headed not to his own rooms but to those of his sister, so that he could personally inform Javanne that Mikhail was to be freed.

Javanne lay on the divan in the family room, swathed in a thick shawl. A table had been drawn up beside her, bearing a decanter of wine and flasks of various tinctures. Linnea sat on a bench beside the divan, holding Javanne’s hand and speaking softly to her. Sunlight sifted through the mullioned windows, touching Linnea’s hair with red-gold light.

As Regis entered, Linnea turned toward him. Weariness softened her features, blurring the beauty of bone and flesh to reveal the shining spirit within. He had known her as generous, honest, stubborn, and passionate, but until this moment he had not seen how deeply compassionate she was, how willing to give of herself. She was, he reflected, exactly the woman who could accept his relationship with Danilo.

At the same time, he sensed—he knew—h er vision pierced his diffidence and guilt, even as it did the layers of lace and silver-trimmed suede. She truly saw him. All this, he had thrown away in a spasm of awkward pride.

The next thought that came to him, in the moment between one heartbeat and the next, was what kind of monster was he, to think such a thing while the man who had shared his life for these many years was a hostage under threat of death?

Their eyes met, and his heart stopped. And he knew that she would never see him as a monster.

All this happened in an instant, and before he could draw breath, Javanne raised her head. Whipcord-taut, she sat up. Questions brimmed in her swollen, tear-reddened eyes.

“Mikhail is alive and will be released,” he blurted out.

“Oh!” Then, as if she did not care, could notpay the price for caring, she demanded, “Regis, what did that terrible man want?”

“Why, to restore the true and just succession of the Hasturs, not to mention the traditional power of the Comyn and Aldones knows what else.” Regis threw himself into the nearest chair. His spine creaked with prolonged strain.

“It is unkind of you to tease me—” Javanne burst out, “to mock the situation!”

Regis swept the sarcasm from his voice. “I do not mock you, sister, nor do I mean to increase your distress. The situation is as I have said. Valdir Ridenow intends to replace me as Head of Hastur and to elevate our brother into my place. To ensure my—how did he put it? my good behavior? my sensible cooperation—he has taken Mikhail hostage, as well as Danilo.”

“Oh!” Javanne cried out again and swayed on her seat. Linnea reached out to steady her but drew back when it was clear that Javanne was not faint but furious.

“How dare he? That power-mad, overinflated Dry-Towns upstart, that—And you,Regis—I suppose youlet him get away with it!”

“What would you have had him do?” Linnea asked. “Challenge DomValdir to a duel? Put the life of your son at risk, to say nothing of that of his own paxman?”

Silently Regis thanked Linnea for her calm words. At this point, anything he said would only further inflame his sister’s temper.

Javanne reasserted control of her emotions, taking one gulping breath after another. Linnea handed her a goblet of water from the little table.

“For the time being, the hostages are safe,” Regis said. “Valdir wants my willing abdication, and he knows that he would lose any hope of that if he were to harm them. I dare not risk it. Valdir’s demands are not intolerable, and Rinaldo seems optimistic that he can make the best of the situation.”

“Rinaldo? A monk, sitting in Grandfather’s place?” Javanne made no attempt to mask her incredulity.

“He’s an educated man,” Regis pointed out. “Naive, but not a fool. He does mean well.”

“That will not help him if he becomes DomValdir’s puppet,” Linnea remarked.

“Perhaps,” Regis agreed. “But the monastery is not so unworldly as that. There, as everywhere, some men scheme and others collaborate to their own advantage or abuse the trust of others. Rinaldo may have led a sheltered life in some respects, but he is not inexperienced in the ways of men. Besides, he trusts me and wants my good will. If Valdir is content to have me gone, and if Rinaldo is then free to seek the guidance and advice of worthy men, the result may not be so terrible after all. And Mikhail will be restored to us.”

But Danilo will not . . .

Surely, Valdir will not hold him once he has what he wants,Linnea said to Regis mentally.

I—I do not know.

“I do not know Rinaldo,” Linnea mused, “but I cannot imagine any brother of yours being entirely lacking in firm opinions.”

Javanne snorted, and Linnea glanced at Regis, a touch of mischief in her eyes, as if to say that proved her point about the Hastur wilfulness.

“It is too soon to tell,” Regis said, trying to sound hopeful. “Valdir may find Rinaldo less malleable than he hoped. Power changes men and none so much as the lordship of Hastur. I admit I will not be entirely sorry to be free of it.”

In answer to Javanne’s question, Regis added, “The abdication announcement will take place in the Crystal Chamber. Valdir’s delusional if he thinks he can resurrect the Comyn Council, but I don’t expect him to take my word for it.”

At this, Linnea smiled wryly, perhaps remembering the struggles that led to the abandonment of that body and the establishment of the Telepath Council.

“I don’t know if I would do any better in your place, Regis,” Javanne said after a pause. “What is to become of the rest of us?”

“You and Gabriel and your other children, nothing. I hope Valdir does not mean to overturn all order in Thendara. As Rinaldo has no wife, he had asked me to convey his hope that you will continue as chatelaine of the Castle. There is no question of Gabriel’s position as Commander of the Guards. Half the city would rise in outrage if he were to be dismissed. Once Mikhail is freed, I will make provision for his safety in case Valdir changes his mind.”

“The estate at Armida—” Javanne began.

Regis shook his head. “—cannot be well defended, and I would rather not create a reason for it to be attacked. It would be better to convince Valdir that Mikhail poses no threat.”

Linnea looked at him as if she had had the same thought, that few places in the Domain were truly safe, even if Mikhail had the aptitude for Tower work and could shut himself away at Arilinn or Neskaya.

And Linnea herself,Regis thought with a frisson of panic. What if Valdir decides his hold on me is not sufficient and goes after her? If she were still a Keeper, she might defy him, but as she is . . . carrying our son . . .

He thrust the idea from his mind, praying she had not sensed his fear.

Meanwhile, Javanne had gotten to her feet, rearranged her hair and skirts, and set about putting the room to rights. Work would steady her, Regis thought.

Regis departed to make his own preparations for his move back to the townhouse. He dared not ask Linnea to come with him. Her best hope lay in the illusion that he no longer cared for her. How long that deception would hold, he did not know.

18

The Crystal Chamber was the last place Regis wanted to be, and he thought it ironically fitting that Valdir Ridenow had chosen it for the abdication speech. The chamber had been the meeting place of the Comyn Council from time out of memory, and it struck Regis as nothing short of pretentious for the small remnants to gather as if they were still the ruling faction in the Domains. True, the Telepath Council had not lived up to his hopes of a broadly inclusive fellowship of those with psychic talent, and true, its internal bickering and inertia, its inability to unite in common cause, had paralyzed any hope of effective leadership. As he waited in the private entrance to the Hastur section, Regis wondered if a smaller, unified Comyn Council might be able to accomplish something. But was that a good thing or an invitation to tyranny?

Beyond the dusty curtain that once shielded Hastur women from public view, Regis heard the sounds of people entering and taking their places in the sections reserved for their Domains. Footfalls echoed, for the chamber held only a fraction of the assembly for which it had been designed. If he closed his eyes and reached out with his laran,he could feel the ghosts of the great Comyn lords and ladies, Keepers, and leroniwhose lives had been given meaning in this place. Were they watching him now, waiting to see how he would conduct himself?

Did the spirit of his grandfather watch him as well? For an instant, Regis almost believed it.

He felt the assembly waiting—Gabriel by the massive double doors, Javanne boldly in the front of the Hastur section, Linnea— ah! Linnea!—in the dim recesses under the Alton banner, Valdir like a glowing ember across the room. The others were phantoms with less substance than the echoes of the great men and powerful Keepers of the past.

The telepathic dampers hummed into life, and he sensed nothing beyond the sickness in the pit of his own belly. Although the waiting was a torment in itself, he held himself still until he heard a booming male voice, one of Gabriel’s lieutenants, rolling out his many names and titles. At any other time, he would have shrunk from such ostentation.

“Regis-R afael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn . . . Warden of Hastur . . .”

Regis had never wanted spectacle and mythic adoration, and yet these were what his Grandfather had drilled into him, what the people on the street expected. So many times he had longed to be free of it, and now that his wish was granted, he felt nothing.

He pushed aside the curtain and took his seat in the front row of the Hastur enclosure, the same seat his Grandfather had used. Rinaldo would enter later, on Valdir’s summons.

Regis took a moment to survey the Crystal Chamber and the faces washed by the pastel rainbow light from the prismed ceiling. Some looked grave, others confused, a few desolate. He glanced toward the Ridenow area long enough to notice Mikhail there, sitting between two burly men. The boy looked shaken but well enough to stand on his own. Valdir had kept his word.

“Kinsmen, nobles, Comynarii,” Regis began, “I welcome you to Council.” These were the same words his Grandfather had used. He could think of no more fitting farewell.

After he finished the formal greeting and the roll call of the Domains, such as it was, Regis drew out the paper bearing the speech he was to deliver. He had not written it; Valdir had, and Regis saw no reason to pretend otherwise. He would read it word for word, giving his enemies no cause to charge him with equivocation. If this was what they required as the price of Danilo’s life and Mikhail’s freedom, then they would have it.

The words came awkwardly to his tongue. Valdir was not much of a writer, although the legalistic language was inescapable. There was nothing that could be misinterpreted, no vague stipulations, no euphemisms. All intention was made clear, even as Valdir had commanded.

In his misery, Regis had given no thought to how deeply the silence, the horrified listening,would affect him. Not a hand twitched or a murmur breathed during the entire speech.

At last, it was over. The speech had not been a long one. Sweat dampened his neck. He was glad he had not eaten. Then the same officer shouted out Rinaldo’s name, the great double doors parted with a distant booming sound, and Rinaldo entered.

To his credit, Rinaldo carried himself well. Instead of ornate courtly dress, he wore a long belted robe in the Hastur colors, of costly materials but simply cut, subtly evoking the life he was now to leave behind forever. The fabric flowed with his stately strides. He came to a halt under the central prism, facing the Hastur section.

Now came the most difficult part of the ceremony. To Regis, it was enough that he state in public the validity of his older brother’s claim. But Valdir insisted on a more powerful symbol of the transfer of power.

Regis opened the railing gate, crossed the polished floor and stood before his brother. Then, with numbed dignity, he knelt.

The only saving grace was that Danilo was not here to see it. Or Grandfather or Lew, or even Dyan Ardais.

He heard a sob, muffled and indistinct, from somewhere in the Chamber.

The formal oath of fealty was brief. Regis had heard it a hundred times, mostly when it was offered to himself. His throat went dry and his voice felt like parchment over stone, but he held steady. He would not disgrace those for whom he did this thing. His own vanity meant nothing and if Valdir thought to humble him, the man did not know him at all. There was no false pride in him to mortify, no humiliation to inflict. The only honor of the moment, the only true honor in his life, was in service to those he loved.

Rinaldo stood like a man of ice. Regis blessed the laran-smothering dampers as well as his brother’s lack of psychic Gifts. He very much did not want to know what Rinaldo was feeling at this moment. Mercifully brief was the moment when Rinaldo placed his hands in the correct position, one brother’s flesh pressing the other’s.

Regis finished, “The gods witness it, and the holy things at Hali.”

Rinaldo responded, not with the traditional formula, but with, “May the one true God bless you for this selfless act and keep you on the path of virtue, my brother.”

Rinaldo lifted Regis to his feet and kissed him on either cheek. “I want everyone to know you are an honorable man. Blessings beyond measure will spring from your sacrifice.”

“I pray it may be so,” Regis replied.

Regis followed Rinaldo back to the Hastur enclosure, where Rinaldo now took the place of honor. Rinaldo seemed at ease in the enormous chair. No one protested that a cristoforomonk could not be Head of his Domain, for Valdir had made it widely known that Rinaldo had been released from his vows. The issue of whether he could produce an heir must eventually be addressed. Doubtless that was Valdir’s intent in suggesting a Ridenow bride. For the time being, Hastur still had an heir in Mikhail.

The assembly then proceeded to the formal recognition of Rinaldo as the new Lord of Hastur. One of those permitted to come forth was Mikhail, unfettered and unaccompanied. He bowed to his uncle. Rinaldo responded courteously with an invitation to join him in the enclosure. Javanne gave no response as Mikhail moved past her to one of the lesser places in the back.

By the time Rinaldo dismissed the Council, his first act as the Head of Hastur, Regis was so wrung- out it took an effort to stand. He managed to get to his feet and wait, his face frozen in polite attention, as one and then another of the lords approached him with carefully phrased greetings.

Valdir hung back, his expression hooded, as Rinaldo dismissed the last of the well-wishers.

Rinaldo said to Regis, “I return you now to the life you desired for so long, a privatelife. May the Holy Bearer of Burdens look into your heart and lift your sorrows in proportion to your penance.”

Before Regis could summon a response, Rinaldo added, “We must speak soon, you and I, in private. There is much to be done, much good to be accomplished. I would seek your counsel in many things. I must also consult with MestraLawton. And . . .” grasping Regis by the forearms with a sudden, fierce gaze, “I have not forgotten your paxman. He will not languish in captivity one day longer than I have the power to free him. I promise you!”

With that, the stunned calm inside Regis gave way like a broken floodgate. A dozen jumbled emotions sluiced through him. He could not speak.

Valdir and his men swept Rinaldo from the chamber. Regis could not see Linnea, for the Alton enclosure was empty. The next instant, Gabriel rushed across the room and caught Mikhail in a wordless embrace, pounding the boy’s back.

“Let’s get away from this place,” Javanne said to her husband, “before anyone changes his mind.”

Regis could not have agreed more.

19

Before Regis left the Crystal Chamber, Valdir took him aside and informed him that he might choose to remain in the Castle under guard or to move to another location. Either way, he would not be permitted free movement in the city or private access with those who might plot against the new order. Regis listened politely and expressed his desire to retire to a secluded life in his own residence. He asked if he might be allowed to visit his family, but he did not mention Danilo. He was afraid that any inquiry might sound too much like begging. Valdir admitted the rationale for coordination with Javanne as Castle chatelaine but waved away the subject of Rinaldo. That meeting would not happen, Regis thought as he took his leave, until Valdir had the new Hastur Lord securely under his influence.

The next tenday went by in a blur. Regis was glad of an excuse to decline invitations to the usual summer festivities. He had no intention of sitting idly by while Valdir consolidated his position, but he must move carefully while lulling the Ridenow into thinking he had given in.

Regis formulated a plan to bring charges against Valdir in the Cortes. The matter should properly have been heard by the Comyn Council, since it involved the kidnapping of two of its members as well as extortion and possibly treason, but the Council was not yet reinstated. Valdir would most likely refuse to cooperate in a civil suit, but the hearings and resulting scandal would cripple his position as Rinaldo’s councillor. The Cortes might even order Valdir confined to his city mansion or, if he refused, which was likely, freeze his assets and threaten his guards as co-conspirators with fines or imprisonment. The first step was to find a judge with the courage and integrity to investigate a member of the Comyn.

Regis began removing his household to the townhouse. One of Gabriel’s officers, an earnest young man named Brunin Sandoval, contrived to encounter Regis during one of his many trips back and forth. Regis was able to communicate his plan and the officer agreed to make discreet contact with a judge who had a staunch reputation for upholding justice.

Meanwhile, Gabriel was quietly continuing the search for Danilo’s location. None of his attempts had been successful, nor had he been able to escape the surveillance of Valdir’s men long enough to speak with Dan Lawton.

The coridomhad kept the town house tidy and in good repair. He had tracked down those servants who had been let go or sent to the estate at Carcosa when Regis moved into the Castle. Soon the house was made comfortable, far more than the drafty, gloomy chambers in the Castle.

Set in its walled garden, now jewel- bright with summer blossoms, the townhouse exuded the aura of safety. The dangers, and there were many, would come from without. Here Regis felt no fear of betrayal. He breathed more easily and slept more deeply between his own sheets, on which lingered the faint, musky scent of love.

Once, in a spasm of masochistic longing, Regis wandered into the room Danilo had used. The air was shrouded in ghosts. A trick of light created the appearance of a fine layer of dust on fabric and wood, although the coridomwould never have sanctioned such careless housekeeping.

In the corner beyond the narrow, little-used bed, Danilo’s cadet chest huddled as if in grief. Regis smoothed his fingers over the worn lid and lifted it. He would never have dared even so slight an invasion if Danilo had been here. In that moment of half-crazed heartache, his hands moved of their own accord. If this was all he had of Danilo, it must suffice. He recognized most of the contents, threadbare handed-down clothing and mementos from Syrtis.

There, wrapped in shimmering spidersilk, was the dagger Regis had given Danilo when they first swore themselves to one another. Why had Danilo left it? It had not been so much buried as thrust into hiding. Holding the slender blade and knowing it would never fall into Valdir’s hands brought a surge of irrational joy.

“In your service alone do I bear this,”Danilo had said as he accepted the blade. Then he had pressed his lips against the naked steel. Regis echoed the gesture, tasting the imprint of that long-ago kiss. The instant of pleasure fled, leaving only cold metal and the slow, churning fear in his heart.

With the exception of the Terran Zone, from which he was strictly banned, Regis was still able to come and go. He was always escorted, not by the usual City Guardsmen, but by men assigned to him by Valdir, men whose accents and gold-tinted hair bespoke their Ridenow lineage.

The loss of contact with Dan Lawton and Dr. Jay Allison was bad enough, but it also meant Regis could not speak with Lew or send him a message. He had no way of knowing how the transfer of the Hastur Lordship had been portrayed. What possible explanation could Valdir have offered?

More than that, Regis missed the counsel and longstanding rapport with his oldest friend. Never before had he been so painfully aware of how few friends he had; his rank and lineage had kept most of his contemporaries at arm’s length. Of those who had found their way through the convoluted politics, too many were dead, off-world . . . or beyond his reach.

