Traitor's Sun

  the good sense that Kate had always demonstrated in the past in dealing with

  people. Unfortunately, this was not easy for him, since he trusted very few

  people beyond his wife and children, and this did not include his father or his

  sister.

  Herm did not want to believe his sister was capable of real treachery, but she

  had been reared with all of Dom Damon's thwarted fury at his lack of real power.

  And marrying Rafael, which he knew had not been her first choice, must have been

  a blow to her pride and ambition. Gisela had never in the past settled for

  second best, and he suspected she was quite unhappy. He sighed softly.

  His thoughts turned away from Gisela, to his father, who would be arriving at

  Comyn Castle in the next few days. With a little start he acknowledged to

  himself that one reason he had jumped at the chance to go and find Domenic was

  that it put off for a while this dreaded encounter. Even though he had not seen

  Dom Damon in almost a quarter of a century, he had never lost his own sense of

  alienation from the old man. If the little that Lew and Danilo had let slip was

  any indication, time had not mellowed the head of the Aldaran Domain at all. Dom

  Damon had always insisted that the Hasturs were the only thing that stood in the

  way of his own plans, although what these might be remained something of a

  mystery.

  There was more to it than the desire to put off encountering his father,

  however. While they had been on the ship, all his attention had been directed

  toward reaching Darkover and keeping his wife and children safe. Now this was

  accomplished, but he felt that nothing had turned out quite right. Comyn Castle

  reminded him too much of his adolescence in the Hellers. The Aldaran Keep, full

  of conflicting and outspoken personalities, snowed in for most of the year, had

  been miserable for him. Rationally, he knew it was different, but even after

  only two days, it felt the same.

  And then there was the other problem, the one he had refused to consider for ten

  years-that Kate was not a telepath. He remembered their conversation earlier in

  the day, and wished that she had not told him her fears. There was nothing he

  could do to cure the problem, and he hated things over which he had no power.

  He walked into the bedroom and started sorting through the closet, looking for

  something plain to wear. The servants had unearthed a good many garments from

  the cluttered attics of the castle, and he now had a decent selection of both

  formal tunics, like the embroidered and rather uncomfortable one he was

  currently wearing, and the more ordinary clothing that was the daily garb of

  Darkovans. Katherine followed him, and stood looking at him as he pulled out a

  rather shabby tunic, unadorned and a bit worn along the cuffs and hem.

  He could feel her eyes on his shoulder blades, trying to penetrate him, furious

  and frustrated. She cleared her throat a little. "Hermes, I think it would be

  better for me if I took the children and left for Renney while I still can. At

  least it is warm there, and no one keeps secrets from me."

  He spun around, startled and deeply frightened. He stared at her, suddenly

  feeling helpless. He had never imagined it would come to this! Then he shook his

  head, refusing to take her seriously. "No, don't-don't threaten me, Kate. I

  don't have time right now!" He could feel the anger pulsing in his blood, and

  beneath it the sheer terror that she might make good her threat.

  "You never have time, damn you! Ever since we got to Darkover, you have been

  closeted with other people, plotting something I have no knowledge of. I have

  never seen this side of you so clearly before, and I do not like it. You may be

  having a wonderful time, but I am not! And you cannot keep me from leaving, if I

  choose to." Her face, always pale, was chalk-white now, with her held-back fury.

  Herm stood with the tunic in his big hands, twisting the old fabric between

  them. "Yes, I can. And I will, if you force me." He had to control this

  situation, somehow.

  Katherine walked across the room and slapped him across the face before he

  realized what she planned to do. It stung, and he could feel his skin redden.

  "Damn you to hell! You are treating me like a stranger."

  He raised his hand to his burning cheek and rubbed it gently. She was right, and

  he hated that. "If I am, I am sorry, Kate. But I have to do what I think is

  right. And at this moment that is to keep my secrets to myself. Ask Marguerida

  in the morning, and she will tell you what is going on."

  "That's wonderful," she sneered. "Just wonderful. My husband dashes off in the

  middle of the night and I am supposed to ask a woman I barely know where he has

  gone. If this is how wives are treated on Darkover, I do not wonder at how

  unpleasant your sister and Javanne Hastur are. And if you imagine I am going to

  put up with this sort of nonsense because you want to . . ."

  "What?"

  "I don't know." She looked away for a moment. "Ever since we arrived, you have

  been different. Restless-you are often that-but something else too. Distant."

  The word seemed to hang in the air between them. "Are you missing all the

  intrigues of the Senate?" There was a tone of supplication in her voice, as if

  she were begging him to explain himself to her.

  He had his shirt over his head, pulling off the fancy garment to replace it with

  a plainer one, and he paused, face hidden in the folds of fabric, unwilling to

  meet her eyes. Herm stood unmoving for several seconds while he considered her

  words. He could not explain himself to her-nor to himself either. And he did not

  dare let her know that. It would leave him too vulnerable, and he had sworn

  never to let that happen to him. He finished removing the garment, and remained

  with his bare chest exposed, looking into her black eyes.

