Traitor's Sun

probably a bit chaotic. The bed linens will be clean though, even if the

  hangings are a little moth-eaten."

  "After days in the berths of a cabin, it will seem quite luxurious, Rafael.

  Where have you put us?" He wanted to make conversation, meaningless noises to

  ease the tension in himself.

  "The second Storn apartments, which have not been used except during Midwinter,

  for ages. The ones that were done up for Lauretta Lanart-Storn years ago. Giz

  and I use the Aldaran Suite, and it really is not large enough for another

  family." He sounded faintly ashamed of this, and Herm just grinned at him.

  "Who is that, Lauretta Lanart-Storn?" Amaury asked.

  "She was the wife of my grandfather, although she is not a blood relation of

  mine," Herm replied.

  "How can that be?"

  "My father was not her son, Amaury."

  "Sounds confusing."

  Herm chuckled, happy to find anything to be amused at. "It is. Darkovan

  geneologies are rather difficult, and often bewildering, even to those of us who

  know them from the cradle."

  "Why is that, Father?" Amaury appeared genuinely interested as they continued

  down the long hall, past burning lampions and rather faded tapestries.

  Herm looked at his stepson, and for the first time, wondered if he had done the

  right thing, bringing the boy to Darkover. He was a rather sensitive child, with

  his mother's quick mind and deep intuition, and who knew what from his father.

  The tension between his parents had left him anxious and concerned, although he

  was hiding it rather well. He was trying to ease things, as Herm himself had

  done with his own father, long before. What kind of place could be found for him

  here? He was just too tired to think about it. "We are a small population, and

  the families of the Domains, like the Aldarans or Altons, and the lesser

  families, like the Lanarts and the Storns, have been intermarrying for

  centuries. Everyone is related to everyone else, if you go back far enough. For

  instance, Rafael here is a Lanart on his father's side, but I cannot guess just

  how he might be connected to Lauretta."

  "Neither can I," Rafael put in, grinning easily, "but Gisela would know. She is

  very good at that sort of thing."

  "You amaze me, for the last thing I would have suspected my sister of is an

  interest in geneology," Herm answered. "When I left Darkover, she was still a

  girl, and her only pursuits seemed to have been hunting, reading Terranan

  novels, and getting new clothes as often as she could cajole our father to allow

  her."

  "That has not changed," Rafael admitted, "but she is too intelligent to limit

  herself. She has been working on a book on chess for several years, and what I

  have read of it is very good. And she has read just about every book in the

  Castle Archive, I think."

  "My sister an author? Amazing!"

  "She tells me it keeps her from getting bored, for she does not find minding the

  children at all to her taste."

  "How many are there now-I have lost count."

  "There are Caleb and Rakhal, her children by her first husband, and our daughter

  Casilde, and our sons Gabriel and Damon. Rakhal is at Arilinn and intends to

  remain, and Casilde will go there soon." I hope she gives up this mad idea of

  becoming a Renunciate. A pity that Marguerida's friend Rafaella is so

  attractive, and makes the Renunciates seem so romantic. She will outgrow it, for

  it cannot be a pleasant life. Fatherhood is much more difficult than I ever

  imagined. "And the boys are just being boys, and it is all I can do to keep them

  out of too much mischief."

  "And Caleb?"

  Rafael frowned. "He is at Nevarsin," he said somewhat abruptly. Herm understood

  his unwillingness to go on, for Caleb must be above twenty by now, and if he was

  at Nevarsin, then likely he intended to become a cristoforo monk. Although the

  sons of the Domains had been educated by the cristoforos for generations, it was

  rare these days for them to join the odd community in the far north, in the City

  of Snows as it was sometimes called.

  "Here we are at last." Rafael stepped forward and opened a pair of doors,

  pushing them aside and gesturing them into a large sitting room. There was a

  fire burning in the grate, and the smell of recently applied beeswax rose from

  the heavy wooden chairs set around it, belying Rafael's suggestion as to the

  state of the accommodations. The carpet beneath their feet was thick and free of

  dust, and the curtains across the window looked relatively new.

  It was a pretty room, furnished with a woman in mind. The walls were painted a

  pale golden color, and the tapestry, that hung along the wall portrayed a group

  of ladies bent over an enormous embroidery frame. There were small footstools,

  upholstered in thick velvets, and several little tables as well as a longer one

  that would seat half a dozen people in comfort. A small arrangement of flowers

  sat in a vase in the center of it, and the faint smell of them mingled with the

  odor of the fire.

  Katherine looked around, her artist's eye refreshed after the barrenness of the

  ship's cabin. She turned and relaxed in the warmth of the room, then favored

  Rafael with a bright if tired smile. "This is very nice. Thank you. You cannot

  know how . . . this room is nearly as large as our entire quarters on Terra. And

  wood, real wooden furniture. We have that on Renney, and I think I must have

  been missing it without knowing. I hope it was not too much trouble."

  Rafael shrugged easily. "The servants did everything. Now, the main bedroom is

  through that door, and the bathing chamber and privy are down the hall, second

  door on the right. You can't miss it. There are robes and towels and all that,

  and I will have some food brought up as soon as you tell me whether you want

  breakfast or dinner. Lew says the food on the ships is abysmal, and that you

  would certainly want something tasty immediately."

  "What is that other door?" Ter‚se pointed to a closed portal on the far side of

  the sitting room.

  "Those are the other bedrooms, and you can choose the one you like," Rafael

  answered. It was clear he had a great deal of experience with children, as well

  as a natural talent with them, despite his own doubts.