Regis tried several times to speak with the Legate, only to find the Terran sector barred to him. The Ridenow guards, who had until then resembled silent shadows, closed briskly with him, leaving little doubt that any attempt would be met with instant failure.

Within the Castle, the guards would not allow Regis to enter the corridors leading to the Ridenow section or, for that matter, the environs of their mansion in the city. From this, Regis deduced that Valdir had moved his quarters to the Castle, but he could not be sure. He received no inkling of where Danilo was kept. As for Rinaldo, Regis was told repeatedly that his brother was occupied at the moment and would send word when he desired an interview.

Regis often had business in the Castle during this time of shifting residences and preparing the quarters that would now belong to Rinaldo. When at last he had removed all traces of his own occupancy, he lingered in the study. It had never felt as though it belonged to anyone except his grandfather. Danvan Hastur had served the Comyn for longer than most men now alive could recall, and his presence whispered through every scroll and ledger. Now the man who would sit at this ancient desk and handle these pens might be kin, but he had never known the person behind the legend.

The thought had come to Regis that he ought to take the more sensitive items with him for safekeeping, for instance his grandfather’s personal records.

He was Rinaldo’s grandfather, too,he reminded himself. Moreover, Rinaldo was a man of learning, a scholar. He would not damage or misplace any documents, no matter how strenuously he disagreed with their contents.

On this occasion, Haldred Ridenow had accompanied Regis, remaining at a watchful distance. Regis handed him the keys to the desk and the locked cabinets and closed the door behind him. He paused, weighing his next move.

He had seen nothing of Linnea since that awful spectacle at the Crystal Chamber. There was nothing he could do to protect her, he knew that. Although he felt sure his laranwould have alerted him if anything had happened to her, he wanted to see her with his own eyes.

“Now that I have no further reason to come to the Castle except to visit my sister,” Regis began, facing Haldred with an expression of innocence. It rankled to subordinate himself to such an arrogant bootlick. “I would take my leave of an old acquaintance. A lady of the Storns and hence a distant relation of the Altons. Is this permissible?”

Haldred shrugged, bowed, and left Regis to the care of his usual escort.

The central hall of the Alton quarters had always struck Regis as dreary and sepulchral, even when old Kennard had still been alive. The lights in this part of the Castle were very old, chunks of luminous rock hacked from deep caves; charged with daylight, they gave off a cold radiance for hours into the evening. Regis preferred the warmer light of flame or torch or even the yellow incandescence of the Terran buildings.

Linnea had avoided the main chambers for the smaller, more intimate rooms once used by Lew Alton. After the chill of the corridors, the small bright fire filled the parlor with cheer. The furniture was heavy and masculine. Linnea had added little except her own presence. Except for the herbal scent and the honey-tinge of beeswax, she might have been only a passing guest.

After exchanging awkward pleasantries with her, Regis put forth his offer. “I cannot guarantee your safety or Kierestelli’s. Here in the Castle, anything can happen. Mikhail was seized in his family’s own quarters. At least, in the townhouse, I know every face.”

Linnea set down her cup of the spiced pear cider she had served. “Regis, if I move in with you, I will destroy what is left of my reputation—and hence, my position of respect—and have it cried from every street corner that I am Regis Hastur’s barragana.”

Regis searched for a graceful way to point out that there was an alternative, as his wife di catenas.

Catching his thought, she shook her head and gestured negation. “Let us not discuss thatany further. Regardless of recent events, I believe we have each said all we care to on the subject.”

Regis looked away. The fire, so merry and comforting only a moment ago, now cast blood-lit shadows across his thoughts. He thought of the people he loved and who were now kept from him—Lew. Mikhail. Even Dan Lawton.

Danilo . . .

“I have tried to reach Danilo,” she said softly. “We will not abandon him.”

At least, Mikhail is no longer in Valdir’s clutches.

“Since you have given thought to such matters, perhaps you would advise me concerning Mikhail.” To his own ears, Regis sounded clumsy, Would he ever be able to speak with her without making a fool of himself ? “I cannot take the risk that, should I do something to displease him, Valdir will imprison Mikhail again. This time, Valdir might not be as concerned for his welfare.”

Linnea looked thoughtful or perhaps grateful they had abandoned a painful subject. “Have you considered sending Mikhail home to Armida?”

Regis replied that he had judged the Alton country estate too poorly defensible. “As long as he’s my Heir, he can hardly apply to the Federation for protective asylum.”

“I agree.” She picked up her cup, no longer steaming, and swirled its contents meditatively. “Mikhail remains at risk as long as Valdir believes he is important to you. What if you were to set him aside? I know the oaths you swore when you took him for your Heir cannot be lightly nullified—”

“The issue is not Mikhail’s legal inheritance but the claim he has on my heart,” Regis said. “I pledged myself to protect him as I would any child of my own flesh.”

“I know that,” Linnea made the words into a caress, “and you know that. The question is what might cause Valdir to disbelieve it? What if—what if you were to transfer Mikhail’s fealty elsewhere?”

“I’m not sure I understand you.”

“You might give him to Kennard-Dyan as paxman and then send them both back to Ardais.”

For a long moment, Regis stared at her. For a young, gently reared woman who had spent the better part of her life in a Tower, her grasp of Comyn politics was astonishing. Mikhail would object, of course. Regis might have to command him with all the force of past authority and present love. Javanne would support him, he was sure. The young Ardais lord truly cared for Mikhail, of that Regis was also certain.

The estate house at Ardais was no more defensible than Armida, but it was considerably more remote, being three days’ ride beyond Scaravel Pass in the Hellers. Not even Valdir would dare to violate its sovereignty in order to abduct the paxman of the Heir of Ardais. That was, unless he intended outright warfare between Domains, for that would surely be the result.

The air became less oppressive to Regis, his shoulders less burdened. At the same time, he felt a deepening of his sorrow at the thought that after this day, he would no longer be able to speak with Linnea in this way, to seek out her advice. One visit might be ignored, but a second would surely attract notice.

She brushed the back of his wrist with her fingertips. “I hope it will be for only a little while. Until—until Danilo is safe and no one you hold dear is under threat. In the meantime, I will use my position here to best advantage.”

Regis raised one eyebrow in inquiry.

Her laughter rippled, a sweet arpeggio. “Why, gossip, of course! I can listen to all the things women and their servants never say to men!”

At last, Regis received word from Brunin Sandoval that he had contacted a respected and fair- minded Cortes judge who had agreed to review the complaints. Regis was under too close watch by Valdir’s men to meet at the judge’s chambers or residence without arousing suspicion. He arranged for the judge to come to the townhouse, with the caution to wear casual clothing, as if the matter were no more grave than an informal opinion regarding grazing rights.

That same day, a second message arrived from Rinaldo, requesting that Regis attend him in the Hastur presence-chamber the next morning.

Regis readied himself at the appointed time. The sun had barely cleared the spires of the city, and shadows clung to all but the broadest streets. Last night’s rain gleamed on the cobblestones. The air smelled fresh, washed clean.

Walking quietly between the Ridenow guards, Regis gave up trying to make polite conversation. They looked at him as if he carried poison in his tongue. When necessary to speak at all, they answered him in monosyllables. The common people on the street moved away at their approach. Valdir might claim to speak for Darkover, but no one had informed the townfolk.

Regis tried to keep an open mind, to not anticipate what he would find or what Rinaldo might say. Had Rinaldo become Valdir’s willing pawn?

He is my brother. I must give him a fair hearing. In turn, he may listen to what I have to say, and that will strengthen him against Valdir’s influence.

The Ridenow guards conducted Regis to the apartment that had briefly been his. A man Regis recognized as one of the understewards, now wearing a tabard of Hastur blue and silver, escorted Regis inside, leaving the guards in the hallway. The understeward swung the door open and stepped back for Regis to enter. “ Vai dom,Lord Regis is here.”

Regis smiled inwardly, for the title that had been his for most of his life was now proper again. He walked into a room that was at once familiar and altered. No fire burned in the fieldstone hearth, although ample wood had been laid and the night’s chill still hung in the air. Some of the furnishings were gone, and the walls were now bare of their former tapestries. A massive wooden chair dominated the center of the room, facing two or three more modest seats, none of them softened by cushions.

A wooden cristoforoaltar had been erected upon the sideboard, where decanters of firiand shallanhad once stood. Regis found the style repellent, emphasizing in sculptural detail the sufferings of the Bearer of Burdens. From the candle stubs, the layers of melted wax, the lingering smell of incense, and the indented pillow on the floor, the altar had been in recent use.

Rinaldo entered through the door that led to the library. Regis had only a moment to take in the flushed, excited look on his brother’s face and the robe very similar if not identical to the one Rinaldo had worn at the abdication ceremony. Then Rinaldo caught him up in a brother’s embrace, just a fraction of a second too brief.

“Regis! Sit down, be at your ease.” Rinaldo indicated the smaller chairs and settled into the larger. “I had not meant for so much time to pass. Valdir concocted his own schedule for me, and I myself have discovered many more things to do in each day than there are grains of sand in Shainsa. I would not for the world have you believe I had forgotten you! Have you been well? Has the move to a private residence after the comforts of the Castle been very difficult for you?”

Regis refrained from commenting that the townhouse was considerably more comfortable than these quarters. “I do not envy your burden in assuming Grandfather’s quarters or his duties. Once Hastur was the most powerful Domain among many. Now that the Comyn are so few, the Head of Hastur speaks for all Darkover. Your opinion on a matter as crucial and far-reaching as Federation membership must be given with great care. Others will try to influence you for their own gain, including Valdir Ridenow. You must not simply do what he says. As Hastur, you are beholden to no one—”

Rinaldo shrugged carelessly. “Oh, as for that, Valdir advises me when he can, and when he cannot—or when he spouts utter nonsense—then I have my own counselors. Lady Lawton’s insights have been most enlightening, even though she has a woman’s delicate sensibilities and limited understanding.”

From his limited experience with Terran women, Regis doubted that either description was applicable, but he said nothing.

“I must ask you to keep what I am about to say in strictest confidence,” Rinaldo continued. “I am thinking of bringing three or four of my Nevarsin brothers here to Thendara. This Castle is so big and empty, it will be a small matter to find them quarters and a chamber big enough to hold services. It’s only a temporary measure until I can locate the right building—or have one constructed—for a proper chapel. What a relief it will be to have their spiritual fellowship and the daily sustenance of our faith! I know you do not adhere to it yourself, but you must have seen how the influence of the holy St. Christopher transforms the lives of all who live under his rule.”

Regis listened to this remarkable speech with a mixture of reactions. While he was happy that Rinaldo did not seem to be entirely in Valdir’s power, he felt uneasy with the direction of his brother’s thoughts. His grandfather would have turned apoplectic at the notion of a cristoforochapel in Comyn Castle; nor could Regis imagine the traditionalists welcoming such an incursion. For himself, although he acknowledged the benefit of his education at Nevarsin, he harbored no illusions about the harm he had suffered there.

Trying to keep his tone neutral, he said, “You must follow your own conscience in this and all other matters, my brother. That is what it means to be Lord Hastur. It is your responsibility to safeguard the future of Darkover and all its people.”

“Yes, yes, exactly.” Rinaldo leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, face alight. “There is so much I must make right in the world, so many ways I feel myself called. You understand the need to do what is right. It would have been easy for you to ignore my existence and leave me at Nevarsin. You could have accorded me only the meager status of an unfortunate, neglected relation. But you followed a higher standard of honor, and so will I. You have inspired me!”

Regis murmured that he deserved no such praise.

Taking no notice, Rinaldo said, “I wonder . . . did it never strike you as unjust that not all men are free to worship as their hearts dictate? That you yourself were prevented from following the one true faith?”

He meant that as a Comyn and the Heir to Hastur, Regis was expected to worship Aldones and the other gods.

“When I was a humble monk,” Rinaldo said, his expression pensive, “I thought the highest calling was to bring men into the path of righteousness. As the years passed, I labored at the tasks set to me, but I never surrendered that hope. Now the blessed saints have placed the means within my power.

“I intend—” Rinaldo’s voice dropped dramatically, “—to grant full equality to every cristoforoin the Domains. I wish to see the true faith raised up in law and in respect. No longer will we gather in dark, cold, remote places but here in the cities, where our message can be heard by multitudes.”

“Your sincerity is admirable,” Regis said, since Rinaldo expected a response and there seemed no hope of a serious discussion of Federation membership at this time.

“I knew you would be sympathetic! You see, I cannot do this alone. Valdir has no interest in matters of the spirit, and DomnaLawton, for all her inspired insight, is a woman and an off-worlder, not one of us. I need yourhelp and advice.”

Regis could not think of what to say. The room, once spacious and echoing, had shrunk, suddenly too narrow. He felt as if he were a wild beast being herded to the slaughtering pen. The cristoforofaith had always existed on the margins of Darkovan society, with its central establishment the remote monastery at Nevarsin. As far as Regis knew, there had never been any overt interference with its practice except that the sole heir to an estate could not be a celibate monk; but there was nothing to prevent any ordinary person from worshiping as he pleased.

“I believe that each man must answer to his own conscience,” Regis said carefully. “At the same time, change comes slowly. One cannot reverse millennia of tradition in a single year. From the dawn of history, the Comyn have worshiped the Lord of Light.”

According to legend, Aldones had fathered the first Hastur, progenitor of the Comyn. Nowadays, however, few people doubted the evidence that Darkover was a lost Terran colony.

“Pah! Aldones!” Rinaldo’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Evanda of the springtime, Avarra the Dark Lady, and Zandru of the Seven Frozen Hells! They’re all nonsense, vile superstition!”

“Sharra was not a superstition,” Regis said. “Nor was this.” He gestured to his hair, long enough to brush his shoulders. Behind his eyes rose the memory of being drenched in living light, of giving himself over to that power. Whether it had been the embodiment of Aldones or something else, he did not know. A single hour in its grip had turned his hair from red to pure, shimmering white.

Rinaldo seemed not to have heard. “This is why we need the one true faith! For too long, ignorance and degrading practices have lured our people into wickedness. Every day, precious souls are lost to sin. Thisis why I was brought from Nevarsin, why such power was given into my hands, not to use for my own pleasure or aggrandizement but for the salvation of our world!”

He paused, visibly gathering himself. “Now we come to a subject I greatly regret, but I would be failing in my duty if I avoided it. Saying this gives me no pleasure, but . . . I have heard rumors. I did not believe them at first. It was impossible that my own brother should be accused of—of—” Wringing his hands, Rinaldo catapulted from his chair and began pacing.

Regis swallowed hard. Keeping his voice calm, he asked, “Exactly what are you talking about?”

“Your . . . relationship with . . . that man. Your paxman. And he a cristoforo!”

Regis had hoped that his brother had understood their discussions on the acceptance of differences, whether of Rinaldo’s emmascacondition or the Comyn tolerance of donas amizubetween men. True, Regis and Danilo had always maintained a modicum of discretion. They did not share a bed while staying in public accommodations or at Syrtis. Was Rinaldo so oblivious he had not noticed the bond between them? Or did he, lacking laran,think it no more than the loyalty of lord and paxman?

Or did Rinaldo’s religious training render him blind to what he could not accept?

“Do you wish me to address these rumors?” Regis asked. “Think for a moment. Do you really want to hear the truth?”

Rinaldo glanced away, his jaw clenching so that the muscles leaped into stark relief. “These accusations cannot be true, or if they are . . . You must have been deceived, misled, s-sed—” His mouth worked, as if he could not bring himself to pronounce the word seduced. “You did not know what you were doing.”

“I beg to differ. I knew exactlywhat I was doing. What I wanted. WhoI wanted. In all the years since I gave my oath to Danilo and he gave his to me, I have never had a moment’s regret.”

Regis paused to let the words sink in and was met by tight- faced silence.

“I know that this is difficult for you to accept,” Regis went on, “having lived your life according to the cristoforofaith. I am not ignorant of the prohibitions against . . .” out of consideration for Rinaldo’s obvious distress, he tempered his words, “against certain relationships. We’ve talked about this a number of times. Among the Comyn, as I have told you, these feelings are not judged sinful. Such a bond between men too young to marry is considered far more suitable than frequenting women who are common to all—”

“Stop!” Rinaldo cried. “Do not speak of such things!”

Regis regrouped his thoughts. “Perhaps later, when we know one another better, I can find words to make this truth less . . . offensive to you.”

“You—you would make such a sin an acceptable topic of conversation?”

“Rinaldo,” Regis said as gently as he could, “St. Valentine was a holy man, but in this matter, he was either ignorant or just plain wrong. Each of us, men and women, love in the way the gods shaped our nature. The only sin, as I see it, is pretending what we do not feel.” Or hiding, even from ourselves, what we do feel.

“No, no, I will not listen to such blasphemy!” Rinaldo threw himself back into his chair and glared at Regis. Regis wondered if he would be allowed to leave without giving some sort of pledge, one he had no intention or ability to keep.

“How do you propose to save me? Will you lecture me until I say what you want? Or send me back to St. Valentine’s? Three years among the monks could not alter what I am, and I was a boy then. Now I am a man and know myself. A hundred years of sermons will make no difference.”

“No, no, you misunderstand me!” Rinaldo exclaimed, his tone shifting like quicksilver. “I spoke from brotherly love, out of my desire to free you from sin. Virtue cannot be coerced. For all my zeal, I would not see you mistreated or shamed. What would that accomplish except to harden your resistance? I do not believe you a vicious man at heart. I myself have experienced your generosity.”

And this is how you repay me?Regis clenched his fists at his sides.

“You have been led astray, polluted by the loose morals of your upbringing, the victim of a decadent society. I must—I willsave you from such evil impulses!”

Something inside Regis snapped. He launched himself to his feet. “You and your ally have extorted my cooperation only by the most cowardly and dishonorable threats against those I hold dear. You have my place—you are Lord Hastur now. Do what you like, I will not challenge you, so let this be an end to squabbling. There is no further need to hold anyone prisoner. Release the last hostage, and let us be quit of one another.”

