who had been so rude to Kendrick now, but sounded uneasy, as if he were
frightened of the men with him.
"Of course I'm sure! That's the word from Command, and we will leave at the end
of the month." If the Federation doesn't desert us! The speaker sounded annoyed
and amused at the same time. "But if Hastur is gone, then maybe those plans will
change. What's going to happen?"
There was a hacking noise and someone spat. "He is going to be buried in a few
days, and then his heir will be his nephew, Mikhail Hastur."
"I see." Domenic was almost certain this was the man whose thoughts he had
overheard earlier, though he could not have said how he knew. "We don't know
much about him." There was a thoughtful pause. "They take their kings to that
thing up north, don't they? The roo something."
"Yes, they do." The driver sounded alert now, and wary as well.
"This has possibilities, Vancof-real possibilities. You might finally start
earning the enormous salary we pay you."
"If you say so," came a sullen reply. I haven't been paid an three months, and
what I do get, when I get it, is hardly enormous. He's up to something. Damn
him.
The other man went on, thinking aloud. "Our problem has always been that we have
never been able to really get into Comyn Castle. We have tried seven times to
put an agent into place, and failed. The servants don't bribe, and they rarely
talk." He sounded extremely disgruntled by this, even speaking in a near
whisper. "And all the positions are inherited, so we can't do anything. But once
this fellow is out of the Castle, it should be fairly easy to take him out."
"Take him . . . ? How?"
"Oh, an ambush along the road, I think. You should be able to manage that. Find
a good spot, Vancof, and the Chief will think you are a wonderful fellow." Even
in a hushed voice, there was no mistaking the contempt in the words.
There was a snorting sound, a derisive and humorless laugh. "You expect me to
get through a few hundred Guardsmen and find one man I've never even seen?"
"I'll get you some help."
"Granfell, have you lost your mind? Do you really believe that you can just . .
. you think that killing is the answer to everything." This as bad, very bad. I
don't want to be involved. But Granfell wall stick a knife an me without
thinking twice about it.
"When's this funeral thing?"
"There will be some kind of ceremony in Thendara in a couple of days, and then
they'll carry the body north. It hasn't happened in a long time, but if what I
have heard is right, all the heads of the Domains are supposed to accompany the
body to the rhu fead."
"Really-that is even better! We have time to make some preparations. Good. With
a little cleverness, we can destroy not just this Michael person, but most of
the rest of these . . . "
"Planning to land a troop of fighters up the road, are you?" The driver was
sneering in spite of his own fright. "Think that no one will notice? You don't
understand Cottman, Granfell, and you never have. And I don't think the Chief
will like your plan either. He got into trouble before, and if he wants to
advance, he can't afford to do it again."
This is my chance to make a name for myself, and I am not going to let this
bastard get an my way. We can destablize Cottman, or take out most of their
ruling class, and then the Federation can step in and take over. Then I'll be
able to have my pick of any posting. I'll jump three grades of rank, at least.
Granfell is out of his mind! I can see it in his face. He was always a little
crazy. He is going to get me killed with his ambitions! He just wants to impress
the Chief. But I have my own skin to think about. Trying to assassinate Mikhail
Hastur is just plain stupid. He won't believe me, though, so I better pretend to
go along for now.
Nico was so startled by what he had just overheard that it took him a moment to
realize he was catching the thoughts of both of the men in leathers. His heart
was pounding with fear and excitement now, and he felt frozen in place.
"You better talk to the Chief, Granfell. And don't come back here in those
clothes. You stand out like a virgin at the orgy." It was the driver again,
holding back his fears. Nico could sense a desire for wine in the man's surface
thoughts-a great deal of wine.
"You whining . . . you don't think I'd go around wearing the rags these
barbarians do, do you?"
"Fine. It's your neck."
With these words, Domenic decided that he had heard enough, and moved away
quietly. He slipped back into the crowd, trying to appear inconspicuous. After a
few moments, he knew he had succeeded, since no one was paying him the least
attention. The juggler was done now, and had been replaced by a skinny man who
was telling a long story. The audience did not seem very interested, but they
were not ready to start booing just yet. He barely noticed, his mind racing.
What should he do now? Part of Nico wanted to race back to Comyn Castle and tell
someone what he had overheard. But how was he going to explain being there? And
why would anyone take him seriously? They'd probably just think he was making
the whole thing up to keep from getting punished for his adventure.
