He stood up and used his weight to try to pull the body out from beneath the
bench. The man was heavy, but at last the corpse slithered out across the uneven
stones of the courtyard. There was the sound of footfalls behind Domenic, and a
moment later Abel MacEwan was beside him, shouldering him firmly out of the way
and taking the burden of dead flesh into his larger and more capable hands.
The torso of the dead man was slumped forward, but now it fell back, and Domenic
could see the hilt of a knife thrust into the chest. A stain spread around the
wound, dark against the brown cloth of the tunic. Someone brought a torch, and
he looked down into the face of the stranger.
The eyes were still open, and the mouth gaped a little. He seemed, in death, to
be surprised. Nico could not drag his eyes away from the sight, until someone
finally took the shoulders of the corpse and Abel the feet and, between them,
began to carry it away.
No, not surprised-betrayed. Swaying a little from the shock of it, Domenic knew
that no one from the village had killed the man. It must have been Vancof-though
why was a mystery. Then he remembered that morning, seeing the dead man give the
driver something. He closed his eyes, trying to recall every detail. There had
been something folded, a paper, and another object, something square.
As the fires went out, the chill of the evening began to make Domenic shiver.
Despite his discomfort, he did not move, frozen in place with sorrow and horror.
Instead, he forced himself to try to remember anything he had overheard from
Vancof. Most of it was a useless muddle, but a few phrases seemed to be
important. The word "orders" kept cropping up, something the driver did not
like, which made him afraid. What had he been ordered to do-kill his ally? That
was insane! Still, there seemed no other explanation, and he forced his mind to
accept it.
Almost shaking with chill and emotion now, Domenic trudged into the inn. The
warmth of the entrance seemed almost feverish for a few steps. He brushed his
sleeve across his face roughly. Then, too weary to continue, he sank onto a
bench near the door.
Nico felt his control slip away in a flood of unfamiliar emotions. He wanted to
weep, but no tears came. He felt as if he had turned to stone, and he ached for
release. People were dead, innocent folk like Illona's Aunt Loret, whom he had
known only for a few minutes. The Terran man, whose name he had never
discovered, was dead also. He had not seen the others, but he had seen the
unknown Terran, and knew, deep down, that he had not deserved to perish.
The deep grief for the death of Regis Hastur, which he had held at bay for days,
rose in his throat at last. He remembered incidents, pleasant moments when his
great-uncle was at ease, telling tales of the Sharra Rebellion, to Grandfather
Lew's obvious discomfort, but somehow making them seem less painful than they
must have been. Nico recalled Regis' charm and swift wit, the way he ate his
meals, and many other small things. It did not seem enough, somehow, for such a
great man.
His chest ached, and there was a pounding pulse in his forehead. A tear rolled
down his cheek and he swept it away with a trembling finger. All he had done was
run away for a bit of fun, and now there were dead people and injured folk, and
too much pain to endure. This was not an adventure-it was a nightmare from which
he could not escape!
If only Lew or his mother could be with him, to tell him how to feel, to help
him. Logically, Domenic knew that the riot would have happened whether he had
been present or not, but he still felt responsible. After dwelling on this
unsettling event and feeling worse by the moment his good sense tried to assert
itself, and succeeded a little. He was being morbid over things he could not
control! He had to get a grip on himself and inform his grandfather of the
events in Carcosa. Now, if only his cold and tired body would cooperate!
Domenic forced himself to stand and half stumbled up the stairs to his room.
Once there, he slammed the door shut and sank down on the edge of the bed. His
breathing was ragged and he tried to control it. At last the rapid beating of
his heart started to slow, and the dreadful thoughts that were racing through
his mind began to subside. He closed his eyes hard, pinching the lids down
almost angrily, trying in vain to squeeze the images of destruction out of his
mind's eye.
From below, he could hear voices, townspeople and Guardsmen both. The sickening
smell of the burned wood and flesh lingered in the air. Then he realized that
the stench was in his clothes, his hair, his skin, and he almost vomited. He
pulled his tunic over his head and threw it across the room into the far corner.
The movement energized him enough to shed all his garments, and to pour cold
water from the ewer into the basin and wash himself. Then he put on a clean
shirt from their purchases in the town market, and the trousers he had worn the
previous day. The comforting smell of horse from the garment seemed to dispell
the miasma of death in his discarded clothing as well as the scents that wafted
through the window.
After several minutes he heard a soft rain begin to patter outside the window, a
sweet sound after so much horror. He just sat and listened to it, his mind
almost empty. All he wanted to do was fall into the bed and pull the covers over
his head. But he still had something to do-if only he could remember what. Oh,
yes, he had to contact his grandfather. Where was he going to find the strength?