“The last one . . . that is the problem, is it not?” Rinaldo’s voice turned silky. “How can I permit you, my dearest brother, to plunge back into a life of perversion?”

“This is ridiculous! You have no authority over my private life!”

“Please sit down. I truly do not mean you ill. In fact, I have every intention of freeing Danilo Syrtis.” At an incredulous look from Regis, he added mildly, “I assure you, I have the power to do so.”

Wrestling his temper under control, Regis lowered himself back into the chair. If what Rinaldo said was true, if he could restore Danilo’s liberty, then what would be the price?

“I am sorry for my heated words,” Regis said. “I . . . misunderstood you.”

“It is a difficult situation, and no man relishes being powerless. Listen to me, Regis. I may not know everything about the niceties of court etiquette, but I do know the nature of men and how hearts may be reformed. You are correct, we do not choose the impulses that arise within us, but we candecide whether and how to act upon them. I myself have done penance many times for my wayward thoughts. I prayed I might overcome the weakness of my flesh, but now I see that I was made as other men for a reason, that someday I might enjoy the blessed delights of marriage.”

As Regis tried to formulate an appropriate response, Rinaldo waved him to silence.

“I am willing to release your paxman, but only if I can be assured that neither of you will return to your former ways. As a sign of submission to the true moral precepts of the cristoforofaith, you must give up your abhorrent and unnatural practices. Even your own people consider them scandalous.”

Regis held his tongue. How dared Rinaldo lecture him on what his own peoplethought? It was better to say nothing. The important thing was to agree, as long as that did not require an outright lie.

“Proximity and habit create a powerful temptation,” Rinaldo continued. “Therefore, I am not willing to send him back into your service. He will join mine.”

“What does Danilo say? Does he consent?”

“He will if you command him. There will be no negotiation or compromise on this point.”

Regis forced himself to breathe. “Then I can see him? Speak with him?”

Rinaldo nodded. “You may, but only with witnesses present and in a decorous manner. Habits take time to reform, but it is not impossible.”

“If I must agree in order to see him free and unharmed, then I will give him up. That is the condition, then?”

“One of them.”

Regis felt his heart sink.

“In order to effect a true rehabilitation, you must focus your affections on a more appropriate person. I am not so naive to think a man such as yourself can be celibate. Therefore, you must marry decently. You must take a wife.”

With great effort, Regis kept himself from laughing. Did Rinaldo mean to accomplish what Danvan Hastur himself had failed to do? Yes, he did. And he wielded the only leverage that would force Regis to it. Danvan Hastur had never threatened Danilo’s freedom . . . or his life.

The pause in the conversation had drawn on overlong. Savagely, Regis said, “What does DomValdir think about this arrangement?”

“I assured him that you will be cooperative, little brother, as I am certain you will. There is no need to be brutish, but the truth is that otherwise, your paxman might not continue to ah . . . prosper.” Rinaldo’s lips stretched into a smile, one that did not change the hardness in his eyes. “I cannot guarantee what may befall Danilo Syrtis should he remain in present custody. Valdir Ridenow’s threat to hang him was not an empty one.”

A feeling of helplessness swept through Regis, so intense he thought he would choke on it. Finally he managed to speak.

“Rinaldo, Grandfather tried for years to induce me to marry. I am not indifferent to women. As all the world knows, I have done my duty in producing sons and daughters for Hastur. Unfortunately, almost all died or were killed by the World Wreckers assassins. In the end, it seemed wrong to continue to father babes with such a fate. But I tell you now what I told him then: I will not marry a woman I cannot love.”

“Love? Love comes after marriage more often than not. When it comes before, the illusion of happiness ends when lust burns itself out,” Rinaldo commented with a faintly lascivious glint in his eyes. “Do you seriously mean that you have nevermet a woman you could marry?”

A quick retort rose up, but Regis knew it for a lie. He could say nothing, and that would also be untrue. “I have, and I have asked her to marry me. She refused.”

Rinaldo’s expression wavered between surprise and triumph. “You said nothing of this before.”

“Should I have offered her to Valdir’s ruffians as another hostage? Even if I no longer cared for her, I would not do such a thing.”

Regis prayed that he had not made a colossal blunder in revealing Linnea’s existence. Now the only way to ensure her continued safety was to change her mind, and that was as poor a way to begin a marriage as any he could imagine.

“You must ask her again,” Rinaldo said, clearly pleased. “You must be persuasive. You must woo her.”

Regis shook his head. “That would only jeopardize what good will remains between us.”

“Come now, I cannot believe that a man of your physical attributes—you are very handsome, if one cares for such things, which I do not—your wealth and lineage, cannot secure the affections of any woman you desire. Who is this obstinate female? She must be of high rank. I know so little of our caste . . . but I did notice one very pretty woman on the day of my ascension. An Alton, I thought, but Valdir said they are all off-world. She was watching you.”

The truth would come out, one way or another. Frankness might be the best policy, and Rinaldo valued honesty.

Taking a deep breath, Regis admitted that the lady Rinaldo had noticed was indeed the one. “Linnea Storn-Lanart was trained as a Keeper and served in that capacity at Arilinn. During the World Wreckers crisis, she gave up her work to bear me a child and now carries another. A son, she believes. Rinaldo, I beg your patience in this. I hope that, given time, she and I may find our way back to one another.”

“With your—the other one—out of the picture, I should hope so.” Regis felt his face harden. “ DomnaLinnea is not a woman to be seduced or coerced. I would rather set her aside then see her harmed. I fear that in naming her, I have placed her at risk. I have opened my heart to you, trusting you not to abuse the confidence. For the sake of the love you bear me as a brother, for the sake of my children, I beg your protection for her.”

Without a moment’s pause, Rinaldo replied, “Set your mind at rest. Your lady will be safe in my care.”

“Thank you.” The words came out in a whisper.

“ DomValdir is a man of few scruples, and I cannot condone his methods. I know you think I am his servant, but it is the other way around. My allegiance is pledged to a higher master. As for Lady Linnea, I promise you I will not expose another innocent to Valdir’s schemes or let her be used against you. Some provision must be made for her, one way or another, for it is not seemly for a mother to be unmarried.”

“I intend to have both children legitimized, as is the custom,” Regis protested.

“The matter of yourmarriage is too important to leave to a woman’s uncertain favor.” Rinaldo looked down, his brow furrowed in thought. Clearly, he was weighing whether to demand that Regis find another bride or whether to concede. Did Rinaldo believe a man’s affections could be easily shifted to another? He had already expressed his belief that marriage need not include love.

Regis thought spitefully that his brother would be satisfied with a wife who was no more to him than a dutiful bed partner.

At last, Rinaldo made up his mind. “You have one month to either persuade this lady or find another. You may suit yourself. If it is not to be DomnaLinnea, then I will make other arrangements for her.”

“But—”

“I promise you, my brother. On the day you wed, I will secure the release of Danilo Syrtis. You may depend upon it.”

I will depend on it when I see it done,Regis thought. Yet what choice did he have?

Rinaldo was not finished. “Once he is no longer under guard, will you give me your sworn oath you will make no attempt at private communication with him? No secret assignations? No stipulations in the transfer of his services to me?”

Levelly Regis met his brother’s gaze. He saw no deception there, only a frank and ardent desire to do what he saw as good. “Will you in your turn treat Danilo with honor? Will you defend him as your sworn man, as I do?”

“I will deal fairly with him, acting in accord with his highest welfare.”

Regis felt his mouth go dry. From this point, there would be no turning back. Gods, what would Danilo think? That he had been bartered like goods in the market? Like a horse or a fine sword, without feelings or honor?

And Linnea? How could he possibly propose to her again in any way that would not be an even graver insult than before?

“If these are truly your terms,” Regis said at last, “then I must accept them. But I swear by all that is sacred that if you play me false, Rinaldo, you will die by my own hand.”

“Never fear, little brother,” Rinaldo said, giving him a brilliant smile. “I too am a Hastur, and my honor is as precious to me as yours is to you.”

“It is done, then,” Regis said, wanting it finished before he lost his nerve.

“It is done.”

Solemnly, Regis took his leave, knowing that he had bartered away the best part of his soul for the two people he loved most in the world.

20

Regis paced the length of his townhouse parlor before a hearth as cold and desolate as his heart. One of the servants would have rushed to light the fire, but he had stormed in and locked the door behind him. What was a little cold, a little dark, compared to the monstrous action he had just taken?

He was equally furious at Valdir Ridenow and Rinaldo but most of all at himself. He had saved Danilo’s life but sold him into servitude. He had kept Linnea as safe as he could at the likely cost of a final refusal and then no option but to chain himself to another. That he had not been given a choice was of no importance. He should have found another way to save them. Now he had made his bargain and must live with it.

It was impossible to think clearly when all he wanted to do was hit something. Sick and trembling, he lowered himself to one of the chairs. Not the one he usually sat in, just the nearest. Its unfamiliarity felt right. He did not belong here, in such comfort, in his own home.

Stop it! Self-p ity helps no one!he railed silently. He must bide his time, wait for a chance . . . outlast Valdir’s ambition— as if that were possible!— reason with Rinaldo when they were both calmer . . . get Linnea safely out of the city— No, don’t even think about her or Stelli!. . . and find a wife.

He slumped against the rigid chair back. A wife.Wouldn’t the gossips of all seven Domains be thrilled with thatnews?

A month. A thrice-damned month. Where was he going to come up with a marriageable woman by then? Javanne would be happy to suggest someone. How she would relish it!

Regis ground his teeth so hard that pain shot through his jaw. Javanne wasn’t his enemy. It would not be fair to ask her advice and then take out his frustrations on her.

He had not slept with any woman besides Linnea since that terrible time of the World Wreckers. The sight of his children, murdered in their cradles, had haunted him. He could not take the chance again. But there might be one or two women from before then . . . Crystal Di Asturien, perhaps. She was a pleasant young woman, although now he remembered how she had made her disapproval of Danilo all too evident.

Crystal, assuming she was still unwed, would be thrilled to become his wife. Even though he was no longer Lord Hastur, she would flaunt her status as if she were a queen. She would never allow him a moment with Danilo, even if Rinaldo relaxed his watch.

And Linnea—

Gods, what was he thinking? Linnea!

He buried his face in his hands. The knowledge that he had chosen another would wound her deeply. It would be a repudiation not only of herself but of Kierestelli and their unborn son.

What was he to do?

The following days brought Regis no closer to resolution. The longer he delayed, the more insulting his proposal would be, giving the bride little time to do anything but catch her breath and don her slippers before the wedding. He forced himself back into society, accepting invitations to one social event after another, but never anything small or intimate. The Ridenow guards accompanied him. Danilo’s absence left an emptiness, an ache like a missing limb. Valdir sometimes attended these events, as well as Rinaldo. Once Regis glimpsed Linnea across the room, but she shook her head, warning him off.

The judge, Estill MacNarron, arrived as agreed, entering through the servants’ gate. They sat together in the room Regis used for business. MacNarron was a heavyset man of middle years and grave countenance with a habit of pausing, one finger pressed to the side of his prominent nose, before speaking.

As Regis presented his case against Valdir, MacNarron’s expression shifted, no longer unreadable but visibly concerned. “I see why you hesitated to put any of this in writing. These are very serious charges but without substantive evidentiary proof. I have only your own testimony, and you were neither victim nor direct witness to the kidnap-pings. You assert you are the victim of extortion but can produce no corroboration. The Word of a Hastur may be proverbial, but I must adhere to a more practical standard. We cannot value the sworn word of any one man above another. In justice, all must be equal. You understand my point, Lord Regis?”

Regis nodded. The situation was very much as he’d feared. Without physical evidence or other witnesses, his case was weak at best. Valdir and Haldred would hardly testify against themselves, Rinaldo saw nothing amiss with the transfer of power, and if Regis brought Mikhail back from Ardais, he would place the boy once more at risk. If he moved forward without proof, he would alert Valdir.

“I’m afraid I’ve brought you here needlessly,” Regis admitted. “I have only my own knowledge of these actions, and anything I say will be denied. The case will be reduced to one man’s word against another, suit and countersuit.”

“We understand each other,” the judge nodded. “Yet I do not consider this conversation needlessor in vain. It is always of benefit to discuss perplexing matters, to reason things out with someone you can trust. No harm has been done this day, and nothing that was said here shall pass the confines of these walls.”

MacNarron rose, gathering up his outer garments. “I sincerely hope we will have further opportunities to converse, if not on this subject then on another. You have a very interesting mind, Regis Hastur, and I look forward to seeing what you will make of this challenging situation.”

About a tenday after the meeting with Rinaldo, Regis stood beside Javanne and Gabriel, welcoming guests to the main ballroom of Comyn Castle. The party was Javanne’s idea, and Regis hoped she would have the chance to enjoy herself. She clearly derived satisfaction from her work, although the stress left her preoccupied and irritable. She had not even wished Mikhail farewell when he and Kennard-Dyan had departed for Ardais. Now she had organized a resplendent evening, the hall as brilliant and lavishly decorated as it would be for a Midsummer festival, the music lively, the food and drink all the best.

Dan Lawton and his wife arrived along with several other Terran dignitaries and joined the queue to greet their hosts. Tiphani, having murmured brief thanks, headed for Rinaldo.

The Legate watched them, his mouth frozen in perfect diplomatic cordiality, then turned back. “Lord Regis, it’s good to see you again.” He held out his right hand, Terran style.

Regis hesitated. Dan had been on Darkover long enough to know how disturbing casual physical touch was for telepaths. The gesture had been deliberate. Regis slipped his hand into Dan’s and felt the rush of thoughts and emotions, catalyzed by the direct skin contact.

Regis, I’ve heard . . . rumors . . . hostages, this change of power—a re you all right?—D anilo—

Regis cut off the mental contact. He could bear many things, but to reveal his personal torment was not one of them. Quickly he composed himself, aware that the Ridenow guards were close enough to overhear the conversation.

“I’m well, as you see,” Regis said smoothly. “How is MestraLawton? And your son?”

From the flicker in Dan’s eyes and the residue of psychic contact, Regis sensed his friend’s concern. Not for Felix—the mental image had been encouraging, if complex.

Tiphani—

Regis glanced in her direction. She was still talking with Rinaldo, their heads bent together. Her face was flushed, her eyes a little too bright, her gestures a little too wild. He could not read her emotions in the swirl of partygoers.

The next guests in the reception line inched forward. In a moment, Regis would be obliged by politeness to greet them.

“Has there been any news from our mutual friend?” Regis asked.

Does Lew know what happened? Has Valdir attempted to change Darkover’s status?

“Nothing but routine business.” By his tone, Dan implied the matter was of no importance. “All is quiet for the moment.”

You must delay—fi nd any excuse—

“Your Excellency.” Valdir Ridenow appeared at Dan’s shoulder, dressed in Ridenow orange and green. A chain of heavy copper links set with enamel medallions in the same colors, of the finest Carthon artisanship and worth a small fortune, hung around his neck. His smile did not touch his eyes.

“ DomValdir, it’s a pleasure,” Dan replied, returning the Ridenow lord’s bow with the correct degree of formality.

“I’ve been hoping for a word with you,” Valdir said, holding out one arm to invite the Legate to step aside.

“Oh, surely there can be no occasion for serious talk on an evening like this.” Without a backward glance, Dan guided Valdir toward the table where lavish refreshments had been laid out. “I’ve come prepared to relax and enjoy myself. Is it true that whenever three Darkovans get together, they hold a dance?”

Regis turned to the next guests. Properly cordial greetings flowed from his mouth without him having to think of what to say.

As usual, a dozen or so young ladies of good birth and fortune competed for Regis as a dance partner. They did it with varying degrees of flirtation. In any other circumstances, he might have enjoyed their attentions. Now he could not help wondering, with each sidelong glance, each heave of youthful breasts, whether they knew of his urgent need to find a wife.

Nauseated at the entire business, he forced himself to respond graciously even as he avoided any appearance of preference. He never danced with the same woman twice and only danced those sets that involved changing partners.

In one of these, he found himself unexpectedly paired with Linnea. Her gown of pale green silk, cut full around the waist, could not disguise her pregnancy. The color ought to have turned her skin the color of cream against the glory of her hair, but she looked ashen, her eyes huge and dark, almost bruised. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, his heart opened to her. He thought she had never looked so beautiful or so brave.

They moved through the figures of the dance, passing shoulders, never touching. Her skirts swung gracefully, giving her the aspect of a woodland creature. At the end of a slow spin, she stumbled. He reached out to steady her. His fingers closed around hers, and in that instant, her powerful trained laranrushed into his mind.

Regis, I must speak with you.

He sent a pulse of unconditional assent. When? Where?

Tonight. An hour past the rise of Kyrrdis. Your townhouse.

Before he could reply, the movement of the dance swirled them away from one another and on to new partners.

Later, Regis noticed Rinaldo crossing the floor with Javanne on his arm. From what he glimpsed between the patterns of the dancers, Javanne was performing introductions between Rinaldo and Linnea. Linnea inclined her head, the abbreviated acknowledgment of a Keeper who bows to no man, and glided from the room.

At the appointed time, when the blue-green moon of Kyrrdis swung above the rooftops of Thendara, Regis waited in his parlor, too wrought up to rest and unwilling to dull his wits with wine. Linnea would not have asked for a meeting for any trivial reason. The urgency of her mental communication had made it clear that something was terribly wrong.

A tap roused him. The coridomswung the door open and stood back for Linnea to enter, then closed it behind her.

Linnea wore a traveling cloak over her green gown. Droplets beaded the thick wool. She smelled of rain and fresh air and lilias blossoms. The hood, which had been drawn forward to hide her features, tumbled back. In the firelight, her hair glowed like spun copper.

“Regis! I’m so sorry to impose on you like this—”

Her words, almost breathless, shook him more than her unexpected plea. With a rush of tenderness, he stepped behind her, unfastened her cloak and laid it aside, took her hands and brought her to the chair nearest the fire. Her fingers were cold. He wanted to warm them between his own, but she pulled away, sitting tall and remote.

