table pounding before the dust settles."
"But that is not what troubles you."
"No, it is not. Darkovans are very pragmatic, and they will do the sensible
thing eventually. The real problem remains the Federation. We have never had an
intelligence agency here-the entire idea is foreign to us. Instead we have
depended on a few well-placed people in the Terran Headquarters, plus Lew Alton,
who has been keeping his finger on the pulse of the Federation ever since
Captain Rafe Scott resigned. Now those people are going to be 'released from
active duty,' which is a pleasant euphemism for being tossed out on their butts,
and we won't have anyone who can keep an eye on Lyle Belfontaine and his
minions. Without a few people in HQ, we won't know what the Federation is up to,
and will be dependent on only the information they permit us to hear. Lew, who
is very good at reading between the lines, thinks we will be handed some sort of
ultimatum soon. We have managed to keep word of Regis' death from getting out,
thus far, but that cannot last, and once word does get out it is likely that the
Federation will try some sort of maneuver. So it is in our best interests to
settle the matter quickly, and nothing on Darkover ever happens fast. Mikhail
cannot make any unilateral decisions."
"Why not, if he is Regis' successor?" Katherine was concentrating very hard on
his words, trying to bring her intelligence to bear on the subject, and for a
moment, all her fears were pushed into the background.
"He may be the most powerful man on the planet, but he must answer to the Comyn
Council, which is divided. We have never had a tyrant on Darkover, and Mik
hardly wishes to be the first."
"This doesn't make complete sense to me, Herm. I would think that a planet of
telepaths would have no trouble penetrating any intelligence agency in a flash."
"It is not that easy, even setting aside the ethical considerations."
"Why?"
"Because you can't just close your eyes and start plundering people's
minds-unless you have the Alton Gift of forced rapport. Proximity is required,
as well as some familiarity with the mind you would like to explore. What you
get when you don't know the subject is just a lot of noise-their argument with
their lover, or how much they liked the most recent encounter, how much they
loathe their work, or just that they have a terrible headache from too much
drink the night before. Spying on other people is something that Darkoveans with
laran learn is unforgivable very early."
"So you have an advantage, but you don't use it! That's a little hard to
believe. The temptation must be huge."
"No, not really. For the most part, you don't want to know what is in the minds
of others, because much of it is too trivial or distasteful. If someone is
mentally shouting, you can't help hearing it, but most of that is emotions and
not information. I mean, no one at HQ is going to sit at their desk, reading the
most recent orders, broadcasting their thoughts at a roar. Instead they are
going to be focused on the impact of those orders on their immediate
circumstances-where they will be posted next or whether they can take their
Darkovan spouse and children with them."
"I see. It is kind of a relief to know, Herm. It makes me less anxious."
"Good. I realize it will take you some time to believe that no one is going to
invade your mind in the hall or at dinner. Very few of us can do that at will.
Marguerida has the Alton Gift, and so does her father and her son Domenic, but
none of them would ever violate you."
She nodded, as if reassured. "I like Nico, but he certainly is a serious young
fellow. And Marguerida seems very nice, the little I have seen of her."
"She is very busy just now arranging for the funeral rites, but she lived in the
Federation for twenty years before she returned to Darkover, so she will
probably find interests in common with you. She was at University, a Fellow in
Musicology, when she came here, and I understand that she has continued to
transmit ethnographic papers for years now. And she can hardly wait to grill you
about Amedi Korniel just as soon as she has a free moment."
"I think Mikhail said something about that, last night at dinner. That, at
least, is something I feel I can handle. I know a number of really scandalous
tales about him-he was a great musician, but he was not really a very nice
person." Realizing, then, that there were still things of which she was unaware,
she brought the discussion back to the original topic. "Is there more, Herm? I
have the feeling there is something else bothering you."
"Yes, dearest. How did you guess?"
"You always twist your fingers into knots when you are uneasy."
Herm looked down at his hands and discovered that they were indeed interlaced.
How had he never noticed that before? "As I said, we don't have a real
intelligence force of our own, but we know the Federation does. I don't mean
those at HQ. Lew suspects that someone is running a covert operation, but he has
no idea who or how. We are not even certain it is a Federation agency."
"What else could it be?"
