racket decreased as they went farther away, and the Renunciate drew them into a
nest of shadows and halted. "I think it is better if we stay out of sight until
things calm down a bit," she said, her voice shaking a little. "How could you
have done such a thing, girl?"
"I didn't do anything," Mona snapped back, her fear fading into anger as she
pushed a tangle of hair off her sweating face. She eyed the Renunciate fiercely,
daring her to disagree.
"I don't call putting a puppet of Regis Hastur up for ridicule nothing. He has
not been dead a tenday! And why aren't you dressed?" Domenic asked letting his
fury leak into the words.
Mona shrugged, shivered and drew the cloak more closely around her. "It gets
very hot in the wagon, and close, too. I'd be a puddle if I wore all my clothes.
As for the puppet-the Hasturs are a bunch of parasites."
To his surprise, Rafaella grabbed Mona by her shoulders and shook her hard,
until he heard the girl's teeth rattle together. "How dare you speak that way!
You are a stupid girl. I will have you know that Regis Hastur was a friend of
mine, and one of the finest men who ever walked. Who put you up to that play?
Tell me, or I will slap you silly."
Domenic had never seen his Aunt Rafi angry before, and he was rather awed. It
reminded him a bit of his mother's infrequent rages, but there was a quality of
restraint in her that Marguerida did not possess. He could sense the deep
loyalty in Rafaella, a simple, steady emotion that calmed him enormously.
Illona, on the other hand, seemed to have lost both her earlier fear and her
common sense. She pulled away from Rafaella's grip and glared. "Everyone knows
that the Domains are oppressing the people of Darkover, and that we need to get
rid of them in order to have a better life."
At first, Nico did not react. The words the girl used were strange, and he
sensed that they had not come from her own mind, but from someone else's. She
was parroting something she had heard, without any certainty or real
understanding. But beneath the words, there was a core of a more personal
emotion, made of fear and resentment, a puzzling mixture, focused on the subject
of the Towers. He wondered why she was afraid of the Towers; it was almost as if
they threatened her.
The more he thought about it, the more confusing the text of the play became.
Why would anyone suggest that the Towers were dens of vice-what purpose could it
serve? Then he recalled the sense of mistrust he had noticed in the crowd when
the puppet play began, the feeling from the townspeople that had puzzled him at
the time. What had Herm said? That the play was subversive. Was someone trying
to foment a revolution on Darkover? Who, and why? Had the Travelers been
performing similar things whenever they were not in Thendara?
Rafaella's anger flared, and she lifted her hand to strike the girl, distracting
him from his thoughts. Domenic caught her wrist in his hand and shook his head.
"Who told you that lie, Illona?" he asked. "And who is 'everyone?' " He managed
to speak calmly, but his heart was pounding.
Illona looked at him, her eyes almost blank. "Well, our driver and a lot of the
others, I guess. Mathias, who wrote the script for our play, says that . . . if
it weren't for Regis Hastur, we would be able to fly about in aircars, and live
in fine houses and . . ." Her voice was a monotone now, and Nico could tell she
was pulling back into herself, that the violence she had just experienced was
finally reaching her mind and sending it into a kind of shock.
"And of course Mathias is a knowledgeable man, and has been to Comyn Castle and
seen this so-called oppression for himself," he commented. Despite his
compassion for this girl, he was still very angry, and it helped to let his
words release it.
"Well, no," she admitted meekly. Then she seemed to gather her energies, to
shake off some of her fear and shock. "But the fact that we aren't allowed in
Thendara except at Midsummer and Midwinter proves that the Hasturs are afraid of
us, so it must be true."
"Your logic is impeccable, but your premises are false."
She narrowed her eyes and peered at him in the faint light from the back of the
inn. Recognition dawned in her face. "I saw you in Thendara, didn't I? You were
standing guard, hiding in the shadows near the Castle. You are one of them! You
just look so different with your hair loose, and not in uniform. You are a spy
for the Hasturs!"
I have to get away and tell Aunt Loret and the others!
"And who are you a spy for, Illona?"
"Me?" she squeaked, astounded.
Rafaella, impatient, demanded, "Who told you all these ridiculous things? And,
more to the point, when did you hear them?"
An expression of confusion came into Illona's face. "People . . . like Mathias,
I guess. When?"
"Have you been listening to this seditious nonsense all your life, or is it a
recent thing?" Domenic could sense Rafi's puzzlement at his question, but he
ignored it. He was determined to get to the bottom of the matter, and the girl
was his best chance for that. He did not want to use forced rapport, but
discovered, to his dismay, that he was willing to if he must. All the lessons in
ethics he had taken at Arilinn rang in his mind, and for the first time, he
realized how dangerous a thing the Alton Gift could be in the hands of someone
who could set aside any consideration except their own needs. He hoped that
Illona would tell him the truth without force.
