Danilo's son. They had met at Arilinn the previous year, and he knew he did not
like the boy, and that the feeling was mutual. There was something in the way he
looked at Domenic, a sidewise glance, that made him want to squirm. More, Gareth
gave himself airs, expecting to be deferred to, which had not sat well with his
fellow students at the Tower. It was better to think about Belfontaine, because
it did not seem proper to dislike his grandmother and cousin as much as he knew
he did.
Lew had taken Domenic with him to HQ during one of the meetings he had, telling
him to observe everything, and passed him off as a page. It had been rather fun,
pretending to be just a nobody, catching the random thoughts of the Terrans in
the halls and offices. It had not been very interesting, though, because most of
what he picked up was incomprehensible to him. But the Station Chief had been
fascinating, in a sort of repulsive way, trying to get Lew to agree to let him
come to the Castle and meet Regis Hastur. He watched his grandfather dodge the
issue and change the subject so skillfully that Belfontaine hardly realized he
was being deflected. It had been, Nico felt, a good lesson in diplomacy, but
seeing the Station Chief had left him with the feeling that the man was a
dangerous fool, and that all Terranan were equally irresponsible and
treacherous.
He had been more interested in the machines that were everywhere, beeping and
humming to themselves, while grinding out sheets of flimsy paper that Lew told
him would turn to ash in less than a day. Until he saw the relays at Arilinn,
Domenic had never seen anything similar, and he was impressed in spite of
himself. The only piece of advanced technology he knew was his mother's now
ancient recording device, gathering dust, since she could no longer obtain the
batteries that enabled it to run.
It seemed futile to think about Belfontaine, and he let his mind drift in
another direction. There were so many things he did not understand, and
questions he could barely formulate, let alone find someone to answer. Everyone
was so busy, and expected him to look after himself, now that he had reached his
majority. And, in truth, he was a little afraid of the things that were in his
mind, the thoughts and memories that dwelt there.
There were times when he thought he could remember the moment he had been
conceived, although he was sure this was impossible, and he wondered silently if
he might be a little mad. But he could not shake a sense that he knew things he
could not, and no one, even such wise people as Istvana Ridenow, were able to
answer the questions that had begun to trouble him about five years before. He
missed the old leronis, who had tested him before he had gone to Arilinn, and
she had returned to Neskaya. He wished, sometimes, that he could go there and
study with her, but he knew that he would never be allowed that far away from
Thendara.
Grandfather Lew referred to the way Regis had spent the last years of his life
as a "siege mentality" and frequently rued it within Nico's hearing. He knew it
was the result of events that had occurred long before he was born, when the
World Wreckers had tried to ruin Darkover. As he had aged, Regis had become more
and more anxious, as if the past were gnawing away at the present, destroying
his peace of mind.
Lew admitted the necessity of keeping the ruling family safe, and away from the
Terrans, but he still seemed to think there should be some less restrictive way
of handling the problem of security. Domenic could not imagine being able to
come and go as he pleased, nor even suggesting that he might be allowed to. He
was still only a boy, or a man only legally, not a full adult. He was never
going to have any adventures, or see more of Darkover than he already had. It
was a very depressing thought, and he decided he had better get hold of himself,
or his mother would become alarmed and make him drink something foul-tasting.
There was no cure, he was certain, for the way he was feeling, except, as his
mother often said, time. He was sad over Regis' death, and that was normal. It
was rather reassuring to think that what he was experiencing was perfectly
ordinary, because recently his emotions had seemed to swing wildly, back and
forth between elation and depression, without any reason. But Alanna's moods did
that, too, so maybe it really was just his age, and not anything more serious.
Of course, his cousin and foster-sister worried him a great deal. They were very
close, having been reared together for ten years, and he probably knew her
better than anyone else. Thinking of Alanna's fits of temper did nothing to
reassure him of his own mental stability, and he could not help thinking of the
stories he had heard over the years, about the Elhalyn branch of the family,
which was well-known to be rather odd. Maybe great-grandmother Alanna Elhalyn
had passed some strange gene through her daughter Javanne, that showed up in him
and his foster sister.
Thinking about Javanne Hastur was not a good idea, because she always made him
feel perfectly dreadful. She had, as far as he could remember, never touched
him, let alone hugged him the way she did Rory and Yllana. Mother said that was
Javanne's problem, not his, but he admitted to himself that it hurt.
Anticipation of his grandmother's imminent arrival at Comyn Castle, and the
already prickly presence of Gareth Elhalyn, was making him feel worse by the
second. If only they did not seem to hate him!