Herm chuckled. "If I had not spent the last two decades in the Federation I
could not even attempt to answer that. The Liberal Party as well as the
Expansionists, the New Republicans, the Monarchists, and just about every other
political power have spies of various sorts, trying to ferret out the secrets of
the others, in order to expose them. How do you think that banking scandal on
Coronis Nine got into the media? It was not some eager newshound that sniffed it
out, but an agent of New Revelationists who leaked the thing. They love to
discredit the Expansionists-it is practically their only form of sport." They
both chuckled, since the New Revelationists were famed for their fundamentalism
and their disapproval of play of any sort. "Not that the rest of us did not
enjoy it, of course. So, whatever is afoot on Darkover could be anything from
Federation to a group I never heard of. Unlikely, in truth, because none of the
various groups is likely to be interested in Darkover. Yet it is the not knowing
that is disturbing."
"But why would anyone want to do that? I mean, Darkover is not a very important
planet, Herm. Wouldn't spies be more interested in Aldebaran Five or Wolf?
Places with a lot of industry or important resources?"
"Darkover is a very mysterious place, Kate. Our very policy of information
limitation, which Lew put into place and I have continued, was bound to provoke
some curiosity somewhere. We just did not see the problem at first. You know-you
do something to solve a situation, and then, ten or twenty years down the line,
it starts to have consequences you never anticipated. We don't know anything for
certain, but Lew said there have been some disturbances recently that made him
suspicious. He hoped I could confirm these, but I had to tell him I don't know
of any specific group that is casting its eye on Darkover. So, we don't actually
know we were being spied on."
"But you think you might be."
"Yes, that was our tentative conclusion, for
all the good it did us," he agreed
reluctantly. "Let's eat. All of this will keep." He felt a profound sense of
guilt, mingled with relief and weariness. He had kept his Kate from finding out
he might be arrested, but he did not feel happy about his deception. And he knew
that when he did finally tell her, there would be hell to pay.
For a brief moment, Herm wished he had never come back to Darkover at all. He
felt a kind of dreadful restlessness seize him, a desire to be anywhere in the
galaxy except where he was. Kate was upset. He hated that, and he knew it was
not going to go away just because it made him squirm. It was as he had said-he
had solved one problem, the security of his small family-without imagining
clearly the consequences that would follow. And it had not taken years, but only
days, to discover that his solution had created fresh trouble.
True, he felt himself born to discord, to deal with it as a cunning fellow
should. But it was not supposed to affect those he held dearest in the
cosmos-his wife and children. How could he have been so short-sighted not to see
this coming. And how was he going to resolve it? His belly grumbled then, and
Herm gave up in exhaustion. He had had no choice but to do what he had done. He
was not going to fix things soon, or on an empty stomach-so he might as well
eat. That, at least, was something he could do without hurting anyone.
9
Domenic spent the rest of the afternoon plotting his escape from Comyn Castle,
with a kind of glee he had never felt before. His grief and his fears faded into
faint shadows, even though finding a way out of the vast building was more
complicated than he had imagined. There were servants everywhere, and most of
the exits were closely guarded. He would have to do a lot of sneaking, something
he had very little practice in. The more he thought about that part the more
attractive the entire scheme became. It was odd, really, and he felt possessed
by some imp of wickedness in those occasional moments when he allowed himself to
reflect.
If only there were not a banquet planned for the evening, it would have been
simpler. But the arrival of his grandparents as well as several other members of
the Comyn Council demanded such a meal, and Domenic knew he was expected to be
present. He could think of nothing he wished for less than to spend several
hours with Javanne glaring at him, or worse, pretending he was not even in the
room. And Gareth Elhalyn was likely to be there as well. What was it about his
cousin that made him so uneasy? On the other hand, it would certainly be an
interesting meal, since Herm Aldaran and his family would be present, and
perhaps that would distract Javanne from paying too much attention to him.
For several minutes he came close to abandoning his foolish idea. Nico found
himself alternating between excitement and despair, fearful of the consequences
and yet enthralled at the same time. Then he scolded himself for
faint-heartedness. Rory would not hesitate over such minor considerations as
duty and good manners. Maybe he should ask Rory to help him. His brother knew
all the back ways and little used corridors of the building, and often employed
them for his own mischief. But he rejected the idea. Certainly Rory would show
him how to escape, but he would insist on coming along. It would not be an
adventure if he went with his younger brother, would it? More, his brother was
almost always in some sort of trouble, and it would not sit well with his
parents if he got his sibling into more. Nico chuckled a little over this,
knowing he was making excuses to himself. The plain truth was he wanted to get
away with no one being the wiser, including, or perhaps especially, his brother.
