Don't be afraid, Nico.
If you could hear what I do, you would think you were going mad, Uncle Hermes!
And what is that?
Sometimes I can hear the planet groaning.
I see. Have you told anyone this? That, at least, explained the look of anguish
at the mention of migrating rocks.
No. And I don't know why I am telling you, except I just know you won't tell me
I am imagining things, or that I will grow out of it!
Herm was more touched by this expression of trust than he dared to examine. He
hardly knew the boy, and yet Domenic was willing to confide in him. After a
moment's reflection, he understood. He had reacted that way to Lew Alton, years
before, telling him things he had never been willing to voice to any member of
his own family.
Perhaps you will be able to grow into it instead, Nico.
You don't think there is anything too strange about hearing the world?
It does not seem to be harmful. As a matter of fact, it sounds fascinating.
I hadn't thought of that. Thank you.
The boy looked much more cheerful, and Herm was pleased with his diplomacy. At
the same time, he was troubled. How could one hear the planet? His ever-present
curiosity wondered what it sounded like. Did it groan and moan, or roar like a
great fire? Both, probably, if Domenic did not merely imagine the whole thing.
Then he put the worry away for another time, and returned to mulling over what
he had done to Katherine. Gloom descended over his mind, and for several miles
he forgot everything except his wife and children, and how much he loved them.
But after a time the pleasures of the road reclaimed his attention. In spite of
the miserable gait of his mount, and his concern for both his family and the
young man riding quietly beside him, Herm started to cheer up again. There was,
he knew from long experience, a part of him which remained irrepressible, no
matter what, and riding in the ruddy light of the morning sun, he allowed it to
come to the fore.
14
Domenic was enjoying himself enormously. The sounds and smells of the Old North
Road were new to him, and in the pleasure of the moment he nearly forgot about
his actual reason for the journey. When he realized this, he immediately felt
guilty, pulled in two directions at once. It was hard, he decided, to feel
properly serious or gloomy while riding along in the company of Herm Aldaran and
Rafaella n'ha Liriel.
He knew that if Regis had not chosen to be so cautious in his last years, this
experience would hardly be anything new or remarkable. When his father had been
a young man, he had gone everywhere, even up to the Aldaran Domain high in the
Hellers. Nico was mildly resentful that he had been denied such opportunities,
and was determined to get as much out of this trip as he possibly could. He
might never have another chance, unless his father decided to change things.
True, he was not alone, but he was not surrounded by servants or guards either,
and Uncle Herm did not treat him like a child. That made a great deal of
difference. He had always been fond of Rafi, but he had never encountered her
outside the confines of Comyn Castle. Here she seemed like another person
altogether. He could not quite explain just how, but she was certainly more
relaxed on the road. As for the rest of her band, they were strangers, and he
was looking forward to getting to know them.
More than that, he was fascinated by the people around him. His encounters with
the common folk of Thendara had been few, and a proper distance had always been
kept by his many guardians. Most of what he knew he had learned during his Cadet
duties, and that consisted of nodding to the various merchants and suppliers who
brought things to the Castle rather than actually meeting them. Their concerns
and ambitions remained largely a mystery to him, and he knew that he would be a
better ruler-if he ever became one-if he had an idea of what they wanted and
needed. No one here would bow or scrape before him, and he decided that being
ordinary had a great deal to recommend it.
He listened to both the voices and the random thoughts of the bustling people
ahead of him on the road. They worried about the weather, or if the dun mule
would go lame, and if the load were properly balanced. No one seemed to have a
single thought about the things that were always being fussed over at Comyn
Castle. It was as if both the Federation and the Domains did not even exist. The
tenor of these thoughts was restful, and he decided it must be rather wonderful
not to worry about plots and schemes, or what sort of terrible things might
happen in the future.
Toward midmorning they encountered a train of grain merchants on their way to
Thendara. Nico listened to the exchange of greetings between the muleteers ahead
of them on the road and the drivers of the wagons, friendly and informal. They
appeared to know one another well enough to toss jokes and insults back and
forth before they passed, and to ask about each others' families. If he had had
a finer horse, he thought, he would have been completely happy.
By the time they reached Carcosa just past midday, he was very glad to get off
the sluggish mare. The muleteers had arrived ahead of them, and the courtyard of
the small inn was crowded with braying beasts. Mules were more vocal beasts than
horses-they seemed to complain about everything! He looked all around, and
noticed a painted sign above the door of the inn, a bright and cheerful thing
with a picture of a handsome rooster on it, its proud head thrown back.
The inn itself was a large stone building with a slate roof. The main section
rose to three stories, with narrow windows overlooking the yard. He could see
half a dozen chimneys above the line of the roof, with smoke rising from them.