But his father's mother seemed to hate a lot of things, sometimes even including
Father. Well, at least he was in good company! He would endure her visit as he
had all the previous ones, by avoiding her as much as possible. Let her make a
great fuss over Rory. He was not jealous of his little brother . . . was he?
All of this anxiety was likely due only to the great upheaval in his life, and
that he was fifteen, and feeling unsure of himself. Uncle Rafael had told him a
few months earlier, in a pleasant way, that he was a perfectly normal adolescent
young man, which was a comfort. He would surely grow out of it, as he had
started to grow out of his clothes every few months, although he was still short
for his age. But his uncle did not know the shape that Domenic's laran seemed to
be taking-no one did except a few leroni at Arilinn-and they were puzzled by it.
And no one knew how it had grown since he returned to Thendara! Grown and
changed into something so strange that half the time he was sure he was going to
go mad. He could not really hear the planet, could he? No, that must be
impossible, or the result of an overactive imagination. Human beings could not
listen to the movements of the earth, could not hear the roll of the distant Sea
of Dalereuth against the shore. Maybe, if he got the chance, he would ask Lew
about it. Probably not. His grandfather was pretty busy, and there was no way to
discuss this without revealing his fears about his own sanity.
The rattle of wheels brought him out of his reverie sharply, and Nico looked
down the narrow street that ran past this entrance to the Barracks. He knew all
t
he delivery schedules by heart, and none were expected. He stiffened into
alertness and peered into the shadows, as did his watchmate.
"What's this?" Kendrick was a career Guardsman, a sturdy man in his early
thirties, and one of Nico's favorite people. Nothing ever seemed to bother him,
and standing guard with him was usually pleasant, restful almost. He followed
the direction of the older man's eyes.
Now Domenic could see what troubled the older man. It was a muledrawn wagon with
a painted panel behind the gaudily garbed driver on the seat. Travelers! What
the devil were they doing in the city now? They were only permitted into
Thendara during Midsummer and Midwinter. In the warm part of the year, they went
about, entertaining in small hamlets and the lesser cities. Except for Midwinter
itself, he did not know where they wintered. His mother, who was curious about
many things, had been trying unsuccessfully to gather some real information
about them for a long time, and had not succeeded. Most of the little she did
know she had learned from Erald, the son of the prior head of the Musicians
Guild. He must remember to tell her that he had seen them.
Still, they should not be driving along on this particular street, even when
they were welcome in the city. The only traffic permitted along this route were
those who had business at the Castle, draymen bringing in supplies or Guildsmen.
This was interesting because it was out of the ordinary, and Domenic felt his
black mood start to dissipate in the face of his curiosity. He had seen
Travelers twice, during his time at Arilinn, where they performed some rather
scandalous songs and a play which he remembered was funny but seemed to delight
in making fun of his Uncle Regis, among other things. What he had really liked
was the rope dancer, a pretty girl in a skimpy costume, and the juggler who said
poetry while he tossed more and more balls into the air. No one told the
Travelers what to do, except themselves, he believed. What was it like to be
that free of duty?
They did not seem to belong anywhere, unlike everyone else he knew. They did not
have any permanent homes, and the organization of their troupes was a mystery.
They belonged to no Guilds, answered to no authority, not even the lords of the
Domains, and did as they pleased, so long as they did not violate the few laws
which applied to them. There was something wonderfully attractive about that.
For a moment, Nico wondered what it would be like to have the liberty to go
where one chose whenever one wished. Then he decided it was probably cold and
wet and hard.
He peered into the shadows made by the walls of the Castle, trying to make out
more details. The wagon had come far enough up the street that he could see the
figures painted on the sides of it now. There were puppets, the strings picked
out in flaking gilt, and a garland of flowers ran around the topmost edge. The
side of the wagon was lowered, and he saw a girl leaning out, grinning. She was
red-haired and freckled, and seemed to be about his own age. She gave him a wave
of greeting as Kendrick stepped away from the barrack entrance.
"Just what do you think you are doing, there, my good man?" he demanded of the
driver. He gestured to Nico to remain in the shadows, and even though he wanted
a better look, he remained where he was. He did not sense any danger from the
skinny man, but he knew that he should obey the older Guard.
The man just shrugged and gave Kendrick a surly look. He was a small man, with a
narrow face and a beaky nose. "We broke a wheel and had to stop in Wheelwrights
Row to fix it. It didn't seem worth going out of the city and around to meet the
rest of our troupe."
"You are not permitted in Thendara at this season! And this street is out of
bounds to the likes of you in any case." Kendrick sounded outraged, but Domenic
suspected he was enjoying the break in the rather boring task of standing guard
at this post.
