Hastur Lord

“Spaceforce sent a rescue party,” Regis lowered his voice. “They were armed with blasters. As you can imagine, the result was some nasty fighting. I’ll tell you more later. For now, we need to notify the families, and I must deal with my brother.”

“He’s in council with Lord Valdir and half a dozen others.”

Leave it to Gabriel, even when relieved of his command, to know the inner workings of the Castle.

“I can’t waste any time,” Regis said. “For all I know, Rinaldo’s already gotten word of what happened. Gabriel, I need your help.”

“You’ve got it. Regis . . . there will be Nine Hells to pay. You and I both know it.”

“That’s why this madness has to stop now, whatever it takes, before any more men die. Before we reach the point of no return with the Federation. Before there is too much anger, too much bloodshed, too much reason for retaliation.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Gabriel muttered. “Once the Terrananimpose martial law, they’ll never let go. We’ll become little more than a heavily armed spaceport.”

Once given a task, and with Ariel firmly in hand, Javanne regained her composure. She rattled off orders to a stream of servants. Within the hour, the children would be restored to their families. Knowing her, they would first be fed and properly clothed.

With Gabriel a half-pace behind, Regis stormed across the inner courtyard and into the main Castle. Servants and an occasional courtier scurried out of their way. Once a Guardsman began to intercept them but withdrew, bowing respectfully. Regis was not sure whether the man had recognized him or Gabriel as the former Commander, and he did not care.

As they approached Rinaldo’s council chamber, the Guardsman on duty outside the door held his ground. Gabriel stepped to the fore.

“Commander—” the Guardsman protested.

“Move aside, Esteban. That’s a direct order. One way or another, we’re going through that door. I don’t want to lose another good man to this idiocy.”

The Guardsman’s mouth dropped open. He let them pass. Gabriel knocked loudly and then, without waiting for a response, flung the door open.

The chamber was modest, once used for informal Comyn gatherings. A table had been set up in the center, with Rinaldo at the head. Maps and documents were laid out, along with a tray containing a carafe of wine, unwatered by its deep hue.

Rinaldo looked up sharply as Regis and Gabriel entered. To either side sat Valdir Ridenow, two courtiers from minor noble families, and the cristoforopriest who had conducted the conversions at Rinaldo’s court. Danilo stood a pace behind and to the side of Rinaldo, but the chair to Rinaldo’s right was conspicuously empty.

“Regis!” Rinaldo exclaimed. “Blessed saints, what has happened? Has there been an attempt on your life?”

“It’s not myblood.” Regis heard his own voice ringing through the chamber, then a terrible stillness, a waiting, an expectancy. Every head turned in his direction, some with expressions of amazement, others with dismay. Danilo shifted, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. Valdir’s eyes reflected the despair of a man confronted with his own worst fears.

Regis waited another heartbeat. “Some of this blood belonged to Haldred Ridenow. The man yousent to guard those children—children youabducted from their families against every principle of honor and decency!”

Several of the council cried out in protest. One started to rise. In a lightning move, Gabriel clamped one hand on the man’s shoulder and forced him back to his seat.

“I?” Rinaldo faltered. “I had nothing to do—”

“If this outrage was not carried out on your orders, then it was done behind your back, and you are still to blame!” Regis cut him off. It took all his discipline not to leap across the table and shake Rinaldo into sense.

“Do you think you can order men to do the things you are too squeamish to handle yourself and then deny all responsibility? Or that ignorance excuses incompetence? I tell you, if those who answer to you do evil without your leave, then you are doubly guilty, for you are responsible not only for their crimes but for your own blindness and your failure to stop them!”

“This is outrageous! You cannot simply walk in and make these ridiculous accusations!”

“Haldred is dead, you say?” Valdir blurted out, “How?”

In that single word, Regis knew that the Ridenow lord, whatever his other failings, had been ignorant of the prison-school and his cousin’s role in it.

“Haldred was one of three men holding children as hostages from important families in order to ensure their obedience to this—this pretender.” Regis saw his brother flush and half rise, but he did not falter. “One of them was my own niece, my sister’s daughter. Another was Felix Lawton.”

“Lawton?” Valdir sounded dazed.

“He is still alive, although gravely injured. Most of this blood is his. He may not survive.” Regis glared at his brother again. His breath caught in his throat, and he shoved away the memory of adrenaline and blaster fire. “The Federation sent in a rescue team.”

“What is he talking about?” one of the minor lords stammered.

“Federation police?”

“The last time that happened, there was rioting all through the Old Town—”

“People will never stand for it!”

“It wasn’t my idea!” Rinaldo protested. “It was—Luminosa said—she took care of everything! I didn’t know about the Lawton boy!”

Meaning,Regis thought angrily, that youdid know about the others.

“Where is she?” Valdir demanded. “My kinsman is slain! Why is this woman not here to answer for it?” He pointed to the vacant chair.

Rinaldo pounded on the table. The councillors, all except Valdir, flinched. “You forget yourself!” he roared at Valdir. “ Iam king here, not you! Igive the commands.”

“Are you hiding her?” Valdir shot back. “Protecting her? I say, bring her forth!”

“You have no authority over this council or Lady Luminosa.” The cristoforoshook off the moment of mute shock. “She answers only to His Majesty and the Lord of All Worlds!”

“We will find her,” Regis said, ignoring the priest, “and then we will hear the truth.”

“You’re distraught, brother, and you forget yourself.” Strain rendered Rinaldo’s voice tinny. “You cannot give orders here! I am the Head of Hastur, your legitimate liege, and I am king over all of you!”

That is about to change.

Before Regis could reply, he heard shrieks coming from the corridor outside. A woman’s voice, he thought. The councillors fell silent.

Rinaldo gestured curtly to Danilo. “Find out what that commotion is about. We have important business here and must not be interrupted.”

Danilo went to the door and returned a moment later with one of the Guardsman and Tiphani Lawton. For once, she wore the ordinary clothing of a Darkovan noblewoman, a high-necked gown of embroidery-trimmed wool, instead of her usual version of cristofororobes.

Anguish churned about Tiphani like a miasmic haze. She rushed to Rinaldo’s side and threw herself at his feet. Her eyes were wide and red rimmed, as if she saw the world through a blood- smeared lens. One of the councillors gasped.

Regis and Danilo exchanged glances. Danilo gave a small shake of his head. Regis steeled himself even as his gut twisted into an icy knot.

With surprising gentleness, Rinaldo lifted Tiphani to her feet. “Dear lady, domna cariosa, calm yourself. Tell us, whatever is the matter? Has—has something happened to the queen?”

Between gulping breaths, Tiphani managed to force out the words, “No, Her Majesty lives. But the baby—”

Although Rinaldo lacked the gift of laran,the force of his emotional reaction—denial, rage, stunned daze—battered them all. Regis recoiled as if he had been physically struck. Danilo looked nauseated, almost ill. Gabriel’s face turned ashen.

Rinaldo fell back into his chair. “My son . . . born too soon?”

Tiphani lifted her face, and Regis thought he had never seen such bleak confusion, not even when Felix had been so sick.

Felix! Had she heard—d id she yet know?

A few mute movements of her lips, and then she forced the words out: “The babe is gone, vanished from my lady’s womb!”

Appalled silence hung in the air.

“Is—is it certain?” stammered one of the courtiers. Tiphani looked as if she would break down again.

“My son . . . my son . . .” Rinaldo swayed like a man who has suffered a fatal wound.

“How can this be?” the other councillor recovered himself sufficiently to ask. “A babe spirited away, unborn?”

“It cannot be natural,” the cristoforopriest intoned.

The words passed over Regis like so many puffs of air, devoid of meaning. As angry as he had been with his brother only a few moments before, now his heart responded to the bewilderment on Rinaldo’s face.

And Tiphani, for whom he had never cared, whom he held responsible for the whole bloody disaster and Zandru only knew how much friction yet to come with the Federation, surely she deserved a morsel of compassion as well. She did not even know of her son’s desperate condition.

As gently as he could, Regis said, “My brother, these are matters that call for a lady’s tender care. Let me send for my wife. She has training in healing—”

Tiphani’s head shot up, her eyes filled with too much white. “Trained, yes, in that nest of sorcery you call a Tower! Do you not see, my lord,” to Rinaldo, “how she could have cast her evil spells out of jealousy—”

“No, no, my dear,” Rinaldo replied with surprising calm as he patted her hand. “My brother’s wife is a woman of virtue, and she has not been anywhere near Bettany.” In a quicksilver shift of mood, like the sudden fall of night over Thendara, his features darkened. “ Shehas not . . .”

His gaze lit upon Danilo.

