Traitor's Sun

  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