slumped a little. And you might even succeed. Why, Nico, why?
I must have some peace and quiet! I cannot endure another day of endless
bickering and petty jealousies. Domenic could feel his control slipping away,
his fear and anger destroying his discipline. At the same time, the murmur in
the heart of the world begin to resound in his mind's ear, familiar and almost
comforting. The volume seemed to increase, and for a brief moment he was aware
of nothing but the creaks and groans of the planet. Peace and quiet might be an
impossible goal, but he was sure that if he didn't discover why and how he heard
these things, and soon, he would cease to function. He was not even certain that
Neskaya was the best place to go, but Istvana was reknowned for her innovative
techniques, and he trusted her. It was the only idea he could come up with at
the moment.
Why should you be spared what the rest of us have to endure, son? Be reasonable.
We have to settle a great many things, and you will be needed at your father's
side. Next spring, perhaps, if you still feel the same way, or the year after.
This is not the best time.
Mother, if I wait for a best time, I will be in my dotage! There is never going
to be a good tune for me to do what I know I must do, and I am not going to
argue about it. If you and Father will not let me do this, then I will take off
on my own! And likely break my neck in a mountain pass or something equally
fatal!
Marguerida turned and glared at him. Aren't you being rather dramatic?
Domenic was enraged by this remark, and his heart pounded in his chest. Sweat
popped out from his forehead, in spite of the chill of the day, and he had to
force himself not to start to shake. He had to make her see! Without considering
the consequences, he deepened the rapport with his mother, and allowed the
steady roar ringing in his mind to reach her. Unprepared, Marguerida gasped and
swayed in her saddle, then clutched her forehead, dropping the reins against the
horse's neck.
He reached out and grasped her arm before she could fall, while he pulled back
the surge of energy, a mixture of anger and the noise of the world. It was
almost too much for him, trying to master so many diverse things at once, and he
was ashamed of himself for losing control. Mikhail turned and reached out to
steady his wife from the other side, looking puzzled and concerned.
"What is it, caria?"
"Nothing. Nothing. Just a slight giddiness. I am fine." She plucked up the reins
again, righted herself firmly in the saddle, and gave Domenic a look that would
have turned him to stone only a few weeks before. What the hell did you do? What
was that . . .?
I am not absolutely sure what at is, Mother. But if I don't find out, I'll lose
my mind.
Marguerida bent her head and fell into a silent reverie. At last she announced
with an air of resignation, I know that sound, although I only heard it once
before, and much more distantly.
You know what it is? He was amazed, and vastly relieved at the same time. How
could she know?
Yes, I do. It is the heart of the world, seething and roaring. Oh, Nico! I
touched it once, long ago, before you were even conceived, and only for a
moment, although it felt like much longer. Do you hear it all the time?
Mostly. Sometimes it is fainter than now, but it seems to have been getting
louder lately. I was afraid to tell you, that you would think I was insane.
Is this what has been disturbing you? I just thought it was your feelings for
Alanna . . . I feel rather foolish, son. Her mind seemed to clear, as if she was
discarding everything irrelevant in a rush of concentration, holding back a
tendril of fear that tried to claim her.
You mean that you misjudged me? Well, I do have feelings for Alanna, and they do
nearly drive me mad, but I am sane enough to understand the difference between a
hopeless desire and what is possible. Being near her makes it harder, because I
have to commit so much energy to keeping my lusts in order that I have less to
use for . . . this heart of the world stuff. I have loved Alanna since I was a
child, but I have always known that no matter how I felt, she could never be
anything except a beloved sister and cousin. More, I understand that having been
raised with her, my feelings might not be exactly what I imagine them to be
simply because I haven't met very many girls who were not my relatives. I need
to be away from Alanna, for her sake and mine, and I must be away from
Grandmother Javanne and all the rest of them, too!
You are much wiser than I suspected, son, and that makes me feel very old, Nico.
And inadequate. I feel as if I have missed several important things, that I was
not paying you sufficient attention. Arilinn will not do?
No. I don't think so. Istvana has known me since I was in diapers, Mother, and
there is no one I can imagine who is better equipped to help me learn about this
part of myself. Even Valenta Elhalyn does not have the experience to guide me,
and there is no one else at Arilinn that I can think of who might be able to
understand what this new . . . new Gift is. I might be able to move mountains,
although I surely hope that is not the case.
Goodness! That hadn't even crossed my mind! A new Gift. Yes, I can see now. We
can't have you cracking the foundation stones of Arilinn, can we?
That is not nearly as funny as you think it is, Mother!
