that was potentially deadly, and one which was so rare that it was difficult to
limit. She had a hot temper, as well, which made her extremely dangerous. He
worried more about his niece than he ever did about his own children, for her
quicksilver disposition reminded him rather too much of some of the Elhalyn
children, Vincent in particular. She had some of the same egotism, but none of
the bullying tendencies of that now deceased man.
Mikhail watched Nico smile at Alanna, brightening as he always did around his
difficult cousin and foster-sister. Eight months separated them in age, and she
had lived in Comyn Castle since she was five. They were, together, more like
twins than otherwise, and had an uncanny ability to either cheer one another up,
or send each other into foul moods that no one else could understand. Tonight
she seemed to be on her best behavior, despite the general air of sorrow that
was everywhere. He thanked the gods for that favor, and turned toward the
doorway of the dining room.
Herm and his family came into the room, and Mikhail put everything else out of
his mind. Behind him, Donal came to attention, alert in every muscle, examining
the newcomers with a very jaundiced eye, much too suspicious for such a young
man. Mikhail held back a sigh, for like himself, Donal had never really had a
childhood. He knew he had made the right decision for himself, taking his young
relative for paxman, but he was not as sure that he had made the best choice for
Donal.
Mikhail studied Hermes Aldaran, trying to fit the image of the man before him
with his memories of a much younger person he had known briefly over twenty
years before. He had much less hair on the top of his head, and a softness above
his belt that spoke of little physical activity. There were interesting wrinkles
around his eyes, and the mouth almost hidden in his curling beard was generous,
made for laughter. But there was no merriment in his face now, just a sort of
tension, as if he were uncertain of his welcome.
Beside him stood a very attractive woman, with black hair and, as Lew had
mentioned, a square and stubborn jaw. Two children stood next to her. The boy,
who looked about thirteen, had gray eyes that went immediately to Alanna with
interest and admiration, and the girl, who might be nine or ten, seemed a little
bashful in the presence of so many strangers. Lew was right-the girl looked like
an Aldaran and could have easily been mistaken for a child of either
Marguerida's or Gisela's.
They were dressed in Federation garb, which looked outr‚ and exotic to Mikhail.
The girl, Ter‚se, wore a brief skirt of some shiny stuff, and her still gawky
limbs were covered in stockings of a woven material with a vivid pattern in it.
Her mother wore a close-fitting gown of dark red velvet, cut low over the
shoulders, and clinging across her bosom. The lower portion of the dress dropped
from knee length in the front to floor length at the back, showing off elegant
calves and feet clad in shiny shoes. Her obviously long black hair was
elaborately braided and coiled behind her head, decently concealing her nape,
and long metal earrings dangled beside her graceful throat. Herm and the boy
wore jackets that ended abruptly at the waist, over pleated shirts and narrow
trousers that looked rather uncomfortable to Mikhail. All in all, it was a
bizarre presentation, and he had to school himself not to stare at Katherine's
legs.
Katherine glanced at Marguerida, then at Alanna and Yllana. Her face clouded
with dismay for a moment, and when he saw Gisela and his brother Rafael come
through the door behind her, he realized that his ever mischievous sister-in-law
had been up to one of her tricks. She had probably told Katherine to wear these
clothes. Still, as he watched, he saw the woman's face become composed, her
spine stiffening a little in the lovely but unsuitable gown. She had been a
Senator's wife for over a decade now, and could probably handle herself in
situations he could not even imagine.
Oh, dear-she is upset, Mik.
Anyone can see that, caria.
Gisela offered to look after her, and I just assumed she would tell Katherine
what sort of dress was appropriate. I was so tired that 1 could not think
straight! I know it doesn't matter to you, but we women take these matters very
seriously. Damn!!
My darling optimist! After all these years, you should know better than to trust
Giz. Katherine has very nice legs, don't you think?
Should I be jealous?
Never, my dearest, never.
Herm cleared his throat. "Hello, Mikhail. It has been a long time, hasn't it? I
would like to present my wife, Katherine Korniel Aldaran, and our children,
Amaury and Ter‚se."
"Welcome to Comyn Castle. I only wish your arrival had been a little less
hectic, and I apologize for not coming to meet you earlier. I was sent to bed,
frankly, although thankfully not without my supper." Mikhail exerted himself to
be friendly, hoping to ease the awkwardness away.
"Korniel? Are you by chance related to the composer of that name?" Marguerida
wondered.
"He was my great-uncle," Katherine answered.
Marguerida repressed her lively interest, her eyes almost sparkling, and stepped
forward with both her mitted hands outstretched in greeting. "Where are my
manners! How are you, after your long journey?" She paused for a moment, waited
for Herm to speak, then when he did not, went on. "Domna Katherine, this is my
husband, Mikhail Hastur, and my children, Domenic, Rory, and Yllana. Yllana, why
don't you take Ter‚se and get her a glass of berry juice? Or watered wine, if
you do not mind, Katherine?"