He pulled a second chair next to hers. “Can I get you anything? Hot wine? A blanket?”

Linnea shook her head. “Thank you, I would rather skip the preliminaries. If I wanted physical comfort, I would have stayed in my own rooms.”

Regis sat back, praying he would not say anything stupid. He was acutely aware of the trust implicit in her presence. “If you are in distress, I will do whatever I can to help. You will always have a claim on me.”

“I do not want a claimon you!” With a visible effort, she calmed herself. “Regis, matters between us have been awkward, to say the least. Matters regarding our . . . relationship. I believe we have each spoken in haste.”

In the fractional pause that followed, a breath only, he said, “And regretted it.”

Her eyes met his, light-filled gray. She took in his words, nodded. “Yes. For my part.”

Linnea’s fingers twisted the fabric of her skirts. She noticed and folded them neatly in her lap. “Regis . . . I need your help.”

Her voice was been so low, so resonant with emotion, that he could hardly believe what she had said. He thought how difficult it must be for her to ask aloud. To ask him.

“Tell me,” he said.

“I feel so foolish after the way I rejected you. I—”

“Just tell me. Whatever it is.”

She lifted her chin. Something inside her grew very still. “I have heard rumors from sources I trust of a plan to force a marriage between myself and your brother.”

“How is that possible without your consent?”

Linnea’s expression turned wry. “Once such things were not uncommon. The Comyn Council approved all such unions and imposed not a few. My wishes mean nothing, and the one protection I might have is no longer available to me.” She meant being a Keeper, for as an ordinary matrix worker, she would be subject to Council decree. Not so long ago, another Keeper, Callina Aillard, had been forced into an unwelcome alliance with Beltran of Aldaran.

“I’m not sure I understand,” Regis stammered, trying to think. “Oh. Rinaldo was released from his vows.”

“He may not have any use for a wife, but in order to solidify his position, he needs an heir. If he marries me, he can claim your unborn son as the next Hastur Lord and thus insure the succession.” She paused to let the words sink in.

Regis was so appalled, he could not speak. He felt like a fish thrown up on a wharf, gasping for the air it could not breathe. Could Rinaldo have hatched such a plot? Condoned it? He did not know, but he had no doubts about Valdir’s willingness.

He sat motionless while thoughts tumbled through his mind . . . Rinaldo remarking on Linnea’s presence at the Crystal Chamber ceremony, “a very pretty woman.”And then, “Some provision must be made for her, one way or another, for it is not seemly for a mother to be unmarried.”

Rinaldo had sought her out this very evening . . .

Rinaldo was interested in women, his desires long denied by his vow of chastity. While he might be able to function sexually—and his comments had suggested to Regis that he could—that did not necessarily mean he was fertile. Linnea’s pregnancy removed that difficulty.

Linnea’s eyes shifted. In her glance, in the fragile dignity of her posture, Regis saw how she clung to her pride for both their sakes. She could not beg, she could not even ask if he still wanted her.

The only sure way to place her beyond Rinaldo’s reach was for Regis to marry her himself. But he could not— wouldnot—do so without her full understanding.

He had botched his last attempt. Now, when honesty and plain speaking was essential, would the right words fail him?

“Once I asked you to marry me,” he began, praying he would not commit another colossal blunder, “and that offer still holds. I can think of no other—I have never met any other woman with whom I want to spend my life, no woman capable of understanding—”

No, too dangerous to bring up Danilo so soon. But it must be done.

“But . . .?” she prompted, fear and hope warring in her voice.

“There is no but.No hesitation on my part. Only a desire to make sure you understand allthe circumstances.”

Linnea said nothing. The crackling of the fire seemed very loud, or perhaps it was the hammering of his pulse.

“You know that Valdir Ridenow took Danilo hostage ‘to ensure my cooperation’.”

She nodded. “Along with Mikhail and your brother.”

“Who have both since been freed, Mikhail on my abdication. Rinaldo—well, I’m not sure how much of a prisoner he ever was. Valdir thinks to rule him and through him, push Darkover to join the Federation. Rinaldo believes otherwise or at least has his own goals.”

He paused, gathered himself. Gods, this was harder than he had thought!

“One of those . . . goalsseems to be ridding me of what he sees as my sexual perversion. Rinaldo claims he has the power to free Danilo and that he will do so when I promise to give him up and marry decently.”

Linnea’s lips soundlessly echoed his last words.

“If I do not,” Regis went on, knowing that if he stopped now, he could not finish, “he hinted that Danilo will—Valdir threatened—”

Light and swift as silk unrolling, she reached out to touch the back of his wrist. “I know. I know what Valdir said.”

With the contact, fingertips soft as a butterfly’s kiss, Regis felt her presence in his own mind. His normal laranbarriers had been shredded by worry and fear. If she would have him, despite everything, she should know what she was getting.

Oh, my dear,she spoke with her mind to his. My dearest. I have known that from the first time I saw you. How could I let harm come to someone you love as you love Danilo when I have the power to prevent it?

It was too much, the wave of tenderness and acceptance flooding into him from her mind. He wrenched his hand away, shot up from his chair, and strode to the hearth. He stood, chest heaving, facing away from her.

The intensity of their psychic rapport diminished but did not disappear. She came closer, carefully not touching him. His body tingled with her breath.

“Is it possible?” he muttered, as much to himself as to her. “Can you love me—want me—knowing the better part of my heart will always belong to him?”

Regis felt the slightest pressure, her cheek on his back, not at all intrusive but nonetheless compelling, as if he were a mountain and she a weary traveler, as if he were a straw in the wind and she a sheltering tree. He closed his eyes.

I have known, from the first time we met,she said telepathically, that your heart was big enough for more than one love. I needed to be sure that it is me you love, for myself, and not a substitute for another.

At this, he turned to face her. Tears filled her eyes with liquid light. One spilled over, leaving a glistening trail down her cheek. He brushed it away, lifted her chin. Bent to brush her lips with his. She answered him but utterly without demand, without desperation.

He remembered the moment, years ago, when he had stood desolate at the ruin of his world, aching with grief for his dead children.

“Regis, I heard—” She had raised her eyes to his, and suddenly they were in deep rapport. “Let me give you others.”

For an instant, they had stood outside of time, more deeply joined than in any act of love. She had come to him in neither pride nor pity nor ambition for the status that bearing a Hastur child would bring, but a sharing of his most profound emotions. She had sensed how difficult his life had become and through that moment of mental union had simply wanted to ease his burden.

He remembered thinking that a child of Linnea’s would be too precious to risk . . .

The image of that child, that daughter who was as fair as a chieriand as filled with grace, rose in both their minds.

Regis’ arms slipped around Linnea as if she had always belonged there. As he pressed her to him, he felt the softness of her breasts, fuller than he remembered. She took his hand and placed his palm over the small roundness below her waist.

Our son. Our Dani.

Linnea drew back, regarding Regis with the inhuman composure of a Keeper. “We will get through this. No matter what happens with Lord Rinaldo Hastur or his Ridenow confederates, they cannot touch what we have together.”

An emotion akin to gratitude welled up in Regis. He had almost lost her, this woman with all her courage and understanding. She was with him now, and he sensed that never again would there be such a misunderstanding between them. For the first time in longer than he could remember, he began to hope.

BOOK III: Danilo

21

Danilo Syrtis-Ardais roused at the sound of footsteps. He had been in the dark, or at least in the dim, uncertain light of this foul cell, for more days than he could count. His head had stopped throbbing where he had been struck, but the lump on his scalp was still tender. At first, he had been bound like a common criminal. He remembered feeling sick and dizzy, but whether from the blow to his head or from something poured down his throat, he could not tell.

He had a dim memory of rough hands hauling him upright and prying his jaws apart, then a hot, stinging taste redolent of kireseth.A thought had wavered at the edge of his fracturing consciousness that it was one of the distillations that suppressed laran.They must have forced it into him to prevent him from calling for help with his mind.

Wildly, as if his heart were straining outward, he reached out.

Regis . . .

Almost, he felt an answer. Almost.

Then the nightmares took him.

He’d slept uneasily, drifting in and out of such fevered madness that he thought he was once more in threshold sickness, only magnified a thousandfold. Was this what Regis had endured? He could not tell what was real, the stone walls with their film of greasy moisture or the flames of steel-edged glass that rushed at him, only to shatter into crystals of blood. One moment he seemed to be back at Castle Aldaran, the next, deep in the bowels of the Terran Headquarters Building or at the bottom of Lake Hali, struggling to breathe the fuming cloud-water.

He had screamed until his throat was raw, of that he was certain. Fire had lanced through his chest as if he were breathing, or perhaps spewing forth, the rage of the Sharra matrix. During one of his few lucid moments, he remembered falling down a crevasse along Scaravel Pass, although he could not imagine what he had been doing there. One rib was most likely cracked, and the muscles along his spine burned.

Someone fumbled with the door latch. It clicked open, making a sound like ice cracking. Danilo slitted his eyes against the bar of brilliance as the door inched open. Acid clawed at his throat. He tried to speak, to beg for help, but the only sound he heard was the abnormally loud wheeze of his breath.

The world twisted: a hand in his hair, tipping his face back.

No, don’t—

A voice reached him in the spinning darkness, a basso growl. “He can’t take much more of this. Our orders are to keep him secure, not turn him into a mewling idiot.”

Another voice rumbled an incoherent answer. The hand released him. He fell back on the thin pallet . . . fell endlessly between the stars.

After a time—an hour, a century—his gut settled. He opened his eyes, and the world no longer whirled unpredictably. A low, insistent sound lurked at the edge of his hearing. He should know what it was, that blanketing hum.

Danilo pushed himself to sitting. His mouth tasted like the inside of a banshee’s nest, all feathers and rotting flesh. His hands were free, although the skin over his wrists was shredded in strips.

How long had he been here? From the feel of his beard, a tenday at least, most likely two. His joints ached and his muscles felt pasty from disuse, but his vision was clear. He could think.

He was in a stone-walled room lit by a slitted, unglassed window on one side. With dark-adapted eyes, he made out a pallet, a bucket for waste and one of water. The water looked clean. He washed his face and hands.

He had been drugged but now was free of it. The humming sound must be a telepathic damper, like those used during Comyn Council meetings. Untrusting folk, the Comyn were so terrified of one Domain using laranto influence another that they insisted on using that infernal device. Still, he reflected as he stood and began to limber his arms and legs, it was better than the kireseththey had forced down him.

They.As far as he knew, he had few personal enemies, and those would not hold him in this cowardly manner but would challenge him outright. Regis, on the other hand, had many who wished him ill and who would not scruple to use someone Regis cared about against him.

Danilo paused in his exercises and swore softly. In all the years he had guarded Regis with his life, he had never considered himself at risk.

Who, then?His spine popped as he twisted slowly from one side to the other. And why?

Valdir Ridenow, the Pan-D arkovan League, and about a hundred other individuals, for the stance Regis had taken against Federation membership. Any one of the same number of claimants against whom Regis had ruled in the Cortes. The Aldarans, again? Probably not. The Terrans themselves—an agent of the Federation, trying to force Regis to withdraw his opposition?

Danilo threw himself back on the pallet. It all came down to the Federation . . . or did it? He raked his hair, filthy and too long, back from his face. Although clearer than before, his thoughts moved sluggishly. He was missing something vital, something he ought to know . . .

Regis would not give in to threats and intimidation. Danilo broke out in a humorless barking laugh at the thought of Regis being intimidated by a mere human, whether Terrananor Darkovan. They were amateurs compared to what Regis had already faced. Dyan Ardais would have spitted them on his sword before breakfast and thought nothing of it.

The thought heartened Danilo, for he had been the target—he refused to think of himself as a victim—of Dyan’s casual brutality. In the end, honor had won out, no small thanks to Regis. Amends had been offered and accepted. Danilo had mourned Dyan’s death.

Hold on,he urged himself. Regis will not stop until he finds you. He will come. He will. Nothing will stand in his way.

When the telepathic damper cut out, Haldred Ridenow appeared outside Danilo’s cell. Danilo wanted to pummel the man senseless. With restraint, he stepped back from the door, hands well away from his body, poised on both feet. He was not in shape to take on a determined assailant, but the stance, drilled into him over years of training, gave him a semblance of dignity.

Haldred spoke through the slitted window. “I see you’re awake. That’s good. I’ve come to fetch you to better surroundings. You’re to have a bath, a shave, and decent clothes.” His lip curled to emphasize the rank odor.

“Why?” The word came out as a croak. The screaming had been real, not another nightmare. “What do you want?”

“Everything will be explained to you in due time. Are you coming? Or have you grown so accustomed to your prison that you cannot leave it?”

“I will come.”

“Then I require your word of honor that you will not try to escape or offer any resistance. Not that you could do much in your present condition, but we don’t want you damaging yourself in a futile attempt. And you must submit to a blindfold.”

Seeing no other choice, Danilo agreed. Haldred bound his eyes with a cloth and then placed one of Danilo’s hands in the crook of his elbow. On uncertain feet, Danilo followed. He had not the slightest trust in his captor’s motives, but it was always better to know the enemy’s intentions. Haldred was indeed his enemy, although Danilo did not understand why.

They went along a corridor, then up several flights of stairs. Haldred was surprisingly solicitous, warning Danilo of the changes in flooring and supporting him when he stumbled.

Danilo surmised that he had been held somewhere beneath Comyn Castle, possibly in one of the old abandoned dungeons. The Castle itself was a warren with so many disused or forgotten sections that a prisoner could easily have been hidden without the inhabitants knowing. Regis—was Regis searching for him, even now? Or was Regis waiting for him, having brought about his release?

The dank chill of the air lessened along with the fetor. They paused while Haldred opened and then locked doors behind them. Underfoot, bare stone gave way to carpet. At last, Haldred halted.

The next moment, the blindfold fell away. Danilo blinked in the sudden brightness. He had been shut away from the light for so long, he had almost forgotten what it looked like. In the center of the room was a freestanding tub filled with steaming herb-scented water. A pile of towels and a basket containing brushes, a pot of scouring sand, and several chunks of yellow soap sat within easy reach. Danilo almost wept at the sight.

A strange expression flickered over Haldred’s face, a mixture of shame and pity. “I remind you of your promise, Lord Syrtis, and leave you to your ablutions. Ring the bell when you have finished, and I will return with a barber.” Meaning word of honor or not, he would not trust Danilo with anything as lethal as a razor.

The door latch locked behind Haldred with a click. Danilo turned away, closing his eyes to focus his thoughts. His mind still felt half-deadened, as if his skull had been stuffed with banshee feathers, but he had to try while he had a moment’s chance away from that cursed damper.

Regis . . .he called out silently.

For an instant, he caught a response. Then it was gone, and he could not be sure if he had imagined it.

Danilo pulled off his grimy clothes and eased himself into the tub. The water was surprisingly hot. He rested the back of his head against the rounded edge. He had not realized how many sore muscles one body could have. Sighing, he closed his eyes for a moment. Despite the seductive warmth and the soothing herbal aromas arising with the steam, he was not safe. He must assume these temptations were intended to lull him into a false sense of well-being.

Picking up a brush and chunk of soap, he attacked his hair and as much of his skin as he could reach. Cuts and scrapes stung under this treatment, but he welcomed the pain as an aid to alertness.

Once he was as clean as a single scrubbing could make him, Danilo stepped from the bath. He dried himself and wrapped the towel around his waist. Moving carefully, he made a circuit of the room, inspecting windows, searching each piece of furniture and each fold of drapery for anything that might be used as a weapon at such time as he might release himself from his promise.

He found nothing.

Unreasonably irritated, he folded the towel, draped it over the edge where it would cushion his neck, got back into the bath, and reached for the bell. A Comyn lord, even a prisoner, would not dress himself after a bath, and there was no point in providing him a bath without clean clothing.

A moment or two later, Haldred returned, along with two guards and an older man in the robes of a cristoforomonk. The monk carried a handful of garments of somber dark gray and a basket containing shaving and grooming equipment. He kept his eyes carefully averted as Danilo dried himself on a fresh towel. The shirt was fine-woven linexwithout ornamentation but expensive, as were the stylishly cut jacket and trousers. The matching boots were a little too large but manageable. Danilo wondered at the finery; this was not ordinary garb, not even for a Comyn, yet it lacked any Domain insignia or even a personality. The man who wore it might as well be a shadow.

A shave and haircut were soon accomplished, the monk being skillful in his duties. No one spoke except for a few necessary instructions.

Haldred inspected the results. “You’ll do very well.”

“Do for what?”

Haldred’s mouth tightened into a straight line. “It is not my place to answer that. Come with me, and all will be explained. Remember your promise.”

Despite his determination to take nothing at face value, Danilo’s spirits rose as he followed Haldred from the suite of rooms. He recognized where he was. Beneath his feet, Javanne’s leaf-patterned carpet welcomed him like a friend.

Two Castle guards stood watch outside the door leading to Danvan Hastur’s old chambers. No, Danilo corrected himself, they belonged to Regis now.

One of the guards opened the door. With a brief nod, Haldred departed. So, Danilo thought, Haldred had been nothing more than an errand boy. He forced himself to walk calmly between the two guards, through the outer chamber and into the library.

But the man sitting in Danvan Hastur’s enormous carved chair, studying an unfurled scroll held down by paperweights, was not Regis. It was Rinaldo.

For an instant, Danilo stared at his bredhyu’sbrother, not quite understanding but sensing that some fundamental change had taken place. Rinaldo was dressed in Hastur colors and heavy silver jewelry. He seemed at home and not at all as if he were snooping into someone else’s private papers.

More than that and worse, far worse, was the absence of any lingering mental trace of Regis in the room. It was as if he had disappeared from the face of Darkover.

Danilo’s chest tightened, but he forced himself to stand still. The situation would be made clear soon enough.

“Ah, there you are!” Rinaldo’s mouth spread in a smile, but Danilo put no credence in it. Rinaldo did not rise, nor did he motion for Danilo to sit. “You were not too badly treated, I hope? Nothing that will not heal in time?”

