for her own safety, but he had refused to think about it until a crisis forced
him to. And he had blundered badly.
He was shaken again, as the enormity of his folly finally blossomed in his mind.
It gave the lie to the great confidence Herm had always had in himself, in his
inate cunning and cleverness. These seemed worthless now, the wrong tools for
the task. "As well carve a roast with a spoon," as they said in the Hellers.
This was not dissembling before the interested eyes of some political foe, but a
different sort of problem, a human one, full of conflicting feelings. And, he
admitted to himself with great reluctance, he was not really very good with
strong feelings. It put him too much in mind of the endless tensions of Aldaran
Castle in his childhood, where loud voices and passions were the order of the
day. He had left Darkover as much to escape those as to serve the planet of his
birth.
Katherine mopped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffed noisily. Herm reached into
his pouch and took out a square of linen and offered it to her. This ordinary
object-an "obsolete" cloth handkerchief brought with it a sense of powerful
distinction, for there were no paper tissues available on Darkover, unless there
was a supply at HQ. Nothing on Darkover was easily disposable, not nose wipes or
people. And that was a profound difference. To the Terran mind, almost
everything was replaceable except power. By contrast, Darkovans were pack rats,
saving everything and using it until it just wore out.
Herm had become accustomed to the ease of life in the Federation, but never
completely comfortable with it. He thought it very extravagant to discard a
perfectly good object just because there was a newer one available. He prefered
the soft feel of real linen bedsheets to the papercloth ones he had slept on for
twenty-three years, and the faint smell of age in the stones and plaster of the
walls, saturated with centuries of woodsmoke and seasons, to the sterile one of
a typical Federation apartment. He liked being home, but this was not
Katherine's home, and it must seem very strange to her. Houses on Renney were
made of wood, not stone, and castles were virtually unknown there. There was
nothing he could do about that, short of letting her leave Darkover, to return
to Renney with her son. And that thought was unbearable, and probably impossible
now, if what he had learned in the meeting was accurate.
Katherine blew her nose several times. "Forgive me, dearest. just when I think I
have myself under control, I go all to pieces again. I can't bear the idea of
Ter‚se going away-she's still a child. And, quite truthfully, I hope she will
have no talents at all, and will just continue to be a normal little girl." She
hesitated, and Herm saw both fear and great sorrow in her beautiful eyes. "Of
course, a normal little girl here can read minds or do . . . the goddess only
knows what!"
Herm patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. "Kate-I am the one who needs
forgiving. I should have told you years ago, before we married, I suppose. Yes,
that would have been the wisest thing. Or not married you at all. My only excuse
is that I fell passionately in love with you the second I saw you, and I was not
thinking very clearly. Later . . . well, I was too scared I'd lose you."
She gave a little snort. "You are claiming the triumph of hormones and emotion
over reason, then?"
"Something like that."
"I suppose I should feel complimented-since you are the most calculating person
I have ever known-that you did one thing just because you wanted to. Nana told
me you were keeping some secret from me, but did I listen?" She gave a gusty
sigh. "At least I will never see her again, and be spared hearing her say 'I
told you so'. That's very chilly comfort, Hermes."
"I am sure it is. Your Nana is a very smart woman, and she almost saw through
me."
"What do you mean?" Katherine sounded a little less despondent now, although
still not her usual lively self.
"A few times she almost penetrated my secret, and I know she thought I had
second sight, which is an old tradition among your people. It is my guess that
the Rennians, who are not unlike the population of Darkover in several ways,
including linguistics, have some genetic predisposition toward what we call
laran."
"Why?"
"Some of the stories I heard when we visited, about those old witches and
sorcerers, sounded remarkably like leroni. It is just a guess, but not a bad
one, I suspect."
"But, Herm, those are folktales. Surely you did not take them seriously! My
great-great-grandmother was not really able to charm animals or turn herself
into a white cat when the second moon was full-that is all nonsense." Her dark
eyes were rather wide as she spoke, as if she saw the world of her birth in a
new light, and found the prospect not very comfortable.
"True, about the cat. But we have a few people here on Darkover who can make
contact with animals in such a way as to influence their actions. And I think
that telepathy is probably more common in humankind than is generally believed."
"Then why hasn't the Federation . . .?"
"Why haven't they discovered it and exploited it, as they do everything else?