“Lady Luminosa is correct. This tragic affair smacks of wizardry!” the priest repeated. “As I said before, it cannot be natural!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Regis snapped. Cloistered away from women, new to the ways of the world, what monk could be acquainted with the ills of women? But this was no time to educate the man about false pregnancy. “If you will not have Linnea’s help, then let us send for a healer-woman. MestraTiphani is overwrought—”

“Call me not by that vile Terran name!” Tiphani spat.

“—and will need support to bear her own tragedy.”

“What could be worse than the supernatural death of the king’s unborn son?” she demanded, her voice rising shrilly.

“Please, calm yourself—” Rinaldo said.

“Tell me!” she shrieked at Regis. She looked as if she would claw out the eyes of any man who crossed her. Danilo moved to intercept her.

In that brief hesitation, Valdir growled, “Your son was almost killed, you heartless vixen—and my own kinsman is dead! The Terrananraided the house in the Trade City—because youtook your son there!”

“Lies! Foul lies, spread by this scheming usurper!” Tiphani pointed at Regis.

Regis gazed back, and for a moment, his heart ached for her, so lost in self-righteous fury that she could not understand what had happened.

Then awareness flickered across her face. She lowered her hand. Her tone shifted from strident to hoarse. “What . . . what have you done?”

“I, lady?” Regis said. “I tried to save your son and would have done so, if the Federation men had not opened fire. I am sorry, more than I have words to tell you.”

Tiphani began to weep soundlessly. She turned away, blocked by the solid bulk of Gabriel. He put his arms around her with the same tenderness he would have used with a younger sister.

Rinaldo rose like the slow gathering of a storm cloud. “These things do not happen by chance.”

“No, they happen by human folly,” Regis responded. “By arrogance, greed, and ambition. By power without the wisdom to use it wisely.”

“This terrible winter and now this even more terrible loss,” Rinaldo went on, his voice breathy with passion, “these trials are surely sent to punish us for our wickedness.”

He fixed Regis with his icy gaze, then glared at Danilo. “We have tolerated evil among us for too long, even in the highest places. Can you gainsay this, Danilo?”

Lord of Light! I was a fool to think that if Danilo and I were parted, he would be safe!

“Confess now or risk your immortal soul!” Rinaldo cried. “Confess that you have influenced DomnaBettany and tried to sway her from the path of righteousness!”

“I have done nothing to harm the lady or her babe,” Danilo protested. “I have tried as best I could to be her friend.”

“You!” Tiphani shrilled. “You dared—”

Rinaldo cut her off. “You took advantage of my wife’s inexperience. You used her vulnerable condition—you seduced her thoughts—not that you would know what to do with a woman’s body!”

“If that is so,” Danilo answered with a flare of heat, “then she can be in no danger from me.”

“She can be in very grave danger,” came the silky rumble of the priest. “Spiritual danger, far more potent than mere physical lust. Your perverse inclinations, hidden but never abandoned, have struck down the unborn prince!”

“There is no evil in any form of love if it is given honestly,” Danilo said, his voice steady. “I cannot believe that a just god would so punish an innocent child.”

“Aha! There we have the heart of it!” cried Rinaldo. “I have known all along, but I have refrained from taking action for my brother’s sake. I had hoped you would repent, but now I see that is impossible. The evil has taken too deep a hold. It is you, Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, who are the cancer at the heart of this city!”

Rinaldo pointed at Danilo. “There is the sinner whose transgressions have brought retribution on us all. Seize him!”

Before the Guardsmen could respond, Valdir jumped up. “This is going too far! I have no love for your paxman, Your Majesty, but he is no way responsible for the actions of the Federation. I will have no part in this!”

“Rinaldo, I consider it no edifying sight for Comyn to trade insults like a pair of gutter rats,” Regis interposed. “But this matter, as Lord Valdir said, goes too far. Mourn the dead, see to your lady wife, but more than that, I will not permit. Touch Danilo Syrtis at your peril.”

“How dare you speak to me in this manner?” Rinaldo cried. “I have endured this pestilence among us because he was a favorite of yours and the Holy St. Christopher urges us to be compassionate—but Danilo Syrtis overstepped the limits of decency in speaking as he did. And in our very presence! That he should—oh, most insufferable effrontery—link the word loveto such base carnal deviance in one breath and Godin the next!”

“He did no such thing,” Regis countered, keeping his voice even, his words measured, “but only spoke as a man of sense.”

Rinaldo gestured to the guards. “Seize him, I said! If my brother gives you any trouble, lay hands upon him, too!”

“Danilo has committed no crime,” Regis insisted. “He has acted in good faith to you.”

“His own words reveal the blasphemy in his heart.” Rinaldo’s expression turned adamant. “Any man who sins in his thoughts sins in fact.”

“You cannot truly believe that,” Regis said, growing even more deeply troubled. “How can a man be damned for thinking about an act he then chooses not to commit? If that’s the case, we are all lost!”

“But we arelost!” Rinaldo’s eyes went wild and opaque. “Don’t you see?”

“I see that your mind is made up,” Regis said.

“He should be hanged as a warning to other sinners, but youwould make trouble. Your loyalties have never done credit to your rank or education. I must be content to expose him for a day or two in the stocks. That will do him a measure of good and will demonstrate that the eternal Divine Law is no respecter of high estate.”

“In this weather? He would be dead before nightfall!” Now Regis had no doubt of the force of his brother’s delusions.

Blessed Cassilda, my brother truly has gone mad. Danilo,bredhyu , you were right in your suspicions. How I wish I had heeded you then!

“If you intend to send Danilo to the stocks, you had better be prepared to put me there, too.”

“Don’t tempt me, my brother,” Rinaldo said. “If I thought for a moment the people would stand for it, I would do just that!”

I allowed him this power, I welcomed it . . .

“I know what you have been plotting.” Rinaldo’s expression twisted into slyness. “You want my crown for your own. Yes, yes, I see your ambition in your eyes. You deserve to be punished, for you have sinned as well. Oh, don’t tell me that those disgusting lusts are sinful only for cristoforos. God’s commands apply to everyone. Your only hope is to repent and chastise the flesh, which is weak. You should welcome a night in the stocks for the good of your immortal soul.”

Between his teeth, Regis muttered, “If I believed for a moment that you really meant it—”

“Believe it!” Rinaldo snapped. “Believe I mean every word of it, my brother. God has sent a pestilence upon this land and I am the instrument of its cure—”

Entirely out of patience, Regis interrupted, “Oh, go and preach to the crows! I’ve had enough! Danilo, I hereby revoke the transfer of your oath to this—this—to my brother, and require of you all allegiance and service as my paxman.”

His face somber and unrevealing, Danilo inclined his head, the salute of a Comyn lord to one of higher rank, to Regis.

“ Vai dom. I am yours to command.” As I have always been.

“You—you can’t do this! I am Lord Hastur, your sworn liege! I am King!” For a breathless moment, Rinaldo glanced about the chamber. The other members of his council refused to meet his eyes. Tiphani had stopped sobbing, her face as pale as marble.

“Lady,” Regis said to her, “my counsel, if you will have it, is for you to return to your husband. He cares deeply for you. In the days to come, your son will need both his parents.”

She stood there, stunned, until Gabriel led her to the door and delivered her into the care of one of the Guardsmen. Although she left the chamber docilely enough, Regis caught the look of pure malice that she directed, not at himself, but at Rinaldo.

Regis broke the awkward silence. “Rinaldo, you and I are not finished. What I have to say to you next concerns not only Hastur but all the Domains. According to law as well as custom, any such action must be witnessed by the Comyn. In the absence of a formal Council, we will accommodate tradition as best we can.”

“What are you talking about? I am King! You cannot make me do anything! As for the Comyn, they are without consequence. I do not grant them any rights whatsoever over me.”

“But I do.I summon you to answer me in the Crystal Chamber. There, as has been custom since the Ages of Chaos, we will discuss the future of Hastur. I will not insist we meet immediately. You and your lady wife deserve time to mourn your loss,” for although there had never been an actual pregnancy in fact, it had existed in their minds and hearts. “Therefore, the hearing will take place tomorrow at this very hour before all members of our caste who can be assembled.”

Rinaldo gaped at him. Regis thought ruefully that if he had been decisive to begin with, matters would never have deteriorated to this point. But that opportunity, like last winter’s snows, was gone past recall.

“I warn you,” Regis went on, “to take no precipitous action during this time. I have issued a summons to you, and a truce now exists between us until the matter is resolved.”

Around the room, heads nodded. The Guardsmen looked frankly relieved.

“If you do not behave with honor or if you fail to appear at the Crystal Chamber,” Regis added, aware of the tightness in his jaw, “then all the world will know you have agreed to whatever I decide in your absence. Think hard on it, my brother,for you may not care for the result.”

Regis did not wait for an answer. Giving the council members a scowl worthy of his grandfather, he strode through the door, with Danilo and Gabriel a half pace behind.