“I am well enough,” Danilo replied politely, adding with a trace of reluctance, “ vai dom.But I don’t understand why I was held prisoner or what I am doing here now.”

He was not so disingenuous as to pretend he did not know it was the Ridenow who had seized him, but he truly did not understand their relationship with Rinaldo.

“I have managed to secure your release under terms that I hope you will not be so foolish as to refuse,” Rinaldo said, again with that smile that was not a smile. “My brother has already seen their wisdom.” Rinaldo’s gaze wavered minutely, flickering around the room as if to indicate the significance of his own presence here. “I am Lord Hastur now, as is my right.”

Regis! O sweet Bearer of Burdens, has something happened—

The rush of horror and dismay must have been evident on Danilo’s face, for Rinaldo hastened to say, “No, no, my brother has come to no harm. In fact, he has freely consented to the transfer of power. I suspect he was relieved to lay down a burden he never sought. Now he has retired to a private life and family, occasionally lending me the benefit of his advice. You will see him shortly.”

Regis, free to live his own life?Danilo’s thoughts went spinning. Then Regis must have come to some arrangement with Valdir, resulting in Danilo’s freedom—but no, that was not what Rinaldo had said. Rinaldohad claimed the credit.

“Will you not show a morsel of gratitude to me for having gotten you out of that filthy hole?” Rinaldo said.

“I—I thank you, vai dom.”

Rinaldo’s expression softened, gracious now. “It is no more than I should do for any man who has served my brother so loyally.”

Danilo felt the blood drain from his face. Hasserved?

“ Vai dom,please do not toy with me. I am sworn paxman to Regis Hastur.”

“And now he intends to transfer that service to me.” Rinaldo’s eyes glinted like steel. “I have need of assistance, and it is better for everyone that the two of you are no longer so . . . intimate as you were. As I said, Regis himself agreed to this. I do not require your approval, only your obedience.”

The muscles between Danilo’s shoulder blades tightened, as if holding back from striking an opponent. “I made my oath to Regis. I will do what hecommands.”

“That is sufficient for the moment. I am sorry for your distress, but I did not wish you to go forward unprepared. In time, we will come to understand one another.” Rinaldo looked as if he would say more, but just then one of the Castle Guards, a different man from before, knocked and announced it was time.

“Attend me.” Rinaldo swept past Danilo. Four armed Guardsmen followed them both.

It could not be true, Danilo thought desperately. No matter what Rinaldo said, Regis would never consent.

They had not gone very far when Danilo realized their destination was the Crystal Chamber. Their entrance, through the massive double doors, reminded Danilo of the many times he had accompanied Regis in just such a procession. A herald cried out, “Lord Hastur!”and a string of familiar titles, but the name was Rinaldo’s.

Danilo hardly dared to glance around the chamber. He kept his focus on Rinaldo’s back, the fur-trimmed blue velvet, the silver links around his neck. Through the hum of the telepathic dampers, he became aware of the waiting audience. His vision wavered in the diffuse polychromatic light. Peripherally, he caught flashes of color, brilliantly hued court dress, jeweled headdresses, chains of copper and silver. The empty spaces were a poignant reminder of the decline of the Comyn.

With surprise Danilo noted a woman, richly dressed but veiled, at the back of the Alton section. He had thought all the Altons gone, all off-world.

One face stood out from the jumble of color and confusion: Valdir Ridenow, his eyes fierce, intent. Gloating.

As Rinaldo’s procession approached the Hastur enclosure, Danilo spotted Regis, sitting not in his usual place but on a bench toward the rear, in the shadows. The silver-thread lace on cuff and ruffled jabot gleamed, but his eyes, his face, remained hidden.

Rinaldo settled into the great chair and Danilo took the position indicated, standing half a pace behind and to the right side. Danilo remembered when he had attended Council meetings as Warden of Ardais, Comyn in his own right. Gladly had he laid down that responsibility and resumed the place where he truly belonged.

Beside Regis . . .

But he dared not even turn his head, not until he knew what Rinaldo was really up to. He would not give Rinaldo a moment’s weakness to hold over him.

Rinaldo welcomed the assembly, using the familiar traditional phrases. Danilo paid them little heed; this was a formality only, the opening sally.

The introductory remarks concluded, Ruyven Di Asturien proceeded to the roll call of the Domains. What an archaic waste of time, Danilo thought, an empty honor. Then he realized that not so long ago, Di Asturien’s daughter had been put forth as a suitable bride for Regis. From where he stood, he could see her without obviously staring. She was sitting between two older female relatives, all of them gorgeously appareled.

A sick feeling crawled up the back of Danilo’s throat, fueled by the certainty that more was planned today than Rinaldo had told him. The elegance of dress, the ritual roll call, Rinaldo’s ceremonial entrance, all indicated a matter that once would have required the sanction of the Comyn Council.

Crystal Di Asturien—No, Regis would never marry a girl who had made no secret of her desire to supplant Danilo in his affections!

In the moment of inner turmoil, Danilo missed the rest of Di Asturien’s remarks, something about how unusual times called for unusual procedures. Then Rinaldo rose, signaling for Regis and Danilo to follow him to the center of the floor.

Rinaldo hung back, leaving Danilo and Regis to face one another. Danilo could not sense anything through the telepathic damping fields. Nor could he read anything in the way Regis held himself or the tautly masked expression on his face.

In a monotone, as if reciting a prepared speech, Regis stated his desire to transfer the allegiance of his paxman to his brother, Lord Hastur, until such time as Rinaldo released Danilo.

Regis! Beloved—b redhyu —w hy are you doing this?

Rinaldo solemnly stated his willingness to assume the obligations of liege lord. Apparently Danilo had no say in the matter. Even if he had wanted to protest, he was too stunned at the moment.

Regis passed a sword to Rinaldo. Rinaldo handled it awkwardly, clearly not a swordsman. Triumph hovered over the corners of Rinaldo’s mouth.

Puzzlement stirred in Danilo as he focused on the blade. It was not the dagger he and Regis had used to exchange their first oaths or the sword that had replaced it. Yet Rinaldo acted as if, in accepting this blade, he had severed the bond between them.

Had Regis deliberately chosen an anonymous sword, one that held no emotional significance to either of them? Was Regis trying to tell him that the ceremony was a sham, that he had been forced into it? That in his heart nothing had changed?

Danilo clung to that hope as one of the Guardsmen brought out a second sword, this one tied into its scabbard with stout leather thongs in such a way it could not be drawn.

Rinaldo held out the second sword. “Bear this in my service.”

Trembling took hold of Danilo’s muscles. He knew he must not falter but stand firm, head up, spine straight, face composed. He had not felt like this since that horrendous time when he had been a cadet. Driven to desperation, he had struck Dyan Ardais, an officer and his Cadet Master. For that offense, he had been dismissed, stripped of rank, and sent home in disgrace. They had taken his sword—not the heirloom his father had given him but a plain Guardsman’s sword—and shattered it. In his mind, that terrible breaking- glass sound still echoed, a nightmare that not even Dyan’s amends and the subsequent years of privilege could erase.

“In your service do I bear it.” The words should have been in your service alone,but Danilo could not bring himself to say them. He might accept the necessity of attending Rinaldo, but he would never, as long as he drew breath, take back his promise to Regis.

His hands closed around the scabbard. Half-blind, praying he would not stumble, Danilo followed Rinaldo to the Hastur box.

Regis remained in the middle of the floor.

Danilo glanced back as he passed through the gate. Rinaldo sat down, his anticipation evident.

“You may sit,” Rinaldo told Danilo, although he meant it as a command.

The buzz of conversation swelled in the chamber, with more than one curious glance directed first at Regis and then at Danilo. Di Asturien walked with stately pace to stand before Regis. A moment later, Gabriel and Javanne, her gown as resplendent as if she were attending a ball, joined them. Two younger women, Lindirs Danilo knew only slightly, came forward as well. They wore matching gowns of pink silk, and one carried a casket ornamented with copper filigree. The chamber fell still. Even the hum of the telepathic damper seemed muted.

The woman at the back of the Alton enclosure rose. The room was so quiet, Danilo heard the rustle of her skirts as she passed the railing. A veil of silky gossamer edged with gold lace draped her head and shoulders. She wore a formal gown of iridescent silver, cut high and loose in the waist.

Walking with almost painful dignity, Linnea Storn came to a halt facing Regis, between the two young women.

Danilo closed his eyes, wishing he were anywhere else, wishing he were raving mad and that the ceremony about to begin were no more than a fever dream.

Wishing he were dead, rather than witness this moment.

Now Di Asturien was speaking the formal words that had come down, barely altered, from the Ages of Chaos . . . the young woman holding the casket was opening it, and Di Asturien removed the two copper catenasbracelets.

Shackles, more like. Unbreakable, eternal.

“. . . and with these bracelets, which symbolize the unseen chains that bind you in wedlock, let the bond be sealed,” Di Asturien intoned as he fastened the bracelets around the wrists of the couple, first Regis and then Linnea. The clasps clicked shut, echoing loudly in the chamber.

Look at me!Danilo pleaded silently. Give me a sign you still keep faith with me!

Regis made no sign he had heard or cared. How could he sense Danilo’s desolation through the layers of ancient ritual and the dampers that shut their minds away? How should he care with such a radiant bride beside him—a woman he had always wanted—a woman who had borne him a child and now carried another, a woman he had sought in marriage without even mentioning it to Danilo?

Danvan Hastur was right. Thecristoforo brothers were right. What we had together—w hat I thought we had—w as nothing more than youthful folly. Nothing more.

This union, this pledging now drawing to its conclusion before him, thiswas the true destiny of men.

“Parted in fact,” Di Asturien concluded as he unlocked the clasp between the bracelets, “may you be joined in heart as well as law.”

Regis leaned forward to kiss Linnea. She lifted her face to his. Danilo thought his own heart would shatter.

“May you be forever one!” Di Asturien cried.

Beaming, Javanne and Gabriel leaned toward one another in remembrance of their own binding, and throughout the chamber, married couples did the same.

Through Danilo’s confusion and pain, betrayal gave way to utter loss.

Forever one . . . joined in heart as well as law . . .

A cheer went up. It was over. Regis and Linnea were husband and wife under the laws of the Comyn.

Holy Bearer of Burdens, help me! How can I endure this?

As if in answer, a sense of stillness, or an exhaustion of the spirit, crept over Danilo. He had been in enough battles to recognize the absence of pain as numbness due to shock. A man might fight on in such a state, unaware of his injuries, until he dropped. Danilo’s heart was wounded, gravely wounded, and yet he felt nothing. How could he fight on?

For a single moment, Regis looked directly at him. No trace of emotion showed on his face, but his eyes betrayed him. They glowed with urgency, with agony.

Danilo wrenched his gaze away. So, Regis might have regrets about abandoning everything they had shared. But Regis had set his feelings aside; he had gone through with the ceremony in full knowledge that it could never be undone. He had chosen.

22

Rinaldo showed no interest in keeping Danilo by his side for the festivities. Commenting that he could be as easily attended by servants and protected by Castle Guardsmen, Rinaldo dispatched Danilo back to the Hastur suite to settle into his new chamber and take care of any personal needs, so that he might be ready to direct his full attention to his lord on the following morning. Danilo harbored no illusions regarding the sincerity of Rinaldo’s concern, but he was grateful for the excuse to leave before Regis found an opportunity to approach him.

The next days blurred together in a quagmire of misery. Danilo did what he was told. He stood, sat, walked, and schooled his features to the proper degree of attentiveness. He answered questions in monosyllables. He felt nothing.

At night, Danilo lay awake, his eyes open. He found the darkness of his chamber with its single narrow window preferable to the darkness behind his closed lids. It came to him that he might feel relief if he could weep, but no tears answered his prayers. He imagined himself a man pulled from beneath an avalanche in the Hellers, his heart stilled by freezing, with no conception of what had happened to him, so sudden and final was the disaster.

Sometimes, when he peered at the pitted mirror, he did not recognize the man who looked back at him. The lines of his face, the arch of brow and jaw, the flare of nostril, the pattern of lashes, the eyes—quenched, opaque—seemed barely human.

It was not just that Regis no longer wanted him. It was that Regis had found someone else, someone better, someone who generated no burden of guilt.

Gradually, Danilo emerged from the initial shock of his grief. He saw, as if through another man’s eyes, that Rinaldo meant to be kind. Most of his duties consisted in accompanying his new lord about the city, especially to the Chapel of All Worlds in the Terran Zone and various promising sites for the cristoforocathedral. A priest had been installed in the Castle and charged with the performance of worship services each morning. Rinaldo attended as faithfully as if he were still in orders. Danilo sat at the back of the makeshift chapel, letting the singsong litany wash through him and finding unexpected comfort in the familiar rhythms. He composed a prayer of his own: that when fate and circumstance brought him together with Regis, his heart might be easier and his thoughts less tormented.

Rinaldo seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid situations like the last flurry of summer festivities or the occasional ceremonial function in which Danilo might encounter Regis or Linnea. On those rare gatherings when Danilo caught a glimpse of Regis, Regis was closely guarded, usually by Haldred Ridenow. A private word would have been impossible.

Danilo was initially skeptical of Rinaldo’s motives; he doubted that Rinaldo acted purely out of consideration for his feelings. It occurred to Danilo, as he got to know his new lord better, the reason might be simply to give him time to adjust. Rinaldo had acted not from petty spite but from compassion. He had made no attempt to force an artificial intimacy while Danilo was still emotionally vulnerable. Instead, Rinaldo had treated him with courtesy, asking only the obedience of a loyal if unfamiliar servant.

Every morning, Rinaldo and Danilo worked in Danvan Hastur’s library. As Rinaldo sorted the various documents and ledger books, Danilo provided detailed explanations and historical context. Whatever his other failings, Rinaldo could be painstaking and meticulous.

A first-year cadet, one of several acting as Rinaldo’s messengers, tapped for admittance.

“Come,” Rinaldo called. Danilo went to the door, and the cadet handed him a sealed envelope. The paper was smooth and thick, of off-world manufacture, and bore the official insignia of the Terran Federation. Danilo brought the envelope to Rinaldo, who studied it with a frown. The frown deepened as he read the enclosed document.

Rinaldo shoved the papers into Danilo’s hands. “You’ve had dealings with these off-worlders. You know their ways. Is this the usual treatment for a man of my rank? Do they intend an insult, or do they simply not know any better?”

The letter was from Dan Lawton, the looping Darkovan script painfully stiff, the castaformal and precise. Lawton acknowledged receiving a communication that Regis Hastur had been replaced as Head of his Domain, without any verification from Regis himself.

Because of the sensitivity of negotiations . . . required assurances . . . appropriate diplomatic credentials . . . mandated observance of autonomous local laws . . . established protocol . . .

As he read on, Danilo wanted to laugh aloud at the audacity of the letter. Someone had coached Lawton on Darkovan law regarding inheritance of Domain-right.

In carefully nuanced language, the Federation declined to acknowledge Rinaldo as successor to Hastur. Lawton indicated he could not in good faith recognize a previously undocumented claimant without ascertaining that his claim was legitimate and not subject to peremptory challenge from his own people. If Hastur spoke for Darkover and if inheritance passed only through biological descent, then Rinaldo must prove he was not an imposter. The Terrananstopped just short of accusing Rinaldo of lying about his parentage.

Then came the pivotal point: If Lord Rinaldo would consent to a simple genetic test, a comparison of his DNA with that of Regis Hastur, his authenticity could be verified. The message concluded with formulaic protestations of sincerity.

Danilo stared at the letter. Not in his wildest dreams could he imagine such a strategy for delaying action on Federation membership. Regis must have had something to do with it.

“Well?” Rinaldo demanded. “Is this an affront or just plain foolery?”

Danilo collected his thoughts. “These Terrananhave strange notions about honor, but I do not believe this was meant to give offense.” He generated an approximation of a tolerant sigh. “If you intend to represent the Domain of Hastur in any official capacity, you must comply with their requirements, however petty. Of course, there is no need for you to do so for domestic purposes. No one will dispute your legitimacy, not after Lord Regis has declared it so. But—” this time, with an careless lift of his shoulders, “—the off-worlders know little of civilized politics.”

Rinaldo took the letter and read it over. “This implies that my brother will be obliged to submit to the same procedure.”

“Yes, that does seem to be the case. I believe it would be possible for Terran Medical to send a technician to collect the samples if it is not convenient for you to go to them.” Danilo did not add that, with a little finesse, the process of setting up those appointments might stretch out for some time.

Rinaldo agreed, as much for the purpose of exercising his power over Regis as satisfying the Legate’s certification requirements. The cadet was dispatched back to Federation Headquarters with the reply.

Summer passed its height, and the days began to grow noticeably shorter. Many of the Comyn who had journeyed to Thendara for the seasonal festivities prepared to return home while the weather was still good.

Danilo attended Rinaldo in a small sitting room overlooking one of the inner courtyards of the Castle. He stood at his ease a respectful distance from where Rinaldo sat, a book of prayers open on a table. Late afternoon sun cast slanting crimson-tinged shadows across the dwarfed trees that even now intimated the coming brilliance of autumn.

Rinaldo directed the conversation to his own role in extricating Danilo from Valdir’s clutches. “Indeed, I was the one who convinced the Ridenow to release you, over many protests.”

An expression of thanks seemed to be called for, so Danilo murmured, “I am grateful, vai dom.”

“ DomValdir made it clear that your continued freedom is contingent upon your good behavior.” Rinaldo stared meaningfully at Danilo, expecting a response.

“What would he,” or you, more like,“consider ‘good behavior’?” Rinaldo gestured with one long- fingered hand. “You should know. To make no trouble, especially not to conspire with Regis Hastur—”

For all his outward calm, Danilo shivered inside. He had thought himself past hurting, past hoping.

Never to speak with him, to walk with him, to touch him . . .

