Traitor's Sun

  "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.