boiling off of Illona must be close to what Marguerida Alton had gone through,
and he felt a deep empathy for her.
"I won't go to a Tower! I won't! You can't make me. I don't care who you are!"
"Why are you so afraid of the Towers?" It was genuinely puzzling to him. He had
never encountered anyone who expressed such a tremendous fear and antipathy for
the Towers before. Those students at Arilinn who were there less than willingly
had not been afraid, only uncomfortable and out of place. Still, he did not have
a lot of experience from which to work. Perhaps it was a more widespread feeling
than he could imagine.
He had grown up with Istvana Ridenow, the Keeper from Neskaya, always present,
and had never had a time when he was not aware of laran and its potential around
him. He knew her almost as well as he knew his own mother. He had nothing but
respect for her, and for the other leroni he had met during his time at Arilinn.
He was particularly fond of his cousin Valenta Elhalyn, who was now Underkeeper
there, even though she was only twenty-eight. She had a keen sense of mischief
and was rarely serious about the matter of matrix science, even when she was
teaching it. He could think of half a dozen others without straining, all sober,
hard-working men and women who had given their lives to serve Darkover.
"I don't want to slave away in a Tower."
"Slave? You make it sound as if you would be forced to . . ."
"The Towers are even worse than the Domains! They are parasites, and they do
nothing except keep people locked up."
"That is a very strange thing to say, Illona. I trained at Arilinn, and I am not
locked up, am I?" Parasites? The term startled him, and more, it disquieted him
more than a little. He wondered if this was only the idea of the thin,
frightened girl sitting opposite him, or if this opinion was common.
Domenic felt out of his depth and wished that there were someone he could
consult at that moment. Herm could not help him. He had been away from Darkover
too long. Should he ask one of the Guardsmen? They might have heard such
remarks. Rafaella? No, if she had heard such talk, she would have told his
mother.
"But you are some sort of lord, and can do as you please."
The words put his questions right out of his mind, and Domenic found himself
laughing. It felt good, except that it made the spot on his ribs where Illona's
elbow had struck him hurt. As far as he could see, his entire life had been
planned for him, before he was even born, and he had not been allowed to stray
from it until he snuck off in the night for this ill-fated adventure. He had
been closeted in Comyn Castle for years, except for his time at Arilinn, and one
visit to the Alton Domain years earlier. He knew that building very well, but
the city around it was largely a mystery to him. He almost envied her wider
experience. He also knew that there was no way he could convey this reality to
her, even as he knew he had to try.
For a moment he wondered why he felt compelled to persuade her of anything. Why
couldn't he leave it to others, people more skilled than himself. Illona was
only a girl, uneducated and rough, and not really any concern of his. Yet he
didn't believe that, even for a second. And if she really did have the Alton
Gift, then he had a duty to help her.
Did he like her because she was unlike anyone else he knew, or was there some
other reason? It made no sense, and all he had to go on was a feeling in his
belly that it was important to keep her from harm. It was similar to the way he
felt about Alanna, but without the feeling of despair he so often had about his
difficult foster-sister.
"That is not true, Illona. I've never done as I pleased. I have had duties and
obligations since the day I was born, and I have honored them as well as I
could. But I think you have been listening to the wrong people. Have you ever
actually talked to anyone who worked in a Tower?"
"No. I always stayed in the wain when we went there, because I was afraid." If I
had been noticed, then someone would have grabbed me and dragged me away from
Aunty. I knew that since I was eleven. I've always been afraid that I would get
caught.
"Caught?"
She glared at him in the flickering light from the fireplace, aware that he had
overheard her thoughts once again. "Yes. I knew that I had a tiny bit of laran,
even if I didn't want it. And everyone knows that they want to keep anyone with
laran locked up, or breeding for them."
"Illona, I think if you say 'everyone knows' one more time, I am going to be
very angry. You don't know anything at all!"
She glared at him fiercely, the light playing across the freckles on her sharp
nose in a pleasing way. "I am just an ignorant girl, huh? And you are some vai
dom who knows it all. You are not much older than I am, or maybe younger, even.
Who are you!"
He hesitated for a moment, caught between the need for secrecy and his enormous
desire to gain her trust. Then he threw caution to the winds and used his Gift.
Domenic Gabriel-Lewis Alton-Hastur.
The expression on her face would have been comical if it had not been so
frightened. "How did you do that," she whispered, shrinking back on her seat. "I
didn't do that-you did-on purpose!"
"It is something I learned at Arilinn." The slight lie came easily to his
tongue. "It is something you might learn as well, if you were not so
muleheaded."
