Traitor's Sun

  "Domenic must never be permitted to succeed, and neither must Mikhail." Javanne

  spoke firmly, and it was clear that she was sincere. No matter how many leroni

  assured her that the events that had taken place during Mikhail and Marguerida's

  strange adventure in the past had actually occurred, she refused to believe that

  her grandson was the legitimate issue of a real marriage. She had fixed her mind

  on the idea that Nico was nedestro, and nothing could budge her from it.

  Mikhail felt his heart sink, and he felt slightly ill. He wanted her approval

  and support, and he wondered how she could hate him so much. Well, perhaps she

  did not hate him, but only hated that she could not influence him, could not

  force him to follow her own plans. But she did hate his oldest child, and his

  wife, and that was almost more than he could bear.

  "None of you really understand, and think me a foolish old woman," Javanne

  exclaimed, anguish in her voice. "Regis cannot have been in his right mind when

  he named Mikhail his heir-it is impossible! Mikhail must have used his powers to

  . . ." Her voice trailed away and she began to sob.

  Everyone at the table was looking at him, averting their eyes from the spectacle

  of Javanne Hastur's grief. Mikhail felt his cheeks flame with a combination of

  embarrassment and rage that made his hands tremble. No one had ever openly

  accused him of using his matrix to his own advantage before, although he knew

  that the thought had crossed their minds. The ancient di catenas bracelet

  encircling his wrist rattled against the tabletop as he tried to master himself,

  to refrain from saying anything he would regret later. It made his heart ache,

  that his own mother would think such things of him, could regard him as so

  dishonorable.

  Marguerida put her left hand over his right one again, and, despite the dampers,

  he felt her healing power sweep over him. He felt his blood cease to roar in his

  veins, and his breathing returned to normal. He looked around the table, at his

  mother, Francisco Ridenow and Lady Marilla arrayed against him. Then he studied

  Dom Damon. It was almost enough to make him throw up his hands and storm out of

  the chamber in a rage.

  "Is there anyone else who imagines I influenced Regis Hastur in his decision?"

  he asked, surprised to find his voice steady and even.

  "It was very convenient for you, wasn't it?" Francisco commented, "when young

  Dani resigned and took the Elhalyn Domain, right after you showed up with that

  fantastic tale and what you claim is the matrix stone of my ancestor." Francisco

  glanced around the table, the center of all eyes. "And Dani was quite young, and

  so very malleable." His voice was soft with suggestion, and Mikhail wanted to

  hit him.

  Dani Hastur glared at Francisco and nearly spat with rage. "How dare you! Is

  there no ill thought you will not entertain? Next you will be suggesting that

  Mikhail had something to do with my father's death," he snarled. His hand left

  the table and went to the hilt of his dagger, but Miralys touched his arm and he

  released his grip.

  Francisco smiled narrowly. "So that thought crossed your mind, too, did it?" He

  tried to suggest a feeling of comradeship across the table with Regis' son. "It

  must have been so hard to wait for Regis to die, since the Hasturs are usually

  such a long-lived family."

  Danilo Syrtis-Ardais shifted in his chair, leaned forward slightly so that he

  could see Francisco clearly, and spoke. "That is the most disgraceful thing I

  have ever heard. I was with Regis when he had his stroke, and there was nothing

  about it that was the least unnatural. To suggest such shows more than I wish to

  know about the nature of your thoughts, Francisco. I had no idea you were so

  filthy-minded."

  If the words had any impact, Dom Francisco did not show it. Instead, he went on,

  speaking in a low voice, as if trying to persuade his listeners of the validity

  of his suspicions. "We do not really know what Mikhail can do with his matrix,

  do we, Dom Danilo? And even you can be fooled."

  Dyan Ardais pounded his fist on the table again. "You keep that damned tongue of

  yours behind your teeth, Francisco, or I will personally pull it from your

  mouth! Mikhail has never done anything to anyone except to heal them."

  "So why did Regis die? If Mikhail is so powerful, why was he unable to restore

  Regis? Your loyalty to Mikhail does you credit, Dom Dyan, but I think it blinds

  you as well."

  "And I suppose you think that I would not have known if something was wrong,

  Francisco," Danilo Syrtis-Ardais almost snarled. "I assume you think I am blind

  as well? Considering how you managed to achieve the rulership of your own

  Domain, I suppose such thoughts are natural."

  There was a stricken silence and everyone stared at Francisco Ridenow, even his

  usual ally, Lady Marilla. There was no one present who had not nourished

  suspicions about the deaths of those who stood in the way of Francisco, but no

  one had ever openly suggested that he had arranged them. The man flinched

  slightly, and his face paled as he realized he had gone too far.

  Dom Damon's eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to find some advantage in this

  conflict. Then his face cleared quickly. "While I am sure that Mikhail did

  nothing to his uncle, we cannot pretend that we are entirely free of suspicion.

  And we should remember that Mikhail is not the only Hastur-that he has two

  brothers, both older than himself, who could easily . . ."