"I think a little watered wine would not be a bad thing-not too much, Ter‚se,"
Katherine answered in a deep alto voice that was heavy with tension.
Over her shoulder, Mikhail could read the faint disappointment in Gisela's
expression. She was plumper now than when she had been a girl, her waist
thickened with child-bearing as Marguerida's had failed to do, and her face had
lost some of its earlier winsomeness. He gave her a stern look, and she had the
grace to redden a little. Katherine caught his expression, and her eyes widened
in surprise, apparently thinking he was glaring at her. Then she looked quickly
over her shoulder, saw Gisela's blush, and turned back toward him with a
splendid smile.
Yllana's pale blue eyes twinkled, and she gave the other girl a quick grin.
Ter‚se answered with a relieved smile, as if she were very glad to remove
herself from the orbit of her parents, and to be in the company of someone her
own age. The two girls slipped across the room as if they had known each other
for days instead of moments, and Mikhail sensed that Yllana was pleased to be
out of earshot of any adults.
Roderick made a decent bow in front of Katherine, his eyes sparkling with
mischief. "Come on, Amaury-the grown-ups don't need us underfoot. Nico and I
will be glad to answer your questions, and I'll wager you have a lot of them."
Amaury glanced at his parents, then started to follow Rory toward the fire
place.
"I have one-who is that girl watching us from over there?" Mikhail heard him
ask.
"Oh, that's just Alanna," Roderick replied. "She is our cousin and our
foster-sister." Then he passed out of earshot, and Mikhail glanced over his
shoulder at his foster-daughter. She should have been beside them, to be
introduced. Oh, well, the children would make their own way. Then Mikhail turned
back to Herm and Katherine. There was an awkward silence for a moment.
"Have you begun to recover from your journey?" Mikhail asked.
"We have caught up on our sleep, and enjoyed eating real food." Katherine spoke
in casta easily, but her accent was unfamiliar. She rounded the vowel sounds
more than was normal, and in her mouth, the language sounded unusually musical.
"We offer our condolences, Dom Mikhail, on the death of your uncle."
"Thank you, domna. It has been a great shock and a terrible loss for all of us."
He paused, feeling this formal response was a bit cold. "I cannot really believe
it, yet. It all seems like a nightmare from which I cannot manage to awaken."
"Of course it is! If I understand what Gisela told me, there was no warning, no
signs of illness or anything."
"Nothing whatever," he answered, moved by her immediate understanding.
"That makes it all the harder to bear."
A silence fell heavily among the four of them then, as if no one could think of
what to say. Finally Marguerida stepped into the breach. "I am sorry that that I
could not greet you upon your arrival, but things are in such a state. And I am
sincerely happy that you are here, and hope that you find Darkover to your
liking." She paused and the shadow of a smile graced her lips. "It might take
some getting used to for you," she continued, as a servant appeared with a tray
of wineglasses. She took one and offered it to Katherine, who gave her a
speculative look, as if she suspected there might be some hidden meaning in the
last words. Donal picked one up and handed it to Mikhail. Herm helped himself,
looking more at ease now. "I can remember my own difficulties, when I came back
sixteen years ago," she added, smiling and shaking her head at the vivid
memories at the same time.
Gisela and Rafael moved forward, and from the petulant expression on her face,
Mikhail suspected that his brother was giving her a telepathic lecture that she
was not enjoying. He had a stab of guilt, that Rafael had ended up with this
difficult woman, but he knew that his steady, older sibling genuinely cared for
her. At the same time, he was sincerely glad he had not been shackled to Gisela,
because he was certain he would have strangled her long since. He could only
admire his brother's patience in silence, resisting any impulse to eavesdrop
even a little.
"Herm tried to explain things to me," Katherine was saying to Marguerida, "and
so did Gisela, but I still feel quite disoriented." She gave Herm a stern look,
then favored Gisela with one that was openly hostile.
Mikhail could just imagine what sort of nonsense Giz had offered, and admired
Katherine's firm control on her temper. "My husband has been keeping secrets
from me for years, and I am only now discovering them." She moved restlessly and
brushed her free hand across her brow, as if she was afraid of something.
"I have tried to reassure her that her thoughts are safe, but Katherine is a
very stubborn woman," Herm commented dryly. "She will probably forgive me in a
few decades."
Marguerida nodded and gave a soft laugh. "If you are fortunate, Dom Hermes.
Domna, trust me. No one is going to invade your privacy." She's very frightened,
Mik, but I must say she is concealing at very well.
"Would I know if they did?" Katherine asked with candor. Mikhail could sense her
heart beating a little faster, and felt his liking for the woman increase
further.
