Traitor's Sun

motion. Nico paused, anxious and hesitant. Do you think your father is involved,

  or is he . . . ?

  I don't know, but secret societies are not really my father's style-he is too

  impatient for that. Besides, if they really do want to overthrow the Comyn, he

  would hardly want them for allies, since his ambition is to lead the Comyn and

  run Darkover to suit himself, not a bunch of half-baked revolutionaries.

  Istvan thought they were mostly tradesmen . . . I caught that impression when he

  was talking.

  Humph! Catch my old man consorting with merchants and weavers! I think not. He's

  too proud for that.

  A wave of fatigue struck Domenic, and his knees trembled. He sucked in a deep

  gust of air, and started down the hall. As he reached the head of the stairs, he

  overheard the thoughts of the man tied up in the room. Who is that boy, and why

  is he here? I saw ham talking to that bitch Illona earlier. Where did she get

  to? He is probably a spy for the Hasturs. I hope I will see them in Zandru's

  coldest hell before the week is out! I must find a way to reach the Sons and

  warn them. But how? Maybe when they feed me-if they don't starve me to death-I

  can signal. Surely someone an the inn must belong to the Sons.

  Herm-Mathias thinks that someone in the inn might be a contact-keep him away

  from everyone but our own people.

  Oh, I intend to-but good thinking, Nico. Yet that presents a fresh problem,

  doesn't it?

  Anger flooded through Nico. It took all of his will not to use the Alton Gift in

  a way he had never done before, to plunder Mathias' mind of everything it knew.

  He felt Herm's mental flinch as his emotions reached the other man, and was

  ashamed at the loss of control. Yes, it does. It means we have to suspect

  everyone-I hate that, Herm.

  Not necessarily-you are very tired and are forgetting our companions, the

  Renunciates.

  Would Rafaella know about the Sons? Domenic felt incredibly stupid for not

  thinking of the Renunciates sooner. Well, she and her sisters know how to find

  things out, so I'll ask her.

  No, Nico. You deal with Lew and then try to get some rest. I will talk to

  Rafaella after I have a few more words with Mathias.

  Domenic stood at the head of the stairs for a minute, feeling too dizzy to start

  down. Overhead, he could hear the rain falling on the roof tiles, a pleasant

  sound that seemed to clear his mind. He was sweating again, and knew he was

  close to the edge of his own endurance. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his

  shirt wearily. There was still a great deal to do before he could rest.

  As he came down the stairs, he heard the sound of boots coming from the lower

  floor of the inn, up the stairs. For no conscious reason, he halted in his own

  descent and waited to see who it was. He knew the Renunciates had taken two

  rooms at one end of the corridor, the one next to his, but there were other

  guests at the Crowing Cock that night.

  Briefly he chided himself for being so jumpy. Then he saw the shoulders and head

  of a man appear, and then the rest of the body, illuminated by the lampions

  along the hall. He had never seen the face before, but as soon as the stranger

  turned and walked down the corridor, he knew it must be Granfell. The shape of

  his skull from the rear, and the way he strode were unmistakable. He was wearing

  Darkovan clothing now, like the dead man had, but they looked wrong. Granfell

  tugged at the edge of his tunic, as if he found it uncomfortable. His

  light-colored hair was wet, and it was clear that he had just arrived. He

  knocked at a door at the far end of the corridor, and Nico, wondered how he knew

  which room to pick. When there was no answer, he quickly opened the door and

  entered.

  Uncle Herm, I just saw the man called Granfell go into the room on the back of

  the inn, at the other end of our corridor. He's wet, so I thank he just rode in.

  He must be looking for the other man, the one that was knifed.

  Wonderful. I told MacHaworth that if anyone came looking for the stranger, he

  was to tell him what room to go to. I am glad he can follow orders.

  So, that's how he knew. I was wondering about it. Are we going to grab him and

  use your thumb screws? Domenic was startled by the sudden change in himself,

  although he knew perfectly well that Herm was not going to torture anyone. His

  fear and grief seemed to have vanished, and in their place he found a peculiar

  desire to hurt someone or something. It was gone almost before he could

  understand it, but it revealed to him a part of his character he had never

  suspected he possessed.

  Don't be bloodthirsty-it does not become a future ruler of Darkover. No, I think

  not. We will let him think that their plot is undiscovered for a while yet. And

  see if Vancof turns up again. Go and get the Towers alerted, and then try to get

  some sleep. You will need all your strength tomorrow.

  Yes, I will. Nico felt shamed for a moment. Herm should not have to tell him not

  to be bloodthirsty. Then he realized that his uncle had been teasing him gently,

  that it had not been meant to be the rebuke he took it for. He just was not used

  to being spoken to as Herm spoke to him, and he took it too seriously.