  "Enough!" Rafael spoke for the first time. "I have no ambition to rule Darkover,

  and my brother Gabe has so little interest in politics that he did not even

  bother to attend the Council meeting. If you say another word, Dom Damon,

  against my brother, I will happily ram your teeth down your throat. I have been

  wanting to do that for years."

  "What-and deny me that pleasure?" Robert snapped from the other side of the

  table, baring his teeth at Rafael, like a wolf challenging a rival. "The

  succession was decided, long ago, and not in some moment of weak-mindedness the

  way Regis's loving sister would have it. This is hardly the time to think about

  changing it."

  Mikhail felt cold, as if a wind from the Hellers had just blown through his

  body. He had known for a long time that he was resented and feared, but the

  continuous barrage of violent feelings against him were eroding his strength.

  Despair flickered and burst into flame in his mind. How could he hope to lead

  the Domains, when he could not even control a Council meeting?

  Suddenly there was a remarkable sound, and the great trap matrices in the

  ceiling of the Crystal Chamber rang like chimes. Everyone looked up, and then

  there was an explosion of noise and blinding light. The shining stones burst

  into shards and cascaded not downward, but outward, toward the walls of the

  room, shattering into bits as they struck. Reflexively, everyone at the table

  flinched, and Lady Marilla half ducked under the protective rim of the table

  before she stopped herself.

  Mikhail heard a shout from one of the Guards near the doorway, and he sensed

  Donal rushing toward him. The young pa
xman flung himself against Mikhail's

  shoulder, throwing his body over Mikhail's, trying to protect him. He could feel

  the warm breath of his nephew against his cheek.

  A wind seemed to rise from nowhere, tugging at garments and hair, plucking away

  the butterfly clasps of the women and the knives of the men as if they were no

  more than twigs. Mikhail felt a sharp tug at his wrist, and watched, round-eyed,

  as his glove was pulled from his hand and rose in the swirling air. A minor

  tornado funneled to the ceiling, then angled off, bearing away the debris it had

  collected. Finally, the strange whirlwind flung itself against the farthest

  wall, the collected implements clattering to the floor with a loud noise.

  The silence that followed was broken only by gasps and a few screams. Everyone

  seemed too stunned to do more than stare at the destruction. Then Mikhail's ring

  quivered on his finger, and beams of light burst from it.

  "What manner of mischief is this," shouted Dom Francisco, pointing at Mikhail's

  hand.

  Before anyone else could speak, a shining cloud rose from the matrix and floated

  to the center of the table. It hovered there, about a foot above the carved

  wood, and then began to shift, to turn in place, spinning hypnotically. Mikhail

  found his mouth gaping in astonishment. The rest of the onlookers were just as

  stunned as he was, but he was sure they were going to turn and accuse him of

  using some trick on them as soon as they recovered their senses. The cold

  feeling in his muscles was gone now, but his mind felt numb.

  "YOU PACK OF FOOLS! I AM NOT EVEN DECENTLY LAID TO REST YET, AND ALREADY YOU ARE

  TRYING TO TEAR THE FABRIC OF DARKOVER TO PIECES WITH YOUR AMBITIONS. SHAME ON

  YOU!"

  "Father?" Although the volume was much greater than Regis Hastur had ever used

  in life, there was no mistaking the voice.

  "SON, I AM SORRY I DID NOT REALLY SAY FAREWELL. THE SPIRIT WAS WILLING, BUT THE

  FLESH WAS MUCH TOO WEARY."

  "How did you get into Mikhail's matrix?" Mikhail was glad that Dani was asking

  this question, because, for the moment, the power of speech seemed to have

  vanished from his mouth.

  "VARZIL RIDENOW SENT ME FORTH FROM THE OVERWORLD, TO MAKE ALL OF YOU STOP

  BEHAVING LIKE A PACK OF BRAYING ASSES. THE MATRIX WAS MERELY A CONVENIENCE. I

  BELIEVE HE WAS SO FURIOUS THAT A SPROUT OF HIS LINE WOULD BEHAVE AS FRANCISCO IS

  NOW, THAT HE ACTED, BUT I AM NOT SURE. CLOSE YOUR MOUTH, MIK. YOU LOOK LIKE A

  HOOKED TROUT."

  The ball of light began to move, rushing first toward Lew Alton. The swirling

  light settled on Lew's brow, and a remarkable expression came over the old,

  scarred face as tears slithered down into the seams and wrinkles. Then it moved

  on to Dom Gabriel, leaving Mikhail's father looking stunned but not distressed.

  There was near silence as the cloud of light continued its circuit, touching the

  two Aldaran men, then Dyan Ardais and his mother.

  Francisco Ridenow shrank back in his tall chair, trembling in spite of his

  efforts not to. When the cloud settled over his face, an expression of horror

  contorted his features, and he gave a bark of utter terror. He lifted a hand and

  tried to brush the light away, then snatched it back as if it had burned him. It

  seemed to cling to the Ridenow man for what seemed a long time, and when it

  finally drifted away, Francisco slumped forward onto the surface of the table.

  Javanne Hastur sat stiffly, waiting and showing no fear. There was something in

  her countenance that spoke of a determination not to pay the least attention to

  what was going to occur, and when the light settled over her, she did not move.