Two arms extended out at angles from the structure, one for the stables, and
another housing a fowl run full of cackling birds, and cages of rabbithorns as
well. The stink was incredible, but he was sure that he would become accustomed
to it, as the people who worked there surely must be.
Nico studied everything, as his instructors had trained him to, taking in the
strong wooden door of the inn which could be closed and bolted from inside, the
thick walls, and the small size of the windows, set too high off the ground for
anyone to climb through. Even though it seemed to be a friendly place, he could
see that it had been built with defense in mind.
When he had been about eight, he had been taken to Armida, and he must have
passed through this town. But they had gone in a closed carriage, and he had
seen nothing except the inside of it. He did not like to remember that trip, for
while he had loved the home of his Alton ancestors, his grandmother had made him
extremely uncomfortable. Now he hung back, a little shy in the presence of so
many strangers, and watched a middle-aged man bustle out of the building and
approach them. He was tall, nearly bald, and what was left of his hair was gray.
When he drew closer, Nico could see he had twinkling blue eyes and a small nose
above a friendly mouth.
Rafaella greeted him c
heerfully. "Hello, Evan. This is Ian MacAnndra and his
nephew Tomas-Evan MacHaworth, the best innkeeper in all Darkover." Then she
grinned broadly.
"Pah-you say that to all the innkeepers, mestra. Welcome to the Crowing Cock,"
Evan said pleasantly, and reached out to shake Herm's hand without any hint of a
bow. Then he ushered them inside.
The entry room had whitewashed stone walls, a flagged stone floor, and dark
beams overhead. It smelled of roasting fowl, woodsmoke, and beer, plus the
sweaty essence of the mule drivers who had arrived earlier. He could hear voices
from a room to one side. They were a noisy lot, but he rather liked the racket
they made, and was disappointed when Evan showed them into the room on the far
side.
A roaring fire lit a chamber with long tables in it. The walls here were paneled
with dark wood, polished so much they gleamed in the reflected light of the
fire. He glanced at the stone floor, then up at the beams overhead, and found
that they were carved and painted with bright designs. On the mantle he spotted
a collection of roosters, made of wood and stone and pottery. They struck him as
amusing, and he smiled.
Evan noticed his fascination with the figures. "Do you like our cocks?"
"I have never seen anything like them," Nico answered, wondering uneasily if he
had made some sort of mistake by displaying his interest.
"An idea of my wife's. She started with one-that large fellow with the red
glaze-that she found in Thendara, and then she began asking our frequent guests
to look for others. So, often, some merchant or wagoneer will arrive and present
her with a new one. We have cocks from the Dry Towns, and two from up in Ardais
country. And this wee one here is a gift from Rafaella." He pointed to a very
small rooster made of some green stone.
"They are wonderful," Nico answered.
"She'll be tickled that you like them. I'll be sure to tell her when she gets
back-her sister is ailing, and she has gone off to take care of her."
Herm had already sat down at one of the tables, and a serving boy put a large
mug of beer in front of him without being asked. Across from him, Rafaella was
sitting down, so Nico decided he should join them. The warmth of the fireplace
was pleasant after the chilly morning's ride, and he realized he was very
hungry.
A girl brought in wooden trenchers and napkins of coarse linen, and another
followed her with a platter of roasted birds. He watched Herm dig out his belt
knife, spear a whole fowl onto his platter, and begin to tear it apart with his
strong hands. He picked up a leg and started to eat, and Nico imitated him.
It was wonderfully messy. Grease slimed his fingers and ran down his chin. And
the taste was different than what he was accustomed to. The cook had put some
herbs on the skin of the bird that he was unfamiliar with, something very spicy.
Nico slurped at the smaller mug of beer the boy put down in front of him, and
grinned. Accustomed as he was to more formal dining, he found the whole
experience delightful. When a bowl of boiled grain with several wooden spoons in
it appeared, he helped himself to a serving, using the spoon he served with to
eat, copying Rafaella's manners carefully. A basket of hot rolls was served, and
he speared one with his knife.
Rafaella was watching him from beneath her lashes, hiding a smile, which was
difficult with her generous mouth. "Good, isn't it?"
"Delicious!"
"Evan MacHaworth's birds are known the length of the old North Road. And his
fowl pies are famous. I have even heard that cooks from Thendara have come up
and tried to steal the recipe."
"That doesn't surprise me," Herm muttered, speaking with his mouth half full.
The rest of the Renunciates had seated themselves at the other end of the table
and were eating and talking quietly. Nico heard their voices, and those of the
now somewhat rowdy muleteers across the hall, and felt replete and content. Not
to mention greasier than he had ever been in his life. He wiped his hands and
mouth on the rough napkin, then cleaned his knife and put it away.