  Herm let his wide shoulders sag a little. "Yes, I suppose I am." He thought for

  a moment. "The reality of Darkover is not quite what I remembered, Kate."

  "You mean that it is a cozy little bunch of agoraphobes, inbred and full of

  itself?" The glitter in her eyes was dangerous and attractive all at once. A

  blush rose along her throat and ascended into the white cheeks. There was

  something about Kate in a temper that never failed to arouse him, and he

  regretted he did not have time to follow through with his impulse to clasp her

  about her slender waist and press his mouth against the soft skin of her neck.

  "I would not go that far," he admitted. Then he chuckled softly. "Actually, you

  are nearer the mark about us than you know, in several ways." He wanted to

  molify her now, not argue with her. "While I was in the Federation, I was doing

  something useful, but here . . . here I am less so."

  "I don't understand."

  "In the Senate, I was working against the Federation, outfoxing my fellow

  Senators whenever possible. It was . . . fun. Now, it is different." He could

  feel his own conflicted emotions, and he did not like it. It was something he

  had tried to avoid most of his adult life.

  She looked at him as if he had suddenly sprouted a second head. "Fun? What a

  strange man you are. I think you are just looking for an e
xcuse to get away from

  me and the children. And wishing you had never met me!" The pain in her voice

  was unmistakable and completely mystifying.

  "Kate, why would I want to do that?" He felt his heart lurch. He had hoped she

  would not bring up her feelings of inadequacy again.

  "It was fine to have a non-Darkovan wife while we were still in the Federation,

  but now I must seem a cripple to you, because I am not a telepath. Why didn't

  you just divorce me, or leave me behind? Why did you drag me halfway across the

  galaxy to somewhere where I am . . ."

  She held back her tears, pushing away her sorrow and clinging to her fury as

  hard as she could. Herm put his arms around her and drew her against his chest.

  She was stiff and unbending now, determined to remain angry. And he did not have

  the time or energy to tease her out of her present mood. "I married you because

  I truly love you, Kate, and whether you were a telepath or not was irrelevant to

  me. Why can't you believe that?"

  "Because you never told me the truth," she hissed. "Why should I believe you

  now, when you have been lying to me for years?"

  "Does it really matter that much to you?"

  "That I am blind in a room full of sighted people? Of course it matters, Herm.

  That my daughter might turn out to be able to read minds? Why can't you

  understand?"

  Herm did understand the torment which was wracking his wife, but he could not

  bear to confront it. He told himself she was magnifying the problem, making a

  fuss about it, instead of just accepting everything, the way he wanted her to.

  Why did she have to complicate matters? "Why can't you just trust me, and let me

  do what I must?" He wanted nothing more than to escape the turmoil within him.

  If she would just be reasonable! But he knew, even as he thought this, that

  expecting Kate to be reasonable when her feelings were so troubled was asking

  too much.

  "Trust you? Oh, Herm! I don't believe I will ever be able to trust you again."

  He flinched-it was even worse than he thought. "Why?"

  "Because every time I think that I can, you do something else that you won't

  explain."

  With a sinking feeling, Herm realized she was right-again. He had kept his own

  counsel too much already, and he had damaged the thing he held most dear-all to

  preserve the control he needed to have. "I'm sorry, but there is no help for it,

  Kate. Just let me do this thing, and don't ask any more questions. I'll be back

  in a day or so."

  Do I have the strength to leave him, to take the children and just go? What of

  he is right about Ter‚se? I have the credits to book passage, I think, but can I

  get off Darkover? We came on Herm's diplomatic passport, didn't we? I should

  have paid more attention! I should have insisted on knowing everything years

  ago. And now it as too late! Now I am trapped here, perhaps forever, and I don't

  know if I can bear that.

  "I can't stop you," she said bitterly. Then she turned away and left the room,

  her shoulders hunched.

  Herm did not move after she was gone, just stood beside the bed, feeling as if

  he had swallowed a ton of broken glass. Why had he volunteered? He knew the

  answer, and he did not like it. He knew he wanted to get away from Katherine for

  a while, to think things through. No, that wasn't true-the last thing he wanted

  to do was think! He just wanted the entire problem of a head-blind wife to

  magically solve itself!

  Should he go back to the study and tell Mikhail that he could not go? Was his

  marriage more important than making sure Domenic was safe? And could their

  marriage survive this crisis? He could not guess, but he suddenly knew that he

  must leave the Castle, leave his wife and children for a while. The future was

  out of his control, and the present seemed very bleak. He just had to get away

  from everything right now.