34

“Have you gone mad?” Gabriel asked Regis as the three men hurried from the main part of the Castle and crossed a series of courtyards to the nearest gate.

Regis felt the subtle, sustaining touch of Danilo’s laran. I could not do this without him, any more than I could have come this far without Linnea.

“No,” Regis answered with a ghost of a smile. “For the first time in far too long, I have gone sane.”

The gate was locked from the inside, but it was unguarded. Regis lifted the latch. “Gabriel, you must return to Javanne and tell her what happened. I will need both of you present tomorrow. You have a rightful claim to represent Alton in Lew’s absence.”

Gabriel’s eyes darkened with understanding. “By all the gods, you mean to do it.”

“In full view of the Comyn, whatever is left of us. In order for the outcome to be binding, the challenge must be seen as legitimate beyond question.”

“We’ll be there,” Gabriel said. “And Mikhail as well. He sent word he expects to arrive late today, bringing Kennard-Dyan with him.”

The news gave Regis an unexpected lift to his spirits. Danilo breathed, “What a stroke of luck.”

“Mikhail left Ardais as soon as he received word about his sister’s abduction,” Gabriel explained. “He meant to comfort his mother, although he could not have known what would come next. He has an extraordinary sense of timing, if I say so myself.”

“He will be most welcome,” Regis said. With a bow, Gabriel withdrew back into the Castle.

Regis and Danilo headed for the town house in silence. Regis drank in the comfort of having Danilo once again by his side. There was still work to be done, work that only Danilo could do.

“Danilo, once you accomplished wonders gathering together a temporary Council when we debated the question of Federation membership,” Regis began, hearing the heaviness in his own voice. “I would not have it said I dealt with my brother secretly or through subterfuge. As it is, there will be too many vacant places in the Crystal Chamber—”

“Don’t,” Danilo said.

Regis paused, raising one eyebrow in question.

“Don’t ask me to leave you so soon. I’ve hardly—” Danilo’s voice caught in his throat. His eyes were wide and dark, filled with emotion. When he spoke again, his voice was so soft that no one but Regis could have heard: “I’ve clung to hope for so long, without even a word.”

They had come to a halt, standing very close, leaning toward one another without conscious intent. Regis felt the warmth of Danilo’s breath on his face. He thought of Linnea at home, of this moment, of Kierestelli hidden in the Yellow Forest. Of Felix’s blood, sticky beneath his fingers. Of the flare of light and power beyond his own.

Too much, it was too much for one human heart to bear alone.

Not alone,came Danilo’s thought.

Regis drew in a breath. Danilo raised his hand, quick as a dagger in the hands of a master, and brushed Regis on the lips with one fingertip. It was only a fleeting touch, but enough to shatter doubt.

Bredhyu.

Always.

“Now let me take you home,” Danilo said, with the hint of smile. “I cannot in good conscience allow you to wander the streets unguarded.”

Still, Regis did not move. “Home. To Linnea.” And to all the questions implicit in those few words.

“Home,” Danilo agreed, “to whatever has changed and not changed. For many years, we have both known that you must marry. I wished it were not so, but it is the way of the world. You are Hastur. Your destiny was laid down before you were born.”

Regis did not know whether to laugh or weep. “Then I should have chosen my parents more carefully.”

Danilo did not rise to the old joke. “I would not have you other than you are. In any way.” He paused. Then: “You once said you would not marry any woman you could not respect and cherish, who did not return those feelings. I think you have found her.”

Understanding rose slowly, trailing inexpressible relief. Danilo and Linnea might never be close, but neither would question the other’s devotion. Or place in his heart.

Although the day was mild for spring, a chill wind curled through the street. Danilo, dressed only in indoor clothing, shivered. Regis glanced back at the Castle.

Danilo followed the movement of his eyes. “I would not willingly set foot in the Castle again, except at your side. Tomorrow, either I will be able to retrieve my possessions or it will not matter.”

Regis unclasped his own cloak and draped it over Danilo’s shoulders. Danilo looked as if he would protest, that he could not accept the cloak while Regis had none, that Regis looked like a wild man with his stained, torn clothing and disheveled hair. The blood on his shirt had dried to a crust.

Danilo said nothing to repudiate the gift of lord to liegeman, of lover to beloved, and the two went on together.

When Regis and Danilo arrived at the townhouse, Linnea asked no questions, although she must have had many. She took a brief, hard look at the two of them, then summoned servants and issued orders for hot baths, hot food, and hot spiced wine, enough for a company traveling in the Hellers in winter.

Danilo bowed to her. “Lady Linnea, I thank you—”

“Danilo, we are friends. We have no need of such formalities.” Linnea did not touch Danilo, for as a Tower worker and Keeper, she had been trained to avoid any but the most deliberate physical contact, yet the warmth of her voice was as welcoming as an embrace.

“Lady, I was not sure—”

“There will be time enough for discussion once you are settled. Food and hot water will take a short time. I shall return presently with someone you want to see.” With a smile, she glided from the room and shut the door firmly.

As Danilo turned to Regis, his expression melted like ice in spring, giving way to wild joy. The next moment, they were in each other’s arms, holding one another as if they could never let go. Danilo was thinner than Regis remembered him, his muscles rigid from long- held tension.

“Regis, when you did not appear at the coronation, I was so afraid—” Danilo said in a choked voice.

“I never thought—I’m sorry I put you through that—and the whole dreadful business of becoming Rinaldo’s paxman.”

“You owe me no apologies.”

“I—”

Danilo put an end to further protest. Time fluttered on gossamer wings for Regis as Danilo captured his mouth with his own.

The kiss began hard and urgent, driven by pent-up longing. Desire catapulted into tenderness and demanding physical need and relief and feelings beyond words.

Without breaking away, Regis ran his hands over Danilo’s body. He pulled the front of Danilo’s shirt loose. Danilo’s skin was taut and fine-grained over hard muscle and the soaring arch of bone.

Regis buried his face in the curve between Danilo’s neck and shoulder. Heart racing, heat throbbing in his blood, he inhaled the musk of arousal and clean masculine sweat.

With an effort, Regis wrenched away, not wanting to have Linnea return and find them so. She was a telepath, surely she could feel the sexual hunger between the two of them. Reaching, he sensed a wall like polished quartz where her mind should be. She had closed off her psychic awareness, even as she had physically closed the door.

They fell on the divan, tugging at each other’s clothing. Regis could no longer tell where his own sensations ended and Danilo’s began: the fire that fueled every touch, demanding again and moreand deeper,the convulsive opening of one heart to the other. Only the flimsiest barrier separated them, like the border between a flame and its reflection.

As their bodies joined, Regis felt an electric pulse blaze up in him like living lightning. It soared through them both, swift and bright and vital. One moment, it seemed to rush from Danilo into himself, past throat and heart and groin. The next, it was Regis who poured himself out and felt Danilo’s ecstatic response as keenly as if it were his own.

Afterward, they lay panting and replete, half on the divan, half on the floor. Danilo chuckled, soft and deep in his chest. Regis, who had been sprawled with his head on Danilo’s chest, stirred.

“Best to get dressed,” he murmured, reaching for his underclothes. “There will be time again, later.”

Danilo regarded him with a slow, provocative smile. “We have all winter to make up for.”

“Count on it.” Regis snatched up Danilo’s pants and tossed them at him. “But first, there’s work to do. Make yourself decent. Or would you rather be in your current state when my wife walks in?”

When Linnea did return, both men were fully dressed. Even the divan cushions had been replaced in their proper order. A discrete touch of laranand a tap on the door signaled Linnea’s request to enter.

She carried the baby on one hip and a towel draped over her shoulder. “Come and meet your namesake, Danilo.”

Danilo took a step closer. Amazement tinged with awe spread across his face, and Regis was struck yet again by how handsome, how expressive he was. How quick to delight as well as to despair.

When Linnea held out Dani, Danilo raised both hands with an expression of consternation. A moment later, she had arranged him on the divan with the baby on his lap. Dani looked up, eyes wide. The two Danilos stared at one another. Regis watched, unsure whether his son was on the brink of glee or wailing. Then the baby’s mouth curved in a blissful smile, and Danilo too was laughing.

Baby Dani gave a little burp. Linnea swept him back into her arms, facing the towel on her shoulder, just in time for him to bring up a small amount of milk.

“Now, enough of that,” Linnea laughed. “The bath water is hot. Off with you!”

A short time later, Regis had bathed and eaten, and was sitting before a comforting fire with a steaming goblet. For the sake of a clear head, he had insisted on jacoinstead of wine. Danilo was still upstairs, soaking, and the bustle of the household had quieted.

“Tell me what happened.” Linnea pulled up a bench to sit beside his knee, almost close enough to touch.