Beside him, he could sense Herm's weariness. Are you well, Uncle?
Oh, yes, but I have gotten quite soft over the years. I am not used to sleeping
on the ground, or riding for several hours. My legs ache, and I have a stitch in
my back. But the beer seems to be helping.
Satisfied, Nico relaxed. Are we going to go on, or wait for the Travelers?
A good question, Nico. I had not thought about it yet-I confess I do not have a
real plan, but am improvising as we go along. Clever of your mother to have sent
these Renunciates-they are a good cover. I think we will remain, since you
believe the Travelers will perform here tonight. They should catch up with us in
an hour or so.
You could tell Aunt Rafi that you are tired, or that you think your horse is
going a bit lame. Then our remaining here would not arouse any interest. And you
could take a bath-I am sure the inn has one.
You are a genius! Just what my poor back needs is a long soak.
Your hands and face, too-you are gleaming with fat!
Disrespectful imp! You are a grubby sight yourself!
No one had ever called Domenic either an imp or grubby before, and he decided he
liked it. Herm was not like the other adults he knew, not so grown up and
serious. Even Grandfather Lew, whom he adored, and who had a good sense of
humor, was always thinking about terribly important matters. And no one except
Lew had ever really teased him. He could not decide if it was because he was too
serious himself, or whether it was his status that prevented such comfortable
exchanges. He envied Amaury, having Herm as a father. As much as he loved
Mikhail and respected him, there was always a kind of distance between them, as
if his father were afraid to get too close to his eldest child. He was his
mother's son more than his father's, and Rory, he knew, was Mikhail's delight.
It had never disturbed him much. Rory was a much more amusing person than he
was, especially with all his mischief, and Nico had always accepted this. But
now he was the wicked one, and equal to Roderick in mischief. Domenic had a
moment's deep satisfaction in this thought, even though he was sure his
irrepressible little brother would think of something outrageous to do in the
near future. Let him-Rory hadn't uncovered a plot against their father's life!
"I believe I have thrown my back out, Mestra Rafaella," Herm announced, bringing
Domenic back to the present. "Do you think there is a good healer in the town?"
She looked startled for a moment, then seemed to grasp the intent beneath the
casual words. "No need. We have our own." Rafaella gestured down the board,
pointing to one of the woman. "Danila takes care of all our aches and pains. But
we will stay here for the night, I think. I don't fancy having you fall ill
along the road. I'll go arrange with Evan for rooms."
She rose and went out of the room, humming to herself. A few minutes later she
returned with the innkeeper, all smiles. MacHaworth took them upstairs, showed
them to a pleasant bedchamber. It had a large
bed, a worn bureau, and a stand
with a pitcher and washing bowl on it. There were heavy curtains over the narrow
window, and a small hearth on one side. The room smelled of balsam and a recent
cleaning. He told them where the bathing room was and left.
One of the Renunciates knocked on the door almost immediately. She had both
their bedrolls in her capable hands, and Nico took them from her with a quick
thank you. "When you wish, call me, and I'll come up and see about straightening
your back, Mestru MacAnndra," she said. She was a big woman, with large hands,
and looked quite capable of yanking a spine to rights in a trice.
They sorted out their few belongings, put things away in the drawers of the
chest, and headed for the bathing room in companionable silence. Nico was
pleased to discover a cabinet with thick towels, and a closet with several heavy
robes hanging in it. He undressed and wriggled his toes against the planked
floor of the room. Then he got into the steaming communal tub and ducked down
under the water.
Herm joined him, groaning with pleasure. "I have missed this."
"Missed what? Don't the Terranan have bathrooms?"
Yes, of course they do, but nothing lake this. I think we had best not speak
aloud, because while I doubt there are any Federation spies lurking an the
woodwork, there are servants who might gossip, Nico. And terms like Federation
and Terranan would make their ears prick up: After twenty-some years of living
in a tiny, cramped apartment, and cleaning myself in a sonic shower, this is a
real luxury!
But why? Domenic had no idea what a sonic shower might be, but he did not want
to reveal his ignorance. A tiny apartment? This did not jibe with his impression
of the Federation, gleaned from comments made by his mother and grandfather.
You cannot imagine how crowded it is on most Federation worlds, despite all
attempts at population control. It is one reason they are so eager to exploit
other planets. There are over eighteen billion people on Terra alone, and the
strain on their resources is enormous. Water is taxed and rationed, as is
everything else. A room like this would be considered an extravagance, even an
the wealthiest home, and for a mere government functionary like myself, it is
inconceivable. Oh, there are a few Senators who are rich enough to afford a