Traitor's Sun

  proper bathroom, but few of them would dare to risk it.

  I still don't understand, Uncle.

  My, that has a wonderful sound to it, that Uncle business. It is rather

  difficult to explain how things are, but I will try. You see, many in the

  Federation insist that austerity is necessary an order for things to function.

  This is part of the Expansionist philosophy-that the Federation does not have

  enough resources to care for its citizens, and so must get more by exploiting

  other planets. As a result, water is rationed and taxed, food is limited and

  heavily taxed, although no one goes hungry. There are programs to feed the poor,

  and part of the taxes are used to support that. The meal I just ate would cost a

  whole day's wages on Terra, and would have had to feed four people, not one. If

  they could get anything like that delicious chicken at all.

  But, what do they eat, then?

  The poor exist on artificial slop that would sicken a dog, Nico. It is grown in

  enormous vats and smells like beer gone bad, and . . . well, I don't know what

  it tastes lake, because I never could make myself try it. It is nourishing

  enough, I suppose-it keeps them alive and reasonably healthy.

  Was it always like that?

  No, it wasn't. When I went to the Chamber of Deputies, before the Expansionists

  got back into power and the austerity policies were introduced, things were

  different. Water was already being rationed, but goods were less costly then,

  and you could afford to eat in a restaurant from time to time. It just got worse

  and worse. There are millions of people on Terra who cannot find jobs, and

  cannot earn money, and have to live on public support programs. There are

  waiting lists for colonists, but they have not found very many new habitable

  planets recently. And most of the older worlds in the Federation are in the same

  shape or worse. There have been food riots, and water riots-things you simply

  can't imagine. Last year the entire grid went down on one of the continents, and

  no one had any power or light for three days.

  What's the grid?

  The grid is a network of power stations and connections that covers the entire

  planet. Due to the deliberate stinginess of the Expansionists, there is said to

  be no money for enlarging the grid, even though everyone agrees it should be

  done. Thus, in recent years, the demand for energy sometimes outruns the

  capacity of the grid to supply it. One substation will go off-line, then

  another, and soon everything grinds to a halt. That means that the lifts which

  carry people to their homes cease to function, and since many of the buildings

  are more than fifty stories off the ground, there is no way to get in or out

  until the power comes back on. And that is just one example.

  Nico scrubbed his arms with a rough cloth and considered this information. He

  had never longed to visit other worlds, unlike his brother who was a bit space

  mad. And since he had begun to think he heard Darkover in his mind, he had had

  no desire to leave at all. There was a part of him that felt if he ever left the

  soil of Darkover entirely, he would die or go insane, as if he were bound to the

  world itself. Although the noises that echoed in his mind made him uneasy and

  often fearful, there was at the same time a sense of rightness in them. True, he

  could not imagine why he, of all people, seemed to have this particular ability,

  but the longer it continued, the more accustomed to it he became. He had not

  entirely accepted the idea, but as Herm had told him that morning, there did not

  appear to be any harm in it. And Herm was the first person he had told of his

  strange condition-he had not even confided it to Alanna, who had shared so many

  of his secrets when they were younger.

  But he had always imagined the planets of the Federation as being places where

  everyone flew about in aircars, and lived in light-filled palaces with lots of

  devices which provided every conceivable comfort. Somehow he had never thought

  that anyone was poor or lacked enjoyment, which he realized now was pretty

  stupid. What did those people do with their time, if they did not have jobs?

  It sounds terrible! Why do they live like that? I mean, if everyone has to

  measure their water and are taxed for it-I don't understand that at all,

  Uncle-why don't they just do it differently?

  A good question-one that has troubled better minds than mine. The only answer I

  have is that the Terrans are an love with their technology, and they truly

  believe that all problems can be solved with it-that and the resources of the

  member planets. They never consider if the idea that everything can be made

  right with technological advances might be an illusion. So they take the grain

  from one world to feed the masses of Terra, and the metals from another to build

  their ships, so they can continue to explore the galaxy, looking for more

  planets to colonize. No one has addressed the plain fact that they haven't

  settled a new colony in eleven years, because there hasn't been anything but

  worlds so marginal that no one in their right mind would agree to go there.

  What's a marginal world? Domenic felt overwhelmed with the information he was

  learning, as well as the strange words that Herm used so casually, but he was

  fascinated and determined not to miss this opportunity.

  Oh, one that is even colder than Darkover, or where the air is not quite

  breathable, or has little arable land. Thetis, where your mother grew up, is one

  example, and she would not recognize it if she went there now. Has she ever

  talked about it?

  Oh, yes. I know all about the islands and the delfins. It sounds very beautiful.

  It was a paradise, when Lew and Diotima lived there, Nico. Not much land, just

  about ten medium-sized islands and one very big one, and lots and lots of ocean.