  Someone-was it Danilo Ardais?-had said in his hearing "Violence begets more

  violence," so perhaps his momentary lapse was something normal. But between that

  and his earlier thoughts about Illona's scantily clad body, he felt as if he did

  not know himself any longer. Domenic hoped he was not becoming some sort of

  monster, as unnatural as Javanne had frequently intimated he might be.

  After he had reached Lew, telling him everything that had happened since their

  earlier contact, he collapsed back onto the bed. His belly growled. Domenic was

  ravenous despite a large supper only a few hours before. It seemed like he

  hadn't eaten in at least a day! Then he knew that he had not been using his

  laran correctly, in the manner which his mother had been teaching him, which

  required less energy than the method still taught at Arilinn and the other

  Towers. He wasn't grounding himself right.

  The air in the room seemed stifling, and he knew he had to get away from

  everything for a time. In spite of the temptation of the pillow, he dragged

  himself off the bed. His mind was filled with images of the dead stranger, and

  he wanted to banish these. He hadn't even known the man, but his murder seemed

  to have affected his thoughts to a degree he could not seem to control.

  He went down the stairs and out of the inn. The courtyard was empty of people

  now, except for a groom sweeping a pile of ash off the stones. He looked up at

  the sound of Nico's footsteps and shook his head at the young man. "A sorry

  business, this."

  "Yes, it is." One of the Guardsmen appeared from the shadows and gave Domenic a

  nod. Then he moved to accompany the boy, and halted at a gesture. "I'm just

  going to get a breath of air."

  The smell of burning was dissipating with the rain, and the sodden heaps of

  debris were barely visible in the gloom. Domenic walked across the scene of

  destruction, out through the walls around the inn, and away until he found a

&n
bsp; little stand of trees a hundred paces from the inn. He could sense that the

  Guardsman was dogging him at a distance, keeping an eye on him without

  intruding.

  Domenic stood, ignoring the rain and his lack of a cloak, as well as the cold

  that was seeping into him, and closed his eyes. He breathed slowly and deeply

  and thought of nothing except the earth beneath his feet. After several minutes,

  a sense of restoration began to flow up his limbs and into his body. He could

  hear, faintly, the distant murmur of the heart of the world, burning and

  burning, and for once he did not doubt it.

  Lost in the sounds and sense of the world beneath his boots, Domenic emptied his

  thoughts of everything that had happened that night. It was difficult at first,

  even with the calming rhythm of the planet running along his veins, but after a

  while he felt balanced once again-neither monster nor spy, but just himself,

  Domenic Gabriel-Lewis Alton-Hastur.

  Despite the lightness of the rain, he was drenched by the time he turned back

  toward the inn, as serene as he could hope to be. The Guardsman was standing

  with the hood of his cloak pulled up, watching him. He smiled and nodded to him,

  and wondered what the man thought about his going out in the rain. Nothing, very

  likely.

  In spite of the refreshment of his energies, Domenic was still hungry for

  another meal. He walked into the taproom, and found it occupied by three or four

  of the retired Guards from Thendara and one of the village constables, all

  drinking quietly together. The older girl, Hannah, was there too, and she

  grinned at him, shook her head at his wet clothing, and handed him a small

  towel. He asked for some food, and in a few minutes she brought him a bowl of

  stew with some bread and cheese, and a half mug of brown ale.

  Just as Domenic was finishing his food, he saw Vancof passing into the inn,

  coming from the back and making his way to the stairs. He quickly bent his head

  over his bowl, but the Terran agent did not spare a look toward the taproom. He

  appeared preoccupied from the brief glimpse Nico had of him through the strands

  of his dark hair.

  He scooped up a mouthful of stew with his spoon and listened to the mental

  static around him for a moment. Then he separated Vancof's particular mind from

  those around him to try to discover new information. Unfortunately, all Vancof

  was thinking about was his aching feet, the fact that his belly was sour with

  tension, and his general displeasure with everything. If he had killed the other

  man, he was not thinking about it at all. And to learn more, Domenic would have

  had to force rapport with the man, the idea of which revolted him so much that

  the remnants of his appetite left him abruptly.

  Domenic listened to the footfalls as they continued up the stair, then heard

  them move overhead, toward the end of the corridor where he had seen Granfell

  go. After a second there was a slight noise of a door opening and closing, then

  nothing more. He looked down at his bowl, saw there were only a few mouthfuls of

  stew left in it, and forced himself to finish eating. Then he headed for his own

  room.

  Herm was sitting on the only chair in the room, looking weary and disgruntled.

  "Where were you? And why are you wet?" he growled.

  "I went out to clear my head, and then I was hungry and went to get something to

  eat. Vancof just came back. He went down the hall. I wonder what he will do when

  he finds Granfell there," Nico announced, feeling suddenly very certain of

  himself.

  Herm gave him a hard stare, reassessing him in some fashion. Then his face

  twisted in something like a smile, although it was more like a hound baring its

  teeth. "With any luck, he will kill him, and then we will have one less enemy to

  worry about. Did you get to Lew about alerting the Towers."

