"It is a shame we could not have fostered him to someone."
"I don't really think that that would have helped, Mikhail. Are you feeling as
if you were a poor parent? I know I am."
"Yes, I am. If only he wasn't such a prickly boy, so hard to . . . and you are
right. Who would we have dared to foster him to? My brother Gabriel might have
done, except that that would have placed him near to Javanne, and besides, Regis
would never have agreed, would he?"
Marguerida sighed. "Your brother is an estimable man, when he isn't being a
complete jackass, but I don't think he would have made any better a parent than
we have done. We might just as well accept the fact that we did the best we
could, and it wasn't enough!"
"Marguerida, this is not the end of the world! I know you are exhausted, and
that you have been wearing yourself out, handling all the arrangements and
worrying about Nico at the same time. But he did manage to tell you that he
feels like some sort of unnatural child, didn't he?"
"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Her golden eyes sparkled with anger,
and color came into her pale cheeks.
"Yes, it is. I don't know-maybe all boys that age feel to some degree
unnatural." Mikhail rubbed his forehead and tried to will away his headache. He
could heal anyone but himself, it seemed. "I could always tell Regis anything,
when I was young, before this," he said, shaking his gloved hand. "Poor Dani
couldn't. So Regis was a better parent to me than he was to his own son. And I
have never been able to speak to my own father as I did with Regis, or the way I
can with Lew. I think the fact that Nico can write you such a letter says that
you have been a very good mother. I think he struggled over it, trying to find
the right words. He is very brave, you know." He did not add how miserable he
felt, after reading the letter, that he had done to Domenic exactly what he had
sworn he would never do-kept the boy at arm's length and made it difficult for
both of them.
"But what are we going to do?"
"I don't know. And right now, Nico's unhappiness is the least of our worries. We
can think about it after we have . . . gotten past the rest of it."
"This is our son, Mik!"
"Yes, he is. And he has gotten all the best of us and the worst as well-he has
Lew's dour temperament, your intelligence, and my own damned imagination! But,
Marguerida, he will not die from being unhappy, and from this letter, I think he
is likely more capable of knowing himself than I was at that age."
"He really has never been young, has he?"
"No. He has an ancient soul, and we both know it."
"Do you think that . . .?"
"That he is Varzil returned? I don't know, but it would hardly be surprising if
that had occurred. The timing makes it likely. And that would not be such a
terrible thing, would it?"
"What do you mean?"
"Varzil was a great man, in his time, and, for a future ruler of Darkover, I
cannot think of a better prospect. But, first, my dear, we have to get there."
Mikhail was more troubled than he admitted. He stared at his gloved hand. He did
not want to think about the future, about the possibility that his firstborn
would want to wrest the ring from him. True, he would have willingly cast it
aside a thousand times, but that was another matter. Then he relaxed, so
suddenly it took him by surprise. His limbs went slack and the throbbing in his
temple vanished. He knew his son better than that. Domenic was the last person
in the world who would try to seize the power of that ring.
Mikhail turned the letter over in his hand, and reread a paragraph on the first
side. It was brief, and mentioned only that Nico had been experiencing some sort
of unusual hearing-something he had thought were hallucinations at first. The
script was tight, the glyphs crowded together more than in the rest of the
missive, and Mikhail suspected that his son had refused to expand on the
subject. Domenic had hinted at rather than disclosed what was really eating at
him, he decided, reading between the lines and letting his imagination go where
it would, just for the pleasure of thinking about something different than the
problems which had plagued him for days.
What had Nico heard, and why did it disturb him so? Mikhail wished he had been
able to get the boy to talk to him earlier. Perhaps Lew knew something about
it-Nico often confided in his grandfather. Well, it was clearly not some
immediate matter. His son was safe for the present, and that was all that was
important.
"Marguerida, it will all be behind us in a few days."
"That is true-and thank goodness for that. I don't know how much more strain I
can manage without taking to my bed and refusing to move."
"I like the sound of that-we could both just retire to the bedchamber and make
love until we were too tired to move."
"How can you think about sex at a time like this?" she asked, sounding both
pleased and annoyed.
"How can I think of anything else when I look at you?"
"You still find me comely?"
"Caria, you are the most desirable women in the world, and perhaps in the entire
galaxy, to me."
She rose and came to him, slipping her arms around his chest and resting her
head on his shoulder. Then she lifted her lips and kissed him softly, then with
greater passion, until he could think of nothing else."
21
Mikhail entered the Crystal Chamber with Marguerida, her hand on his arm,
gripping his muscles between her strong fingers. He had been dreading this
moment ever since Regis had fallen ill. No, longer than that! In a way, he had
been moving toward this fate all his adult life. He had not expected it to come
so soon, nor to find himself so unprepared.