His mind drifted, refusing to focus, and he found his thoughts returning to the
girl, Illona. He was glad she was safe with Rafaella. If the Carcosans had
discovered her and recognized her for a Traveler, she might have been hurt or
killed. Domenic could not have endured that, although he wasn't sure why he
cared so much about someone he barely knew. Then it occurred to him that he
liked her, even if she was just a shy uneducated girl. No . . . not silly-just
very foolish and ignorant. If only she had not looked so fetching in her
undershift! Why couldn't she be ugly or at least plain? Then it would be easier
to despise her, as he was sure he should. Instead, he had the same urge to
protect her he always felt about Alanna. It was all very puzzling.
No, it was more than that. After a few moments of ruthless self-examination,
Domenic realized that his thoughts about Illona verged on the lustful. This
surprised him, and then it disgusted him. How could he be thinking such things
at a time like this! What kind of unnatural man was he?
Furious with himself, Domenic dragged his mind away from the memories of
Illona's young breasts and slender body beneath her shift. Herm had told him to
inform Lew of the latest developments and he had not yet done so. He was there
because he had the Alton Gift and could communicate with his grandfather with
much less effort than anyone without that talent. For just a moment he resented
his Gift, then shut away the thought abruptly. Why couldn't he have just one
feeling at a time, instead of this morass! And why couldn't he
get the image of
the dead Terran out of his mind?
At last his mind began to quiet, and while he knew it had taken only a few
minutes, it felt like he had undergone hours of fruitless struggle. There was a
sour taste in his mouth, and his belly was in a complete knot. Domenic had
wanted to be treated like an adult, not a child, and here he was, feeling angry
at having adult responsibilities. At last he admitted to himself that he was
more than a little frightened by the sudden violence he had seen, and realized
that he must have been crazy to have dashed over to rescue Illona. He let the
sense of fear spend itself, and wondered if he were a coward, or if it was
normal to be scared after the fact. There was no one at hand to ask about it,
and finally he let it go. Fear was a luxury to be indulged some other time.
He got up and rinsed his mouth in the basin, then splashed cold water over his
face. After he had dried it on a towel, he went back to the broad bed and forced
his mind into the stillness he needed. It was hard, but the Alton Gift could
span great distance, and after only a brief time, he touched the familiar mind
of his grandfather.
Lew!
Hello, Nico. You seem . . . upset. Did our reinforcement arrive safely?
The mental voice sounded overly hearty, and Domenic felt his heart clench
sharply. Had something terrible happened in Thendara? Was he overreacting to
Lew's concerns about him, jumping at shadows instead of acting like an adult? He
made himself slow down, and tried to order his thoughts.
I am. I just saw my first riot, and I hope I never see another. The Travelers
tried to put on a play that infuriated the crowd-it was disgusting and indecent.
They were making fun of Regis-it was not funny at all. It was so ugly. Uncle
Herm said it was subversive and that the intent was to turn people against the
Comyn! What began as a pleasant evening's entertainment turned the townsfolk
into a mob in a flash. They tore apart the wagons and burned them. People got
killed.
Are you all right? The tone of the question was alarmed, even if the words were
commonplace.
Yes, I'm fine, but don't tell Mother about it, please. She'd be on her horse and
traveling the North Road in a minute. But there is more, and at is worse, I
think. It seems that this troup of Travelers were up in the Hellers, in the
Aldaran Domain, last winter, and when they came back, they had not only this
Vancof I told you about, but some other people who were spreading a tale of . .
. Well, I don't quite know how to put it. It's like they were trying to make
people mad at the Hasturs, and at the Domains and the Towers in general. I don't
know if it was just this bunch, or other groups of Travelers as well.
There was a small fracas in the Horse Market involving the Travelers at
Midsummer. Regis was even thinking of banning them from the city completely,
because there have been incidents recently as well. So, unless it was the group
you have there, it might be . . .
Grandfather, I think someone is using the Travelers to upset people. It is
either the Terranan or . . . or Dom Aldaran.
I was afraid of that. Poor Dom Damon-so ambitious and so thwarted. It is funny,
you know, that all of Javanne's fears that Mikhail might hand Darkover over to
the Terrans are much more likely to be fulfilled if Damon Aldaran ever gets his
hands on some power.
But that could never happen, could it?
The Hasturs have been ruling Darkover for a long time, Nico, but nothing lasts
forever. And yes, if something happened to your father, you and Rory, and a few
other well-chosen people, then Damon Aldaran might be able to declare himself in
command.
How?
Through Gisela, in her marriage to your uncle Rafael, of course. That would have
the illusion of legitimacy. But we don't need to speculate. You and your brother
are very much alive and well, and so is your father. He has just arrived, by the
way.
Who? Father?