"No, you would not," Marguerida admitted calmly. "And your uppermost thoughts
are audible to me, if I focus my attention on you. Still, you are worrying
yourself for no good reason. Darkovans are most scrupulous in these matters."
"I suppose they must be, or else everyone would be quite mad." Katherine sighed
and drank off half her glass with a nervous gesture. "I will be all right as
soon as I can get back to work."
"Work?" Mikhail looked at her, watching the wine begin to ease her discomfort.
"Katherine is a very fine painter, and she left much of her clothing behind so
she could bring along her paints and brushes." Herm smiled fondly at his wife.
"I met her when she was doing a portrait." Damn Gisela for setting us wrong-I
should have known she was up to something. I don't care ahout my clothing, but I
think my Kate will take my sister's eyes out the first chance she gets. I had
almost forgotten how spiteful she could be, for no good reason.
"An artist. How wonderful. Then we must give you a room in which to work,"
Marguerida insisted. "Let me think. Ah, yes. There is a pleasant chamber on the
second floor, with decent north light. It is very quiet, so you will not be
disturbed. Will you need an easel? I don't suppose you brought one, what with
the restrictions on baggage."
"You are right-I didn't." Katherine looked at Marguerida with relief. "Herm did
not tell me what was going on-he could not have risked it, really-just told me
to pack, and we were at the spaceport before I knew what was happening. It is a
very good thing I trust my husband, for if I had not, we would probably not be
here now. But it was very . . . unsettling."
"I am sure it was," Marguerida said with sympathy. Better than anyone in the
room, she knew what it meant to be uprooted, to be dragged out of bed in the
middle of the night without explanation. Her memories of the Sharra Rebellion
were vague, for she had only been a child at the time, but they remained
disturbing, even after so many years.
She set aside these thoughts firmly and concentrated on making Katherine feel
more comfortable. "We must have an easel built for you immediately. The Castle
carpenters can probably manage that in a day, although they will complain that
they have been rushed and that it is not a good job, that the wood is not of the
proper sort, then stand around and mutter darkly. They will tell you that it
would have been better if they had had oak, but that only pine was available,
most likely."
Katherine laughed at last. "I know. Craftsmen are such perfectionists. I don't
suppose I can get any canvases?"
"We have canvas, but it is not of a quality for painting, only for making
awnings and tents. Can you manage with board? Wood we have in plenty, and our
painters here use panels of it."
"Perhaps Master Gilhooly can provide some," Mikhail offered. "He is head of the
Painters Guild, which I confess is a very small company. They can probably
supply you with panels and anything else you need, including pigments."
"That would be wonderful, since my supplies are limited, and it does not seem
that I am going to be able to get more when these are exhausted. I confess that
I am very spoiled, since all I needed to do was sit down at the console of my
com
puter and order what I needed, and it would be delivered in a few hours." I
cannot believe I am standing here discussing paints with these complete
strangers, as if nothing were more important. Why is Mikhail wearing a glove
indoors-maybe his hand is scarred or something? And Marguerida has mitts, but
Gisela does not. It is not cold in here, but perhaps she has poor circulation.
Will I ever understand these people? It is all too confusing. I wish I were
somewhere else!
"There are no computers here since that is a restricted technology, forbidden
except to the people at HQ," said Mikhail. "And we have nothing resembling a
depot of art supplies on Darkover. The Painters Guild grinds and mixes their own
colors, and the Brushmakers supply the tools. I believe the Woodworkers Guild is
charged with creating the panels. And that entirely exhausts my store of
knowledge on the matter."
"Then you have never visited the Painters Guild yourself?" Katherine seemed
surprised by his knowledge and then by his ignorance.
"No, I have not." Mikhail shrugged his shoulders. Like Regis before him, he had
been a virtual prisoner in Comyn Castle for years, except for a few trips to
Arilinn, and one to Armida, ten years before. Now he would be even more
restricted, he knew, and the prospect did not delight him. "I would know nothing
at all, except that I was a very curious boy, and I absorbed tidbits whenever I
could. I know who is head of the Guild, because it is part of my duty to know,
but I have never actually met Master Gilhooly. I met his predecessor long ago,
when he came to arrange for a portrait of Lady Linnea, and I asked him a great
many questions, the answers to which have long since faded from memory." Mikhail
shook his head and laughed softly.
"I think we are about to sit down, Mikhail. Will you show Domna Katherine to her
place." And keep charming her, cario. It's working. She is starting to relax a
little, which should improve her digestion.
That will not be any burden. I like her. Do you?
Oh, yes. And it is taking all my discipline not to ask her more about Amedi
Korniel right now. His official biography is rather dry and she probably never
actually met him, but maybe she knows some family stories about him. But it
gives us some common ground for further conversation.