  Then her hands, resting on the table, clenched into fists, and the cold

  expression in her face began to fade. Instead she looked very angry, as if she

  were arguing with her dead brother, and was getting the worst of it.

  "How could you, Regis? How could you?" she murmured at last, as the shining

  energy departed.

  Donal released his grip on Mikhail and stepped back as Mikhail waited his turn,

  too tired to feel afraid. What he experienced he could never afterward

  completely describe, but he felt a great, supportive affection that embraced him

  while simultaneously examining him ruthlessly. It was as if none of the previous

  years had ever happened. There was nothing of the anxiety and mistrust that had

  saddened both Regis and Mikhail, no rebukes or fault finding. The pain of the

  past was gone, as if it had never existed.

  Mikhail barely noticed the reactions of the rest of the Council members as the

  cloud finished its journey, except that Danilo Syrtis-Ardais was smiling, and

  that Dani Hastur and Miralys were both weeping. At last he roused himself enough

  to turn and look at Marguerida. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears, but her

  face was as serene as he had ever seen it.

  The cloud returned to the center of the table, and Mikhail watched as the light

  began to change once more. It folded into itself, until there was nothing except

  a spark, hovering above the polished wood. Then it sped back toward the ring,

  and the cold which had touched him earlier returned, and vanished a second

  later. He felt a moment's sorrow that Lady Linnea was not there to experience

  this last farewell, and then the thought was gone.

  He found Dani looking at him, and Mikhail realized that with the dampers

  destroyed, the younger man must have overheard his regret for Lady Linnea.

  Indeed, now he could catch the uppermost thoughts of everyone; the mental

  silence that he was accustomed to in the chamber was no more. Then, as if the

  others realized this as well, he felt their personal shields go up, with a sense

  of relief.

  Everyone began to speak at once, as if by unspoken agreement; they would not use

  their laran for the present. Mikhail made no effort to stop them. He was too

  busy trying to sort out everything which had been lodged in his mind. There was

  much more than Regis' love for him, and his belief in Mikhail. There had been an

  enormous burst of thoughts and emotions and knowledge as well, and he felt

  rather addled by the effect of it all. He reached out and took the cider Donal

  had poured for him earlier, draining the cup in three chilly gulps.

  He knew now why Regis had died so young, that when he had wielded the Sword of

  Aldones during the Sharra Rebellion, he had paid a price that shortened his

  life, that same force that had turned a young man's hair white had stolen

  decades of his time on this earth. Mikhail wanted to weep with relief that he

  really had done all he could, but he held himself back. Instead, he focused on

  the import of the rest of what Regis had told him, and most especially that he

  must inform the Comyn Council about the plot against his life immediately, and

  without hesitation.

  Mikhail looked across at Lew, and knew from his serious expression that Regis

  had told him some of these same things. So, he gazed around the table, and

  slowly the babbling ceased; all eyes were upon him. He took a long, slow breath.

  Regis was right. To put it off any longer would make him appear weak. He must

  take command now, no matter how he felt. If only he could f
ind the right words

  to say, to get them to forget their own petty concerns and work together.

  Then he looked up at the shattered remnants of the trap matrices overhead, and

  laughed deeply. It was going to be very difficult to keep anything a secret now,

  and he did not know if he was glad or sorry for it. His sudden burst of

  merriment was disturbing to several of the people seated at the table, but he

  refused to choke it back.

  Finally, he regained control of himself. "We have spent much too long already

  debating decisions which were made years ago. No more! There is a plot against

  my life, but also against the lives of the rest of you. This is something which

  we have to deal with, and now!"

  "A plot? First you try to frighten us with the threat of Comyn Castle being

  attacked, and then you say this! What a pack of nonsense!"

  "Didn't you listen to anything your brother said to you, Mother?"

  Francisco Ridenow had recovered himself, and was sitting up in his chair again,

  still pale but clearly nursing a grievance. "A plot against you-how convenient,"

  he sneered. "And just how did you come across this purported plot, when you have

  not been outside Comyn Castle in months?"

  "That is quite enough, Francisco," snapped Lew. "Don't be obstructive."

  "I will be whatever I damn well please. Regis has been jumping at shadows for

  years, and I have always wondered how much of that can be laid at your feet,

  Lew. I think you fed his fears, in order to keep him in your own control. As for

  that little demonstration-I don't know how you did it, Mikhail, but I very much

  doubt that we heard the voice of Regis Hastur speaking from the overworld or

  anywhere else!" The expression on his face suggested that he did not believe a

  word he was saying, but that some inner demon forced him to speak as he did.

  "Of course-it was all a trick, a cruel trick," screamed Javanne, her face

  twisting horribly. "How could you do that to me, Mikhail!"

  "Yes-what just occurred proves completely that Mikhail must not be allowed to

  rule Darkover. He has too much power to be trusted. There is no plot, just lies

  and tricks!" Francisco roared the words with feeling, pounding his fist on the

  table to punctuate them.

  "Silence!" Mikhail thundered, surprised at the volume of his own voice. "Believe