Because it is intangible, I suppose, because you cannot hold it in your hand and
grasp it. And they almost did, once. There was a thing called Project Telepath,
back when Regis was first in power, in which we agreed to participate. But Lew
Alton, who was our Senator then, decided it was too dangerous to Darkover, and
managed to get it shelved. The Terranan are convinced that the products of their
material technologies are superior to anything else, and they have stopped
looking for other ways to do things. Lew just persuaded a few key people that
real telepaths were rare, much too few to be worth the expense, and that those
who were gifted in this way were usually emotionally unstable, and ultimately
valueless. And it is true, that if you are unfortunate enough to be born on a
world where paranormal powers are not cultivated, and you are a telepath, you
end up pretty crazy."
"But that's terrible! I mean, if there are other people in the galaxy who have
such powers . . . ? How could he?"
"With the greatest difficulty, and a lot of sleepless nights, I assure you. He
had a whole planet to think about, Kate-his world."
"I see, I guess. But it seems pretty selfish to me." Katherine decided to
reserve judgment on the interesting and complex man she had met the previous
night.
"The alternative, to his mind and mine, was to risk an invasion. Can you imagine
how tempting it would be to certain people to be able to read the minds of their
opponents at will? Oh, the Federation knows that telepathy happens, but they
have no idea what a Darkovan with trained laran can do consistently. If the
Federation had really guessed the extent of Darkovan talents, they would have
come in with force and taken away anyone they felt could be useful to them."
"What did Nana say-government is a beast without a conscience?"
"Did she say that?"
r /> "Yes, but she was talking about the plan to clear-cut one of the old groves,
back when I was still a girl. Some Federation corporation wanted the wood, to
make into furniture." She chuckled briefly. "Good thing they did not get their
wish."
"Why."
"It was a grove of nightwood."
"You mean those gigantic trees we visited. That is fine lumber, and I can see
how it might attract some greedy developer. Is there something wrong with
nightwood?"
"Oh, no. It is a wonderful wood, very hard and durable. But there is a belief on
Renney that a chair made of it will drive you mad if you sit on it. Just a
superstition, of course." Well, perhaps, but one I would not risk going
against-what a silly woman I am.
"What was it used for, then?" Herm was relieved that the subject had moved away
from laran and other things that made Kate uncomfortable, and would have
discussed wood or bones or just about anything at that moment, just to keep her
happy.
"Spears, back when we still did that sort of thing. A nightwood spear was
supposedly able to pierce the heart of a foe all the way through. And shields,
too-to protect against the spears. But never chairs, and especially never
cradles!"
"You must be sure to tell Marguerida about that. Mikhail says she is a great
collector of tales."
Katherine sighed, settled her shoulders firmly, and braced herself. "Herm, does
Ter‚se have to be tested? Is it absolutely necessary?"
He kept himself from cringing. Herm should have known that he could not distract
Katherine for long. "Yes, it is. But it is not difficult or painful-they do not
strap anyone into a machine. And it is more dangerous not to know what her
talents might be than otherwise."
"Will they let me be with her?"
"That is a bit unusual, but I think I could arrange it. In fact, it might not be
a bad idea to have both you and Amaury checked out, dearest." You might not be
as head-blind as you think.
"Don't be ridiculous, Hermes! I am no kind of telepath, and I don't want to be
one! The idea frightens me!"
"Are you entirely sure?"
"What is that supposed to mean?" She glared at him, furious and more than a
little scared at the same time.
"Well, it has occurred to me occasionally that some of the portraits you have
done have elements in them that . . . are remarkable. Remember how Dame Hester
could not get over those flowers you put in the background of her picture."
"I must have seen those in a book and knew they came from her world."
"But how could you have known she was particularly fond of them?"
"Blind luck," Katherine insisted, not sounding very convincing. "They just felt
right . . ."
"It might be intuition, my Kate, and it might be something more. Don't you want
to find out?"
"No, I don't. I could not bear it if I found out I had been snooping on my
sitters, all these years." He was just trying to make her feel less like a
cripple, suggesting that she had more than mere intuition. How dare he! The urge
to throttle him came and went, and she glared at him accusingly. Kate felt
almost ill for a second. What a disgusting notion. And she certainly was not
going to be tested by anyone!
Herm recognized the set of Kate's jaw, and knew he would be wasting his time if
he tried to suggest more than he had already. Let her think about it for a
while. "Very well. I will not force you, but I hope you will change your mind."
"Damn you! I hate it when you do that."
"Do what," he answered, trying to look innocent and, he knew, not succeeding at
all.
"Be all reasonable and calm, when in fact you are manipulating me, playing me
like your favorite fiddle." She was wary now, but her fear was slipping away
slowly.
"I never do that when we are both dressed," he said huskily.
"Oh, no, you don't! No fiddling for you. I won't be pleasured out of . . ."