No. Dom Damon and Robert Aldaran. They flew down, which was a mistake on their
part. The landing field has been closed for two days, the Terrans nearly clapped
them in chains. Robert was able to talk his way out of that, but Damon as in a
rare temper.
It's a pity he is a lord of the Domains, or otherwise you could put him in the
cellar until after this mess is over.
A temptation, to be sure. There never seems to be a moldy dungeon available when
you need one. There has been quite a bit of trouble from the Terrans here since
you left, and we are going to turn the old Orphanage into a jail.
Grandfather! Be serious!
I am not joking. I wonder if Dom Damon knows about this plot . . . no, I think
not. But, if the funeral train is attacked, he will be in as much danger as the
rest of us. The problem in a battle is that you cannot plan who will survive and
who will not, and if the Terranan think to set up Dom Damon . . .
Grandfather!
Sorry, Nico. I am feeling extremely harassed just now. Rafe Scott has found out
that the Federation has cut off communication with Darkover, for reasons which
remain unclear, and perhaps the plot to attack the funeral will turn out to be
nothing at all. I don't know if Belfontaine would risk taking action without
approval, and I can't pop over to HQ as I might have in the past, to see how the
wind is blowing. I sincerely hope that it will all turn out to be a tempest in a
chamber pot, because I don't particularly want to go up against energy weapons
with my rather rusty sword.
Herm and I were thinking about that a little while ago. So much has happened.
Grandfather, and my mind seems so muddled.
Take your time, Nico.
It started because the Terranan spy from Thendara . . .
The what?
Remember I told you I saw two men last night-one was Granfell and one wasn't?
Well, the one that wasn't rode in here late this afternoon, before the old
Guardsmen arrived.
Go on.
He came out to watch the Travelers, and I noticed he kept looking up at the sky,
but he wasn't looking south, toward Thendara, but north instead. I mentioned
this to Uncle Herm, and he asked me how many troops there were up in the Aldaran
Domain. He suggested that perhaps the attack could come from them, rather than
from HQ.
Yes, that makes a kind of sense, now you say it. Herm has the most devious mind
I have ever encountered, and I have always been grateful he was on my side, and
not my enemy.
Do you trust him?
I do, Nico. He has proven over and over, in his tune in the Senate and the
Chamber of Deputies, that he had nothing but the best interests of Darkover in
mind. He has had at least a dozen opportunities to sell us out, and he never
did. There is more, isn't there? What are you holding back?
Domenic paused, trying to control the upwelling of sorrow within him. The
Terranan man is dead. I never knew his name, and now I never will, because
someone-Vancof probably stuck a knife in him during the riot. I . . . found the
body.
Poor Nico! The first time you look at deat
h is always hard, and it never gets
easier. Nico caught fragments, images of several bodies, and knew that his
grandfather was remembering the Sharra Rebellion. No wonder you are upset.
He looked so surprised, Grandfather! And that isn't the worst part.
Tell me everything.
It's so awful, and I feel . . . ashamed. I found him, and I was sorry and sad.
But afterwards . . . I started having these thoughts about Illona-that's the
Traveler girl I saw yesterday in Thendara-and they were . . . when the crowd
attacked the puppeteer's wagon, she got pulled out, and she was only wearing her
underclothes! She was almost naked! One second I was feeling terrible, and the
next, I was . . . excited.
For a moment, there was no answering thought, and Nico wondered if his
grandfather were disgusted with him. Nico, I do not know why it is, but close
contact with death often makes men very randy. Men going into battle often
resort to the couch before, and again after. I think that love or sex or
whatever we call it is about life, and when you are near to death, then you wash
to . . . renew life. In a young man your age, sexual feelings run very high.
I don't like how I was thinking!
I did not suppose you did, Domenic. And all I am telling you is that it is a
perfectly natural reaction, not something to be ashamed of, or worry over,
unless you pursue your instincts and force yourself upon a woman.
I wouldn't!
I did not think so. Now, let the matter go, and stop being so hard on yourself.
You will wear yourself out, and you need to save your energy for other things.
Yes, you are right. Grandfather, I am very confused. I don't understand why the
man was killed like that. I think Vancof did it, because no one here in Carcosa
knew the stranger, and the others who died an the riot were hit with sticks . .
. I mean . . .
I understand, Nico. If you are right, and your spy did the killing, than I think
it was probably that he took advantage of the uproar. You suggested last night
that this Vancof was afraid, and very reluctant to go along with Granfell's
plan. Perhaps his idea was to get rid of this fellow, and then try to vanish. Or
maybe he was just evening up some old scores. Nico, one thing you will have to
learn is that people sometimes kill one another for no good reason at all. It is
a sad reflection on the species, but we don't seem to outgrow it, even here on