Regis told her as directly as possible, leaving out nothing important, yet not dwelling on personal emotions. She would sense what lay beneath his words. She listened, gray eyes somber, holding him like an anchor through the storm of reliving the rescue and its aftermath.

“It is too bad I was not permitted to monitor Bettany, or that sad part of the affair would have been settled earlier,” she commented.

Regis shook his head. “I doubt Rinaldo would have accepted your findings. He was firmly convinced of the miraculous nature of his wife’s conception. I wronged poor Bettany in my thoughts when I learned the Terranmedical tests had confirmed that Rinaldo was sterile.”

“At least he did not blame her pregnancy on some other man. Regis, you don’t suppose he suspected Danilo?”

“How could he do that and then condemn Danilo for being a lover of men?”

“Your brother is hardly rational, with his faith in supernatural intervention,” she replied. “The real miracle is that Felix Lawton wasn’t killed. If he lives and if he is still in need of a teacher, I must help him.”

As Linnea spoke, she allowed her own feelings to surface. Like all Comyn, she found a violent assault on a child unspeakable. She and Regis had first opened their hearts to each other following the murder of two of his own nedestrochildren.

Regis remembered thinking, A child of Linnea’s would be too precious to risk to fate . . .

Hard on that thought came another, darker still: Would there ever come a time when it was safe to bring Kierestelli back? Dared he risk it? Ever?

He had kept his mind guarded, but Linnea must have sensed his fear. She said, “Since Bettany is not pregnant, and never was, the Domain of Hastur once more passes through you. You already have an Heir in Mikhail. He is well-grown and trained to protect himself. But little Dani—must we expose a helpless babe to those dangers?”

“You suggest that I leave Mikhail as Heir to Hastur in order to protect our son?” Memory, bittersweet, brushed his thoughts. “When I took Mikhail from my sister, I swore that I would not set him aside, not even if I produced an Heir of my own flesh. I will not go back on my word or dishonor my sister’s sacrifice.”

Linnea held herself still, her only concession to relief the slow closing of her eyes.

“We should not tell anyone,” Regis said. “At least, not until Dani is grown enough to understand. Mikhail will do well enough for the present as Kennard-Dyan’s paxman.”

“He’ll learn the wise uses of power much better from that perspective,” Linnea agreed.

“Yes, and although Dani must of necessity be exposed to the politics of the Comyn—or whatever takes our place—I would hope—” Regis stumbled, caught between his own tormented childhood and his dreams for his son, “that he not grow up as I did in the shadow of such crushing responsibility.”

“He will always be your son, Regis. As much as we and Danilo can manage it, he will grow up in a loving family.”

Within his heart, Regis felt the easing of a tension he had not known existed. He could not, as the old saying went, put banshee chicks back into their eggs or change the world into which he had been born. But he could do his best to make sure none of his children ever endured the same.

He, and Linnea . . . and Danilo.

In a short time, Danilo would come down. He and Regis could never return to the life they had lived here together. Would Danilo resent the trust and intimacy that had grown between Regis and Linnea or Linnea’s a role as his wife, in which Danilo had no part?

It came to Regis that each relationship—wife and leronis,paxman and bredhyu—had its own intrinsic honor and value. Loving one person could in no way diminish his devotion to the other.

Linnea rose, smoothing her skirts. “You and Danilo will have much to discuss. What’s left of today will be hectic, to say the least. I will leave you to it. I have my own work, making sure Danilo’s chamber is comfortable and that he has everything he needs.”

As mistress of the household, Linnea had the right to arrange quarters as she chose. Nevertheless, Regis felt a tinge of dread. Would she use this power to place herself between him and Danilo? Then she gave a little teasing laugh and he realized he was seeing the world through the lens of the day’s horror.

“Of course,” she said, “Danilo must have his old chamber next to yours, as is proper for a paxman. I’m quite comfortable where I am.”

“Linnea—”

“Regis, this will not be the first time I have shared a lover with someone else, although never before with another man . . . or one who was as dear to me as you are. In the Towers, we learned how to manage such things. The best practical arrangement to begin with is for each of us to have our own chamber. Later, we’ll work out a schedule and psychic shielding.”

Regis had forgotten how forthright she was. “I’ll leave the arrangements to you . . . with my thanks.”

She walked briskly to the door, then paused and turned back. “Regis. Promise me one thing.”

He heard the unsureness in her voice and waited.

“You will not walk into the Crystal Chamber without me.”

She asked not only because she was Comynara in her own right. Not only because as one who had once been Keeper at Arilinn, her voice still commanded respect. Not only because she might be of support to him. Not only because, if things went badly and turned violent, she had the right to face that danger with her husband.

Danilo would be there, as paxman and Comyn. Linnea’s presence would state, in clear and irrevocable terms, her own rightful place.

Am I truly an equal partner?

Smiling, he nodded.

A short while later, Danilo came into the parlor, flushed from the heat of the bath. His hair, still wet, tumbled over his shoulders. Regis recognized the shirt, a bit large but clean and pressed, as belonging to the coridom. Linnea must have borrowed it for him.

“There’s hot wine as well as jaco,” Regis said, gesturing.

Danilo poured half a goblet of wine and sat down. “I suppose jacois more sensible, but, Holy Bearer of Burdens, I need this more. I still can’t believe I’m here.”

“You are,” Regis grinned. “Or else we’re both hallucinating. Are you easy, Danilo? Is there anything we need to discuss before we turn our minds to plots and schemes?”

Danilo hesitated, studying the garnet surface of the wine. “There’s nothing more to be said. Life itself will unfold. But—even if you set me aside,” lifting his gaze, his eyes filled with light, “what you have given me is more than I ever dreamed. You came for me, even as you did so many years ago at Caer Donn. You restored my honor as well as my life.”

You were willing to die for me.

“Having risked that, do you think me such a blockhead as to cast away the finest paxman of our generation?” Regis tried to keep his tone light. “We are what we are to one another. Even as Linnea and I are.”

Danilo looked away, blinked once or twice, nodded. Inhaled. Cleared his throat. “So we are to resurrect the extinct Comyn Council once again?”

“I’m afraid so. I would prefer not to rely on the ghosts of the old order, but not even Varzil the Good could convene the Telepath Council in the Crystal Chamber. To be seen as legitimate beyond question, these proceedings must have the full and indisputable authority of the Domains. I must also speak with Dan Lawton without delay, to forestall a military coup by the Terrananbefore I can get things straightened out.”

“Well,” Danilo replied with a ghost of humor, “what is one more miracle on a day such as this?”

The crimson sun sank behind the rooftops of Thendara. Shadows deepened, staining colors into gloom. Regis and Danilo, muffled in woolen cloaks, made their way to the Trade City.

The day had been clear, and not a cloud blurred the twilit sky. Darkness, dense and swift, swept across the heavens like great soft wings. Leaping out in sudden brilliance, the crown of vast white stars and the two smaller moons glittered like gemstones set asymmetrically against the galactic plane.

The two men stopped outside a walled compound that revealed nothing to the outer world except that its owner was rich enough to ensure his privacy.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Danilo,” Regis muttered. “I don’t think even Valdir Ridenow would look for me here.”

Danilo pulled the bell rope. The gate cracked open. A servant carrying a torch ushered them through a small garden and into the house beyond.

Regis and Danilo followed the servant into a richly furnished room. Lights came on, not the tallow candles of poor people or even the laran-charged glows of the Comyn, but a bank of yellow globes of Federation origin. Regis recognized a hanging of Thetan sea-silk, a carpet with an intricate Dry Towns pattern, and a chair that could only have come from the pleasure world of Keef. Historically, Darkovans had little interest in off-world goods, except practical things like lenses and small metal implements. For the most part, the Comyn discouraged interstellar trade. As he surveyed the chamber, Regis could not deny the beauty with which off-world and Darkovan cultures could combine.

A moment later, their host entered, followed closely by Dan Lawton. The host, a member of the Pan-Darkovan League, wore a floor-length robe of emerald wool belted with a chain of enameled medallions of curious off-world design.

“Vai domyn,”he said, bowing first to Regis and then to Danilo, “you lend grace to my humble establishment.”

“ MestreBartolomeo, thank you for your hospitality.” Regis inclined his head toward Dan Lawton. The Terran looked a decade older than the last time Regis had seen him. “I regret we meet under such circumstances.”

After a few more words, their host withdrew. Regis and Dan sat in two of the elaborate chairs, with Danilo standing near Regis in the attitude of a paxman.

Regis took the lead, quickly dismissing the last traces of formality. “Dan, I am so sorry about Felix. How does he fare?”

“You were with him when—” Dan’s voice roughened. He swallowed. “He came through the surgery and is stable. Jay Allison thinks he’ll make a full recovery, although it will be slow. There’s been nerve damage. Jay says he would have died of blood loss, but the dagger seemed to have sealed off the severed vessels. That’s not supposed to happen. You—whatever you did, I’m grateful.”