“—in any manner,” Rinaldo went on as if the world had not just shuddered on its axis. “Those are Valdir’s demands. As for my own: to serve me loyally and honestly, as you have. To comport yourself in a morally correct and responsible manner . . . particularly in regard to the faith in which you were raised.”

Regis! It always comes to Regis!

And then, in a rush of self-loathing: I wish I had died before I ever met him!

Rinaldo had gone on, in that gently persuasive voice, “It has troubled me greatly that you and my brother share this . . . sinful practice.” He sighed as might a parent over the disobedience of a beloved child. “I have done what I can to save Regis. He has fulfilled my expectations in turning away from—in changing his course to a more righteous path.”

Could the truth be any plainer? Regis had abandoned everything they had shared, the love, the passion, the bonds of lord and paxman. What was it these women—Linnea in particular—offered Regis that he, Danilo, could not? Was it merely the ability to bear his children? Or was there something deeper, more fundamental? A flaw or shortcoming in himself?

“I expect some sign of repentance from you as well,” Rinaldo said. “If not now, then soon.”

Overcome, Danilo bowed his head.

Rinaldo appeared to take the gesture as assent. “As for myself, I can hardly expect my own people to follow where I do not lead.”

Danilo lifted his head. “I’m sorry, vai dom. I was pondering what you just said, and I failed to grasp your meaning.”

“Yes, that’s understandable.” Rinaldo smiled. “Speaking plainly, I too must marry. I admit, it is a circumstance I never considered in all my years at St. Valentine’s. I never anticipated the bliss of the nuptial bed. But my vows no longer bar me from earthly unions, and I must set a virtuous example. Valdir agrees and has suggested a woman from his own Domain. I had considered another candidate, but that did not work out. So a Ridenow bride it will be. That is where you come in.”

Danilo felt as if his head were spinning so fast, it might fly off his body at any moment. That a former monk might wish to marry was understandable, but one who was also emmasca? Danilo could not wrap his thoughts around the notion. Rinaldo appeared to respond to feminine allure, so perhaps he could function sexually as a male.

“Excuse me again, my lord. You are to wed one of the Ridenow ladies? Then I wish you joy. But what has it to do with me?” Do you expect me to court her for you?

Rinaldo’s expression turned dour. He settled his hands in his lap, clasping his fingers so tightly his knuckles whitened. “I do not altogether trust the Ridenow, so I wish you to escort my bride hither.”

“Are you sure that is wise, my lord? Should any harm come to the lady while she is in my keeping, I could never prove that it was not my doing.”

Rinaldo unbent enough to make a scoffing noise. “That is exactly the point. I count on you to make certain nothing happens to her. I have another, even greater reason. Although you have previously shown some lapse of moral judgment, to my knowledge it has involved only other men. You are cristoforo, and my bride is not. Therefore I would have you school her in our faith and take her measure for me, since I do not believe I have received a true report of her character from her kinsman.”

Danilo could not decide whether he was more appalled or incredulous at Rinaldo’s simplicity. Valdir Ridenow meant to use this poor girl and the resulting obligations of kinship to bind Rinaldo even more tightly under his control.

But who, Danilo wondered, was the greater fool—Rinaldo for walking into the trap? Valdir for thinking that marriage to a woman of his Domain could keep Rinaldo from pursuing his own goals? Or he himself, for having anything to do with it?

When Danilo hesitated, Rinaldo pressed his point. His tone was smooth yet implacable. “A cristoforoshould never deny such a request of another, not when there is an opportunity to bring an innocent into the true faith.”

Danilo recognized the futility of argument. He knew Rinaldo well enough to be quite certain that in matters of faith, he was unshakable.

Danilo sensed no duplicity in Rinaldo’s request; he did not think he was being set up as a scapegoat. He would simply have to make sure that the lady arrived in Thendara as happy as might be expected.

Danilo bowed a shade more deeply than was necessary. “Para servirte, vai dom,”he said, using the formal castaphrase. “I am at your service. I will undertake to ensure the lady is treated with respect and that every possible comfort is provided for her along the trail. The best way to accomplish this is to hire Renunciate trail guides.”

“Renunciates?” Rinaldo scowled. “Ah, you mean those disreputable women called Free Amazons. I hear they wear men’s clothing and reject their proper roles as wife and mother. I hardly think they are suitable attendants.”

“Very well, but I will be hard-pressed to find men who are as capable of seeing to a lady’s comfort and privacy, not to mention her safety.”

“Her—safety. Yes, yes, that’s a thought.” Rinaldo looked torn between disapproval of women who lived outside social convention and distrust of men apt to act on their baser impulses.

“Many noble families employ Renunciates, especially when their wives and daughters must travel without kinsmen,” Danilo explained. “Renunciates are skilled fighters and understand as only women can the needs of a gently reared damisela. In their care, no insult would come to your intended bride.”

“You have offered your advice, and I am minded to heed it.” Rinaldo held out a purse. Judging by its weight, Danilo could buy a small village. “The travel arrangements I will leave up to you.”

“If you have no further need of me, I will take my leave,” Danilo said. “There is still daylight enough to begin preparations. If possible, we must begin our return journey before snow blocks the passes.”

The woman at the gate of the Thendara House of the Guild of Renunciates eyed Danilo without the slightest trace of friendliness as he explained that he wished to hire guides and a protective escort for a young woman traveling from Serrais. It puzzled Danilo that Valdir had not made arrangements for the journey, since there were surely kinsmen to provide her escort.

Although the hour was late, one of the Guild Mothers met with him in the Strangers Room. The old woman, her face seamed with decades of working outdoors, asked Danilo a string of penetrating questions. He made no effort to prevaricate; he carried out his lord’s wishes, not his own. He did not know the lady’s name or if she had consented to the marriage. Rinaldo Hastur meant his bride no harm and would treat her with kindness if not understanding. This satisfied the old Renunciate. After a little more negotiation and questions about the desired degree of comfort and warnings about the hazards of traveling so close to winter, she named a fee. Danilo thought it high, but considering the weather and the need for security, he decided it was more than reasonable. The Renunciates would be ready in three days, an unusually short time.

Danilo spent the three days gathering what intelligence he could. The markets and taverns buzzed with the recent political changes. Popular sentiment ran strongly in favor of Regis. Although Danilo had expected difficulty in hearing the name spoken aloud, the news lifted his spirits. Regis had been more to him than liege and lover; even stripped of former rank, the name of Regis Hastur continued to inspire hope. A chilling thought came to Danilo, wondering what might befall Darkover if something happened to Regis. Regis would live a long time, wouldn’t he?

But what if—what if Regis died with this estrangement still between them? What if the times Danilo had avoided speaking with Regis were the last chance he would ever have?

With this thought heavy on his heart, Danilo departed for the Ridenow seat at Serrais.

23

Under the expert care of the Renunciate guides, the journey to Serrais was unexpectedly easy. The snowfall was light, far less than a winter storm, and they had come well provisioned and warmly garbed.

The head guide was a lanky, flat-chested woman with graying red hair named Darilyn n’ha Miriam. She furnished Danilo with a fur blanket as if he were a delicate Lowlands lordling. Danilo had traveled under much rougher conditions, but he accepted the blanket. He did his best not to stare at Darilyn, which would have been offensive to any woman and especially to a Free Amazon. She had a touch of laran,enough to increase her sensitivity to such attentions, and had the physical appearance of one who had been surgically neutered. Danilo had heard of the illegal operation but had never before met anyone who had undergone it. He wondered what had driven her to such a desperate measure and found the answer within himself. Here he was, preparing to bring back a wife for his lord as if the girl were no more than a sack of root vegetables without any voice in the matter. If a woman could sense a man’s lustful thoughts and her husband—or father or a stranger on the road—cared nothing for her happiness, what choice did she have?

At least, he thought, Regis had offered the women who had come to him no false promises or seductions. He had been kind because that was his nature, and he was considerate of their pleasure, from all appearances.

Danilo had anticipated a long journey, and he was not disappointed. The Ridenow estates lay on the very edge of their Domain on an upland plateau adjoining the Plains of Valeron and very close to Dry Towns territory. The current Ridenow line descended from both the original Comyn family of that name and Dry Towns bandits who, after taking control of the lands, abandoned their own heritage and intermarried with the surviving heirs. Although many generations had passed and some doubted the story, the Ridenow were still held in suspicion in many quarters. Valdir was undoubtedly the least popular Ridenow in modern times. Time would reveal what sort of man young Francisco would become under Valdir’s tutelage.

Danilo and his party arrived during a snow flurry, so he caught only glimpses of the great house. As he passed through the outer gates, he received the impression of a fortress, not a home. As they entered the courtyard, servants and horseboys came running to take charge of animals and baggage. Danilo was accustomed to caring for his own mount on the trail, as were the Renunciates. One of the servants, an understeward, urged them all to come inside the great house, but Darilyn declined, saying she and her women would sleep in the stables. Danilo wished he might join them, for an evening of quiet fellowship sounded much preferable to ostentatious luxury amid uncertainty and tension.

Danilo was shown to quarters sumptuous with off-world luxuries. This was not surprising, for Lerrys and Geremy Ridenow, brothers to Lew’s second wife, Diotima, had been in the forefront of the craze for all things Terran. Moving about the room, touching the costly, exotic ornaments, Danilo wondered at Valdir’s rise to power. How very convenient that every other male claimant to the Domain had chosen exile or died, either by assassination, like Lord Edric, or from mysterious causes.

Regis would have had something to say about that.

Danilo paused in his preparations for dinner. He had been so caught up in feeling abandoned, he had not considered all the aspects of his relationship with Regis. They had been lovers, but that had come later. First they had been fellow cadets. Then, very quickly and under terrible stress, they had pledged themselves as lord and paxman. When had his heart truly opened to Regis? Did it matter? Over the following years, they had defended one another, argued, debated, confided, advised, consoled . . . If it was true that he would have given his life to save Regis, it was also true that Regis would have done the same for him.

They had been friends in the deepest and truest sense.

Danilo shivered, as if the season had just turned inside out. Was he willing to throw all that away because current circumstances divided them? Was he so insecure that he still feared being displaced by a woman? Should a man like Regis, bearing as he did so much responsibility, making so many sacrifices, being so set apart, have only onefriend, onecouncillor, oneperson who loved him for himself?

Sitting in the shadows of the elaborate hangings, Danilo forced himself to acknowledge the truth. He had never been pleased with any of the women Regis had slept with over the years, but he had been able to set his anxieties aside and believe that Regis did not “have love affairs” with them.

But Linnea . . . Linnea was different.

I have done them—a nd myself—n o honor in this.

Had the world gone otherwise, had Regis not been born Heir to Hastur and therefore under constant pressure to produce sons, would things have been different? Even then, Danilo told himself savagely, there would have been other people who loved Regis. How could they not?

But not as I have. Not as I do.

Not as he loves me.

Was it too late? Had he lost everything they shared because of one difficulty?

A tap at the door roused him. A servant came to summon him for dinner. Danilo finished making himself presentable.

A small group of men and women, most with the flaxen hair and distinctive features of the Ridenow, stood talking in the near end of the hall. DomValdir was not in attendance, being back at Thendara, but Francisco came forward to greet Danilo. Francisco, although more confident in his own home, looked younger and less arrogant. Danilo wondered how much of what he had seen in Thendara had been Valdir’s influence.

“ DomDanilo Syrtis-Ardais,” Francisco said, with a friendly smile, “allow me to present my cousin, DamiselaBettany Sabrina-Ysabet Ridenow.”

A young woman stepped forward and curtsied. In her brocade gown, her flaxen hair arranged in ringlets over her shoulders, she looked very young. A second glance showed her to be well grown but excessively thin. The vacuous expression in her eyes contrasted with a hint of stubbornness in her mouth and chin.

“S’dia shaya,”she said, her eyes lowered.

Danilo bowed and returned the appropriate greeting. She hesitated as if unsure what to do next. He said, meaning only kindness, “I am paxman to Lord Hastur, and he has sent me here to escort you to Thendara for your wedding and to prepare you as best I can for your new life.”

“But why did he not come for me himself?”

Francisco looked aghast. “We have explained that to you, chiya.Please excuse my cousin, DomDanilo, she is—this is all very new to her.”

“So I see,” Danilo replied dryly. Poor Rinaldo,he couldn’t help thinking as Francisco led her away to the table. Was the girl simple or merely ignorant and ill-mannered?

The dinner itself was small for the occasion, for the Ridenow, like other great houses of the Comyn, were much reduced in numbers. About a third of the guests were neighbors, holders of small estates, and clearly excited to be invited.

As the meal progressed, Danilo noted traces of economy. Despite the costly imported goods in his own chamber, the carpets were worn almost through, the wine was not the best, the room was almost too cold for comfort, and there were not enough servants for the number of diners. Another guest might not have noticed, but Regis had taught Danilo to observe details. Lerrys and Geremy had lived richly among the stars without thought to the welfare of their own Domain.

Danilo had been placed some distance from Bettany, making any conversation between them awkward. Instead, he talked with the other men, the women being meek and, for the most part, silent. If this was the way Bettany had been brought up, no wonder she was graceless and inexperienced. She seemed not to have any immediate family present, certainly no female relatives. Throughout the meal, she picked at her food, played with her napkin, and drank more wine than was proper for a young woman.

The talk ranged from the unusually cold weather to the social season in Thendara to oblique questions about how the new Lord Hastur fared and then back to predictions of a bad winter.

After the meal, any hopes Danilo had of a word with Bettany disappeared as an older woman in the plain clothing of a nurse took the girl in charge and swept her from the hall.

“I am sorry to deprive you all of further entertaining news,” Danilo said, bowing to the other men, “but I must see to my horses and my trail guides.”

The Renunciates had set up their camp in the stables. Even without a fire, it was quite snug, warmed by the body heat of the animals and out of the wind and snow. He felt their instant alertness as he entered and asked if they needed anything.

Darilyn stood up. “The horses are resting comfortably. The head groom did his best for them with hot mashes and blankets. The hay is not the best, but there is plenty of it. We have not had to dip into our supply of grain.”

“I am glad of it,” Danilo said. “Is there any reason why we cannot leave for Thendara in the morning?”

The Renunciate offered a small smile. They understood one another. The weather was not bad enough to pin them down here, and the risk of worse would increase every day.

When Danilo returned to main hall, he found Francisco and a few of the men still in conversation. “ DomFrancisco, I trust the damiselawill be ready to leave at dawn.”

Francisco hesitated, and Danilo saw in that moment of panic that the young Ridenow did not have much influence over his cousin’s behavior. Danilo would not have been surprised to learn that Bettany was accustomed to sleeping as late as she liked. It was better to make expectations clear now than to wait until tomorrow morning. Being awakened and dressed at a decent hour, with or without breakfast, would be good for her. He smiled as he headed for his own chamber.

The next morning, the Bloody Sun rose on a cloudless sky. Danilo woke well before dawn, arranged for hot porridge and jacoto be sent to the women in the stables, took his own breakfast in the kitchen, and went about supervising replenishment of trail provisions and the loading of the bride’s dowry as well as her personal possessions. No one questioned his orders. The house steward, an older man whose mouth seemed permanently set in an expression of disapproval, responded with quiet efficiency. Danilo suspected the man was relieved to be rid of the girl and reassured that she would arrive at her destination with no blemish upon her former dwelling. Apparently Bettany was being sent away without a proper chaperone, since the Renunciates provided the necessary female company.

Just as Danilo was finishing his own work and beginning to wonder what he would do if Bettany did not appear, whether he had license to drag her from her bedchamber and throw her over the back of a horse in her nightgown, she rushed into the stable yard. Her nurse and two other women trailed behind. Danilo bade her a good morning but received only a sullen nod. At least her traveling dress had split skirts for riding astride and stout boots housed her feet. A fur-lined cloak completed her ensemble. Sniffling, her nurse thrust a pair of mittens and matching scarf, obviously knitted with care, into her hands.

“Pah! I don’t want those,” Bettany pouted. “They’re for babies!”

“You will want them before the hour is gone, I assure you.” Darilyn looked up from checking the harness on one of the pack animals. With a friendly smile, she took the items and slipped them into the saddlebag of Bettany’s pretty white mare. “Here, let me show you how to check the girths and under the saddle cloth to make sure your horse is comfortable for a long ride.”

Bettany shook her head. “I am a lady and soon to be the wife of a great lord. Such tasks are for servants.”

Danilo expected Darilyn to object, but the Renunciate shrugged. “As you wish. If your saddle slips on the trail or your horse bucks because a wrinkle in her blanket has worn a sore on her back, it is yourhead you will fall upon, not that of a horsegroom.”

Darilyn arranged the riders, taking the lead herself and placing Danilo beside Bettany. They set off through the gates at a brisk walk to warm the horses up.

“Why do you suffer this indignity?” Bettany asked him. “Surely, youshould ride in the position of honor. You are the only man among us, and a Comyn lord. It’s demeaning for you to take orders from a hired servant!”

Danilo restrained the retort that rose to his tongue. “Darilyn is our trail guide. Your promised husband has paid for her advice on how to get us to Thendara as safely and comfortably as possible. This is her business, after all. Do you not think we should take her advice?”

Bettany said nothing, only stared ahead. Within a quarter an hour, however, she began complaining. She had a headache, her saddle was too hard, she was cold, she was hot, she was hungry, she was bored. Danilo, who had almost no experience with children, tried at first to encourage her. Nothing he said lessened her distress. Clearly, she had no conception of the distance to Thendara or the importance of taking advantage of every hour of good weather. Very shortly, he was reduced to staring straight ahead, teeth clenched, and doing his best to ignore her.

Finally he burst out, “This incessant whining is making matters difficult for the very people who are trying to help you. Lord Hastur has charged me with your education in the cristoforofaith and anything else you might need to know as wife to a great lord. The lessons will begin now. A lady does not complain at every little discomfort! Nor does she sulk and pout like a spoiled brat.”