"I am not going to listen to you! You are a nasty boy, and I hate you." This is
even worse than I thought-he's a Hastur. He could turn my mind to dust in a
second, if he wanted. What does he want from me?
"A nasty boy would not have rescued you from that mob, Illona." Domenic refused
to let himself be drawn in by her fear or anger, but it was difficult. He felt a
sudden, powerful need to defend himself, to say something that would dissuade
her from her odd beliefs about the Towers and his own family.
Several emotions flickered across her mobile features too quickly for him to
name them. She pleated the front of her tunic between nimble fingers, weighing
something in her mind. "That's true, I guess. But it doesn't change anything.
You are still my enemy, and you want to force me into servitude."
"What does that mean?"
"If you have your way, you will either lock me up, or marry me off to someone so
I can have babies with laran."
He shook his head. "No, that is not true. I wish you could meet my mother. She
and I have had any number of interesting discussions about that subject, and she
does not approve of breeding for laran any more than you do."
"So, why did she submit and have children, then?"
"I believe that she was in love with my father-and, truthfully, submit is not a
word I would ever use to describe her! She kicked and screamed about going to
Arilinn, or so I have been told. And I am glad she had children, or else we
would not be having this fascinating conversation, because I would not exist."
"That would suit me just fine." She chewed on her lower lip and thought for a
few seconds. "Look, why don't you just p
retend to look the other way, and I will
leave, and you can forget about me?"
"And then what would happen?"
"I'll go find another troupe of Travelers. I am a good puppeteer, even if I
don't like it very much."
"I can't. It wouldn't be right."
"Why not?"
"Because letting a wild telepath just wander off into the night would be wrong,
that's all. And that is what you are, right now. Your talent isn't going to go
away, Illona. You need to know how to use it properly, or else you are going to
be a danger to yourself and everyone around you."
"No! I want to go back to the Travelers!" She paused and peered at him intently.
"You know something about them, don't you? Damn, damn, damn! I can almost hear
your thoughts, which is the most revolting thing in the world. It is like you
are nearly whispering in my head. I don't want this'!" She whimpered slightly
and clenched her teeth to hold back the sound.
Nico swallowed hard and thought about this piece of information. His own mind,
he knew, was well-shielded and he was not forcing rapport with her. Without
training and a matrix stone, she should not be able to hear him, unless his
earlier suspicion was correct. And if he informed her of the nature of her Gift,
she was going to collapse. She was too near the ragged edge of her own endurance
as it was. After giving her some time to think, he asked "Wouldn't you rather be
able to control your Gift than be at its mercy all the time?"
"Gift!" She spat the word out, as if it was foul on her lips. "I'm not at the
mercy of anything! I just keep my concentration on something, and then I don't
hear anything hardly at all."
"That sounds very tiring, Illona." Domenic felt a tremendous sympathy for her
now, and a regret that she was so conflicted.
Illona's shoulders slumped forward a little. "Yes, I guess it is," she admitted
grudgingly. Then a little of her normal defiant attitude returned. "But it is
better than sneaking around listening to things that are none of my business, or
making people do things they don't want to do, like the leroni."
"Is that what you believe?"
"Everyone knows . . . oops, I did it again, didn't I?" She shrank back, afraid
of his earlier threat. When he made no move to strike her, she relaxed slightly,
wriggling her bare toes over the lower rung of her chair. Fear and curiosity
warred in her sharp features, and he caught wisps of memory, of beatings and
hunger, cold and constant fear of those around her. Only Loret seemed to have
treated her with any real kindness.
Nico felt sick and ashamed of himself. He had no idea until that instant of how
really hard her life had been. No one had ever struck him for no better reason
than that they were angry or drunk. He had been frightened, but only of the
strange things within himself, never of his parents. Even his grandmother had
never done him any more injury than to hate him.
Domenic wondered what words would reassure her. Perhaps silence was the best
answer, that and not making any move that would threaten the girl. She was very
quick, and perhaps she would work it out for herself.
After several minutes of quiet, Nico saw her relax slightly, and sensed that her
curiosity might be the victor for the moment. "But how else does a Keeper work?
I mean, no one would really want to live in a Tower unless they were forced to,
would they?"
"Have you ever gone to Nevarsin?"
"What a strange thing to ask. Yes, I have. We went there once, about three years
back. Why?"
"Did you see the cristoforos?"
"Certainly."
"Was anyone making them stay there?"
"That's different. They don't have anything anyone wants. They are just a bunch
of crazy old men who believe in some weird god."