Regis nodded, feeling inadequate to the moment. How could he take credit for something that was not his doing? The healing power had flowed through him, but it had not been his.

“I wish there had not been a need,” Regis said aloud. “It would have been far better if you had kept your word to stay out of our affairs. I’m sorry your son was involved, but the matter should have been handled through Darkovan authorities . . . regardless of your parental interest.”

“Does that matter now? You clearly hadn’t been able to maintain order. Your own people were out of control, kidnapping children, with disorder in the streets, and religious fanaticism running riot. The Federation respects local autonomy, but we can and will intervene under certain circumstances. I know you asked to speak with me, and I agreed to this meeting because of our old friendship. I cannot and will not allow personal factors to interfere with my duties as Legate.”

What was Dan trying to say? That he meant to declare martial law in Thendara or place the entire planet under emergency Federation authority?

The repercussions would be indelible, provoking consequences—accusations, confrontations, escalating violence—that could not be easily undone.

“Any action should be carefully considered.” Regis tried to keep his tone conciliatory. “We have worked together before, each of us on his own side. In this case, there is enough blame to go around. After all, the fighting was initiated by Spaceforce police, not those holding the children. If you break the agreements governing relations between the Domains and the Federation, you will be seen as the aggressors.”

Dan’s mouth tightened. “Myson was taken captive by yourpeople.”

“That’s not true. The other children were taken by my brother’s agents, but they were all Darkovan, so the matter remains within our jurisdiction. Felix, on the other hand, was abducted by his own mother. I thought you knew.”

“Where did you hear that?” Dan’s chin jerked up. “Why would Tiphani do such a thing? The accusation is ridiculous! Where’s your proof ?”

“Felix himself told me.” Regis paused, letting the words sink in. “I brought her the news, but she was . . . distraught. I’m not sure she understood. She might respond better if you spoke to her.”

“She—she’s not at the Castle?”

“The last time I saw her, she was being escorted back to the Terran Zone. I cannot say of my own knowledge if she arrived there, but she’s not foolish enough to return to my brother. They did not part on amicable terms.”

“Then I don’t know where she is,” Dan said, clearly miserable. “I’ve listed her as a missing person and initiated a search. The gate logs show she entered Headquarters Building, visited our quarters briefly, and then left again. I assumed she went back to Rinaldo.”

“Do you agree that this new information changes the situation? It must affect your actions with respect to our autonomy if no Darkovan was involved in Felix’s abduction.”

Dan drummed his fingertips on the wooden armrest of his chair. The light in his eyes had shifted from raw emotion to rationality. “You’re right, damn you. I can’t charge Tiphani with kidnapping her own son, not without a legal order transferring custody to me, and that wouldn’t be retroactive.” He glared at Regis. “All right, you’ve made your point. What do you want?”

Regis got up and began to pace, letting the movement loosen his muscles and his thoughts. “It’s not so much what Iwant as what is best for us all. I’m grateful that you have trusted me enough to keep the Federation off our backs this past year. I must ask you to do so for just a little longer.”

“While whoever is responsible for these outrages perpetrates more of them?”

Danilo reacted to the Terran’s impassioned tone. With a restraining gesture, Regis slid back into his seat. “I don’t think that will happen. In any event, the situation may be radically altered soon.”

Dan stared at Regis. A long moment passed, and then another, during which neither man spoke. Then the Terran said, “You aren’t going to tell me what you’re planning, are you?”

“I dare not. You will know everything in a little while.”

“And you want me to keep Spaceforce out of Darkovan Thendara until then?” Dan nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. “What are a few more days—or weeks, for that matter—in the grand scheme of things? This is a volatile time for us, as well. It would be foolish to endanger everything we’ve worked for without giving you a chance to make it right.”

Make it right,Regis repeated silently. If only it were that simple.

Regis went to the door, Danilo following like the shadow of a cloud-l eopard. “I hope,” Regis said, one hand upon the latch, “that when this is over, we will have the chance to talk. To really talk.”

I do not have so many friends that I can afford to lose one needlessly.

Silence answered him. It was too much to ask, and the gulf might never be bridged. That was a risk he must take, for there was no course of action left but to go on.

The door closed behind him with a faint, decisive sound.

35

Regis arrived early at the Crystal Chamber. He and Danilo had planned to ride to the Castle, with Linnea traveling in a litter. She had refused, quite emphatically, and a horse had been furnished for her as well. Danilo had arranged for an armed escort, Gabriel and the three Guardsmen. With their stern faces and practical, unadorned blades, they presented a daunting sight. Pedestrians and riders alike drew back as they approached.

Their passage did not go unmarked. The party had not gone far when a parade gathered in their wake. Followers cheered, “Lord Regis! Lord Regis!” Regis would have preferred a less conspicuous procession, but once he was recognized, there was no possibility of anonymity.

They were the first to arrive, except for the Guardsmen stationed at the entrance. Nothing more had been seen of Tiphani Lawton, nor had Regis heard anything of Valdir Ridenow’s latest plans. In this atmosphere of shifting loyalties, anything was possible.

Light streamed through the ceiling prisms to cast rainbows on the pale stone floor. The enclosures for the various Domains appeared untouched by the passing years. Aldaran would remain vacant, as it had for the last centuries. Rinaldo’s advisors would surely have informed him that as king, he was entitled to take the seat of Elhalyn. Yes, there hung the banner of that Domain, the same Hastur blue, the silver fir-tree crowned with the emblem of royalty. Danvan Hastur’s ornate presence-chair now occupied the front row of the Elhalyn box.

While Danilo circled the Chamber, performing his usual security check, Linnea searched for any hidden larandevices such as a trap matrix and then set the telepathic dampers.

The Comyn began to arrive, using their respective private entrances rather than the double doors through which Rinaldo would make his formal appearance. Draperies fluttered here and there at the back of the enclosures. Regis could not sense anything through the hum of the telepathic dampers, but for a moment, he received the distinct impression of someone lingering behind the curtains of the empty Aldaran box. The next moment, the fabric stilled, and he decided he was mistaken. It had been a stray current of air, nothing more.

Regis looked around the room, noting among them Ruyven Di Asturien, an elderly Castamir lord, Francisco Ridenow resplendent in the gold and green of his Domain, and Kennard-Dyan Ardais with Mikhail at his back. Bettany was absent, but Regis would have been surprised to see her. She must be closeted away with her ladies, grieving for a child that had never existed. What would such a loss do to her?

Gabriel sat in the Alton section, looking grim. Javanne, although as a Hastur she had the right to sit with Regis, had chosen to remain beside her husband. Likewise, Danilo could have claimed Domain-right for Ardais, but his oath and the bond he shared with Regis took precedence over status.

Regis reflected, That is all any of us really wants—t o serve the ones we love.

As the scattered audience settled, Mikhail flashed Regis a grin.

Aldones Lord of Light, Blessed Cassilda, any god who is listening! Keep him safe—a nd Linnea, and Danilo. Keep them all safe on this day.

Regis took his seat in the Hastur box, with Danilo behind him. As if they had been waiting for his signal, the others came to order. Conversation diminished into whispers and then silence. The Chamber seemed to be holding its breath.

The doors swung open, and a Guardsman cried out in ringing tones, “His Majesty, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, First of that Name, Warden of Hastur and Sovereign of the Seven Domains!”

As one, the greatly reduced assembly stood. All heads turned toward the doors. A procession entered the Chamber, led by a pair of Castle Guardsmen. Their formal uniforms, encrusted with badges and decorations, glittered in the multihued light. After them came Rinaldo’s council, including Valdir Ridenow, and finally Rinaldo himself.

Rinaldo proceeded across the central area at a slow, stately pace. Regis thought his brother could hardly have moved briskly under the layers of fur and jewel-studded velvet and the thick, ruby-set copper chains. Rinaldo’s crown outshone the gold of the crown on the Elhalyn banner, which overlaid but could not obliterate the Hastur fir-tree.

Permanedбl,ran the ancient motto of the Hasturs. I shall remain.

Yes, my brother, I am still here.

Rinaldo lowered himself into the carved and gilded presence-chair. He took a moment to arrange his lace-trimmed sleeves. An expression of satisfaction lighted his angular features.

“Kinsmen, nobles, Comynarii, I bid you welcome.” Rinaldo pitched his voice to fill the Chamber. “Lord Valdir, will it please you to call the roll of the Domains?”

So, Regis thought, Rinaldo been studying the ritual forms. Valdir was to be rewarded for his loyalty with a meaningless ceremonial privilege. As the Ridenow lord began the recitation, Regis reconsidered. Valdir was no fool, to be bought with an empty gesture. He was biding his time, watching for the right opportunity, and young Francisco was following his every move.

