Traitor's Sun

  "Let's get inside, out of the wind," Nico said, looking less fierce now. Dyan

  Ardais was still standing there, looking uneasy and embarrassed, as if he did

  not know quite what to do next. Marguerida remembered their first meeting, years

  before, when he had come into her bedroom while she was recovering from her

  first episode of threshold sickness. His mother had sent him there to suggest

  that he might be a suitable spouse for her, and he had been awkward and

  miserable. In retrospect, it was still a funny experience, but Dyan had never

  been entirely at ease with women of his own class, and preferred the company of

  farmers' daughters to those of the Comyn. He must have a dozen children up in

  the Kilghards by now, acknowledged only by generous gifts to the mothers. She

  suspected that the only reason he was embarrassed now was because Nico had found

  out about another one. And what would this girl think of the whole thing, when

  it was explained to her?

  "That sounds like a good idea-you must be cold without your cloak, son."

  "Not really. Come along, Mother. Evan MacHaworth has a meal waiting, and I am

  sure you must be hungry after your ride." He glanced over Marguerida's shoulder

  and grinned. "I guess Domna Katherine is not going to kill Herm after all."

  Marguerida turned and looked behind her. Hermes Aldaran stood and lifted his

  hands to help Kate down from the saddle. When she did not move, he put his hands

  around her slender waist and swung her down beside him. The man's face was pale

  in the watery sunlight, and there was a ruddyness in Katherine's cheeks which

  might be anger or some tenderer emotion. "Gisela said I should box your ears,"

  she heard Katherine tell him in a strangled voice.

  "That is the least I deserve," her husband answered, sounding not at all

  contrite. "You are the most beautiful sight I have seen in days."

  "Save your charm for someone who wants it, Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran. I am not

  ready to forgive you yet."

  "I did not expect you to be, but I had hoped my letter . . ."

  "Your letter does not get you off the hook."

  Apparently unaware of the interested gazes of several people, Herm considered

  his next words. Then, in Terran, he said, " 'Fie, fie, unknit that threatening

  unkind brow.' "

  "Hermes, that is my line, not yours," Katherine answered in the same language,

  torn between amusement and despair in dealing with her unrepentant spouse.

  "True-then, 'Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate.' "

  "Oh, you are impossible!" Then, in front of the bemused view of the Comyn, only

  a few of whom had understood what they had said, she grabbed his ears, pulled

  him toward her, and gave him a firm buss on the mouth. Kate drew away, looking a

  little breathless and pink with pleasure. "Now, be good, and I might forgive you

  in a few years."

  This was too much for several in the crowd, and there was muffled laughter,

  which made both Herm and Kate look around and realize they were being watched.

  The woman turned quite red, but Herm just made a deep bow to the audience. Then

  Robert Aldaran stepped out of the throng and clasped his brother strongly.

  "You haven't changed much, bredu, except you have lost your hair and your

  waistline." Herm chortled and thumped Robert across the shoulders.

  Marguerida turned away from this reunion and told her son, "Food sounds very

  inviting. Where is Rafaella?"

  "She is doing a bit of spying-I wanted to go with her, but Uncle Hermes said I

  could not." Nico paused, then shrugged. "Actually, what he said was that if I

  was not here to meet you, Katherine would not have to murder him because you

  probably would instead. And since I am very fond of him . . ."

  Marguerida had to laugh at this. "He was right. I have been extremely anxious to

  see you, and to know with my own eyes that you had not come to harm. The slow

  pace of the funeral train has nearly driven me mad." She put one hand on Nico's

  shoulder and the other on the girl's and started toward the door of the inn.

  Dyan Ardais trailed along beside her, watching the girl with an unreadable

  expression on his face.

  She seems like a very nice mother, and not at all like the stories about her.

  But she is probably just pretending. I wonder what it is like to have a real

  mother? She likely makes Nico go to bed early, and wash behind has ears. I hope

  she doesn't bewitch me, as she did to her husband.

  Marguerida caught these quiet musings unwillingly, and raised her eyebrows at

  the last. Was that what the common folk said about her? It had not occurred to

  her that she might be a subject of gossip until now, and she found it extremely

  unpleasant. If only they had not immured themselves in Comyn Castle for all

  these years, letting the imaginations of the populace run wild with who knows

  what! Well, they would just have to remedy that another day! She forced the

  problem out of her mind, away from the future and back into the present.

  Mikhail was coming toward them, with Donal close behind him. He grinned broadly

  at the sight of his son and Domenic slipped from her grasp and stepped forward

  to meet his father. She watched as her husband's blond head bent a little

  downward and Nico's dark one looked up. "I am so glad to see you safe, Domenic."

  "Herm made sure I came to no harm, Father." Something more passed between them,

  some unspoken words, and Marguerida saw her son's rather serious face brighten.

