"Is this word Carcosa?" She pointed.
"Yes, it is. But how did you figure it out?" Domenic knew she was very
intelligent, but she seemed to be learning much faster than he had anticipated.
Was she picking up clues from his mind-no, there was no sense of her overhearing
him. Then he realized he was enjoying teaching her, and that he did not want her
to learn so quickly, only because he did not want to end the time with her.
"I . . . uh . . . just matched the end of your first name with the letter you
made bigger, because you told me that places started with capitals. That's all.
Did I do it wrong?"
"No, Illona. You are a very good student."
"Write down ordinary words for me-bread and rain and . . . I want to know what
they all look like!"
Domenic did not move for a moment. Then he pulled the folded letter to
Marguerida toward him, opened it, and wrote above "Dear Mother," "Please send me
a copy of your book of folktales as soon as you are able." Then he turned back
to the other sheet of paper and began to pen the words Illona had requested.
"What did you just put in your letter?"
"I asked my mother to send me a book she wrote. You will like it because it is
full of stories, and by the time you get done with it, you will be able to read
very well."
"You asked . . ." she gave a little gasp of astonishment. "Your mother is
Marguerida Alton-Hastur, isn't she?"
"Yes."
Illona shook her head. "And you just asked her to send a book, as if she was . .
. a nobody. You are a very strange person, Domenic."
"Call me Nico-all my friends do."
"And I am your friend?"
"I told you that last night, didn't I?"
"Yes, but I didn't really believe you then. Now, write 'bread' for me."
It was late afternoon and the rain had been pouring down for hours. Katherine
Aldaran put down her brush and rubbed the back of her neck. She had lost track
of time. She gave a quick look at the panel on the easel, taking in the shapes
she had placed there, and decided it was not a bad beginning.
"Are you tired?" Gisela asked, from where she sat on a thronelike chair across
the room. "I know I am. I never imagined that sitting in one position could be
so wearing!"
"Forgive me-I got caught up in the work! I am not usually so thoughtless of my
sitters."
"I didn't mind, really. It was very interesting watching you. And I will tell
you a useful thing, if you like."
Kate put the brush into a jar of turpentine and swirled it around. "What's
that?"
"When you are thinking about painting, your mind gets extremely quiet."
"Quiet?"
"Well, maybe more like you are walled away. Shielded."
"I see. So if I walk down the corridor thinking about yellow ocher, no one can
hear my random thoughts? That is useful! Thank you."
"I am glad you didn't mind, Kate. Can I look at what you did, or must I wait
until it is done?"
"You won't see much at this stage, but you can look if you like." Actually,
Katherine did not usually let her sitters see the preliminary painting, because
it was just forms and was difficult for those who were not artists to
understand. At present, she had blocked in the shape of Gisela's head and
shoulders, the carved posts of the chair, and a little of the draping of the
violet tunic she had chosen to wear. What color there was in the face did not
resemble any human being yet, since green was not a hue that people ordinarily
thought of when they looked at themselves.
Before Gisela could rise and come toward the easel, there was a knock on the
door, and a second later Roderick stuck his red head into the room, his eyes
sparkling. Then he saw Gisela and he hesitated slightly. "Oh, sorry-Mother said
you might be working."
"It is fine, Rory-we are finished for today, aren't we, Kate?"
"Yes, we are. Did you come about learning to draw, Roderick?"
The boy grinned and glanced around the studio, taking in the panel on the easel
swiftly. "No, I didn't. Mother asked me to bring you this. She just got a letter
from Nico, and this one is for you-from Herm." Rory held out a thick packet and
shifted restlessly from foot to foot. He watched Kate with an air of
anticipation. When she did not immediately react, he looked very disappointed.
"Aren't you going to take it?"
"Thank you," Kate answered rather stiffly, and took the object from his hand.
"Aren't you going to read it?"
"Roderick Rafael Alton-Hastur-you are being a pest!" Gisela scolded him, but
there was no real anger in her voice. "It is private, you little scamp!"
"But, I just wanted to know how many Terranan he has killed so far!"
Gisela looked scandalized. "Shoo! Get along with you, you imp of Zandru! Both of
us are going to swallow our curiosity and leave Katherine to enjoy her letter in
peace."
"Ah, Aunty Giz, that's not fair! First Nico goes off and gets into trouble, and
I am stuck here in the castle, and then . . ."
"Enough!" Gisela was on her feet, shaking out the folds of her tunic and
petticoats.
"Please, Giz, don't go." Kate held the letter between her fingers, suddenly cold
all over. She did not want to be alone right now. "Why don't you make us some of
that nice tea we had earlier, while I . . ."