But, how was he going to get out of attending the meal? He wracked his brains
and could think of nothing immediately. Just when he was almost ready to give it
up completely, Ida Davidson came to his rescue. The ancient woman had been a
part of his family for as long as he could remember, and Nico felt she should
have been his granny, instead of Javanne. He could barely remember Diotima
Ridenow, Lew's late wife, who had died when he was about five. So Ida had filled
in the space where he felt a grandmother should be, listening to his small
complaints without making him feel like a dolt, giving him music lessons, and
when he turned out to be fumble-fingered at the clavier, the guitar, or any
other instrument more complex than a drum, she had schooled him in song. Both
his parents were very musical, but he and Rory seemed not to be. Ida's kindness
and patience had helped him over his feelings of inadequacy and now he could
sing well enough not to disgrace himself. After his voice changed, he had turned
into a reasonable tenor, and actually enjoyed the little quartet consisting of
himself, Rory, and his uncle Rafael's two younger children, Gabriel and Damon.
"Nico," the old lady said, peering at him a bit short-sightedly, "are you quite
well? You look a bit peaked."
"Do I?" He considered her remark briefly, and brightened internally. "I am
feeling a bit off. Achey, you know?" He did not ache at all, and knew his
appearance was the result of his internal struggle. Ida had no laran, and was
never suspicious of him. Why hadn't he thought of this sooner? Roderick often
played sick when he did not want to do something, but Nico had never employed
that ruse. Part of him hated fibbing to Ida, but another was practically
bouncing with joy. Maybe Alanna was not the only one who felt she was more than
one person.
"With all the furor we have had, I am not surprised. Now, off to bed with you.
The last thing you need to do is sit through a long dinner, and if you are
getting sick, you will just share your germs with everyone. I'll have one of the
servants bring you a tray."
His heart sank. The servants! That would ruin everything. "My appetite seems to
be gone, Ida." The lie rolled off his tongue as if he had been doing it for
years. "If I get hungry, I'll ring for something."
"Not hungry?" She shook her head. "You must be coming down with something, if
you aren't hungry. Scoot. I will tell your mother."
Nico scooted, going off to his bedroom. He listened to the sounds in the suite,
the movement of servants and his parents and siblings. Then he got into his
nightshirt and crawled into bed, sure his mother would come to check on him
before she went to dinner. He could hardly contain his excitement, and tried to
relax.
Marguerida came in, wearing a long blue gown embroidered with silver flowers,
the Hastur colors. As she came toward the bed, he could smell her particular
perfume, lavender mingled with musk. She bent over him and swept his forehead
with a mitted hand. "Poor Nico. You do not feel hot, but you look rather pale.
What is it?"
"I haven't been sleeping very well, and I think I am just tired, Mother." He
could get away with telling Ida a lie, but with Marguerida it was more
difficult, and he had never even tried before. And it was close to a real truth,
for in sleep he could hear the fire in the heart of the world, and the rumbling
&nb
sp; deep inside the earth, or thought he could. Worse, in dreams he found himself
trying to halt the sea in its endless motion, and do other things that were too
incredible to be considered. So, he avoided sleep as much as he was able, using
the trance states he had learned at Arilinn as a substitute.
"Not sleeping well? You should have told me. Shall I get you a sleeping
draught?"
"I don't think I need that, and besides they leave me feeling stupid in the
morning." If Marguerida ordered a draught, and stood over him while he drank it,
his plan would be ruined.
"Very well. I hate the things myself, although these past few days I have drunk
more of them than I wished. Just when I am ready to drop off, I think of
something else that I should have attended to and start up in the bed. Which
wakes your father, and he really needs his rest."
"I'll be fine. I think I'll just read for a while. I have this really boring
book I started about six months ago somewhere around here, and it should have me
asleep in five minutes. Save your fussing for our guests, Mother. I am sure you
have better things to do than worry about me." He gave her a droll look, and she
answered with a wan smile. They both knew he meant Javanne Hastur, who was never
easy to deal with, and with Regis' death, was likely to be even more difficult
than usual.
"What book is that?" Nico knew that when his mother had come to Darkover, books
had been uncommon except in the homes of the Domains, and most of those had been
imports. She had made it one of her projects to promote literacy, and with her
friend, Rafaella n'ha Liriel, the Renunciate who had been her guide and friend
during her first months on Darkover, had started a small publishing enterprise.
The Renunciates had begun printing handbills and other single pages years
before, but had never expanded beyond leaflets into actual books. Until
Marguerida had founded the Alton Press, most books had been handcopied, slowly
and painstakingly, and were kept in the archives of the Castle or the various
Towers.
Now there was a young Binders Guild, separate from the Tanners Guild which had
always done that task before, and editions of five hundred volumes were not
uncommon. With the help of Thendara House, the Renunciate headquarters, two