  Herm grunted. He was not going to get away from anything, and he knew it. He

  would take the problem with him, and perhaps he would find some solution on the

  way. And, with a sigh of relief, he realized that Kate could not leave Darkover

  at present. She would be there when he returned, and she would find it in her to

  forgive him. He could not bear to think otherwise.

  He finished fastening the clean shirt, then tugged the tunic over it and

  replaced his belt and pouch around his middle. There was a cloak hanging in the

  closet, a brown wool garment that should keep him warm enough. He assembled a

  few other things he thought he needed-a knife, a firestone, a second shirt, and

  quite against half a dozen Federation regulations, the lumens he had smuggled

  in. He spent a futile moment wishing he had a blaster, even though such a device

  went against the Compact, and everything Darkovans held dear. He wondered if the

  spies had advanced weapons, and hoped they did not. Then he shrugged away the

  thought. He would just have to depend on his native cunning. At the present,

  that seemed like a poor thing to use against real firepower.

  He went down the corridor and found his way, after several wrong turns, to the

  stables. Herm used the time to devise an identity for himself, and another for

  young Domenic. They would be uncle and nephew, if anyone asked, on their way to

  the Hellers for a wedding. That would explain the subtle differences in his

  accent, the occasional cahuenga words that still slipped from his tongue.

  The horses peered out of their stalls, curious at this late evening arrival, and

  a groom who was repairing some tack by the light of a lamp jumped to his feet.

  "Greetings, vai dom! How may I serve you?"

  "I need two horses. They should be steady and unremarkable."

  "Sir?" The groom looked confused.

  "I don't want a mount that would draw attention to me."

  "Ah, I understand now." The man looked relieved and curious as well. "Let me

  think. I have a mare, about ten years old, whom I keep for the old ladies. She's

  small and not very good looking, but she is a hardy beast. And there's a

  gelding, too-he doesn't have a very good gait, but he can go forever. This way."

  Herm followed the groom to the far end of the stable, and opened a stall.

  Several horses poked their muzzles out and pricked their ears. One was a small

  dun, with a straggly mane, and the groom brought it out. It was, Herm decided,

  the ugliest horse he had ever seen. No amount of currying would make it lovely.

  Then the groom took out a leggy steed, piebald in gray and white, which regarded

  him a bit suspiciously until he let it take his scent. Then it snorted roughly.

  Between the two of them, they had the animals saddled with some rather worn

  equipment in short order. "I'll want a couple of bedrolls as well."

  "Very good, dom. We have many of those." Without being told more, the man

  brought out two neatly tied bundles with nothing about them to suggest either

  wealth or station. Clearly the groom understood that Herm was on some sort of

  clandestine errand, and he could tell that the man was rather enjoying the whole

  event.

  As soon as they were attached behind the saddles, Herm mounted the gelding, took

  the reins of the ugly mare in one hand, and asked, "What are their n
ames?"

  "The mare is called Fortune, and your gelding is Aldar, because he comes from up

  in the Hellers." What a tale this is going to be.

  Herm caught the thought and frowned. "Not a word of this to anyone, you

  understand. You never saw me."

  "Oh. Saw who?" There was disappointment in the groom's voice, and the hint of

  uneasiness in his mind. Herm knew he was weighing the value of a juicy bit of

  gossip against a direct order, and then wondering how he was going to explain to

  the stable master about the disappearance of two animals which were his

  responsibility.

  "Speak with Danilo Syrtis-Ardais if you have any questions, and he will tell you

  everything you need to know."

  "Very well, Dom." Catch me bothering Dom Syrtis-Ardais! I thank not!

  Herm rode out of the stableyard, and hoped that the groom was trustworthy and

  loyal. The worry of it brought back Katherine's stinging accusations, and he

  felt quietly miserable as he rode through the now silent streets of Thendara,

  heading for the North Gate. The groom had not exaggerated the poorness of the

  gelding's gait. It was dreadful. It almost spoiled the pleasure Herm had in

  being on horseback again, until he adjusted his body to conform to it a little.

  The mare trotted along behind him, the sound of hooves on the cobblestones

  echoing between the buildings.

  It took him less than an hour to reach his goal, but even in that short a time

  his thighs were protesting this unexpected exercise, and he was ready to regret

  his impulse. It was not cold, he knew, for the time of year, but after two

  decades in the heated confines of Federation buildings, he felt like he might

  freeze to death. The breath of the horses barely misted the air, and he told

  himself he would readjust soon.

  He looked around. There were two fields, one on either side of the road. He saw

  the brightly painted wagons of the Travelers in one, and some food vendors and

  muleteers in the other. Several fire pits were blazing, and he saw a number of

  figures standing around them. There was a sense of quiet about the scene.

  Someone was telling a story to a fascinated audience beside one fire, and a deep

  voice carried through the stillness.

  Finally he spotted a small figure sitting beside one fire, cloaked and hooded.

  There were a couple of old men sitting across from him, on stones that had been