ached from talking. He was parched, and wanted a pitcher of good beer, but
lacked the energy to sit up and ring for a servant. Instead he closed his eyes
and tried to relax.
Overall, he was pleased. Mikhail Hastur had matured from the callow young man he
remembered over two decades earlier, and seemed to have a good head on his
shoulders. He had been preparing for the task that lay ahead of him for years.
If anyone could guide Darkover through the difficulties that lay ahead, it was
he. He had listened to Herm intently, and his questions had been both informed
and intelligent.
Unfortunately, no one could accurately guess what the Federation might do next,
although everyone at the meeting was attempting to anticipate it. He hoped they
would just ignore Darkover, but doubted that the Expansionists would be that
cooperative. And Lew Alton had said some disturbing things about the current
station chief, Lyle Belfontaine, at HQ, including his demand that Herm be turned
over for arrest as an enemy of the Federation. He tried to be amused by the
whole idea, but his guts had churned with fear when he heard about it. He had
lived with this kind of terror for years now, and had believed that once he
reached the safe haven of Darkover, he would no longer be subject to its claws.
The more fool he-the Federation was not going to let him go!
This was a time when he wished he could provoke the Aldaran Gift into activity,
but unlike other forms of laran, it was almost impossible, without the use of
certain dangerous substances, to cause it to manifest. He might see more than he
desired, or find out things he did not wish to know at all.
So much for coming home to peace and quiet. Why had he ever gone into politics,
and when was he going to be allowed out? He chuckled to himself, knowing that he
would never be able to give up meddling and intriguing. It was in his blood,
like some strange disease, and from all reports, might even be genetic. His
little sister Gisela was of the same ilk, and he wondered exactly what she was
up to at the moment. He had seen her twice now, and each time he had come away
with the distinct feeling that she was looking for trouble. There was a kind of
guardedness about her he mistrusted, as he had when she was a girl. He knew that
expression, that catlike narrowing of green eyes that boded no good. And it
would be some time before he forgave her for her mean trick on Katherine the
previous evening. He did not want her to embarrass the Aldarans, or give her
long-suffering husband any more grief than he suspected she already did. Really,
Gisela needed a good spanking-except it was years too late for that remedy. If
only their father had not alternately spoiled her and neglected her!
A soft rustle of fabric made him open his eyes. Katherine walked into the
bedroom and gave him a smile. Her cheeks were rosy, and she smelled of fresh
air. "What have you been up to?" He sat up and studied her. She was wearing an
outfit of typical Darkovan garments, a green tunic and shirt over russet
petticoats. The colors did not really become her, but she looked healthier and
more alive than she had for days.
"Gisela and I went to meet the head of the Painters Guild, Master Gilhooly."
"Giz and . . . I'm surprised. After the stunt she pulled by not telling you how
to dress for dinner last night, I assumed you would not speak to her for about a
month."
Katherine smiled and her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Gisela appeared
right after breakfast with these clothes-but no apology. She ordered a carriage
and went with me. It was rather enjoyable, actually, and we talked over a good
many things. I don't know what caused her change of heart, but I rather suspect
it was something that man next to her at dinner said to her."
"Danilo?"
"I don't know-he arrived late, and somehow I was never introduced to him."
"That was Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, paxman to the late Regis Hastur, among other
things. Having just spent several hours in his company, I can well imagine him
putting Giz in her place."
"Paxman-I've heard that term several times, but no one has bothered to tell me
what it means, Herm-like so many other things." Her good mood seemed to recede a
little, and she looked as if she might be nursing a grievance. Well, he could
hardly blame her if she were.
"Umm-it is a bit hard to define. The paxman is a personal guard, and in the case
of Danilo or young Donal Alar, also an advisor, constant companion,
brother-in-arms. When Mikhail was a young man, he was paxman to young Dyan
Ardais, even though he was also Regis' heir. I suppose it is one of the ways in
which we keep ourselves connected to one another. And, Katherine, I am sorry
about how badly my sister has behaved."
"She's just a little jealous, Herm." And restless, like you are most of the
time, my dearest.
"Of what?" He sat up.
"Of me. You are her brother, and her favorite one, if I read things correctly."
"I hadn't thought of that. Hmm . . . yes, she never favored Robert, who is the
best of men, but a bit . . . ponderous, and our other brothers-the nedestro
sons-never gave her much attention, I suppose. But I still don't understand why
she should be jealous of you."
"It is a female thing," Katherine answered easily. She had ended her trip with
Gisela in a good mood, and she wanted to keep it.
"Ah, one of the mysteries."
"Yes."