  "Who's being bloodthirsty now?"

  Herm just shrugged. "You reached Lew?"

  "Yes, Uncle, and it gave me an appetite."

  Herm gave a barking laugh, which only increased his resemblance to a snarling

  cur. "You should not have gone out alone. If anything happened to you . . . I

  forget that you are a growing boy, not a man, and need your vittles." Then he

  gave a little sigh, ran his stubby fingers through his thinning hair, and

  grunted softly.

  "I was not alone precisely, because one of the Guardsmen followed me on my walk

  and kept an eye on me from a discreet distance."

  "That's better. This situation is becoming more and more dangerous, and I don't

  think I can take on worrying about your safety at the moment. I don't know which

  way to turn, and I realize I have gotten altogether too dependent on technology

  during my years in the Federation. I keep wanting to have a communicator, not to

  mention a blaster or two."

  "You wouldn't use a blaster, would you?" Nico was rather startled, both at the

  admission of frustration, and at the ruthlessness that seemed to have emerged

  without any warning. The cheerful companion of the road seemed to have vanished,

  and he was at a loss. All the tales about the Aldarans that the servants told

  danced in his head for a moment, and then he came to his senses. Herm was a man,

  no matter what his family name might be, and he was probably no more ruthless

  than any other-than Grandfather Lew, for instance, or even Mikhail. It was only

  that Domenic had never seen them in dangerous circumstances.

  "Probably not. But you can bet your life that Granfell is hiding one somewhere

  on his person, and will have no hesitation in using it. I suspect that the only

  reason that Vancof was able to knife the other fellow was that he never

  suspected he was in any danger."

  "Is that why you didn't want to grab him when I told you he was down the hall?"

  "That's one reason, Nico. The Guardsmen are brave fellows, but I did not want to

  have them trying to use swords on people armed with blasters. And I want to see

  what they are up to."

  "But if we stop them here, then they won't be able to attack the funeral train."

  "That is true in theory, but we have no idea what has been planned by now. There

  are too many players on the board-Belfontaine and perhaps others in Thendara, as

  well as whomever is involved up in the Aldaran Domain. Capturing Vancof and

  Granfell would not stop things if there are troops up in the Hellers preparing

  to descend on this little town."

  "They couldn't get here unnoticed, could they? I mean, someone would see the

  flyers." Domenic knew about the vehicle which Dom Damon owned and used to come

  to Thendara, although he had never actually seen it.

  Herm shook his head. "They would not come in little flyers, but in machines that

  are much larger, capable of transporting fifty men, armed with weapons that

  could lay waste to this town in about three seconds. I don't know exactly what

  they have here, but for decades now there have been transports that are

  virtually invisible to the naked eye. I have no idea if any of those are on

  Darkover. But, if there are such here, you can wager that those are what they

  will use to carry the ambush party."

  "Invisible? You mean like those cloaks that legend says we once
had, only

  bigger?"

  "Pretty much."

  Domenic chewed this idea over for a moment. "So, basically, what you are saying

  is that swords are no match for Federation machines, and we might as well try to

  throw rocks! What are we going to do?" He had a terrifying vision of great bolts

  of lightning blasting his father and mother to cinders as they rode toward the

  rhu fead with Regis' body. It seemed very real, and the helplessness he had

  experienced earlier returned with a vengeance.

  Herm flinched, as if aware that he had frightened Nico. "Try to outsmart them.

  And hope that they do not dare to use high technology weapons, but will dress

  themselves as brigands and meet us on equal terms. The one thing that is to our

  advantage is that they do not know we know they are up to something. The

  Federation does not have much respect for Darkover, and they do not know much

  about our secrets. Lew led them to believe that the Towers were religious

  establishments rather than anything else, and fortunately for us, the people of

  Darkover have not told them any different."

  "I hate them! Why are they doing this? We've never done any harm to the

  Federation, have we?"

  Herm sighed gustily. "None that I am aware of, Nico. As for the whys, that is

  more difficult to answer. One is because they can, and the other is that the

  leaders of the Federation have, over the past two decades, begun to mistake

  power for authority."

  "I don't understand."

  "It is the difference between force and cooperation, Nico. The Domains have

  managed to continue on Darkover because they have been wise enough to keep a

  balance between themselves, through cooperative efforts, so that no one Domain

  became too strong and could overwhelm the others. Regis' decision to get the

  Aldarans back into the Comyn is part and parcel of that idea-that we all inhabit

  the same planet and have to get along, in spite of our differences. My father,

  damn him, has never believed in such ideas, and what he would like is for

  Darkover to be ruled by a strong man-he always thought Regis was a

  lightweight-who would just make people do what he thought was best for them. And

  he imagines himself to be that man, probably. Or plans to set Robert up as

  king."

  "I don't think your brother would agree to that."

  "That is reassuring, since I haven't had any contact with Robert for over twenty