Traitor's Sun

"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