“I’m not spoiled! I can’t help being hungry—you would be, too, if you hadn’t eaten since yesterday! I’m not usedto this!” Bettany burst into tears. “I want to go home!”

Darilyn, who had been riding on a circuit of the caravan, reined her sturdy piebald gelding beside the distraught girl. “What is this? Did you not eat breakfast before we set out?”

“What do youcare?” Bettany glared at the Renunciate and stuck out her lower lip.

“I am responsible for the well-being of every person in my charge, little lady. If you are merely uncomfortable, that is something you must bear in good temper. But if you are not properly nourished, you cannot withstand the rigors of travel. If you become ill and we must stop, we risk becoming snowed in without shelter. You put all our lives in jeopardy. Do you see how your actions affect more than yourself ?”

“Oh . . .” Bettany said in a small, contrite voice. “I would not want anyone to diebecause of me.”

“Then I will ride beside you and show you how we Free Amazons eat while on a long trail. DomDanilo, would you be so good as to ride point?”

Grateful for the escape, Danilo nudged his horse into a trot until he came to the front of the caravan. Darilyn’s kindliness toward Bettany surprised him;. He had thought Darilyn—and all such women, who lived by their own labor and renounced the protection of men—hard and unmotherly. Within a few minutes, Darilyn and Bettany were laughing together. Bettany’s chronic petulance disappeared, revealing her to be surprisingly pretty. What her natural temperament might be, Danilo could not tell. She had been taught neither manners nor self-discipline, but there was something more in her that troubled him, an oddness. He could not puzzle it out.

He could not see any man of sense being content with such a wife. He thought of Linnea, with her keen mind and trained laran,and more than that, her generosity, her sensitivity . . . all the things he had not wanted to admit but that made her the ideal consort for Regis. In fact, he could think of no other woman who posed lessof a threat to his relationship with Regis.

Darilyn persuaded Bettany that it was fun to nibble on trail food as they rode along, and the party made good progress. The women set a pace that was not too draining for the animals but took advantage of the fine weather. As afternoon waned, they pressed on, arriving at a good-sized village at a crossroads.

The inn there was run by two Renunciates, friends of Darilyn. One took charge of the horses, patting their necks and speaking to them with such affection that Danilo had no doubt they would be pampered and fed with as much care as their riders.

The common room of the inn was clean and warm, if plainly furnished. By this time, Bettany had passed from her earlier cheer to peevishness and then to sullen silence. She had given up complaining how tired and hungry and cold she was and sat where she had been placed before the fire. The second innkeeper set about providing hot drinks for them all while dinner was prepared and baggage brought up to their rooms.

Danilo carried a cup of jacoto Bettany and pulled up a stool beside her. “Here, drink this. It will warm you.” He took a packet of honeyed nuts from his jacket pocket and held it out. “Eat these as well. I always carry them on the trail for times such as this. Dinner will be soon, but it is best to have something to tide you over.”

Like an obedient child, she sipped the stimulant drink and nibbled on the nuts. Within minutes, her face, which had been very pale, brightened. “These are good. Th-thank you.”

“It has been a long, hard day for someone unaccustomed to travel. This must all seem very strange.”

“Oh! As to that—” Her eyes turned glassy, then she gathered herself. “I see you mean to help me. Tell me, what sort of man is my new lord? Is it true he is . . . not as other men?”

Danilo sat back, momentarily at a loss as to how to answer. “I am sure he will be a good husband to you.”

Temper flashed in her eyes. “Do not treat me like a child to be cozened with pretty promises! I have heard . . .” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “he is deformed. As a man.”

Deformed? Danilo felt a rush of outrage. He mistrusted Rinaldo for many reasons, but the poor man’s birth was not among them, nor should it be.

“I believe you mean he is emmasca,” Danilo said firmly. “It is nota perversion, but the way he is made.”

He paused, surprised at his own vehemence. What he had just asserted was as true for Regis and himself as for Rinaldo. The way each of us is made.He did not know the particulars of Rinaldo’s anatomy and inclinations, nor did he want to. He knew how difficult it was to reconcile one’s nature with incompatible demands. Had Rinaldo undergone a similar struggle, or had he found acceptance in the cristoforocommunity? If the doctrine was harsh in some areas, it could be compassionate in others.

From what Rinaldo had said, he responded sexually to women, at least in theory. He was not ignorant of what passed between husbands and wives. He must have had good reason to think he could perform the role of husband.

Danilo said as much to Bettany, adding, “The marriage bed is not the only test of a man’s ability. There are certain normal functions that occur even in young unmarried men—”

“I know—I—” Blushing furiously, the girl looked down.

Danilo took the cup from her and set it down on the hearth. “ Chiya,I am sorry! I should not have spoken so crudely to you.”

Bettany twisted her hands together as tears streamed down her cheeks. Danilo laid one of his hands on hers to comfort her. Her fingers were like ice, but the physical contact brought an unexpected psychic link. He himself was not a strong telepath, but he had always been able to sense the emotions of others. Now he felt her fatigue, her irritability, her fear, her self-absorption. He also sensed a memory so distorted and bizarre that it colored everything else in her mind. In reflex, he pulled his hands away and slammed his laranbarriers tight.

Brief as the rapport had been, he knew what he had touched. This poor young woman, this difficult child, had been caught up in a Ghost Wind. She must have been away from home at the time, for the plants producing the highly psychedelic pollen grew only at high altitudes. Under the influence of the airborne particles, men were known to have gone berserk. Bettany was lucky to be alive and with any portion of her mind intact.

She had calmed and was staring at him with the glassy expression he now understood. He did not want to touch her again.

“Whatever else he may be,” Danilo said, “Lord Hastur is a good man. He has spent most of his life as a cristoforomonk, dedicated to a virtuous life. Did they tell you that, as well?”

She shook her head, and he wondered if she had indeed been told but had not understood. He explained, in the broadest terms, the principles of that faith. Rinaldo’s constant reminders and regular chapel attendance had sharpened his memory.

The conversation continued through the dinner hour. For the first time, Bettany seemed to be genuinely interested in something besides herself. Perhaps she was relieved or simply attracted to the idea of a husband who was not only rich and powerful but romantically mysterious as well. At least, she was now minimally familiar with the tenets of her husband’s faith.

Danilo escorted Bettany up the stairs to the room she shared with one of the Renunciates.

“What I said about my promised husband,” she said, “I did not mean it. I was told those things out of spite. Theywanted me to believe that he could never love me or give me a child. If what you say is true—if the Lord of All Worlds and His saints work miracles for the faithful—then who is to say we will not be blessed as well? Surely, there can be no more devout follower than my husband.”

Leaving Danilo speechless, the girl shut the door behind her.

24

As the party neared Thendara, the weather worsened. Clouds blanketed the sun. Both humans and animals breathed out streams of vapor, and ice formed on skin and clothing. Sleet poured down as they crested the pass through the Venza Hills. The horses plodded on, heads lowered and tails clamped to their rumps. There was no shelter along this stretch of the road, and the winds cut through the hills like razor- edged knives. Darilyn, her face pale and set, shouted to keep together and keep moving. Danilo admired her ability to keep everyone organized.

They arrived in Thendara late, as the quick hush of nightfall settled over the city. They were all thoroughly drenched and aching with cold. Bettany’s lips had turned blue. She was shivering visibly.

Darilyn sent one of her women ahead to alert the Castle. When they clattered into the courtyard, lanterns were already lit and the cobblestones swept clear of snow. Servants waited in the sheltered alcoves of the doors with blankets in hand.

Within the Castle itself, Javanne Hastur and a handful of maids waited to take Bettany in hand. Javanne stripped off the girl’s sodden cloak and wrapped her in a thick shawl.

“Where is her waiting-woman? Has she no kinswoman to attend her?” Javanne demanded of Danilo, as if this lapse of propriety were his fault.

He hesitated to blurt out the truth in front of the girl, that she had been thrust into an unseasonable journey among strangers, without even that small comfort. Javanne pressed her lips together, her posture expressing her opinion, and bustled the girl away.

The Renunciates had finished offloading what did not belong to them and were ready to leave. Danilo offered them a hot meal from the Castle kitchens, but they refused. They looked weary, yet anxious to be back in their own Guild House.

Darilyn and Danilo stood in the lee of the outer wall as he counted out the rest of the fee, adding a generous bonus from his own purse. Instead of taking her leave, Darilyn lingered.

“Is anything amiss?” Danilo asked. He was distracted by the business of their arrival and the safe disposal of Bettany’s dowry, so that he was not blocking telepathic contact the way he normally did. She was unsure but not alarmed.

“You are—you were paxman to DomRegis Hastur?”

Pain welled, but only a small pulse, quickly fading in the thought: Was and still am, in my heart.Nothing could change that, not all of Rinaldo’s fiery words or the gods themselves.

Darilyn said, “I hear he is lately married to Lady Linnea Storn.”

“Yes, that is true.” Why would the affairs of the Comyn concern a Renunciate? Given Darilyn’s touch of laranand red-tinted hair, could she and Linnea be distant kinswomen? Throughout the Domains, the illegitimate offspring of Comyn lords often had some degree of psychic talent.

“Would you convey my wishes for her happiness?” Darilyn’s usually brusque manner softened. “I met her years ago, you see, when she was Keeper at Arilinn. My freemate and I sought her out when there was no one else we could turn to for help. She was gracious to us when there was no obligation. She accepted us, accepted mefor what I am. I have never forgotten that kindness.”

How like Linnea to have seen past the cropped hair, the mannish clothing, and the surgical mutilation to the heart of the woman. There was nothing mean spirited or prideful in Linnea. She would not judge Darilyn for her choices . . . or Regis for his.

“I cannot say when I will next have the opportunity, but I will speak to the lady and give her your greetings.” Danilo bowed in informal salute.

With a whisper of a smile, Darilyn returned to her sisters.

While Danilo was fetching Bettany to Thendara, arrangements for the marriage had been made. The ceremony took place only a tenday later, with barely enough time to sew the wedding clothes.

The intervening time went by in a cascade of autumnal storms, one upon the heels of the next. Ice-edged rain battered the city, sending even the hardiest folk scurrying for shelter. The damp chill penetrated stone and wooden walls alike. Winds swirled through the streets and the courtyards of the Castle. In the brief respites between gusts, common people emerged to rush through the most essential tasks. Street vendors set up their wares with desperate speed and as quickly took them down. On corners and outside taverns, men in ragged cloaks gathered to exchange dire prophecies about the winter to come.

At last, on a particularly blustery day, the waiting came to an end. Danilo’s temper was thoroughly frayed, and he wanted the wretched affair to be over; Rinaldo had kept him running between Gabriel, who was in charge of the security arrangements, Javanne and the Castle coridom,who were in charge of decorations and food, the musicians, the priest who was to perform the cristoforoportion of the ceremony, and almost daily errands to Tiphani Lawton. Danilo had scarcely had a moment to himself, let along to deliver Darilyn’s message to Linnea or find a way of letting Regis know, by look or thought, of his desire for a reconciliation. He had scarcely seen Bettany, for she had kept to her rooms, refusing to see anyone but a bevy of dressmakers and jewelers.

Javanne had taken it upon herself to supervise the bride’s gown and attendants. Everything would be in impeccable taste, but Danilo could not imagine Javanne as a sympathetic friend.

Danilo wondered if Linnea might be able to help Bettany. If anyone could heal the psychic wounds caused by the Ghost Wind, it was a trained leronis. Try as he might, however, Danilo could not think of a way of suggesting it that would not immediately meet with Rinaldo’s refusal.

Rinaldo had wanted the wedding to take place in the Crystal Chamber, but Valdir had convinced him of the impropriety of admitting commoners to a place traditionally reserved for Comyn. Therefore, a smaller but no less stately venue was selected, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom. Paneled in rich dark wood with southern-facing windows, ample wall sconces now filled with beeswax candles, and a fireplace capable of warming the entire chamber, the place was suitable for even a royal marriage. Javanne had outdone herself with garlands of hothouse flowers, tied with ribbons in Hastur blue and white. The honey-sweet smell of the candles mingled with the perfume of the flowers.

The wedding was the highlight of the autumn social calendar. Every Comyn and city dignitary in Thendara received an invitation, as did the Terran Legate. When the first guests arrived, Danilo stood in his prescribed place, a pace behind Rinaldo. This way, he need not respond overtly to any greeting, although many guests included him by a glance or a word. It occurred to Danilo that these people valued him in his own right, not merely for his role as paxman to Regis and now to Rinaldo.

Regis and Linnea were among the earliest to arrive, followed by Dan Lawton and his wife. Rinaldo, infused with a celebratory spirit, had ordered Valdir to remove his guards from Regis. To Danilo’s surprise, Valdir had complied. Perhaps he no longer considered Regis the primary obstacle to his plans.

Warmly, Regis wished his brother every happiness. Linnea did not curtsy but inclined her head in a Keeper’s greeting. She was heavily pregnant, but she carried herself with grace.

Regis paused before making way for the next guest to greet the groom. Unlike the Crystal Chamber, this room had no telepathic dampers. Regis had kept his thoughts shielded, but as his eyes met Danilo’s, he lowered his barriers. Linnea stood watch, by her posture and her laran-enhanced vigilance ensuring a moment of intimacy.

Bredhyu!

Then Regis was turning away, Rinaldo had already begun his formal greeting to the Terran Legate, and the fleeting rapport disappeared.

While Dan Lawton offered appropriate congratulations, his wife beamed at Rinaldo. Danilo needed no psychic abilities to detect the bond between the two. Was it the sort of flirtation a couple, each married to someone else, might enjoy? No, the connection was far stronger and eerily disturbing. Danilo sensed no trace of sexual attraction, but passion lay at its roots.

The crowd quieted as Bettany entered, accompanied by Crystal Di Asturien and Javanne’s adolescent daughter, Ariel. Bettany looked very young and small in a confection of cream-colored lace over satin just a shade darker. Her fair hair had been curled and lacquered so that not a strand moved beneath her diamond-studded veil. Tiny silver bells hung by ribbons from her tiara.

As she halted beside Rinaldo, Bettany’s gaze met Danilo’s. A glassy light filled her eyes. For a moment, she seemed not to know him, or anyone. Her thin fingers plucked at the lace of her gown. Then she sniffed, lifted her chin, and turned away, as if Danilo were beneath her notice.

The ceremony itself was longer and more complex than Danilo had ever witnessed. As Lord Hastur, the Head of his Domain, Rinaldo must be wed by the ancient Comyn tradition of di catenas. He insisted on a religious rite as well.

Rinaldo had asked Regis to officiate for the first portion. The honor should have gone to Ruyven Di Asturien, but no one thought any the worse of Regis for it. For Regis, it was no privilege but a humiliation, a public reminder of his lesser status.

Regis carried out his part with quiet dignity. Linnea stood a short distance away in the front row of onlookers. Danilo sensed her mental presence sustaining Regis. When Danilo opened his mind, it felt as if a door had cracked ajar and sunlight streamed into a darkened room.

The chamber dimmed in Danilo’s sight; he felt a surge of—was it welcome? acceptance?—from Linnea.

Then Regis was clasping the catenasbracelets on the wrists of his brother and the new bride. Danilo’s vision sharpened. One of the fabulously expensive Arcarran rubies set in the bracelets sparkled. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of freshly spilt blood.

The participants rearranged themselves for the religious ceremony. Tiphani Lawton stood directly behind Bettany. Had he not known Rinaldo’s adherence to cristoforomorality, Danilo might have suspected him of marrying both women at the same time.

The cristoforopriest, a slight man with a straight line for a mouth, intoned the nuptial benediction. Tiphani closed her eyes and swayed dramatically in time with his words. Rinaldo bowed his head as if receiving absolution. Bettany looked blank, her face the color and immobility of a wax doll.

Watching her, Danilo was suddenly overtaken by the certainty that this wedding was a serious mistake, one they would all come to regret. The girl was not bored, as it first appeared. She was trembling. Overwrought, confused. Near tears. Perhaps even aware of the spectacle of Tiphani Lawton behind her.

How could her family have done this to her?Danilo thought angrily. Anyone else would have known the marriage was a sham, her husband incapable of giving her children. Rinaldo was marrying her not for love but out of religious duty and as a way of slacking his long- repressed desires without guilt.

Well, Danilo thought, it was no business of his whom Rinaldo married or why. He did not know whether he pitied more the bridegroom with the glowing, beatific smile or the frightened child who was now his wife.

Or, he added to himself, Tiphani Lawton. The woman had retreated to a corner and was holding forth to a rapt audience. Danilo could not catch her words, only her animated features.

Danilo was more interested in the sight of Linnea and Regis standing close together. Something in his stance, the angle of his shoulder, was tender and protective. She held herself well, despite the awkwardness of her pregnancy, accepting his attention and yet in no way lessened by it. Regis could have done far worse.

The witnesses drifted toward the ballroom, where the reception and dancing would take place. As much with his mind as with his ears, Danilo overheard Regis murmuring to Linnea, “I fear what may come of this, although I do not know why.”

A surge of agreement from Linnea: “What are we to do? As the old proverb says, ‘The world will go as it will and not as you or I would have it.’ ”

“Perhaps.” Regis did not sound convinced.

Regis, Danilo thought with a private smile, had never waited passively for the world to do as it willed.

Following the knot of guests, Dan Lawton maneuvered to walk beside Danilo. “Can you get a word to Regis? Every message I’ve sent has been refused.”

Danilo kept his gaze ahead, his expression guarded, and said nothing..

“At least he looks well enough. I feared—” Dan broke off as they came into the ballroom itself. The guests parted to allow Rinaldo and his new bride to enter. “If you can, let Regis know the genetic tests confirmed Rinaldo as a Hastur, so we’ve had to accept his credentials. I won’t be able to ignore him if he starts pressing for Federation membership.”