It was one thing to plan for the future, and quite another to experience it. He
had not been prepared for Regis to die for decades yet, and even though time had
passed since the actual event, it was not until Mikhail entered the chamber that
he felt the enormity of what awaited him. There had been a certain dreamlike
quality to it all until he faced the empty chair which his uncle had occupied on
so many occasions.
He glanced at his wife, noted the extreme pallor of her complexion and the
tension in her neck muscles. This gathering of the Comyn was going to be
difficult. They both knew that, and the strain of it showed in her face. Mikhail
took in her flashing golden eyes, so full of intelligence, the curls of her
still fiery hair, and the way the corners of her mouth were firmly tucked in.
She looked just as formidable as he knew she was, and he felt his heart lift
just a little, to have her beside him, fierce and determined. He knew how weary
she actually was, and yet none of it showed. Now all he had to do was match her,
strength for strength.
Out of the corner of his eye Mikhail glimpsed Donal Alar a few strides behind
him, and, next to him, his brother Rafael. It was the first time Rafael had come
to the Crystal Chamber in many years, since Regis had barred him because of
Gisela's mischief. It was ironic, really, since Rafael's marria
ge to the Aldaran
woman had been Regis' idea in the first place. True, it had been a political
match-an attempt to keep Dom Damon happy and quiet. That had failed, of course,
since the old lord of the Aldaran Domain would never be quiet, short of the
grave. And it had caused a great deal of misery for Rafael and Gisela as well.
He recalled the expression on her face, when he had come to speak to his
brother. He knew now that she genuinely cared for Rafael. It gave him a deep
sense of satisfaction to have his brother at his back, a feeling of support he
knew he would need to get through the next few hours.
Mikhail decided to count his blessings-his wife, his father-in-law, his brother,
his paxman, and the rest of his trusted advisors. He tried very hard not to
think about the inevitable confrontation with his mother that would undoubtedly
make the chamber ring with discord. At least, finally, all the tension that had
made Comyn Castle so uncomfortable for the past several days would be released,
but he wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse. Something like a laugh
started up from his belly, but did not quite reach his throat. In spite of their
brazen words, none of the men who had conferred in the study had actually had
the nerve to drug Javanne Hastur into silence, not even Lew Alton. Beside, they
were all too ethical and it wouldn't have solved anything in the long run.
He turned his attention back to his wife. It was almost a shame that they had
both become so restrained over the years. Mikhail remembered their first
quarrels now, with a kind of nostalgic pleasure. That first meeting, when he had
accused her of intending to toss his parents out of Armida, came back to him.
They had not fought like that in years, and he rather missed it. Instead, they
held themselves in check, grinding their teeth, hissing and whispering, almost
as if they were afraid to permit their furies into the light of day.
That thought made him actually chuckle, and Marguerida gave him a sharp look.
The huge matrixes in the ceiling of the chamber prevented any form of telepathic
communication, so she was unable to catch his thought. "Are you going to share
the joke, Mik?" Her usually beautiful voice was thick with tension.
"Of course, caria. I was just thinking that if we were less controlled, and more
like my mother, we could have a perfectly wonderful time shouting and screaming
at everyone."
To his delight, he saw a small smile relieve the rigid expression on her face.
"I would not demean myself in that way, but I confess that the temptation is
very strong. I would just adore to have a nice bout of hysterics, or rant and
rave. Alanna has all the fun!" He heard the tension begin to leave her voice,
and knew that he had improved her mood considerably.
"She does, doesn't she. It is not fair."
"I almost wish I was back at Arilinn, in my wee cottage, with nothing more
important to do than play my harp and eat my head off. Or that I could get on
Dyania and ride and ride. If I had realized how hard it was going to be to act
my age, I think I would have given up at twenty."
"Considering how much you loathed Arilinn . . ."
"I said in my cottage, not in the Tower!"
"True, you did. We will be going to the rhu fead in two days, if we survive the
council meeting without bloodshed, and you can have your wish to get on a horse,
at least."
"You don't think . . ."
"I think my mother will do her best to oppose me, and I think that Dom Damon
will be somewhere between difficult and impossible-but, no, I don't actually
expect anyone to draw steel. Is it just me, or does it feel as if a thunderstorm
is about to break?" He was glad, at that moment, that the dampers prevented her
from knowing his mind. It had occurred to him that Francisco Ridenow might do
exactly that, and although he knew that both Donal Alar and his brother Rafael
would leap to defend him, Mikhail did not want to see anyone hurt.
"Since I have caught myself looking out the windows several times, and been very
disappointed that all I saw was a light cloud cover, I think it is not just you.