  And now? Ocean was a difficult concept for him, despite having gotten glimpses

  of such a thing from a few of his mother's memories, and the occasional moments

  when he was sure he could see the Sea of Dalerueth rolling against the shore. He

  had taken a ride, while he was at Arilinn, along the banks of the Valeron, and

  knew that if he been allowed to ride west along it, it would have ended at the

  sea. There had been a moment when he had wished he could do just that, ride

  toward the setting sun until he reached the river's terminus. Foolish, of

  course.

  It made him rather angry that he had spent so much of his life cooped up in

  Comyn Castle, and was so very ignorant, but after a moment he shook the feeling

  off. It was not worth bothering about. He was free now, and since he might never

  again have the opportunity to sleep in an inn, or ride along the North Road with

  a band of Renunciates in search of Terranan spies, he might as well enjoy it

  while he could. He turned his attention back to his uncle.

  They discovered a rare element they needed for weapons development about ten

  years ago, and started mining it from the oceanbed. Now there are no more

  delfins, Nico, because the sea has been poisoned, and they think in five years,

  most of the rest of the life in those waters will be dead, too. Worse, the

  cancer rate on Thetis has increased
greatly, and people are dying for no more

  reason than that Interworld Mining was too greedy to take measures to avoid

  destroying the ecology. Once the plankton stop using up the carbon dioxide, the

  air will become unbreathable on Thetis, and in a short time the place will

  become uninhabitable.

  Nico was puzzled over several of the terms his uncle used, but he fastened on

  just one. What's plankton? Mother never mentioned that.

  Nico sensed Herm's gentle amusement at this question, but did not feel stupid.

  He felt safe with his newest uncle, and found his mild teasing to be very

  pleasant. He only wished he could be as comfortable with everyone as he was with

  Hermes Aldaran.

  They are very small organisms, so small you can only see them with an optical

  device. Some of them are plantlike, and others are really tiny animals, but on a

  world without great forests of trees, like Darkover, these provide breathable

  air. We've had three bills in the Senate in the last three years to provide

  money to clean up Interworld's mess on Thetas, and two of them have been

  defeated as being too costly. And the last one was in committee when the

  legislature was dissolved, so it is dead now as well. Basically, the Federation

  has decided that it is not worth throwing good money away on a losing

  proposition, particularly when Thetis is considered an unimportant world.

  It isn't unimportant to the people who live there!

  No, of course it isn't. The problem is that there are a great many people who

  think that money is more important than anything, and that human beings are a

  disposable resource.

  It sounds like they think that planets are disposable, too, Uncle.

  "My fingers are starting to turn into prunes," Herm said aloud. "Are you clean

  enough now?"

  "Yes, I am. I just wish I had some cleaner clothes."

  "Then why don't we go out and see if there is a stall in the market and get you

  some new ones." We can do a bit of snooping at the same time.

  "Good. I like that idea." Nico scrambled out of the tub, dripping, and stood on

  the planked floor, watching the droplets slip off his skin. Then he wrapped

  himself in a large towel and dried off. He redressed, trying not to feel too

  disgusted by the state of his garments. If he had known when he left that he was

  going to be away overnight, he would have brought a fresh shirt, at least.

  "How's your back feeling, Uncle Ian?"

  "Much better, thank you. I believe I will forgo Danila's ministrations for the

  present. She looks strong enough to snap me in half."

  Nico chuckled, for indeed the large Renunciate was rather intimidating. She did

  not look like any healer Domenic had ever met before. Herm got his clothes back

  on, and they went downstairs again. It was much quieter now that the muleteers

  had left to continue their journey.

  They stepped out into the courtyard of the inn into watery sunlight. There were

  thin clouds overhead, and heavier ones mounded toward the western horizon. It

  would rain before the next morning, but he was not weatherwise enough to guess

  how soon. Nico just hoped it would not prevent the Travelers from performing. He

  hadn't gotten to see much the previous evening, and he was looking forward to

  more.

  Herm asked a groom about the local marketplace, and got directions. They walked

  away from the Crowing Cock in companionable silence, both of them relaxed from

  their baths and full bellies. After getting slightly lost in one of the winding

  streets of the town, they finally found their way to an open square, bustling

  with commerce. There was a glass blower near the entrance, and Nico stopped for

  a few minutes to watch the work. The heat from the open air oven was tremendous,

  and it felt good against the growing chill of the day.

  They found a clothing stall, and purchased undergarments, a cheap shirt, two

  woolen tunics, a pair of trews for Domenic, and some things for Herm as well. It

  was rather exciting to him, since he had never been allowed to explore the

  marketplaces in Thendara, and he was disappointed when Herm said it was time to

  go back to the inn.

  But when they arrived at the inn, the yard was blocked by the colorful wains of

  the Travelers, and he forgot his disappointment in having to leave the market.