Herm looked at her, trying to read her expression, realized she was not going to
say more, and decided not to press her. "And how was your visit with Master
Gilhooly?"
"Delightful. He showed me around the workshops and we talked technique. It
strained my vocabulary to the utmost, and without Gisela's help I would have had
a much more difficult time. She told me she had read some old book about
painting and had picked up the words from it. She can be very charming when she
wants to."
"Gisela read a book on painting? Amazing."
Katherine gave him a look he recognized. She was beginning to become annoyed
with him, and he had better mind his words. "She tells me she has read just
about everything in the archives during the past fifteen years, out of boredom,
as near as I can gather. Poor thing."
This was completely unexpected, and Herm did not know what to make of it.
Something had clearly happened between the two women during their outing, and it
worried him more than a little, although he could not decide why. Still, she had
come to no harm, and apparently found his sister interesting. "This is the first
time I have seen your eyes really sparkle in days, Kate. Just promise me you
will not come to the table smelling of turps, or with a smudge of charcoal on
your lovely nose."
Katherine grinned broadly. "I will try not to disgrace you, my lord. But,
remember, I was not raised to be a great lady, or even a medium one. I feel a
bit stifled by all this formality, which made my visit to Master Gilhooly all
the more pleasurable. After he recovered from the initial shock of Domna
Aldaran-I haven't adjusted to the title yet, being bowed to an
d treated like I
was important-entering his establishment, and in the company of Gisela as well,
and realized that I was a serious artist, he unbuttoned completely. He stopped
bowing and scraping and fell to discussing important things that are his
passion."
"It is a bit unusual for a woman of the Domains to pursue anything other than
childrearing, unless she chooses to become a leronis. Or a Renunciate," he
added, still puzzled by the change in his wife. "I have never heard of a
Darkovan woman who pursues art seriously. Our more artistic women satisfy
themselves with vast amounts of unnecessary needlework. Lady Marilla Aillard has
a pottery works in the Ardais Domain, but I do not think she throws bowls or
glazes them personally. She might. You can ask her when she arrives."
"She is coming for the funeral, I assume."
"That is part of it. She holds the Aillard seat on the Comyn Council, which will
meet in order to confirm Mikhail Hastur's succession to Regis. Her son, Dyan
Ardais, will come as well."
"Domna Marilla Aillard and Dom Dyan Ardais? Different last names? It is a good
thing I have had so much practice keeping such things straight. Gisela told me
your father and brother are expected, too-though from what she said I am not
really looking forward to meeting your parent-or is it parents? No one has
mentioned his wife yet."
"There isn't one, as far as I know, although he probably has a barragana or two
up in Aldaran Castle. Gisela's mother died a long time ago."
"I see." She frowned at the word for concubine, then shrugged. "The children
seem to be adjusting well. Rory and Amaury are thick as thieves already, and I
think Ter‚se and Yllana will amuse one another."
"They will probably get into mischief." He had taken a liking to Roderick
Alton-Hastur after dinner the previous evening, and thought that it would be
good for his stepson to have someone his own age to play with. But he was fairly
certain that Rory was a little too frisky for his own good, and could only hope
that he would not lead Amaury into anything too dangerous.
"Will that be good or bad?"
"Neither. We Darkovans indulge our children a good deal, because we have always
had a high infant mortality rate. A certain amount of wickedness is expected of
the boys, though not of the girls, I confess."
"I had noticed that the attitude toward women here was a wee bit backward," she
answered very dryly.
"What do you mean, precisely."
"Gisela gave me a thumbnail sketch of the proscribed roles of Darkovan wives and
daughters during the ride. It is so different from Renney, which is my only real
experience with a Protected Planet."
"I hadn't considered the matter, but since Renney is, for all practical
purposes, a matriarchy, I can see that you would find it strange. We guard our
women closely, and confine them in odd ways. There are a good many historical
reasons for that, which we seem not to have overcome. I hope you do not find it
too oppressive, darling Kate."
She sat down on the bed beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder.
"Only if I am forced to spend all my time in this . . . outrageous building! It
seems very odd not to be able to come and go as I please, to have all these
servants and guards everywhere. I confess to feeling a bit stifled. And
watched." Her voice dropped sharply and she shifted uncomfortably.
"What?"
"You grew up with this, but frankly the idea of being with a bunch of telepaths
still gives me the cold grues. You would think, after living for years with
invisible eyes observing my every move that I would not be bothered, but I am.
The Federation was not interested in my thoughts, just in my actions. I keep
thinking that someone is spying on me, trying to discover my secrets. I know I
am being paranoid, Herm." I was almost easy around Gisela, as I always have been
with you, but now . . .
"That is not what is really bothering you, Katherine."