"Of course! Just what we need on a rainy afternoon." She walked over to the
fireplace, shook a kettle sitting on the hearthstones, and poured some water
into it from a jug nearby. Then she hung it on a hook, and turned around. "Are
you still here, Roderick?"
"You are so mean," he muttered, and then retreated and closed the door behind
him. Once he was gone, Gisela began to laugh, and in spite of her own tension,
Katherine joined in.
She sat down in the chair Gisela had been posing in and the merriment faded
away. Kate looked at the packet in her hands, dreading what might be within its
pages. She had said so many terrible things, in her fear, the night Herm had
left Comyn Castle. What would she do if he decided she was right-that being
married to a laranless wife was indeed impossible for him? And, knowing how much
her husband disliked emotional conflict, it would be just like him to tell her
in a letter, to avoid the inevitable confrontation it would mean.
"Kate, read your letter and stop your fretting." Giz spoke in a gentle voice,
and then turned away to clean out the pottery teapot.
Katherine sighed and broke the paper wafer which sealed the packet. Three sheets
unfolded on her lap, and Herm's large scrawl danced before her eyes. He had
written to her a few times when they were courting, but she had not seen his
handwriting since then, and the sight of it now made her heart leap in her
chest. She remembered how the sight of one of his notes had made her blood race
ten years before, how girlish and excited she had felt whenever she received
one.
Dearest Kate-
I am a fool. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being a
coward and running away at the first chance I had. Please understand that it was
not your fault, that nothing you did, i
ncluding point out my many stupidities,
was the cause. It was me, my fears and habits, that was the problem, and never
you, my caria.
There are so many things I want to tell you, that I should have told you
earlier, and I don't know if I have the courage to do it now. The paper under my
hand seems like a vast field of snow that I cannot get across.
Just at this moment, I am sitting in my room at an inn called the Crowing Cock.
It is in a little town called Carcosa, about a half day's slow ride from
Thendara-so I am not very far away, although it feels to me as if it were a
great distance. Last night there was a riot in the courtyard of the inn, and
people were killed. The rain came and freshened things up a little, but I can
still smell the stench of it. Perhaps that is my imagination, or maybe it is
that my clothes are filthy with ash and sweat and a lot of other unpleasant
things.
I am delaying getting down to business. First, I have to tell you that the
Station Chief at Federation Headquarters there in Thendara has an arrest warrant
out on me. I did not tell you about it when I learned of it, and you somehow
knew I was holding something back, even though I managed to distract you by
telling you that Ter‚se would need to be tested for laran. You were already so
tired and worried that I could not bring myself to add to it-well, that is my
excuse anyhow. I am hardly a threat to Federation security, and this man knows
that perfectly well, but he wanted to use my presence in Comyn Castle to cause
trouble for Mikhail Hastur.
Katherine stopped reading and looked up. "Did you know that Herm had an arrest
warrant out for him?"
"Yes, breda, I did, but Mikhail asked us-Rafael and me-not to tell you, because
he felt you didn't need to know about it so you wouldn't worry."
"I do wish everyone would stop keeping things from me and not meddle in my
life!"
Gisela chuckled and then took the kettle off the fire to pour hot water into the
teapot. "I'm not sure if that is possible on Darkover-everyone seems to meddle
just for sport."
"Sport!" Kate spat out the word and felt much better for it. "I suppose it is
something to do-when you are snowed in for weeks at a time," she added, less
angrily but with great feeling.
"It is better than killing each other, Kate."
"I'm not completely sure of that." She picked up the letter and went on reading.
But it was more than keeping Mikhail out of a mess he had no hand in. I came
home, expecting to feel at ease, and instead I found myself feeling trapped. No,
it was not you, but everything! After years dealing with the intrigues of the
Senate, you would have thought that those of my own people would be simple for
me. I only wish that were true. I felt more alienated in Comyn Castle than I did
when we were still in the Federation-exacerbated, I must add, by your own
entirely normal reaction to discovering that you were married to a telepath. In
short, you were only making things harder, Kate-and I just couldn't deal with
it.
That is not a very loving thing to write, but it is a true one. I hope you can
forgive me eventually. I behaved selfishly. I jumped at the opportunity to get
away from everything for a few days, and I do not regret the choice, even though
I caused you grief. I am not perfect, and I have been more imperfect these past
few days than I ever have before in my life.
"He says he isn't perfect," Kate told Gisela as the woman approached her with a
mug of steaming tea, the pleasant minty smell wafting toward her.
"He is only now discovering that?"
"I don't know, but he is admitting it now." She took a sip and found the tea too
hot to drink yet.
"I suppose that is progress of some sort," Gisela answered with her usual
tartness.