In the ballroom, the musicians had tuned up and were waiting for the newly married couple to begin the night’s dancing. Rinaldo had given strict instructions as to which dances and songs were acceptable. There would be no wild mountain secainnor any modern, licentious off-world gyrations and especially no Sword Dance. Danilo remembered how Dyan Ardais, in a brilliantly barbaric costume from the Ages of Chaos, had brought a fierce masculine grace and barely sublimated sexuality to the ancient steps. No, this evening would be one of sedate formal dances, preferably ones in which men and women danced only with one another and touched no more than their fingertips.

Rinaldo had clearly been taking lessons, for he squired his new wife through the measures of the opening dance, a promenada,without hesitation. Bettany, now the center of attention, smiled up at her husband with the first expression of happiness Danilo had yet seen in her.

The dance concluded to restrained applause. Rinaldo was so pleased with himself that he bade Danilo to dance with any lady he liked. There were not many women with whom Danilo was on cordial terms. Javanne seemed pleased, if startled, when he asked her, and it was not improper because they had been introduced so long ago. Javanne made a restful partner, for she made no attempt at conversation. Danilo enjoyed dancing and wished it were permissible for him to dance with her more than once, but he could not pay special attention to another man’s wife.

Bettany had been partnered by Valdir, who escorted her back to her new husband. Rinaldo was talking with the cristoforopriest with such absorption that he gave his wife only a cursory nod. Danilo felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. How could Rinaldo fail to see that she craved attention as a drowning man craved air? Moved, Danilo bowed to each of them in turn, including the priest, and then asked if he might request the next dance.

Bettany’s fingers felt cold as they rested lightly on Danilo’s. The musicians played the opening measures of the next dance, a passolentoin two lines. Danilo handed Bettany into the position of honor among the other ladies and took his place opposite her. The two lines bowed to one another, moving through the stylized courtly display. Bettany brightened as the two of them swept down the center with all eyes upon her. There was an artless enjoyment in the way she skipped through the close-steps. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips parted. The melody was very old and familiar, and she hummed along like any young woman at her first fancy ball. In that moment of simple pleasure, Danilo saw the girl she had been before the Ghost Wind and might yet be again, given care and understanding, gentle guidance, and, most of all, affection. CouldRinaldo love her?

The passolentoclosed with another formal salute. Danilo offered Bettany his arm. “It’s good to see you happy, damisela—p ardon me, Domna.”

“Happy? Am I happy?” She hesitated, and he slowed his step to give them more time before he must return her to Rinaldo. “I do so love dancing and pretty dresses, but these are things of the moment. At night, in the dark, I am alone with my thoughts. I suppose that will be different now—the being alone. Perhaps hewill talk to me.”

Danilo’s heart ached for her poignant hope. “Bettany— Domna—if you ever need someone to listen to you, to give you counsel—”

She looked up at him, eyes full of questions. “ Youwould be such a friend to me?”

“I doubt your husband would permit it. I meant you might seek out DomnaLinnea. As your sister-in-law and a Comynara in her own right, such a friendship would be perfectly suitable. You will find her kind and sympathetic. She has been trained as a healer of the mind—”

He saw from Bettany’s reaction that he had gone too far. Her face, which had softened like a flower in the sun, closed. “I do not need anyone to be kindto me. And there is nothing wrong with my mind! I require you to take me to my husband with no more unseemly delay!”

Afterward, Danilo waited out several dances and then, seeing Linnea sitting with a group of ladies, he approached her. Linnea flashed him an expression of relief when he asked her to dance, for what he heard of the conversation concerned this season’s fashion in crocheted- lace ruffles.

“I have a message for you,” he said as the musicians played the opening bars. “From Darilyn n’ha Miriam.”

“Who—oh, the Free Amazon. I remember her. How did you—” Linnea broke off as the pattern of the dance drew them apart, for they were the first couple, casting off.

“I hired her to escort Damisela—a h, DomnaBettany—from Serrais.”

Linnea joined his hands as they circled one another.

“You could not have done better. How does Darilyn fare?”

“She is well and sends her thoughts of you. And her thanks—” they drew back as the second couple moved into the center of the set to circle, “—for your kindness to her.”

“Kindness—” Linnea broke off, frustrated. Danilo, we cannot talk about anything of importance this way!

With a conspiratorial wink, Linnea passed one hand over her forehead and grasped her rounded belly with the other. She let out a very realistic groan. Danilo, needing no further cue, assisted her to the chairs along one wall, choosing a corner where a pair of old dowagers were snoozing. He waved away offers of help, saying the lady was but a trifle overtired.

Linnea said in a hushed voice, “Regis was so worried—Rinaldo did not tell him that he’d sent you off to Serrais—”

“I didn’t think—I’ve been such a fool!”

“You? No! Regis thought Rinaldo had reneged on his bargain.”

“Bargain?”

“You didn’t know?” Linnea’s expression turned troubled. “Valdir threatened to have you tortured or killed! Rinaldo managed to get you out of his clutches, but only if—if—”

“Regis set me aside. Got married like a proper Comyn lord.” Although he knew it was unfair, Danilo could not keep himself from adding, “So what Danvan Hastur and half the Comyn Council could not force Regis to do, Rinaldo has now done.”

Listen to me!Linnea shifted to direct mental speech, where no lies or dissembling were possible. When I sent Regis away last spring , I was hurt and angry. And jealous—o fyou . I almost threw away something so precious, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life. Don’t make my mistake! What the two of you share, I can never be part of . . . and I swear to you, I will never try to come between you.

Danilo had been bending over Linnea, their heads close together. Now he lowered himself into the chair beside her. Bracing his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. He did not care who saw him. He had hoped for a word with Regis, a sign, a thought. He had not expected such a revelation, certainly not from Linnea. It was too much, all of it, the whole colossal misunderstanding, the savagery of Valdir’s ambition, and Rinaldo—who knew what his aims really were or what he might do to achieve them?

“Danilo . . .”

He had never heard that note of alarm in Linnea’s voice before. He lifted his head, stared at her. She hunched over, both arms wrapped around her belly. A high color had risen to her cheeks and even now faded into paleness. He sensed the ripple of energy arise deep within her body, stealing her breath, gripping her muscles.

“I really must lie down, and you had best send for a midwife and let Regis know.” It was unthinkable for a telepath to not attend the mother of his children in labor.

She paused, gulping air. “Our little Danilo has chosen a most inopportune time to make his appearance.”

Discreetly, Danilo arranged for women to help Linnea to her chamber, for the midwife to be summoned, for excuses to be made to Rinaldo and Bettany. Valdir deserved none.

Regis flashed Danilo a brilliant smile before he hurried after his wife. In the swirl of the festivities, there was no possibility of anything more.

Only when they were gone, when the music faded into a hum, did Danilo realize what Linnea had said about the baby.

Our Danilo.

25

The next morning, Danilo attended Rinaldo in the library, standing in his usual place behind his lord’s chair. Rinaldo’s marriage had not altered his daily routine. Poor Bettany,Danilo thought, to be paraded about one day and ignored the next.

One of the Guardsmen brought news that Lady Linnea had given birth to a healthy boy. Rinaldo beamed, as delighted as if it were his own son, and gave Danilo a meaningful look.

He intends that I should be next.Danilo set his teeth together. It isn’t enough that Rinaldo keeps me at his side, making it impossible for me to have a private word with Regis, but he would see me saddled with as loveless a union as his own.

Now that Danilo understood the true state of affairs with Linnea, how could he repay Regis by placing yet another person between them? Even if Danilo could bring himself to take a wife, it was not likely he could find one who, like Linnea, was willing to share her husband’s deepest loyalty with another man.

Something in Danilo’s expression must have betrayed his resistance, for Rinaldo responded with a half-smile that, while tolerant and good-humored, indicated he had no intention of relenting.

Rinaldo bade the messenger convey his congratulations to the new parents. Then he returned to the letter he had been contemplating before the interruption. His smile faded, and the creases between his brows deepened.

As the silence wore on, Danilo’s curiosity stirred. “My lord . . . ?”

Rinaldo looked up, his frown shifting towards annoyance.

“My lord, is there something I might help you with? A matter in which my experience might be of use?”

“I hardly think that is the case here.” Rinaldo pushed the paper away. “I suppose it is difficult to change beliefs people have clung to for so many centuries. I am speaking, you understand, of achieving full acceptance of the cristofororeligion throughout the Domains.”

“In matters of faith, I believe change comes slowly,” Danilo said in an encouraging tone. “People tend to stay with what they were taught as children.”

Rinaldo’s face tightened again. “I cannot wait a generation! Who knows how many souls may be lost? This prejudice against the true faith is intolerable!”

“There are more chapels in Thendara than ever before,” Danilo reminded him. “Surely, given time, the people will come to accept—”

“The common people, but not the Comyn! My own caste, the very men who should be leading this glorious battle, cling to the accursed superstitions of the past! What will it take to make them see that idolatrous worship of Aldones and the rest leads to damnation?”

Danilo flinched at Rinaldo’s ferocity. He could not believe that Regis or Lew Alton or any of the other Comyn who faithfully followed the practices of his ancestors, these decent, honorable men, must necessarily face eternal torture. Before he could think of a suitably nonconfrontational comment, he heard an angry voice outside the door, followed by a barrage of sharp raps.

“Out of my way, lout! I will not be put off again!”

The door flew open, and Valdir Ridenow strode in. He was richly attired in the green of his Domain trimmed in gold thread, and his face was flushed.

Drawing his sword, Danilo stepped between Valdir and Rinaldo. The steel sang softly as it came free. A feral smile warmed his lips. Very few things would have pleased him more than an excuse to plunge the blade into Valdir’s heart.

Valdir halted, quickly composing himself. Danilo held his position; it was for Rinaldo to command him to attack or to stand down.

Rinaldo waited another moment before speaking. “Danilo, lower your sword. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I hardly think such a worthy man as DomValdir has come here with the express intent to assault me.”

“As you wish, vai dom.” Without taking his eyes off Valdir, Danilo replaced his blade in its scabbard. “I beg you to remember that Hasturs have been targets for assassins before this.”

He had killed his share of them, defending Regis.

“It seems,” Valdir said, attempting levity, “your tame paxman may not be so tame after all.”

“I take my oath seriously.” Danilo met Valdir’s eyes.

Valdir glared back, as if to say, You were my prisoner once, your life in my hands . . . and can become so again.

“Enough of this!” Rinaldo’s irritation returned in full force. “What do you want, Valdir? I already told your man that I have no time for foolishness.”

“The future of Darkover in the Federation is hardly foolishness. Now dismiss your paxman so we may discuss the matter freely.” Valdir moved toward the larger of the two chairs.

“Sit down if you wish,” Rinaldo said tightly, “but I have no intention of wasting my time on affairs that do not immediately concern Darkover . . . with my paxman present or without him.”

Valdir did not take a seat. He halted, poised on the balls of his feet. In that moment, he became far more dangerous. Any trained fighter, any experienced politician—in short, any Comyn—would have recognized the threat. Apparently Rinaldo did not, for he reached for the paper and began reading it again.

“I cannot force the Hastur Domain to act,” Valdir began, in clear control of himself.

“No,” Rinaldo glanced up, “you cannot. Unless you propose to overthrow your precious tradition and place another Domain in ascendancy or find someone to crown as king, you have no power.”

“I do.”

The man was not bluffing. Danilo had seen enough blustering to know the difference. So, apparently, had Rinaldo.

Valdir let the moment stretch out. “I see we understand one another, Lord Hastur. I cannot remove you from the position I have placed you in, and I doubt that taking your lady wife under my . . . protectionwill make any difference to you. Oh, do not look so innocent! You know very well how such things are done—and so does he,” meaning Danilo.

“You no longer have the power to advance your pet project,” Rinaldo sneered, “and hence must come begging to me like an abandoned cur. I told you before that membership in the Federation is of little consequence compared to the salvation—”

“But these are not my only options. I can convene what is left of the Comyn Council. I can move that each Domain may act as an independent polity unfettered by any previous accord. If, for example, Ridenow wished to join the Federation, we would be free to do so.”

Blood drained from Danilo’s face.

“Go ahead, then!” Rinaldo snarled. “You cannot coerce me into acting against my conscience!”

“Pardon my intrusion,” Danilo kept his face toward Rinaldo, whose ignorance of the implications was appalling. “My lord, how would the Federation respond if only someof the Domains applied for membership and others remained opposed?”

“Why, they could do nothing,” was the reply, delivered in a careless tone. “How could the Federation accept only partof a planet? For that matter, even if all seven Domains wished it, should we exclude the Dry Towns?” Rinaldo snorted in ridicule. “Why not consult the trailmen, as well? Or the kyrri?” referring to two of the nonhuman races on Darkover. “Or the chieri,assuming any still exist?”

Danilo pressed his lips together to keep from bursting out with the truth. The Federation would jump at the chance to declare the Darkovan government a failed state. They would send military forces to “restore order.” Lew Alton had reported on more than one such instance elsewhere, always when intervention was in the best economic interest of the Expansionist Party.

The danger ran deeper than occupation by an interstellar army, dreadful as that might be. Without the Compact, the Council, and the ancient ties of interdependence, there was nothing to stop one Domain from declaring war on another. The armies of Aldaran had marched on Thendara within Danilo’s own memory. Every Comyn was taught from childhood about the horrors of the past, incessant warfare when laranweapons poisoned water and land, and clingfirerained from the skies.

Did Valdir mean to bring about a second Age of Chaos?

Danilo turned to face Valdir, praying his voice would not shake. “You are an educated man, my lord, well versed in history. Do you recall what happened the last time Hastur and Ridenow went to war?”

Valdir paled minutely. If Rinaldo did not appreciate the lessons from that terrible conflict, then Valdir certainly did.

Something shifted in Valdir’s demeanor. There was no lessening of determination, only a drawing back from words that could not be unsaid . . . and a tinge of consternation. Was he now regretting his alliance with the man he once considered a pliant and useful tool?

“I have taken up enough of your valuable time, Lord Hastur.” Valdir bowed, his features carefully masked. “Perhaps we might continue this conversation at a time when you are more disposed to give it your full consideration.”

“Perhaps,” Rinaldo murmured, “although I cannot tell when that might be.”

Valdir bowed again and retreated through the door.

Shaking his head, Rinaldo let out an aggrieved sigh. “Valdir Ridenow is a worthy man in many respects, but he is no better than his fellow idol-worshipers. He thinks only of the worldly advantages of the Federation. I fear his soul will be in grave peril unless he can be brought to see the truth.”

He sighed again and picked up the paper. “Meanwhile, I must attend as best I can to those already among the faithful. This—this cannot be allowed to continue!”

“Do you wish to give me any details, my lord?”

“Oh, you will know soon enough. You are well aware that DomnaLawton has been among our staunchest allies in bringing God’s true word to the people.”

“She helped you establish the Chapel of All Worlds,” Danilo said neutrally.

“Initially, I was glad of her aid in that enterprise, as well as her counsel in other matters. But she is so much more . . . I believe she is a true prophet, even a saint. Until I met her, I had no idea the Holy One might speak so clearly to one not of our world. Now I am sure it is true.”

Rinaldo gestured for Danilo to take the nearest chair. “Did you see the rapture that seized Lady Lawton at my wedding?”

Everyone in the room had noticed Tiphani Lawton’s odd behavior. In Danilo’s opinion, most of the guests thought it a bizarre off-world tradition for an unrelated woman to pray so dramatically over the head of the bride.

“Until last night, I dared not hope that the Bearer of Burdens might bless me with a sign of divine favor,” Rinaldo said, his voice resonant with ardor. “I was taught that miracles come only to those who believe without reservation. No matter how I strove for perfection, I always fell short. I could not rid myself of impure—ah, impious thoughts. Now, surrounded by every worldly temptation, I received an unexpected grace . . .”

He paused, perhaps on the brink of announcing that something amazing and miraculous had happened to him.

“Lady Lawton writes to me now. Oh, that such an affront should come to any of the faithful, but that it should be one blessed with mystical sight! It is insupportable!”

“Why, has some trouble befallen the lady?” Danilo asked.

“Her husband, that Terranan! Hehas befallen her! He has accused her—he suspects—it is too outrageous to contemplate!” Throwing down the letter, Rinaldo jumped to his feet and began pacing, kicking chairs as he passed.

“My lord?”

“Read it for yourself!”

Danilo picked up the letter. The paper was Terran manufacture, with the peculiar smoothness that no Darkovan mill could produce. The handwriting was atrocious by Nevarsin standards, as if each letter had been formed by a different child.

The letter was from Tiphani Lawton.

Through the misspellings and incorrectly formed letters, Danilo made out its substance. Dan Lawton had come to the conclusion that his wife’s visions were not divinely inspired, as she and Rinaldo knew to be the case, but represented a form of irrational behavior. Although she did not use the word insanity, Danilo could read between the lines. Dan wanted her to seek medical care, as if she were ill instead of blessed. She feared what the Terran doctors would do: force her to take drugs that would derange her mind and deprive her of divine guidance. She concluded with an appeal for help that was so overwrought as to be almost incoherent.

Irrational behavior,indeed. Danilo lowered the letter. Even if he had not witnessed her performance at Rinaldo’s wedding, her mental instability would have been clear from the letter. Meanwhile, what was he to do? What could he possibly say to make Rinaldo see sense? With Regis, he would have had no hesitation speaking his mind. But Regis would have seen through Tiphani in an instant.

“You see! You see!” Rinaldo snatched the letter from Danilo’s hands. “This is why I cannot listen to Valdir! He is in love with the Terranan, but I know them for what they are—idolaters who would suppress the truth!”

“Surely a reasoned answer is the best way to lull their suspicions,” Danilo suggested, certain that to storm into Terran Federation HQ and carry away the wife of the Legate, even with her willing cooperation, would be seen as a hostile act, one the Federation forces were fully empowered to answer.

“Yes, yes, of course. I must consider how to proceed.”

Calmer now after venting his feelings, Rinaldo lowered himself back into the chair. He placed his elbows on the polished surface of the desk and brought his fingertips together, echoing an attitude of prayer. He seemed so deep in thought, Danilo dared not interrupt him.