  Glancing over her shoulder, Marguerida watched Herm and Katherine again,

  wondering what was passing between them. It would have been easy to snoop, but

  she held her curiosity in check. She saw Kate shake a gloved forefinger in her

  husband's face, and Hermes bow his head a little, so his bare scalp gleamed in

  the soft light. He looked so much like a naughty boy being scolded that she had

  to turn away quickly to hide the laughter that bubbled up involuntarily.

  They entered the warm inn, and the smell of food swept around them. A smiling

  man came bustling from the rear of the building, wiping his hands on a white

  apron. He bowed and greeted them like old friends, not strangers, and turned to

  lead them into the dining room. The tables were laid with what were clearly the

  best linens, and the scene was so ordinary that she could hardly believe that

  after this meal, they were going to ride deliberately into an ambush.

  She was going to worry herself into a fit if she didn't stop thinking about it,

  Marguerida told herself firmly as she took off her cloak. She hung it on a peg,

  and the girl, Illona, did the same. She wondered why the girl was wearing her

  son's cloak and frowned over the small mystery. Then she found herself thinking

  like an interferring mother, like Lady Javanne, concerned that her son had

  fallen in love with this scrawny girl who could not, no matter who her father

  was, be a proper consort for the future ruler of Darkover. She was stunned at

  herself for a second. When had she turned into such a snob?

  Illona seemed to sense something of her thoughts, and turned very red, making

  the freckles on her pert nose stand out. ."All my things were burned up in the

  wagon, and Domenic lent me his cloak, domna, and one of MacHaworth's daughters
/>
  let me wear some of her things," she said, trying to sound calm and not

  succeeding very well.

  "Burned up? When was this?" Marguerida was suddenly furious, her pleasure of a

  moment before gone. She realized that her father and husband, with the very best

  intentions in the world, had not told her everything that had happened in

  Carcosa. She glanced at Mikhail, and he had the grace to look uncomfortable.

  Forgive me, caria-you had a great many other things to worry about, and I could

  not bear to add to it.

  Dammit, Mik!

  The girl flinched, catching the edge of her anger and mistaking its direction.

  She began to shiver all over. "Three nights ago, when we did this play that made

  . . . it was terrible. The people got upset, and they attacked our wagons, and

  my aunt Loret was killed, and . . . don't be angry with me!" Tears began to

  course down Illona's face, as if she had been holding back for days, and could

  no longer control herself.

  Marguerida did not respond at once. She was aware that there had been some sort

  of ruckus, and she now understood the marks on the cobblestones and the slight

  smell of ash outside. She even knew that several people had died and others had

  been injured. She had not really cared, because all that had mattered to her was

  that her son was safe. Until that moment, the whole thing had been rather

  abstract and distant. Now she felt the full force of the event, and saw the

  human face of the tragedy. Her heart ached for this child who had lost the only

  family she had ever known. Dyan Ardais, if he was Illona's father, as seemed

  very likely, would not be able to step into the void left by the death of Loret.

  He had never taken the least interest in any of his numerous offspring, and she

  did not think he was going to start now.

  Marguerida reached out and took Illona into her arms, and let the girl sob into

  her chest. "No one is angry at you, dear child." She stroked the coarse hair

  gently. All the emotions the girl had held in check flooded through her, a

  bundle of terrors and experiences that shocked her. It was a great muddle of

  memory and feeling, all held together by the fear of what would happen to her

  now.

  After several minutes, Illona's weeping began to subside, and she hiccupped a

  few times. Marguerida dug into her beltpouch and produced a serviceable

  handkerchief. The girl took it, wiped her eyes, and blew her nose fiercely. She

  started to hand back the soiled cloth, then turned red. "I really messed up your

  nice hanky," she muttered, hunching her shoulders and trying to make herself

  very small.

  "That is what they are for," Marguerida answered calmly. "It will get washed and

  be as good as new." She reached out, without really thinking, and patted the wan

  face, as she would have done with her daughter or Alanna Alar. Illona flinched.

  "I am not going to hurt you, child."

  "They say your hands are . . ."

  "Oh, that. Only one hand," she answered, lifting the left one, "and only when I

  will it to be dangerous. You are perfectly safe, I promise."

  When she had held Illona, she had felt the fear coursing beneath the natural

  grief. The girl was like a half-wild animal, unlike anyone Marguerida had ever

  encountered before, and her laran seemed very powerful, if completely untrained.

  She knew, from that contact, that the young woman was terrified of going into a

  Tower, that she believed the leroni did unspeakable things there. She looked

  into the sharp face, rather grubby from weeping, and wondered what she was going

  to do with her. Then she chided herself for assuming she was going to do

  anything whatever-it was not her responsibility at all.

  Let Dyan see to her. A quick glance at the Ardais man made her realize

  immediately what a stupid notion that was. And somehow she could not imagine

  Lady Marilla being able to handle this particular girl. Marguerida sighed. She

  really did not need another foster-child, but she knew, almost as if she had

  experienced the Aldaran Gift once more, that she was probably going to have one.