It seemed to me that too much was happening, and I was overwhelmed. I could not
bring myself to deal with the problem of your lack of laran, or how it might
affect our lives or the lives of our children. More, I could not cope with how I
suddenly felt about life here on Darkover. And then Nico discovered a plot
against Mikhail Hastur, and I offered my services.
I ran away, Kate, ran away from you and the children, who are my life, and I
confess that I was enormously relieved, even though I felt like dung. It was the
wrong thing to do, but also the right one. Can you understand that?
Probably not. I feel that I am making a complete fool of myself, but I had to
write and tell you as much as I was able. I want to come back to you, but just
at the moment that is not possible. I have to remain here with Domenic until
this matter is settled. But I hope that you can find it in your heart to somehow
overlook my many flaws, my secretiveness and my cowardice, and to start anew
very soon.
I remain, your adoring husband,
Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran
Katherine looked up and found there were tears in her eyes. She folded the
letter over and picked up her tea. Then she wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve
of her blouse. The soft spider silk brushed across her skin like a lover's kiss.
"Well?"
"He is very contrite."
"Herm was always good at that, when he was a boy. He was always sorry for the
mischief he got into. And he always meant it, too! Are you going to take him
back?"
"What choice do I have?"
"Kate, you can do just as you please-something I never had a chance to do. The
Aldaran Domain is not the richest on Darkover-Aldones knows it is certainly the
coldest!-but you will never want for anything, should you decide that he has to
sleep in the hawks' mews for the rest of his life. My brother Robert will see
that you are well provided for. So you don't have to take Hermes back just
because he says he is sorry. The question is-do you want him, imperfections and
all?"
Katherine did not answer immediately, but drank some of her tea. Then she
answered, slowly, "Yes, I do-as maddening as he is."
"Well, then, that settles it."
"Not exactly. Things can never be the same between us, Gisela, and I don't know
if he understands that. He is so good at manipulating me-everyone, for that
matter-and being clever, that he doesn't seem to realize the hurt it causes. So,
I am going to have to insist that . . ."
"What?"
"That he not treat me like some adoring little woman who can be pushed aside
when it pleases him!"
"That may be very difficult, Kate."
"I know." She bent her head forward and her shoulders drooped.
"Here, now, don't go falling into the dumps on me. Why, if things don't work
out, there are always the Renunciates!"
"The Renunciates!" Gisela had told Kate about those women, and she had been
fascinated. But the thought of herself living in a community of females was so
bizarre that it was funny, and she began to chuckle. "What, and cut off my
hair?"
Gisela rolled her eyes drolly. "There you are-saved by sheer vanity!"
Mikhail came into the sitting room of the suite and found Marguerida in a
high-backed chair, with a sheet of thick paper in her lap. H
e realized that it
was the first time, except for meals, that he had seen her seated in days. He
studied her, noticing the slightest redness at the tip of her nose and the
puffiness around her eyes-she must have been crying. And she looked so tired. He
wanted to kill anyone who made his wife weep. She would not like that thought,
since she preferred to take care of herself, but he could not entirely stem the
feeling of outrage. After perhaps half a minute he realized that he was just
using it as an excuse to vent his own emotions. Why shouldn't she cry if she
wished to?
"What's the matter, caria?"
Marguerida looked up, as if she had not noticed he had entered the room, and
stared slightly. "Nothing, really. Or perhaps everything. Nico has sent me a
letter."
"Really? Might I read it, or is it too private?"
"You may not like it."
"I don't like a great many things, dearest, but that does not prevent me from
discovering them." He tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, and almost
succeeded.
"I had no idea he was so dreadfully unhappy," she said as she handed him the
letter.
"All boys his age are unhappy, I think. I was, and Dani was. Fifteen is a
terrible year. At least he does not have spots any longer-I still did, and my
voice kept breaking, which embarrassed me no end." He looked down at the piece
of paper in his hand, realized he was looking at the back of it, and turned it
over. "I wonder why he asked for your book?" he asked, noticing the writing
above the salutation.
"I have no idea-maybe he is bored. I hope he is bored and not in danger."
"Umm." Mikhail was already deep in the first page and barely heard her remark.
He frowned over the words, admiring the care he knew had been put into them.
There was nothing he found very surprising, for he had suspected for some time
that Nico was perturbed about himself. He had assumed that Alanna Alar was the
cause, and had been happy at the way in which Domenic had walked the taut rope
between his affection for his foster-sister and propriety. He turned the page
over again, and looked at the back of the sheet.
Yes, Nico was upset about his feelings for his cousin, but that did not appear
to be the real problem. The words danced before his eyes, and Mikhail sat down
on the couch with a thump and reread them. When he was done, he shook his head.