"We ain't bothering nobody," protested the driver. "You ass-kissing servants of
the Comyn are all alike, telling us what to do for no reason than that you don't
do no real work!"
The words were rude, and the attitude of the driver was that of a man looking
for a fight. But there was more. Nico caught just a hint of fear from the man,
and some muddled overthoughts that were strange. It took him a moment to realize
that the man was not thinking in casta or cahuenga, but a mixture of both, with
a good amount of Terran as well. Peculiar, but he was probably from up in
Aldaran country, where Nico knew there were quite a few Terranan. Maybe he had a
Terran father. Or maybe he had come this way for a reason. What if he were a spy
or something? Nico laughed at himself quietly. That was a ridiculous idea-just
because the man's uppermost thoughts were confused was no reason to suspect him
of any mischief. He was jumping at shadows.
"That is enough! You get on, or I'll have you . . ."
"Don't get your trews in a twist," sneered the driver. "We are only going to the
Old North Road, where we will meet up with the rest of our folk."
"Stop being provoking," the girl called from behind. "I told you we should have
taken the other street!"
"And I told you it was too far. Keep your tongue between your teeth, girl, or
I'll take a switch to your behind."
"You and what army, Dirck? I can outrun you any day, even in ten petticoats."
She laughed at the driver and grinned at Nico, her gray-green eyes alight with
amusement. He smiled back. Domenic wondered who she was, and how she had become
a Traveler. More, he wondered about the flaming hair, so often a sign of laran
in the Darkovean populace. He had never heard of any Travelers coming to the
Towers to be tested or trained.
The hair itself was fascinating. It was very curly, like his mother's, but wiry
where Marguerida's was as fine as a babe's. It stood out around her face like an
aura of flames, even though the back of it was held in the confines of a wooden
butterfly clasp. She was, he decided, a very pretty girl, but in an odd sort of
way. She looked rough, not smooth like his cousin Alanna or his sister. And her
features were not in any way remarkable-a slight turned-up nose, luminous eyes,
and a generous mouth. There seemed to be nothing serious about her, and he
decided that this was why he thought her pretty. She looked as if she found life
very interesting and never worried about much, unlike Alanna.
Domenic sighed. Every time he thought about Alanna, his belly clenched and his
heart ached. He had feelings about his foster-sister that he suspected were
foolish as well as inappropriate. He did not care that she was regarded by
almost everyone as a difficult child, and that sometimes his parents were ready
to despair of their charge. She was bold where he thought himself timid, willing
to say things he wished he had the courage to speak. More, he knew, he was
almost her only real friend in the world, because her sudden shifts of mood had
alienated even his mother to some degree. Would he grow out of his feelings for
her? He had better, for he could not marry her. They were too closely c
onnected
by blood.
"Can you really defend this place?" the girl in the wagon asked him saucily,
peering toward him still in shadow. "You look a little small for a Guard."
"Here, now-don't you go being rude to your betters, girl," Kendrick growled as
he stepped toward the wagon.
She shook her head, setting the curly mass of hair in motion, illuminated by the
strip of sunlight that was making its way down the center of the street. It
flashed brightly, like a nimbus of fire around her face. "Some overbred sprout
of the Comyn isn't my better, Guardsman."
Kendrick made a soft growling sort of noise in his throat, but it was clear he
knew he was not going to win any arguments with the Traveling girl. She was not
going to give him the least respect. "Go along with you, now!"
As the driver slapped the reins against the hindquarters of his mules, and they
started to move forward again, Nico caught a feeling of frustration coming from
him. He looked uneasily over his shoulder at the girl still leaning out, and
muttered something to himself. Dratted wench! That thought came through quite
clearly, and Nico smiled to himself. In spite of knowing that he shouldn't, he
felt himself admiring her rudeness. He wished he had the courage to be rude to
anyone, instead of always doing what was expected of him. And for a moment he
enjoyed the notion of this girl encountering Lady Javanne Hastur and tried to
imagine what she might say.
"If you come to the old Tanners' Field by the North Gate, we will be putting on
a show tonight," the girl shouted at him as the wagon pulled away, sending his
delicious fantasy right out of his head. "You aren't on duty all the time, are
you?"
Nico shook his head, suddenly mute and feeling rather like a dolt. He was
getting the oddest set of impressions, and there was a thrumming in his head, an
annoying sensation, and something more. He had an impulse to use the Alton Gift,
to penetrate the girl's mind, if only for a moment-just to discover her name. Or
did he wish to know more? The girl was so unlike anyone he knew that he found
himself drawn toward her for a moment.
The girl waved at him boldly, and the desire to do anything foolish faded away.
He took a deep breath, relieved. His secret wish to do something unexpected did