Who would believe him? Well, his mother would, after she recovered from being
very angry. He shivered lightly in anticipation. Danilo Syrtis-Ardais would also
realize that he was not joking. He had never lied before, unlike his little
brother. But what could they do? His father? True, Mikhail had told him not a
day before that he was always ready to listen to his eldest son, but somehow
Nico did not feel that he could just walk into Mikhail's study and announce that
there was a plot to kill him. The words stuck in his throat. He was afraid of
upsetting his father just now. Things were not right at Comyn Castle, and he did
not want to add to the tension. Once all the heads of the Domains arrived, there
would be a Council meeting to confirm his father's succession, and after that
everyone would be less jumpy. One did not need to be a Ridenow to know that
anticipation of that meeting, which promised to be loud and probably
acrimonious, was weighing heavily on his parents' minds.
Still, he had to do something, and quickly. He turned and started to leave, then
stopped. He was thinking like a scared child. First, he needed to get a grip on
himself, before he did anything! Calm down, Domenic, and slow down, too-nothing
is going to happen tonight.
After a minute, during which his mind raced in several directions at once, he
began to sort out his feelings from everything else. No one but him knew what
Vancof looked like. And the others, too. He glanced around, looking for the two
men in leathers, but they seemed to have vanished. No, there they were, walking
back to the Gate-and he had never gotten so much as a glimpse of their faces!
Some spy he was. Would he know them again, from the backs of their heads and the
way they held their shoulders? He was torn for a moment-should he track them
back into the city, go back to the Castle, or remain where he was? At last he
&nb
sp; decided he might know the men again, and that it was probably best to stay where
he was for a while longer. His hoped-for adventure was turning into something
unexpected, and there was no need to rush, was there?
How had a Terranan ended up driving a Traveler's wain? He wanted to know more
now. Maybe he should have stayed near the wagons and listened a little longer,
or used the Alton Gift to force information from the minds of the strangers . .
. the idea repelled him. Mother was right-he was too good.
Domenic realized how frightened he was, and how alone he felt. He wanted to run
away, and at the same time, he wanted to stay. He had to keep an eye on things,
didn't he? It was his duty. But he could not just go off . . . well, why not? He
was trying to protect his father, wasn't he? And all the others. And then he
realized that he did not want to hand the problem over to the adults, that he
wanted to be there-to have an adventure. If he went back now, he would be
punished and perhaps not taken seriously.
If he had not been so curious about the redheaded girl, none of this would have
happened, and the plot would not have been discovered. If it was a plot, if this
Chief-they almost certainly meant Belfontaine-went ahead with Granfell's plan.
And if he went back and told everyone, and was believed, he would be trapped.
His parents would surround him with so many guards he would not be able to
breathe. He would be relegated to being just a boy again.
Domenic could not bear the thought of that happening. This was his adventure,
and he was determined to see it through to the end. He was sick and tired of
being a prisoner in Comyn Castle, and returning guaranteed that he would remain
so. On the other hand, running off in the night would make his parents both
afraid and angry. He did not want to consider that fact, but he had to. It meant
he had to tell someone who would understand and believe him, and who would not
instantly drag him back.
There was only one person he could think of who would know what to do. Lew
Alton. His grandfather always understood. He would keep Marguerida and Mikhail
from worrying, and tell Nico how to proceed. It took some of the keenness out of
the adventure, but he had to act responsibly, didn't he? There was a small sense
of relief at this thought, the decision to trust Lew.
Nico walked across the field toward the foodstalls. Then he hunkered down beside
one of the open fires, pulled his hood over his head, and concentrated. He hoped
he looked like some weary boy, warming himself, because he wanted to remain
invisible for the present. He closed his eyes and focused.
Grandfather!
Nico? What is it?
I . . . I'm not in bed sick. I just pretended to be sick so I could sneak out
and . . .
Visiting the fleshpots of Thendara, are you? There was a sense of amusement in
that thought.
No, Grandfather. The idea shocked Nico slightly, that he would sneak out to
visit a joyhouse, but he knew from things the Guardsmen said that other boys his
age did such things. I am out at the field by the North Gate-I wanted to see the
Travelers perform. But I heard something-there were two men in Terran dress just
ahead of me in the street, and they came and talked to someone there, a man
called Vancof. I saw him earlier today, driving a Traveler's wagon. I think he
is a spy or . . . an assassin.
A spy? If Rory was telling this fabulation, I would not believe ham, but you,
Nico! Go on.
The Terranans watched a juggler, then snuck off behind a wagon. So, I went and
listened. I mean, it seemed strange to me that two men in those uniforms that
look like leathers would come out here to see the Travelers. One is named
Granfell, but I don't know the other one's name. And Vancof said that Regis had
died-which I guess Granfell did not know-and Granfell said that it seemed like a
good idea to try and kill Father on the way to the rhu fead. And others, too.