Now, Nico, after all these years, you must know that my first response to any
crisis is to make jokes. How severe you can be. I think I do not know who you
are anymore, which is a terrible admission for a mother to have to make. Very
well. We will send you to Neskaya, although I doubt that Istvana will thank me
for it, and you can take Illona with you. I was foreseeing trying to foster her,
and to be entirely honest, I was not looking forward to it.
Domenic felt her organize her thoughts with an abruptness that was rather
startling to observe. Had she always been so ruthless? Probably-he was her
child, and he had never really thought about all the decisions she must have
made over the decades, the adult choices that he was only now starting to
understand, and he knew she must have always possessed this keenness of mind and
spirit. And will you explain it to Father?
Hmm . . . I am tempted to make you do that yourself, but Mikhail has so many
other things on his mind at present that he would not listen as well as he
might. Yes, I will tell him. It is going to break his heart a little, son, for
he feels he has lost you already to Hermes, and to lose you again to Istvana
will be a hard blow.
Lost me to Uncle Herm?
I'll explain it to you another time, Nico. Now, let me have some quiet, so I can
marshal my arguments.
Yes, Mother-and thank you!
You are a good son, Domenic-the best. I would do anything for you except what .
. . you have just asked of me. I would rather give you a moon than let you . . .
Marguerida gave a gusty sigh and he saw that she, was blinking tears away
fiercely. His father's was not the only heart that looked to be rent,
and for a
moment, he wished he had not chosen the course he had. Then the feeling passed,
and he rode on, at ease for the first time in months.
The strange pink grass that grew around the rhu fead shimmered with dew, and the
large yew trees that stood like sentinals nearby rustled in the wind. Beyond the
grass, Domenic could see the shifting coils of Lake Hali, where he had gestated
in his mother's womb, for the first time in his life. It was eerie, and the
people standing beneath the solemn trees and on the ever-rosy grass were
uncomfortable.
The long wagon which had carried Regis' bier from Thendara had been rolled close
to the building itself, a modest structure of stone on which no moss gathered
nor ivy twined. Between the tall yews and the shrine there were a number of
mounds, also covered with the remarkable pink grass. Close to the building, they
had sunk down into the earth, while those farther away were more prominent. No
gravestones stood at the head of the mounds, but these were the graves of the
Hasturs, centuries of rulers immured in earthy anonymity.
At the far end of the row of mounds, one stood out, barely sunken yet. Even
though no one had told her, Marguerida knew this was the resting place of Danvan
Hastur, the grandfather of Regis, dead for nearly half a century. Beside it, the
earth had been opened, and there was a deep hole, waiting for the most recent
arrival. She had an eerie feeling, looking at the unmarked burial places,
knowing that Mikhail would one day be laid there to become part of the mystery
that was Hali.
She trembled, remembering how near he had come to joining his uncle beneath the
grass. In all the hectic activity on the road, Marguerida had managed to put the
traitorous attack of Francisco Ridenow out of her mind, but now it returned,
playing in her mind's eye like a terrible dream. True, not a hair of her
husband's head had been touched, but the nearness of death made her think of
what might have happened. And he had spared the man's life, which was right and
merciful, but was going to create a difficult problem in the future. Clearly Dom
Francisco could not be allowed to continue as head of the Ridenow Domain-Cisco
would take his place-but then what?
Marguerida forced herself to stop trying to find the future-it would manifest
itself no matter what she did or thought. Instead, she turned her attention back
to her surroundings. Guardsmen stood on the rosy grass arrayed in a long rank on
either side of the coffin. The wind rustled the yews, making a pleasant sound,
and somewhere a bird sang a haunting melody. Everything seemed very still, as if
time itself was waiting.
She watched Mikhail, his eyes red with weeping, grasp the handle on one side of
the coffin at the front while Danilo Syrtis-Ardais took the other. Behind them,
Donal Alar and Dom Danilo Hastur lifted the back, and together, the four men
moved away from the wagon toward the open grave. The wind shifted, and the scent
of Lake Hali drifted across the ancient site, cooling her cheeks and bringing
back memories of another time.
Marguerida watched the white-clad Servants of Aldones follow them. They were the
same men who had officiated at the public ceremony two days before, and she knew
they had left Thendara as soon as their duties were done, and had returned to
Hali well ahead of the funeral train, without encountering any troubles. She
envied them the quiet of their journey.
When the pallbearers reached the freshly dug grave, they shifted their stances
slightly. Bracing their feet against the soft ground, they carefully lowered the
coffin into the hole. She could see their muscles straining as they hefted their
weighty burden. Then they knelt and bowed their heads as the Servants moved
forward.