Who is this boy, and why is he asking me this? There is something wrong here,
but I can't figure out what it as. He's right-I never heard a word against the
Hasturs before this sprang, when we were in the Hellers, up in Aldaran country.
Everything changed after that, didn't it? What are they going to do to me?
Illona seemed suddenly subdued. "This spring was when I first heard it." Why am
I telling him anything at all? He seemed so nice, and I liked him right away.
But that is no reason to talk to him, is at? Aunt Loret didn't like that play,
and now I see why. I wash I was somewhere else. I'm scared.
"And this Mathias fellow, who wrote the play, how long has he been with you?"
"He joined our band this spring."
The noise from the courtyard was decreasing a little, although some shouting
could still be heard. There was also the sound of wood being smashed, and Nico
suspected that the Travelers' wagons were being demolished by the angry
townspeople. A moment later he saw a burst of fire rise above the wall around
the inn. Someone had put a torch to one of the wagons. "Illona, you have gotten
yourself into a real mess."
"I have guessed that much," she said, some of her earlier sauciness returning.
She gritted her teeth, forcing herself to stand up straight, and glared at
Rafaella and Domenic. Even in the rather dim light, he could see she was very
pale, and the freckles on her strong nose were very apparent. He marveled at her
strength, at her refusal to surrender to her terrors completely. He was not sure
how he would have behaved in the same situation.
"You have been
in some bad company," Rafaella said quietly. She had regained her
self-control, and in the shadows she seemed stern and powerful, but less
threatening than a minute before.
Illona looked up at Rafaella, defiant. "I've never known anything but the
Travelers, so I can't judge. My Aunt Loret thinks that Mathias and some of the
others are a little crazy, but I didn't pay her any mind."
Herm Aldaran suddenly appeared out of the darkness, his expression invisible in
the shadows. "Ah, there you are. I saw you snatch the girl from harm's way, and
a good thing, too! The constables and our friends have managed to get things
under control, but most of the wains are firewood now." He cleared his throat
and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably. "Some people have been killed . . .
including your aunt, Illona. I'm sorry."
She did not react at once. She peered from face to face and then tears swelled
in her eyes and began to trickle down her grubby cheek. Illona made no sound,
just wept silently, shrinking into Domenic's cloak, getting smaller and smaller,
as if she might puddle down to the ground. Rafaella put a supporting arm around
her and drew the girl into her embrace.
Who else was killed, Herm?
I'm not certain, except for the woman and the juggler, who was in the wrong
place at the wrong time. The crowd went mad, and I was very glad for the
presence of those Guardsmen, even if I fear that their intervention has
destroyed their anonymity. There is still a lot of confusion, though, and
perhaps they will not be too obvious. I don't know where Vancof or the other
Terran have got to. I looked around, but they seem to have vanished.
Domenic hesitated then, conscious of an inner conflict. Hermes Aldaran was the
son of Damon Aldaran, the head of that Domain. True, Herm had assured him
earlier that he was loyal, but all the old stories about Aldaran betrayal rose
in his mind. Regis had managed to force the Council to allow Dom Damon and
Robert Aldaran seats on it, but there was still a great deal of bad feeling
about the entire family. He liked and trusted Hermes, and he thought well of
Robert, didn't he? It was old Dom Damon he did not like. But where would Herm's
real loyalties lie if it came to serious conflict?
Domenic struggled briefly with the problem. Then he made his choice, deciding he
did not have time to consult with Lew or his father. The Terran stranger had
kept looking to the north, and this band of Travelers had come from Aldaran
territory in the spring-there might be no connection, but he could not assume
that. The girl says that when they came down from the mountains this sprang,
there was a change. I think that someone in the Hellers is up to mischief.
Domenic was rather pleased at the diplomatic way he phrased this, but he had not
anticipated the quickness of his uncle's mind. If you mean my father, I would
not put anything past him. He has always resented the Hasturs, and thought that
the Aldaran could do a better job of running Darkover. But, truthfully, this
mess is not his style, Nico. My father is not a very subtle man, and spreading
sedation would, I believe, never occur to him.
I have to agree, from the little I know about Dom Damon. But maybe he is backing
them somehow.
Unless he has changed a great deal in the past twenty-three years, I doubt it.
Why?
My father is stingy to a fault, Nico. He would not spend a sekal on something
unless he could be sure to see a return. No, my guess is that there is something
going on in the Aldaran Domain that the old bastard knows nothing about-that the
Federation complex up there is behind this.
I hope you are right, Herm.
I hope I am, too, because I would not like to see my own father, much as I
dislike him, involved in a plot to destroy the Domains.