On more than one occasion, the opening of a session had resulted in a challenge to the rightful holding of one or another of the Domains. This time, however, the roll call proceeded smoothly, marked only by the silences when there was no one present to respond.

We are so few,Regis thought. How can I risk even one of us?Even if this day went as he hoped, what place would Rinaldo have in Thendara, with all the enemies he had made? Perhaps he might be content with a minor role at Castle Hastur, or he might prefer to retire to Nevarsin . . .

Regis dared not think that far into the future. Anything might happen before tomorrow’s sunrise.

When the roll call was done, one of Rinaldo’s aides handed him a prepared speech. In flowery legalistic phrases, he declared the Council valid only for this session and only to hear one complaint. He had, he stated, no intention of permanently reconvening it or investing it with any other authority.

“My younger brother, whom you all know, has requested this audience. Since there is no other business at hand, I am now prepared to hear what he has to say. I hope—” and here Rinaldo cleared his throat, brows drawing together, “—the results will not constitute an abuse of anyone’s time.”

Regis approached the railing of the Hastur partition and paused, one hand on the gate. The Chamber seemed immense. When he stepped onto the floor, the clatter of his boot heels was far too loud. Acutely aware of the intense interest of the audience, he lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and faced his brother.

“Know ye by all present,” he used the formal words, “that I, Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn, do declare you, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, unfit to rule the Domain of Hastur. How answer you?”

Rinaldo half-rose in his chair, then regained his composure. He might be impulsive, and devout to the point of zealotry, but he was not a simpleton. He realized that an outburst would only strengthen the case against him.

Muted exclamations rippled through the Chamber, as quickly hushed. Everyone wanted to hear what came next. Some of those present, old enough to have witnessed the intricate web that was the old Comyn politics, showed no surprise. Others startled, and one of the younger lords—Francisco Ridenow—gaped openly. No one present had been alive when Danvan Hastur had assumed the position of Regent for the incompetent King Stephen, but they had all grown up with the tale. No matter what the outcome of the challenge, history was unfolding before them.

What Regis had notsaid, and what every Comyn understood, except possibly Rinaldo himself, was that Rinaldo could claim the throne only as Head of Hastur, based on the preeminence of his Domain. Regis, on the other hand, traced his lineage through his mother, the only sister of the last Elhalyn king. Rinaldo might be recognized as his father’s legitimate son, thanks to the actions Regis had taken, but his Domain-right was to Hastur, not Elhalyn.

“I have issued a lawful challenge,” Regis repeated. “If you do not answer, you admit the validity of my charges and forfeit your place.”

“I admit no such thing! I hereby dismiss this gathering!” Rinaldo gestured to the Guardsmen. “Sergeant-at-arms, clear the Chamber!” He pointed at Regis. “Arrest that traitor!”

“Stand as you are!” Gabriel thundered. “That is an illegal order, one you are oath-bound to disregard!”

The Guardsman, who had hesitated to lay hands on a Hastur Lord, even on the direct order from the King, hurried back to their places.

“Your Majesty,” Ruyven Di Asturien said with grave courtesy, “even a king must answer such a challenge. None of us may hold himself above the law. The very name, Comyn,means ‘equal.’ Regis has the right to demand an accounting of you.” When Rinaldo made no further objection, Di Asturien continued, “Lord Regis, on what basis do you accuse His Majesty?”

“I declare that my brother has abused his authority by either authorizing or by failing to prevent the abduction of a member of his own Domain, my niece Ariel Lanart-Hastur, as well as other Comyn children.”

“I deny these charges unequivocally,” Rinaldo announced. “They are spurious and without merit. This has nothing to do with my fitness to rule Hastur! Regis makes these wild statements out of envy, because he seeks to wrest from me the crown helacked the courage to take for himself. Envy, I say! Ihave achieved what henever dared! The crown is mine, and nothing he says can change the fact!”

Uproar swept the Chamber. Raised voices echoed off the walls, jumbling together.

Kennard-Dyan, his face flushing in outrage, surged to his feet. “We Comyn do not tolerate tyranny in our midst—not even from a Hastur! It would be better to disband our caste entirely than to submit to such dishonor!”

A few, Mikhail among them, cheered.

Regis knew he must act before the situation got further out of hand. Rinaldo would not hesitate to use force, and some Guardsmen were still loyal to him.

“Kinsmen, listen to me!” Regis raised his arms for attention. “Calm yourselves! We are not living in the Ages of Chaos! We must not be ruled by the passions of the moment but by honor and reason!”

The clamor died away, leaving the Chamber once more with that ghostly emptiness.

“ DomRegis has brought grave complaints against Your Majesty,” DomRuyven said. “They cannot be summarily dismissed. What say you to the charge of kidnapping your sister’s child?”

“She was not kidnapped.She was given the honor of being one of the first students in the school that I myself established for the spiritual betterment of our children. As Head of Hastur and as King, I had every right to do so.”

“You had no right to seize my child!” Gabriel’s features congested with outrage. “King or not, you have no authority over my daughter!”

“Or my nephew!” came a voice from the other side of the Chamber.

“Or my granddaughter!” That was one of the Eldrins, hurling the words like the opening of a blood-feud.

“Do you admit your guilt?” asked DomRuyven. “Think carefully, vai dom.Your intentions may have been noble, but that does not change the serious nature of these accusations. Not even the greatest of our ancient kings dared commit such an offense.”

By the set of Rinaldo’s jaw and the stormy angle of his brow, he had little patience for the question. He was not going to concede. Wars had been fought for less cause.

Valdir, who had been watching the interchange, gestured for permission to speak. Regis needed no laranto recognize the man’s simmering frustration. Everything in Valdir’s posture, from the coiled tension in his shoulders to the angle of his jaw, conveyed menace.

“A school for Darkovan children is commendable,” Valdir said, “and Your Majesty can argue that you have the right to compel attendance. But you did nothave the right to take a Terran child and provoke Federation military intervention. Did you think the Federation would sit idly by while the Legate’s own son was abducted? They sent a rescue party, a tactical strike team armed with blasters. And, as you well know, they usedthem.”

“Blasters?” the Eldrin lord exclaimed.

“In the Trade City?”

“But the Compact forbids—”

How did Valdir know about the blasters?Regis had carefully avoided mentioning them when he stormed into Rinaldo’s council meeting.

“The Terrans have shown their willingness to ignore the Compact on more than one occasion!” Skillfully, Valdir maintained control. “That’s why I’ve argued for full Federation membership, so that we can stand among them with full rights. Now, thanks to this debacle, they’ll be screaming for justice—justice they won’t hesitate to take into their own hands. Whose responsibility will that be? Who will answer their charges?”

Valdir had not given up his dream of Federation membership. He had used Rinaldo only as long as the puppet king did his bidding. Now, when threatened with retaliatory martial law, he would not scruple to place the blame on Rinaldo. He would throw the Council into chaos, discredit the Comyn as rulers of the Domains, and then step in as the one man who could speak for Darkover.

In another moment, the Comyn would be all too happy to hand over Rinaldo, as the guilty party, to the Terrans.

Poor, deluded Rinaldo! He probably had no idea what was happening. Regis pitied his brother. It was like watching a drowning man as the tide carried him ever farther from the shore.

Regis faced Rinaldo once more. Throughout the Chamber, men paused in midsentence to listen. “My brother, I appeal to you and to the honor of the Hasturs. Our father and grandfather and all our ancestors, from the beginning of recorded time, devoted their lives to our world and its people. For their sake, you must step down. Only then can we convince the Federation that we are capable of handling this matter ourselves.”

For every Valdir Ridenow, there was a Varzil the Good, the visionary who brought about the Compact and ended centuries of horrific laranwarfare. Dyan Ardais, Kennard-Dyan’s father, had sacrificed himself for the greater good as he saw it. His actions might have been disastrous, but his integrity had been beyond question; in the end, he had seen his error and paid for it with his life.

As he spoke, Regis searched for the phrases that might reach Rinaldo, bringing forth that same altruistic spirit. Surely, the cristoforosstrove to emulate their own holy saints, men who placed the welfare of others above their own.

Regis shaped his argument in accord with that hope. He reminded Rinaldo of Nevarsin’s long tradition of service and humility. He tried to speak only to Rinaldo, to focus only on convincing his brother, not anyone else, and in so doing, he captured the entire audience.

The words slipped off the shield of Rinaldo’s single-minded determination like paper swords against a wall of stone. Within moments, Regis heard the rhythmic beat of men running in formation, converging on the Chamber. Rinaldo’s picked Guards would arrest or eliminate any man who stood against their King.

Despite the telepathic dampers, Regis read the thoughts behind Rinaldo’s simmering fury: Rebels and traitors, and Regis the most vile of them . . .