  "Nico told me you were nice," the girl said gruffly, "but I just thought he was

  speaking as a son. I didn't really believe him. But, maybe you are, and you

  won't seal me up in a room and make me . . ."

  Marguerida waited for her to complete her sentence, and then realized that the

  girl could not bring herself to say the words that rested in her mind. "No one

  is going to shut you up anywhere."

  Oddly, this seemed to satisfy Illona, for her taut shoulders relaxed slightly,

  and she sniffed into the hanky again. Then her vivid green glance darted around

  the room, until it found Domenic, now standing between his father and Herm

  Aldaran in front of the fireplace, and something of a smile began to play across

  her generous lips. Kate was standing behind Herm, her face relaxed at last, and

  Robert Aldaran and Donal were just a step away from the group, the paxman

  vigilant and the man reflective.

  Marguerida followed her look, and studied the tableau. After a moment she

  realized there was something strained in the set of Mikhail's shoulders, and

  knew that something was disturbing him.

  Mik, what's the matter?

  I am having a bout of envy, caria. Look at Nico! See how he looks at Herm, and

  tell me I have nothing to feel jealous of.

  Yes, dearest. I see it now. He left us a boy, and now he is really a man, and he

  regards Herm with the sort of intimacy you have never had with him. You would

  have to be inhuman not to feel wretched.

  That is it, I suppose. I feel I just missed something very important in my son's

  life something I should have been present for.

  And how many of your important passages did Dom Gabriel miss because of Regis?

  There is that, damn you. Don't you understand that you are not supposed to point

  out unpleasant things to me when I am upset? There was an undertone of humor in

  the thought.

  Yes, I do, but as your mother so often points out, I am not a suitable wife.

  Well, she can't witness this event, and for that I am very grateful. And he is

  safe and strong, and filled with a confidence I doubted I would ever find in

  him, so I guess I should be pleased. Later perhaps.

  Marguerida held back a laugh at her husband's expense. She felt, for a moment,

  lighthearted. She had her firstborn back, and he seemed none the worse for

  whatever adventures he had had. If only they were not riding into the jaws of an

  ambush in a few hours, she would have been entirely content. But they were, and

  her momentary pleasure left her, and all the worries flooded back again.

  She sat down on a long bench beside one of the tables and gestured to Illona to

  sit beside her. The girl did, just as Dom Gabriel, who had been riding, to his

  fury, in one of the carriages, stamped into the room. His leg no longer allowed

  him to ride on horseback for any length of time, and he resented the infirmity

  enormously. Marguerida saw him take in the group before the fireplace in a quick

  glance, and then he came and sat down next to her. There was something very

  solid and comforting in his presence these days, and she was glad that the old

 
man was on her side, as well as that he was so long reconciled with Mikhail.

  "Stop your fretting, Marguerida. It won't do a drop of good, and will just tire

  you out," Dom Gabriel told her sternly. Then he smiled, his eyes almost

  disappearing in the wrinkles of his face. "Now, introduce me to this young

  woman, will you."

  Marguerida had almost forgotten about Illona for a moment, and realized that the

  girl was a little overwhelmed by so many noble strangers. "Certainly-Illona,

  this is my father-in-law, Dom Gabriel Lanart. Dom Gabriel, this is Illona Rider,

  a friend of Nico's."

  "Illona-that's a pretty name. Here, come sit beside me, girl. I am a little deaf

  these days, and I want you to tell me all about yourself." The older man smiled

  genially, and to Marguerida's surprise, the young woman grinned back at him.

  She could sense Illona's fear start to recede, as if she found Dom Gabriel

  unthreatening. Well, he was very good with Yllana and with Rafael's daughter.

  She slid off the bench, circled around, and sat down on his other side, still

  clutching the soiled handkerchief in her hands. It took her a moment to realize

  that the girl was relieved to put a little distance between herself and

  Marguerida. She sighed. Her life had been so much simpler when she was just Ivor

  Davidson's faithful assistant, and she spent an indulgent moment thinking of

  that part of her past.

  Then serving boys started to bring out platters of food, and she found her mouth

  watering. She had worked up quite an appetite, in spite of her worries, and Dom

  Gabriel was right. Marguerida swung her long legs over the bench, reached for a

  tankard of ale, and grinned fiercely. There was nothing she could do about the

  future except meet it-but not just yet.

  24

  Lew Alton paced back and forth in the entry hall of Comyn Castle, his boots

  ringing on the stonework. For the first time in many years, he wished he had a

  large glass of firewine, or were already drunk. He still occasionally drank

  wine, but he had not experienced such a strong desire for it in a long time. He

  was annoyed at his body for betraying his weakness to him, but pleased with

  himself for recognizing the signals of his own unease. Later, when it was over,

  perhaps he would indulge himself. He knew better than to try to work in a circle