"No, it isn't." She stiffened slightly, as if bracing herself. "For the first
time in my life, I feel . . . crippled. Unequal. I wish you had told me, before
we came, about laran and all the Gifts and . . . everything. And about the
Towers." She jerked her head away from his shoulder abruptly as if she no longer
wanted to be touched by him. Gisela had told her something about these peculiar
places, and she wasn't really comfortable with the idea yet.
"It was not something I was free to explain, even when we went to Renney. I was
always worried that I could have been overheard by a spying device of the
Federation. And it is not as if I didn't want to tell you the truth, Kate, but
only that I could never find the words. Besides, you will have lots of time to
learn about the Towers, and soon."
"Why?"
He sensed a trace of anger and hostility now. "Ter‚se will have to be tested for
laran, and we will go to Arilinn Tower, which is east of here, for that. I've
never been there myself, so I am looking forward to it." As soon as the words
were out of his mouth, he knew he had misjudged the situation.
"Damn you, Hermes! Were you going to tell me, or just wake me up one morning and
announce we were going to this place? This is my daughter we are talking about.
What's the matter with you?"
"Why are you so angry?"
"Because you are behaving in a high-handed way that makes me . . . want to bite
you! Why does Ter‚se need to go to this Arilinn?" This is intolerable. Just when
I get my feet under me, I get knocked down again!
"I told you, Kate! She almost certainly has laran, and it is important that she
be tested to determine the nature of her gifts."
Katherine sat in stunned silence for a moment. "You mean my little girl . . . ?"
He tried to tell me the other day, but I would not listen!
"Our little girl, Katherine. She is my daughter, too, and has inherited as much
from me as from you."
"I can't stand this!"
"Be reasonable, Kate. Believe me, the last thing you want is a wild telepath in
the family. An untrained telepath is a danger to herself and everyone around
her. If she has laran, she must learn how to use it properly."
"A wild . . . it sounds so odd." And abruptly she began to weep. My little girl,
my baby! This is a terrible world, and I am so afraid. What will they do to
her-how do they test! I have to stop it! Ter‚sa has never been away from me, and
she will be frightened. And what will she be like, if she learns how to read
minds? If only I could talk to Nana right now. I don't even know this man, and I
will never understand this world.
In despair, she covered her face with her hands and made a wailing sound that
Herm had never heard from her before, so terrible that it wrenched his heart. He
wanted to comfort Katherine, but he knew that no mere words would help. Perhaps
he should not have brought her to Darkover. He had not thought through the
problem of being head-blind, how frightening it must be for her, no matter how
many reassurances she received. And Amaury, too. How was the boy going to feel
if his sister turned out to be a telepath?
Herm had not explained things to his
stepson yet, and he did not look forward to doing so. With a sinking heart he
realized that the budding friendship between Amaury and young Rory might lead to
some upsetting revelations. And he was so tired!
Internally, Herm shrank away from all the possible outcomes that rose in his
mind. He had always loathed the messiness of other people's emotions, and was
deeply grateful he did not have the Ridenow Gift of empathy. He knew that he had
left Aldaran Castle and Darkover as much to escape the swirls of drama that
seemed to fall like the snows, no matter what the season. Now, with a wrenching
start, he understood that what had drawn him to his Kate was her reserve and
self-containment. She made no great demands on his feelings, and had rarely
displayed her own fiery temper. It had been a relief to find a person who was so
absorbed in their own work, as she was in her painting, that she did not bother
him with petty arguments.
Somehow, in the back of his mind, Herm had expected Katherine to . . . what? To
stop being herself, intelligent and independent, and become obedient and
passive? To let him rule the roost? Why? She never had before, not really. She
wasn't going to turn into a nice Darkovan wife, and he was a fool for imagining
that she would. It was going to be unpleasant, and he knew it, and knew, too,
that he was not going to be able to get out of it. He wished himself far away,
in some distant place where there were no problems to disentangle.
Then Herm spent a futile moment berating himself for being selfish and a stupid
bastard. Why had he never told Katherine before? Was it really because he was
afraid of listening Terranan ears, or something more? He had a rare moment of
introspection, and decided he had been afraid of Katherine's reaction, that he
had suspected that she would feel just exactly as she did right now, angry and
frightened. He had never been willing to risk losing her, and had hoped that the
situation would never arise.
What an idiot he had been. How would he have tried to lie his way out of
Ter‚se's threshold sickness when it began? If he had remained away from
Darkover, his precious daughter might have died!
Hermes realized he had hurt his wife deeply, with his own avoidance and denial.
He would have had to bring his daughter back to Darkover in a couple of years,