  He saw the man called Vancof get down from the seat of the puppet wagon, and

  stepped quickly into Herm's shadow, to avoid being seen. Then the red-haired

  girl climbed down from the back of the wagon and stretched luxuriously. He hoped

  she would not notice him, or ask any questions if she did, for the few glimpses

  he had gotten of her mind told him she was quick and a bit headstrong.

  The driver looked pale and pinched, and he shuffled away from the wagon, heading

  toward the inn. He probably wanted some beer, Nico thought, although after all

  the drinking he had done the previous night, the boy felt he oughtn't. The plump

  woman who had been arguing with him during the morning came out of the wagon and

  shouted at him. "You lazy good-for-nothing! Damn you for a sot!" She made a fist

  and shook it at him.

  Vancof ignored her and vanished into the doorway of the inn. The woman looked

  unhappy. "Now, how am I going to manage those animals without him?" She looked

  around rather helplessly, since all the rest of the Travelers were busy with

  their own wagons and teams.

  Herm took this in with a swift glance, and walked over to the angry woman. "I'm

  not unhandy with a mule, mestra. Perhaps I could be of assistance."

  To Nico's surprise, she laughed, making her face transform from miserable and

  angry to quite pleasant. She must have been very pretty when she was younger, he

  decided. "You don't know what you are thinking of," she told Herm. "Those mules

  are the meanest animals on Darkover, not counting a hungry catamount. Only my

  driver can manage them, and he gets bitten six times out of seven." He's been

  nothing but trouble since he joined us, that Dirck, and I wish we had someone

  else. Even if he did come from Istvan's troup-they were probably glad to be rid

  of him.

  "Well, let me give it a try. If I get bitten, then it is my own fault for not

  listening to you."

  "No one listens to me," the woman moaned, shaking her head and setting her

  grizzled braids in motion. "Not my flighty niece, or anyone. I am only a woman,

  and almost alone in the world, except for the girl, who is more trouble than she

  is worth, even though she is a very good puppeteer. If only she were as good a

  girl as she is a string-twiddler."

  "She's very young," Herm said sympathetically. Nico watched the man, and would

  have sworn that charm was oozing out of his freshly-bathed pores. "She will grow

  out of it."

  "Not soon enough for me. Well, I am Loret, and I will take you up on your offer,

  even if I think you are crazy to make it." She was clearly persuaded by Herm's

  pleasantries, and Nico wondered if she was flirting with his uncle.

  "Ian MacAnndra at your service, Mestra Loret." He walked away toward the

  animals, who were indeed an evil-looking pair of underfed mules. They snorted

  and brayed, and one snapped its large teeth when Herm's hand reached for the


  traces. The man deftly avoided the attack, and said something in a low voice.

  The mules pricked their ears, stamped their hooves, and shifted from side to

  side uneasily. Their eyes rolled mistrustfully, but they offered no further

  resistence, and in a few minutes Herm had successfully removed them from the

  long bars of wood on each side, and led them away toward the stables.

  "Well, I never!" Loret looked amazed. Then she turned on the girl, who had been

  standing quietly, watching all of this. "Are you planning to grow roots and

  flowers there, Illona? Get inside and work on the costumes. It will be dark

  soon, and you won't be able to see well enough to sew.

  "Oh, Auntie! I've been cooped up for hours!"

  "No sauce, girly! You do as you are told, or there will be no supper for you."

  Illona did not appear in the least frightened by this threat, and from the

  well-upholstered appearance of her aunt, it was probably an empty one. She just

  stuck out her tongue, as she had the first time Nico had seen her, and shrugged.

  "The dolls are fine," she muttered sulkily.

  "Nonsense! The ruffle on Cassilda's costume needs mending."

  "I hate sewing!"

  "We all have to earn our keep. Now do as you are told."

  Illona looked as if she might refuse for just a moment. Then she gave a large,

  dramatic sigh and started to go back to the wagon. She glanced at Nico as she

  went past, and her eyes widened. "Don't I know you?"

  Domenic shook his head. "Not unless you saw me last night." She had only seen

  him in the shadows of a doorway, and his hair had been pulled back, not hanging

  loose beside his face as it was now, but he had the feeling that very little

  escaped her sharp eyes. "I watched some of the performance while I was waiting

  for my uncle."

  "Oh. That must be it. You look very familiar."

  "Maybe I just have a common face."

  She giggled softly. "Hardly that." I know I didn't see him last night, but

  where? Oh, well, I am probably imagining things again. Still, there is something

  about him. "I'm Illona Rider."

  "Tomas MacAnndra."

  "I have to go sit in the wagon and sew," she complained.

  "And you hate sewing. Are you good at it?"

  "Yes, very skilled. That's why I have to do it. Aunty doesn't understand that

  just because you are good at something doesn't mean you enjoy it."