“I am no traitor!” Regis insisted. “When I have I ever dealt with you dishonorably? Have I lied to you or cheated you? Have I taken what was rightfully yours? I could have left you at Nevarsin, hidden away by your own family as if you were a shameful thing. Or brought you to Thendara as a nedestro,without rank or place.”

Something shifted behind Rinaldo’s eyes, like a stray beam of sun through storm-gathered clouds.

Regis stepped closer and held out his hands. His throat thickened, but he forced the words through. “You were the brother I longed for, the brother I chose to stand at my side, the brother I was proud to acknowledge. Compared to you, the privileges of Hastur meant nothing. Can you understand how important you were to me? How much I wanted to love you? You are the only brother I will ever have, just as I am yours.”

Rinaldo’s pale face took on a faint tinge of color and wetness gleamed in his eyes.

“Let us not be adversaries, each striving for power over the other,” Regis pleaded. “Can we not work together, each of us with our own gifts to offer our people?”

As if in a daze, Rinaldo passed one hand over his face. He mumbled a few words, a prayer, perhaps. As he swung open the gate and stepped onto the Chamber floor, he cried, “My brother! Everything you said is true! You have never been anything but generous and truthful. Yet . . . I do not know how to answer you. Have I not been given this power,” looking down at his heavily ornamented ceremonial garb, “by the Lord of All Worlds? Must I then break faith with either my brother or my God?”

“With neither of us,” Regis replied. “You will find a way to honor your spiritual calling. You will open the hearts of men by example, by goodness and compassion, not by fear and coercion. Is that not the way of St. Valentine, whose penitential life we once studied together?”

“The holy saint preached forgiveness as a path to salvation.” Tears spilled over Rinaldo’s cheeks. “I had all but forgotten that lesson. God will indeed find a way. Truly, I am a flawed instrument. For whatever harm has come from my best intentions, I must make restitution.”

Regis was moved beyond speech by the grace of his brother’s surrender. He had hoped but not expected that his words would make a difference. When he had used hard tactics, challenging Rinaldo’s position, he had met with equal resistance. Only when he had spoken from his heart and laid open his longing for a brother’s love had he succeeded.

The Chamber hushed in respect. Weeping openly now, Rinaldo stepped forward to embrace Regis.

“You snake!” A woman’s voice split the silence. “Seducer! Pervert! You’ve ruined it all—everything God has called us to accomplish!” Tiphani Lawton burst through the curtains at the back of the Aldaran enclosure.

“You can’t have him!” she shrieked at Regis. “He’s mine—God gave him to me!”

She reached the railing. Regis and Rinaldo, now only an arm’s-length apart, turned in unison. Danilo shouted out a warning. Already, Gabriel had risen from his place, and the Sergeant-at-Arms laid one hand on the hilt of his sword.

Tiphani stumbled onto the Chamber floor. She pawed at the folds of her robe.

With a savage cry, she brought out a Terran blaster and aimed it at Regis.

Regis stared at the gleaming cylinder. Behind him, Linnea yelled, “Go!” and Danilo hurtled over the railing.

Rinaldo grabbed Regis by the shoulders and spun him around, shielding Regis with his own body.

White fire erupted from the muzzle of the blaster.

Regis could not move. His breath had turned to ice in his throat. The stench of charred flesh enveloped him. Dazedly, he wondered if they had both been hit, or only he himself.

Rinaldo’s body stiffened. He landed in a graceless tangle, almost bringing Regis down with him. Regis caught his balance. Danilo flew past him, racing across the floor to tackle Tiphani. She waved the blaster, firing wildly. Danilo reached her an instant before the nearest Guardsman did.

Pandemonium erupted in the Chamber, people shouting, benches toppling, robes swirling as people rushed about. Gabriel reached the floor, and Valdir as well.

Between them, Danilo and the Guardsman wrestled Tiphani to the floor. The blaster went skidding across the smooth-worn stone. Tiphani spewed forth off- world curses. She lashed out with her fists, kicking hard.

“Uncle Regis!” Mikhail appeared beside Regis, taking his weight as Regis stumbled. “Are you hurt?”

Regis dropped to his knees beside his brother. Rinaldo lay on his back. His colorless eyes were open, filled with rainbow light. Regis stretched one hand over Rinaldo’s face, hovering his fingers over the pale, serene features, searching for a hint of breath and finding none.

The next instant, the telepathic dampers cut out. Laransensations flooded through Regis, a maelstrom of emotions and wild, desperate thoughts.

“Regis.”

He lifted his head and met Linnea’s gaze.

I’m so sorry!Anguish rang through her telepathic thought. If only I’d disabled the dampers sooner, I would have known what that woman was up to!

“No, love,” he said. “None of us could have anticipated . . .” He lowered his gaze to his brother’s features, so still that Rinaldo looked ageless. “Least of all he, who trusted her.”

He turned his eyes away, folded his grief like a fragile thing in his heart, and stood once more. Someone must take charge, see that Tiphani Lawton was properly restrained, decide what to do with her, give orders about the . . . the body.

Around him, psychic currents surged like storm-whipped turbulence. His own feelings—grief and fury and things he could not name—clashed inside him.

I can’t do this.

As if in a mad dream, Regis watched Francisco Ridenow pick up the blaster. Francisco looked down at the gleaming metal for what seemed an eternity, weighing it. A strange, hard light glimmered in his eyes. Then Valdir grasped him by the shoulder and took the weapon away.

A short distance away, Tiphani had gone limp, sobbing in the arms of Gabriel and another Guardsman.

Regis.Linnea laced her fingers, cool and strong, through his. Danilo strode toward them. Their minds linked . . . held.

The roiling insanity receded. Regis knew who he was. What he was.

What he must do.

Regis felt as if he had been hurled down from a great height, certain he would smash into the rocky ground, only to find himself caught in an invisible net. Each strand was gossamer light, the thousand tiny threads that bound his life to those he loved. Together, they sustained him.

36

Regis would not allow Rinaldo to be buried in an unmarked grave at Hali with the generations of Comyn. Rinaldo had never been one of them; the softly green hills of Hali would have meant exile for a spirit longing for home.

“I myself will take him to St. Valentine’s,” Regis told Javanne, “and let him rest in the everlasting snows along with the holy men of his order.”

They had been sitting together in the Hastur apartments in Comyn Castle. With regret he had bowed to the necessity of moving back, although he refused to give up the townhouse. In the next room, Linnea was supervising the rearrangement of the furniture to be safer for an active toddler. Ariel, who had not stopped clinging to her mother since her return, sat on the floor beside Javanne, shoulder touching knee.

Javanne opened her mouth, then closed it with a sigh. The events of the past winter had left her gaunt, her tongue sharper than ever. Although pleased with Gabriel’s reinstatement as Guards Commander, she continued to hold Mikhail at a distance.

“It would not be fitting for a Hastur to be buried at Nevarsin,” she said, “but then, Rinaldo was never properly one of us. He had not the slightest sense of Comyn honor.”

“Let us not speak uncharitably,” Regis said, gentle with the pain beneath her words. “He was our brother.”

Javanne shrugged. “At least some good has come out of this. You are now settled and married, and no one can accuse you of shirking your duty. What is one nedestromore or less, when the Hastur succession has been properly secured?”

“Mama, can we go now?” Ariel moved restlessly against her mother’s skirts. Since her rescue, she had not been able to sit still for more than a few moments. Linnea said that with time and care, the girl might become less nervous, but Regis saw no sign of improvement. He feared she might never fully recover.

“In a moment, dearest,” Javanne murmured. “Regis, will you excuse us? There is so much to do, preparing for the move back to Armida. We must travel while the weather is still clement.”

Regis did not ask if she would miss Mikhail. He rose, kissed his sister on the cheek, and bade her good day. After Javanne and Ariel left, Linnea came into the parlor.

As chatelaine of the Castle and mistress of the Hastur suite, Linnea had set about arranging the sleeping and living quarters to accommodate both privacy and shared family activities. Danilo’s chamber was by mutual accord adjacent to that of Regis, while Linnea preferred to be closer to the baby. Her frank approach to intimacy and psychic shielding had eased the transition, and the three adults had come to a working understanding.

“I cannot say I will miss my sister-in-law’s meddling,” Linnea said, a trace less kindly than her usual manner.

“Javanne is unhappy,” he reminded her, “although I do not entirely understand why. The hardest thing to sympathize with is how relieved she acts that Rinaldo is dead.”

Linnea stood beside Regis and gazed up at him with her calm, assessing gray eyes. “She did not love him.”

“Did she even know him? Did I? Did any of us? Or did I see only a brother to shoulder the burdens I never wanted?”

“My dear, how long will you carry that guilt? It is not your fault that things turned out as they did. Perhaps your choices were not always the wisest, but you made them out of love and generosity.” She did not add that the same could not be said for others, namely Tiphani Lawton and Valdir Ridenow.