At least the rain has finally stopped-I believe it was making everyone even more
fractious than they already were. Right now, Mik, I really wish we could travel
a few hours into the future, and skip the actual council meeting completely."
"What a splendid notion! A pity we cannot manage it. Except that if I could,
Mother would use it as further evidence of my unfitness to govern Darkover."
"I hoped that the news that the Federation was planning to depart would make her
happy, and cause her to forget all about how much she mistrusts you," Marguerida
answered, sighing deeply.
"Nothing will please her except to see someone other than myself in Regis'
place, I am afraid. She has nearly driven poor Dani insane with her suggestions
that he change his mind over the whole thing, give up the Elhalyn crown and
assume the Hastur Domain, even though the Cortes Court settled the matter years
ago. Once my dear mother gets an idea into her head, nothing short of a bolt
from the blue will dislodge it. Dani is ready to throttle her, and poor Lady
Linnea looks as if she wants to hide in the attic every time she has to see
her." And she as definitely cultivating young Gareth, which is not good for him
or anyone else.
Donal cleared his throat softly, to signal that someone else was coming into the
room. Mikhail glanced over his shoulder at his young paxman, and saw Dom Damon
Aldaran and his son Robert coming through the door. Behind him were Lady Javanne
and Dom Gabriel Lanart-Alton. His mother's cheeks were ruddy with suppressed
fury, and her blue eyes sparkled with determination. She was dressed in her
favorite shade of green, with a gold lace frill beneath her chin.
Javanne glared at Dom Damon, almost willing him to step aside and allow her to
enter before him, but the old Aldaran man was completely unwilling to yield. He
always treated Javanne as if she were a peasant, not a Hastur. For that matter,
Dom Damon was just as rude to other women, including Marguerida, and Mikhail was
happy to blame much of Gisela's mischief on her father. What a mercy Giz had
been so well-behaved the past few days-spending time with Katherine Aldaran and
staying out of trouble.
Robert Aldaran gave him a look of resignation as he allowed Javanne to precede
him into the Crystal Chamber. He looked haggard in his plain brown tunic, and
embarrassed as well. Why did they both have to have such impossible parents?
The exchange of glances heartened Mikhail. Robert was very sensible, and had,
during recent years, become one of Mikhail's and Regis' strongest allies on the
Council, often siding against Dom Damon. It was, he knew, a very peculiar thing,
remarkable in light of the antipathy and mistrust toward the Aldaran Domain that
had been a constant on Darkover for generations. The shifting alliances between
the various Domains always made Mikhail shake his head in wonder; he could never
reliably predict how they would go.
He found himself thinking again of Francisco Ridenow, and another gathering in
the Crystal Cha
mber, when Regis had decided to reinstate the Comyn Council
almost seventeen years before. Then Francisco had been Mikhail's friend, but now
he was a foe-and it was all Varzil's fault! When Mikhail and Marguerida had come
back from the past with the great matrix of the fabled laranzu, everything had
changed. Francisco had felt that the great matrix should be riding on the hand
of a Ridenow. It was irrelevant to him that it could not be given away, nor, he
suspected, wrested by force without killing both the wearer and anyone who tried
to take it. Mikhail's own matrix was integrated with the greater one, keyed to
his particular energy, for as long as he lived. None of that made the least
difference to Francisco-he felt it was an heirloom of the Ridenow Domain, and
he, Francisco, should have it.
In light of Francisco Ridenow's rather checkered past, with the suspicion that
he had had a hand in the deaths of his rivals, his uncle, and two brothers, for
control of the Domain, Mikhail could only feel relief that there had been no
attempt to do away with him thus far. But, now, with Regis' death, perhaps that
would change, too. Francisco refused to believe that only Mikhail could wield
the matrix, since it was set in a ring instead of worn about the throat like
others. What if Francisco decided he could now get his elegant hands on the
treasure he desired?
Mikhail shook his head, to clear away these ugly thoughts. He was starting to
understand the concerns that had blighted his uncle's last years on Darkover,
the fears that had wracked him, even while surrounded by trusted friends. Regis
had survived the Sharra Rebellion and the attempts of the World Wreckers to
destroy the planet and gain control of it. The experiences had profoundly
affected his world view in his later years. Mikhail had no desire to imitate his
late uncle by becoming paranoid, or even overly cautious, but Francisco was
enough to give him pause. Mikhail refused to surrender to his imagination, as
tempting as it was. It was hard, though, and he would have preferred to have the
head of the Ridenow Domain with him, rather than against him.
What Varzil had not foreseen when he sent the ring into Darkover's present was
how greatly the passing of the matrix would affect the delicate balance between
the Domains. Mikhail did not blame the man-he had needed to get the ring away