"The biggest difference between a Tower and a monastery is that a Tower is not
concerned with religion, Illona. But both are communities of people who have
things in common."
"You will never convince me of that. The Towers take the best people and make
them into slaves, and then expect the rest of Darkover to support them. They
don't do anything!"
"You don't know that since you have never been in a Tower."
"Then tell me what good they are, except to keep the Domains in power?"
This novel idea had never occurred to him, but he could see now how someone
living on the edges of Darkovan society might believe it. "They are schools for
people like yourself, Illona, who would go mad if they did not receive
training."
"I've done fine so far."
"Then you have been very fortunate."
"I don't want to spend the rest of my life locked up!"
"Lots and lots of people take training in the Towers and then leave."
"I don't believe you." She was absolutely determined to hold to her own fears.
"Fine. Ask Rafaella. She has a sister who spent some time at Neskaya, then left
and married and is very happily living her own life, up in the Kilghards."
"She would say anything you told her to."
This was too much for him, in his tiredness, and he found himself laughing while
the girl glared at him, outraged and furious. When he finally managed to get
himself under control, he said, "I am sorry. I was not laughing at you, though
you probably don't believe me. It is just that the very thought of me telling my
Aunt Rafi what to do struck me as very funny."
"Your aunt? You have an aunt who is a Renunciate?" Illona seemed to be having a
great deal of trouble taking in this relationship.
"She is my mother's best friend, and she is freemated to a great-uncle of mine,
Rafe Scott."
"The same Rafe Scott who runs expeditions?"
"You know of him, then?"
"Sort of. I . . . have heard of him."
"How?"
"Dirck thought about him sometimes, and I kept catching the name when we were
still up in the Hellers." She seemed troubled now, as if something about
Vancof's thoughts unsettled her.
Nico waited for her to continue, but Illona became quiet and thoughtful instead.
He forced himself not to even brush her mind, letting her sort things out for
herself. At last he said, "Tell me about Dirck's thoughts, why don't you?"
"He drinks, you know."
"I had that impression."
"Well, when he does, it is like he is throwing his thoughts all over the room.
Nasty things. I tried not to hear anything, because it made me want to throw up.
And it was all muddled, with a lot of things I didn't understand. But I do know
he was afraid of Rafe Scott for some reason, and often thought about trying to
kill him, when he was really in his cups. He thought about killing people a lot,
and I think he has done it, too." Illona shivered. "He is a very bad man, but
after our regular driver left, we didn't have a lot of choice."
"Your driver left?"
"I guess. He just didn't show up one morning, and the next day Dirck showed up
and said he was from Dyan Player's troupe, and Aunty-you think that Dirck . . ."
"It does seem very convenient, doesn't it?"
Illona pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her
legs, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. She seemed very small
and afraid, but her fear was no longer of Nico. He looked beyond her, toward the
wall, staring at the paneling and refused to let his mind catch even the
slightest thought that ran in her brain. "Yes, I suppose it was," she said
softly. "I never liked him, and neither did Aunty-and just look where it got
her! But I told myself that I was being silly, because, you know, he looked at
me so . . . strangely. Like he wanted to do something bad to me, only he dared
not because of Loret." She paused, swallowed hard, reliving those moments, he
was sure. "And I never took the things I heard him think seriously."
"Why not?"
"It was too scary." She trembled all over for a moment, then forced herself to
stop. "What would you do if you were riding around the countryside with a man
who seemed to be a . . . murderer? And who thought about-"
Domenic received a clear and unwelcome impression of rape, and it was all he
could do not to march up the stairs, enter the room where he knew Vancof was at
that moment, and kill the man. He controlled his own feelings with an effort.
Aware that he did not want to frighten her again, that he was beginning to gain
her trust, he only said, "You couldn't very well tell a village constable, I
suppose."
Illona gave a feeble laugh. "We Travelers stay as far away from them as we can,
because they are always looking for a way to make trouble for us. It is bad
enough that we have to bribe them half the time, to let us perform. Not the ones
near the Towers, though. But the ones in the smaller towns are greedy bullies as
often as not. Except to smile and say good day, I have never spoken to a
constable in my life!"
Nico chewed on this for a minute. It gave him a perspective on life outside the
walls of Comyn Castle that was strange and uncomfortable. Had it always been
like this, or had the withdrawal of Regis Hastur during the final years of his
life allowed these actions to occur? He had never experienced any situation
where he could not have asked for help, and he knew that this was not true for
the girl, and for others like her as well. He could not even start to imagine
what her life had been like, and the little he had learned so far only made him
feel sick and sad. Domenic had never really thought about common life on