The first Servant advanced, a young man scarcely older than Domenic. He bore a
silver basin in one hand and a bunch of flowers in the other. Solemnly he dipped
the heads of the flowers into the water and flicked glistening drops over the
coffin.
"In the name of Evanda I bless you, bright mother who brought you to birth and
smiled on your deeds. May they live always in the springtime of our memories."
The oldest of the remaining Servants followed him, casting handfuls of sand. It
made a sweet rattling sound as it struck the wood of the casket. "In the name of
Zandru, He who limits life and binds the days, I claim your bones. Earth to
earth and dust to dust you shall remain . . ." A shiver passed through the
mourners at these words, for few spoke that name lightly except in curses. The
crowd shifted from foot to foot, and then the third Servant began his approach.
He raised a censer, swinging the open-work copper vessel so that smoke billowed
over the grave, mingling with the scent from the lake. The sharpness of the
smoke stung her eyes, but she barely noticed.
"In the name of Avarra I receive you, for She is the Harvester. In Her dark womb
you shall lie, and be transformed."
There was a long silence then, as the smoke wafted over the coffin. In the
shadow of the yews, it seemed very dark now, as if the sun were hidden in
clouds. The color of the vapor issuing from the censer was almost black against
the dimness of the light.
Then, suddenly, there was a bright flash, and a lantern was opened. The
brightness that shone forth was eye-searing, and the darkness around the grave
receded. "In the Name of Aldones I exalt you!" The fourth Servant's voice rang
out triumphantly. "Son of the Son of Light, your spirit shall illuminate the way
for those who follow you!"
He stepped back, head bowed. A sigh went through the crowd as everyone realized
it was finished, that there were no more words to be spoken. It was so brief and
so simple, and yet, what more needed to be said? The emotions expressed were
formal and conventional, but deeply meaningful-replete with the history of
centuries of tradition. Marguerida felt the release that the words had given,
and felt something within her let go at last. She put an arm around Domenic's
shoulders and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
"I am going to miss him," she said very softly.
"Me, too. And nothing is ever going to be the same again, is it?"
She laughed slightly then, and tugged at the locks of his hair gently. "Nothing
is ever the same, Domenic, no matter how much we wish it will be."
EPI LOGUE
Days had passed, then weeks. Autumn had faded and winter had begun to grip
Darkover. On an icy morning Marguerida and Mikhail stood on the parapets of
Comyn Castle, on a space cleared of the most recent snow. Cold lingered in the
swept stones, penetrating into her boots and up under the many flannel
petticoats she wore. She barely noticed the discomfort as she drew her heavy
cloak more closely around her. Thendara lay beneath them, in a blanket of white,
glistening in the sullen light of the sun behind the clouds, but she had no eyes
for the city.
Marguerida strained her eyes toward the complex that lay at the limits of her
unaided sight. She could just make out the ugly square buildings of HQ, where
the Federatio
n had maintained a presence for a hundred years. The large sweeps
of tarmac around the structures were covered with snow, and if there were people
moving there, they were too far away to be seen except with a farviewer. The
only one they had was being quite unfairly hogged by Rory, who was as excited as
if this were a glorious occasion, not a difficult complex event. The damn boy
was irrepressible.
Nothing was happening yet, and Marguerida let her attention lapse. She thought
about what had happened since they returned to Thendara more than forty days
before, caught between relief that it was finally over and sorrow at the cost of
lives. She was tired to her bones, and depressed as well. Food and rest had
restored her body, but her spirit-and Mikhail's-remained despondent. Marguerida
could only hope that with the final departure of the Federation, they could
begin to return to their normal selves. She knew in her heart that they would
not ever be as they had been; that what they had done together on the Old North
Road would always be with them, as inescapable as the deaths they had caused.
It had demanded all the discipline they had acquired to endure the days that had
followed their return to the city. Instead of a triumphant celebration of
victory, there were a myriad of problems to be faced. Dom Francisco was healing
from his injuries, and Comyn Council had yet to decide just how he would pay for
his treachery against Mikhail. There was no question in their minds that he must
give up his seat on the Council in favor of his son Cisco, but whether he should
be executed or allowed to live remained an issue of lively debate for the
future.
They had dealt with the few survivors of the battle on the road, ten techs and
half a dozen soldiers, as kindly as they could. She shivered with something more
than cold at that memory, for it had violated her standards of ethical behavior
more than a little. She and her father had used the Alton Gift in a way that
repelled them, to tamper with the memories of the techs and soldiers, so that
while they remembered the general events of the fight on the Old North Road,
they had no recollection of anything remarkable occurring. No memory of the
globe of light that had smote their compatriots so mercilessly remained when
they were finished with their vile task. Lew had shaken his head and muttered,