He began to laugh, and after a second she joined him tentatively. But when he
reached for the laces on her tunic, she pushed his hand away roughly. "You are
not nearly as irresistible as you imagine! And if you don't behave, I will make
you sleep on the couch in the sitting room."
"But, darling, it is so short. Think of my bad back."
"There is nothing in the least wrong with your back!"
"There would be, if I tried to sleep on that dumpy bit of furniture!"
"Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran-you are hopeless!" She grabbed both his ears and
tugged-not very gently. "What am I going to do with you?"
"I don't know, since you are in no mood for fiddling. Are you trying to reform
me, woman?" He tried to look stern, but it was impossible. She was too lovely,
and she still took his breath away, whenever he looked into her eyes.
"No. Yes."
"That is honest, at least. Let us agree that I am beyond reclaimation, that I
have the morals of a fell-cat. But remember that I love you, and that I would
not have brought you here if I had had any other recourse. You are my life,
Katherine."
"Very prettily said, and perhaps even true." She traced her fingers across his
mouth, touching him sweetly. "Just promise me that you will always tell me
things, that you will never keep me in the dark again. I don't think I could
forgive another secret, not now."
"I will tell you my secrets, Kate, but not those of others."
"I'll settle for that. Now, I am starving! Let's order some lunch, and you can
tell me about your meeting with Mikhail and Lew Alton. Was there anyone else
there?"
"Danilo Hastur and Danilo Syrtis-Ardais were present, as well as Mikhail's
paxman Donal. It went well." Herm knew he should tell her that there was a price
on his head, as it were, but he could not bring the words to his mouth.
"And?"
"I can't get anything past you, can I?" He had just given his word, and now he
knew he was going to break it immediately. Herm could not tell her that
Belfontaine wanted him turned over, since there was no chance that Mikhail
Hastur would ever agree to such a thing. She did not need to know! It would give
her more to worry about, and she deserved better than that, after all she had
endured. Later, when the crisis was past, then he would tell her . . .
Katherine was giving him a penetrating look. "Not any longer, Herm. I will not
be kept in the dark again, even if matters of policy are not precisely my
business. I have myself and the children to think about-and I do not give a fig
about the larger picture, not really. I think all of this is just some great
game that you males enjoy playing, trying to achieve dominence over your
fellows."
"You might be right, though you ladies are not above the game. I've never
understood why you girls won't just stand quietly on your pedestals and be
admired." He decided that he had better distract her, and quickly!
Katherine narrowed her eyes even further. "Because we don't want complete
strangers looking up our petticoats. Stop trying to annoy me and distract me
from my purpose. It won't work! 'You girls' indeed!"
"I had not thought of that." He gru
nted softly, trying to decide how much to
tell her. "The situation is complex. There are a great many people on Darkover
who have never been enchanted with the Federation, and who will likely try to
take this opportunity to persuade us to withdraw from it completely. This is a
very conservative culture, which is one reason that there has been no
proliferation of Terran technology. And one of the most powerful advocates of
isolationism is Mikhail's father, Dom Gabriel Lanart-Alton. You will meet him in
the near future. And his wife, Javanne Hastur, who is the older sister of Regis,
and, by all accounts, a formidable foe. From what I have heard, she might not be
entirely stable. And she has never entirely resigned herself to Mikhail being
Regis' successor, for reasons I will not go into. It would be better if you
asked Marguerida about that, when you have the opportunity. But Javanne is all
for restoring the Elhalyn kingship to power, although it never possessed any
real power in the past. Even though Mikhail is her son, she would rather see
Danilo Hastur running Darkover, because she imagines he is weak enough to be
manipulated by her. From what I learned today, I believe she is mistaken. But
the truth is that Dani was never trained to run a planetary government, and
never wished to be a ruler."
"I don't understand. Are Dani and Mikhail rivals?"
"They do not see themselves as such, but there are others who would love to
churn things up. You see, the Elhalyn kingship has always been a largely
ceremonial position, and the Hasturs have always had the real power. There are
good historic reasons for this, since the Elhalyn line produces some very
unstable people. Dani married Miralys Elhalyn with the intention of breeding
some health into the line-which sounds very cold, I suppose. He was in love with
her, so it was not terrible and calculated. But he resigned from the heirship of
the Hastur Domain in favor of Mikhail, when he could have fought for it, and
perhaps even gotten it, because he did not want the task of running the planet.
He is a man who understands his own limitations, and I admire him for that."
"So the matter was settled a long time ago?"
"It was, but not to everyone's complete satisfaction-particularly not to Javanne
Hastur's. Time has not mellowed her, by all accounts, And she has a few allies
on the Comyn Council, so there is likely to be a great deal of shouting and