For the moment, he reminded himself, neither Tiphani nor Valdir posed any threat. Tiphani had been turned over to the Terran authorities and was soon to be shipped to another planet, Sirius IX most likely, for the treatment of the criminally insane. Dan had let her go without protest; Regis could not imagine his friend’s distress. At least the issue of Federation membership looked to be permanently stalled. The Terrans would be hesitant to meddle in Darkovan affairs for a long time to come.

Felix was making a good recovery and had already begun private lessons with Linnea. Eventually, the boy might need the disciplined community of a Tower, Arilinn most likely, with Jeff Kerwin as his Keeper, but that decision lay in the future.

As for Valdir Ridenow, he had stated his intention to retire to Serrais, taking Bettany and Francisco with him. Regis would rather have seen the girl entrusted to the Bridge Society healers or sent somewhere she might receive help and understanding. Clearly, the current Ridenow lord felt it was more important to forget the entire affair.

Poor child, I wonder what will happen to her. And Francisco, growing up under Valdir’s tutelage . . .

Recalling his thoughts to the present, Regis kissed his wife on the forehead. “You are right, of course. Danilo spouts similar wisdom at me on a daily basis.”

“As well he should,” she replied with an impish smile. “Perhaps the two of us will accomplish what neither one of us alone can. Getting you to see sense.”

“I?” Bemused by her playful turn, he raised one eyebrow.

The light in her eyes dimmed and Regis knew she was thinking of Kierestelli. In response, he said aloud what was in his mind, that he would go directly from Nevarsin to the Yellow Forest and bring their daughter home.

Linnea summoned a smile. “I’m sure you will try.”

“What do you mean?” Regis shivered inside, as if a gust from the everlasting snows touched his heart. The Storns were an old mountain family and undoubtedly had Aldaran blood. Linnea had never said she possessed the Gift of foreseeing, but . . .

Regis thought of his daughter, slim and graceful as a chieri,among the towers of Thendara, the raucous life of the city, the strangeness of the Terran Zone. He thought of men with blasters, with swords. “Are you saying it is not safe for her?”

She turned away. “Let it rest, love. We have endured more sadness in this last year than many people do in an entire lifetime. Go, bestow this last gift upon your brother, and know I will be waiting for you.”

Brother Valentine, once called Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, was laid to rest in the burial area dedicated to those who had given their lives in holy service. The entire monastic community attended, except for one or two elderly monks too frail to make the journey. They climbed the rocky slope, following a path between the arms of glacial ice. Chanting, they shared the weight of the rough wooden coffin. Those who were young and strong took longer turns, but even the lame carried their brother in imitation of the Holy Bearer of Burdens.

The ceremony, conducted by the new Father Master, a tall, soft-spoken man named Conn, was brief. Regis found himself unexpectedly moved. After all that had gone before, he feared the traditional words might ring hollow. The priest recited the prayers with such tenderness that even Danilo had tears in his eyes when the final “May it be so”drew the mourners together. Afterward, Regis waited with Danilo as each monk and novice paused to say a word of consolation. Some had barely known Rinaldo, but others remembered him as a youth, a child, a teacher, a friend.

How they loved him,Regis thought with a heavy gladness. I should never have taken him away.

He and Danilo were in light rapport, as they had been almost continually during this pilgrimage. Danilo said aloud, “Do not take that sorrow on yourself, bredhyu.A hundred things might have happened differently. Old Lord Hastur could have educated him as befitted a Comyn or else buried all record of his existence, leaving him to a life of contemplative prayer. Rinaldo himself made many choices along the way.”

Rinaldo could have resisted Valdir’s seductive offer of power and Tiphani Lawton’s delusions as well.

“Sometimes I think the saddest thing in this whole affair is how few people in Thendara will remember him in the years to come,” Regis sighed. The procession of monks was already winding their way down to the monastery. Although it was still full afternoon, a frigid wind swept down over the ice.

They stayed that night in the monastery’s guest house, warmed by a fire, hot food, and thick blankets. Neither felt the need for speech. When the fire had died into glowing embers, Regis lay in his single bed, waiting for sleep, listening to Danilo’s breathing.

I shall never return to Nevarsin.

Once he could not wait to be free of this place, its harsh discipline and creed of chastity, not to mention its climate. Now he thought of all he had been given, not just the education of books and writing, but the struggle within himself, the clarity to discern the truth and the strength to act upon it. The condemnation of homosexuality had all but destroyed him, and yet, was he not a stronger, more honest person for having wrestled with it? If he had not come to terms with his feelings for Danilo, would he have had the resolve to insist upon a wife for whom he felt genuine love and respect?

For a tenday, Regis scoured the hills in search of the Yellow Forest, and he did so alone. Danilo had been reluctant to allow Regis to ride off by himself, but Regis refused to explain what he was doing or why he must go alone. Kierestelli’s safety no longer depended on no one else knowing where she was hiding, but in all likelihood, the continued existence of the chieridid. Regis in no way distrusted Danilo, but the secret was not his to divulge. The Yellow Forest, sanctuary for a dwindling and near-magical race, had been revealed to him alone.

Revealed once, but not now. Every time he thought he recognized a hillside, a mountain or grove of green-leafed trees, the path led only to more of the same. The Yellow Forest had turned invisible, its entrance just beyond human senses. He called out until his throat was raw as he trotted his horse up and down the place where he thought it must be.

Nothing.

Nothing, like an echo that betrayed something.

Each passing day fueled his anxiety. He imagined Danilo, waiting for him at the village on the far side of the Kadarin, fretting and fearful. Imagined Linnea back in Thendara, her heart aching for the loss of her daughter, and then that strange resignation.

Had she known what would happen?

She would never ask, never cast even a whisper of blame on him. She understood, as he was only now beginning to, that Kierestelli, like her namesake, had never belonged to the world of greed and betrayal, hatred and manipulation, the world that kidnapped children for dogmatic ends. The world that so callously obliterated the brightest of hopes.

The world he must return to and serve as best he could.

When Regis arrived home, he learned that Valdir and Francisco had departed for Serrais, but not Bettany. Her kinswoman, Istvana Ridenow, had come to Thendara, packed up the girl and her belongings, and taken her back to Neskaya Tower.

“Really, it was Danilo’s doing,” Linnea told Regis.

Danilo, coming into the parlor where breakfast was laid out, mumbled that he deserved no credit.

“It was kindly done,” Regis said. “From what you’ve told me, no one at Serrais cares about her.”

“Or is equipped enough to deal with such severe mental trauma,” Linnea put in. “Did you know she’d survived a Ghost Wind? Danilo suspected, and Istvana confirmed it. There’s strength in that young woman and more than a trace of empathy.”

“I couldn’t stand by and see her life thrown away,” Danilo said.

“You have feelings for her?” Regis asked, surprised.

“No more than for any human creature in pain,” Danilo explained, “although Bettany fancied herself in love with me. Poor thing, with no one to love. She’d been rejected and betrayed so many times, I couldn’t turn my back on her.”

“Danilo was marvelous,” Linnea said. “She wouldn’t have anything to do with me, but he kept her talking—”

“—and crying,” Danilo added.

“—until Istvana came. Kinswoman or not, when Istvana sees a poor lost chick, she swoops in like a mother hen. We trained together for a time, and I know. Bettany ate up all that attention as if she were starving.”

“She was,” Danilo said quietly.

You could not give her the affection she needed, so you—and Linnea—found someone who could.Regis felt a rush of pride and love. He did not need to ask what Linnea’s part had been. How she’d gotten word so quickly to Neskaya, he didn’t know and suspected he never would.

Above the city of Thendara, the great crimson sun of Darkover crept toward midday. Winter was drawing to a close. Shadows stretched like pools of darkness from the walls of Comyn Castle.

Regis Hastur, the Lord of his Domain and Regent of the Comyn, stood on a balcony of the Castle and gazed over the spires of the Old Town to the Terran Trade city, the rising steel edifice of the Terran Empire Headquarters complex and, still further, the spaceport.

Even without the sounds of hushed footsteps, Regis knew by the lightening of his heart that Danilo and Linnea had come into the room behind him. He closed his eyes, opening the space in his mind where their thoughts met. Linnea’s skirts whispered as she moved. She interlaced her fingers with his. With a click of the latch, Danilo closed the door and came to stand beside them both.

They would, none of them, be the same people they were before Rinaldo had touched and twisted their lives, but they no longer lived in the same world. The Terran Federation remained a vastly powerful, unstable force. Regis now took up the role of Regent, with everything that implied. The questions of his marriage and the heritage of Hastur were settled, although how the relationship between Mikhail and little Dani might evolve, no one could say.

As for Kierestelli, enfolded into the hidden world of the chieriand warned never to reveal her identity, Regis could only pray that her life would be as rich as his and as blessed with love.