It was getting colder now, especially without his cloak, and Nico shivered, as
much from the chill as from the words he had just heard. The distrust of the
Aldaran went back for generations, and it had been very important to Regis
Hastur to overcome it. If it were discovered that they were involved in planning
the overthrow of the Hasturs, all that effort would have been for nothing. And
using the Travelers to spread discontent was very clever. They went everywhere,
and spread gossip as they did.
But Herm was right about one thing-it was not the sort of behavior that Dom
Damon had shown in the past. He tended to bluster and bully his way around.
Domenic felt very young and a little helpless for a moment, as if too much had
been put on his shoulders. And, as if he sensed this, Herm put a firm hand on
his shoulder. "Let's get in out of the cold, shall we?" And let Lew know about
the latest developments.
18
Domenic looked at Herm for a moment, in the flickering light from the courtyard.
Then he said, "We should make sure everything is under control first." His words
surprised him, and the firm voice that came from his throat seemed to be that of
another-some older, stronger person than himself.
"Yes, I suppose another few minutes will not matter," Herm agreed. "Rafaella,
take Illona with you, please. She needs a hot bath-look how she is shivering."
"I don't want to go with her," Illona wailed, sounding suddenly very young and
afraid. "I want my aunt!"
"I know you do," Rafaella began gently. "But you will have to make do with me.
It is going to start raining soon, and if you stay out here, you will get an
inflammation of the lung and have to drink all manner of nasty-tasting things to
heal you."
"I wish I was dead, too," the girl moaned.
"No, you don't!" Herm was stern. "And Loret would not want you dead either-she
wanted you to be safe, child."
"I . . . can't believe she is dead. Now I am all alone . . . what is going to
happen to me?"
"Nothing is going to happen to you, Illona," Rafi told the girl almost tenderly.
"Now come along." The girl hesitated, then finally allowed the older woman to
draw her away.
It was growing colder, and Nico was sorry he no longer had his cloak. He wanted
to follow the girl and the Renunciate into the warmth of the inn. Instead, his
sense of duty gripped him-the very thing he had run away to avoid-and he marched
back into the courtyard purposefully. There was a great deal of heat from the
fire, and the yard was unnaturally warm. Destruction was everywhere. He needed
to introduce Herm to the old Guardsmen who were helping put out the fires and
carry the dead and wounded away.
Yet, the scene within the yard was less chaotic than he might have imagined.
Most of the fires were beginning to gutter out from lack of fuel. There was a
terrible smell, of burned wood, paint, and probably flesh as well. There had
been people in the wagons when they went up, and not all of them had escaped.
His stomach gave a slight lurch.
Domenic spotted Duncan Lindir first and went over to him. The man was very pale
in the light that remained. "How many dead have you found?"
"Six Travelers, vai dom, and one man from the village. There may be more in the
rubble-it is still too hot to handle-but I ho
pe not. Then there are the
injured-quite a lot, but I am not sure of the number yet. Mostly broken arms and
knocked heads. The Renunciate healer is seeing to them with the help of the
village healer."
"Very good, Duncan. This is Hermes Aldaran."
Duncan sketched a brief bow, as if reluctant to show respect to an Aldaran. "I
was told to ask you for orders, but I did not have the chance earlier, dom." His
tone was barely civil, as if he was forcing himself to say the words without
meaning them.
"Just as well, since I had none to give you," Herm answered, pretending he had
not noticed the man's mild rudeness. "I would like to know the rest of your
company."
"Well, they are rather . . ."
"I did not mean this instant, man! I can see they are very busy. Just point them
out and tell me their names . . . if you would be so kind."
The irony of his answer was not lost on Lindir, and Duncan's mouth twisted in
something approaching a smile. He nodded then, and Domenic could sense the old
Guardsman's barely supressed hostility toward Herm begin to diminish. He watched
the two men, speaking in quieter voices now, and wondered how his uncle did it.
It was the same thing as had happened with Loret that afternoon. But Herm did
not seem to be trying to be charming now, just businesslike and impersonal. If
there was a laran for persuasion, then Herm had it, he decided. Nico moved away,
restless and uneasy. Where had Vancof and the other man gotten to? Had they been
hurt or perhaps killed in the riot?
He walked toward the corner where he had last seen the Terran man standing, an
inky cluster of shadows where the stables met the wall of the inn. There was a
low bench there, where the grooms and stable lads waited for wayfarers or rested
from their duties, almost invisible except as a deeper shadow against the wall
of the inn. He stood there for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the near
darkness, and then he saw a boot.
Nico squatted down and peered beneath the bench. The boot had once been shining
leather, but now was scuffed and a little muddy. It led to a leg, and as his
eyes were able to see more, he realized he was looking at the body of the
nameless man. There was no movement, no rise and fall in the chest. He swallowed
very hard several times, then reached out and put his hands around the boot.