Vancof tried to persuade him this was a bad idea, but Granfell seems very
ambitious and . . . this Vancof thinks he is a little mad, too.
Slow down, Nico. Are you telling me that there is an agent of Terran
Intelligence masquerading as a Traveler?
I guess I am.
There was a silence from Lew Alton, as if he needed time to digest the
information. That explains several things which have been troubling me for some
months. Why haven't you come back to the Castle?
Well, I did not think anyone would take me seriously.
And?
And I know what Vancof looks like, and no one else does. Well, maybe Kendrick.
He was standing guard with me when the wagon came through this morning. I want
to stay here and keep an eye on things. Grandfather, they want to kill everyone,
so they can grab Darkover! Vancof asked Granfell if he was going to land troops
on the road or something. Could they do that?
In the past, they would not have dared. But now-I refuse to speculate.
Again there was a ruminative silence, and Domenic waited tensely. What would he
do if Lew ordered him to return?
Well, Nico, it sounds as if you have gotten yourself into a very peculiar
situation. And, even with the risk, I agree with you that you ought to remain
where you are for the present. A night away from home won't kill you.
I hope not! I am scared, Grandfather, but not too much. I mean, the driver saw
me, but I was just a young man an a Guard's uniform, and he was so busy being
obnoxious that he probably won't remember me. And I won't go near. I can keep an
eye on things from a distance. Or pretend I am interested in the girl I saw this
morning-she is very pretty. I would not mind being interested in her! This
admission surprised him and pleased him at the same time.
You are having an interesting time, aren't you?
Yes, Grandfather, I am.
Very well. Someone will join you out there before morning-you can't just go
alone.
Who? You?
No, not me. Let me handle this, Domenic. And keep safe. I don't want to have to
explain to your mother that I let her firstborn get himself . . .
I promise not to get killed!
Good.
Please don't let them make me come back!
No, not for the present. You are not in any danger that I can think of. And it
is good for you to get some experience outside the Castle. I have never entirely
approved of how embattled we have let ourselves become in recent years, as I
have often told you and anyone else who would listen. The presence of a Terran
spy among the Travelers just proves how right I was. What a perfect cover-why
didn't I think of it sooner? And how many others have been wandering around
Darkover for thirty years? Leave it to me, grandson. I am very proud of you,
Nico.
Proud?
You have never shown a lot of initiative, which I believe is a valuable quality
in a ruler. This shows you can handle yourself in a difficult situation.
I don't think Mother will agree with you. She will be furious.
Very likely, and ring a peal over my head. Be careful, and I will contact you
later tonight.
10
Lew snapp
ed back into focus at the table in the larger dining room, glanced at
his hand, and realized that he had paused with his soup spoon suspended in
midair while he communicated with Domenic. The noise of people eating and
talking around the long table seemed like a raucous clamor after the intensity
of mind-to-mind contact, an assault on his ears and senses. The room was warm,
but he was chilled by the sudden wave of fear he felt for his grandson. He
forced himself to shake it away, trying to think clearly and calmly. What an
unexpected and undesirable development.
He sorted through the information Domenic had just given him, discovering that
he was not really surprised by any of it. They had managed to keep news of
Regis' death from reaching Federation HQ for almost three days now, but it was
inevitable that they would learn of it, and now they had. And the temptation to
try to take advantage of the emotional turmoil and transition of leadership in
Comyn Council would be difficult for Belfontaine to resist. Unless he decided
not to go along with Granfell's idea. He knew there was an unspoken rivalry
between the two men, even if they were not aware of it themselves. A smile
played across his mouth-sometimes there were real benefits to telepathy,
although he rarely thought of them.
As he lowered his spoon, he considered the two men. They were both suspicious
and ambitious, but Granfell was headstrong and had an explosive temper.
Belfontaine, by contrast, was controlled, using his intelligence and cunning to
best advantage. But he was frustrated, and that element would almost certainly
sway him in favor of Granfell's plan. Being posted to Darkover was a dead end in
the Federation bureaucracy, and if the Federation was going to pull out,
Belfontaine had to act fast or admit defeat to his superiors. Had he learned
anything from his misadventure on Lein III? Lew doubted it. Men like Lyle
Belfontaine rarely learned much from their mistakes. And now he would be
desperate. Desperate men were always dangerous.
Lew looked up and down the long table, and found Gareth Hastur-Elhalyn staring
at him; his bright blue eyes seemed to bore right into him. The boy, Dani
Hastur's son, looked away hastily, but not before Lew caught an expression of
avidity on his face. It reminded Lew of old Dyan Ardais, and he felt a sudden