  Ter‚se's face lit up. "My own room? I won't have to share?"

  "You are old enough to have your own room, Ter‚se-such a pretty name." Rafael

  gave Herm a look which spoke volumes, and he felt mildly embarrassed, even

  though the sparse living arrangements permitted him on Terra had not given him

  much choice. But Rafael was right. His daughter was much too old to be sharing a

  bedroom with a brother.

  Herm watched Katherine remove her cloak and look for a place to hang it. At that

  moment a servant appeared, a rosy-checked girl with her hair caught back in a

  wooden butterfly clasp, and she took it from Katherine. She bobbed a quick

  curtsy. "Welcome to Comyn Castle, vai domna. Dom Aldaran."

  "Thank you."

  "I am Rosalys, and I have been sent to look after you. Domna Marguerida told me

  to come. She said to say that she regrets she cannot come to greet you herself,

  nor Domna Linnea ei
ther, and hopes she will be forgiven."

  "Of course," Herm answered. "We understand entirely." He gave Rafael a quick

  glance. Is Regis really dying?

  Yes, he is. It was a massive stroke, and the healers are unable to do anything

  thus far. Even Mikhail and Marguerida, with their incredible abilities, have

  been unable to help him, and, believe me, they have tried. My poor brother is

  beside himself with frustration, and I do not blame him. He has all that power,

  yet he is still helpless.

  This last thought made no immediate sense to his fatigued mind, so Herm shunted

  it aside. I don't suppose there is any chance that the Medical Center at HQ

  could be useful?

  Them? They have not allowed Darkovans to use the facilities in over five

  years-ever since the new Station Chief tried to install some media screens in

  one of the taverns in the Trade City, and Regis ordered them dismantled

  immediately. Belfontaine retaliated by closing the hospital to any except

  Federation personnel. That includes a few Darkovans, of course, but . . . we

  could hardly trust them under the circumstances, could we?

  No stupid of me to even suggest it. They would likely jump at the chance to

  finish him off.

  Herm became aware that his wife was watching him closely, and realized that she

  must be aware that the sudden silence between him and Rafael was peculiar. He

  had slipped into the easy habit of unspoken conversation without thinking-it was

  easier than talking just now! But his Kate was observant and intelligent, and

  she had had a decent amount of sleep during the journey, unlike himself. Herm

  knew she had used sleep to escape the terror in her mind, to still the voices of

  protest that rose in her throat. He cleared his voice to conceal his chagrin. "I

  think something in the way of lunch would be right-soup, bread, tea. They gave

  us a breakfast of sorts just before we landed."

  "I will see to it, vai dom," Rosalys answered quickly. She gave another curtsy,

  opened the door of the main bedroom for them, then left the suite.

  Herm followed Katherine into the bedroom as the children went off to the other

  side of the suite. She rounded on him, her cheeks red and her eyes glittering.

  "What the hell is going on, Hermes! Don't give me that hurt look! You drag me

  off in the middle of the night, refuse to explain anything except that we must

  leave immediately for Darkover, and you and that man . . . What were you doing?"

  "Doing?" He gave her a hurt look, and tried to appear innocent, his heart

  sinking down somewhere in the region of his navel. Damn the woman for being so

  observant!

  Katherine audibly ground her teeth. "Just tell me the whole of it."

  "Ah, err . . . Rafael was just . . . informing me of . . ." He did not feel very

  clever, just exhausted and rather stupid.

  "How? Secret hand signals? What were you two up to!"

  Her voice was uncannily like that of his old nurse in Aldaran Castle, a sound of

  authority which would not be satisfied until it got to the bottom of the matter.

  It made him feel small and young and powerless for the first time in decades.

  "No, not hand signals."

  When he did not continue, she looked into his face, searching it with her

  penetrating eyes. He looked down at the floor, at the pattern of the carpet, and

  shuffled his toe around. He had to get the words out now, before he lost his

  nerve completely, but he feared the uproar that he knew would follow. If only it

  could have waited until he was more rested. "Well, if you must know, I was

  having a conversation with Rafael telepathically." So much, he thought bitterly,

  for being a cunning man.

  Katherine was silent for a moment. "Tele . . . Of all the . . . you really mean

  it, don't you?"

  "Yes, I do."

  Katherine sank down on the edge of the bed and clutched a handful of the

  hangings between her trembling fingers. "So, that's it. I've always wondered how

  you could anticipate me so well . . . I could just kill you, Hermes! How could

  you not have told me you were reading my mind all these years? All my private .

  . ." He could sense that she did not really believe him, that her mind wanted to

  refuse what she had just heard. "Surely I would have sensed . . ." she

  whispered.

  "No, no!" he protested quickly. "I can't invade your thoughts at will, although

  there are those on Darkover who can. But I can pick up on your surface thoughts

  from time to time. Think of all the paintings I have not interrupted," he

  begged, trying to deflect her ire.

  "But why did you never tell me?" The pain and betrayal in her voice cut him

  right to the heart.

  "If I say it was a matter of policy, you will murder me." He sighed and sat down

  beside her. "You know as well as I do that the Federation has ears everywhere,

  and this was a secret I did not wish to share with them."

  "Why?" Her voice was cold and distant.

  "I did not want to vanish into some laboratory, which would have been my fate if

  I had been discovered." He held back a sigh, and tried to think of what to say

  next. "First, not everyone on Darkover is a telepath, and indeed the Gifts occur

  in only a small part of the population. And of those, few have great powers,

  although there are enough of these to . . ."

  "How many? And how is it that the Federation doesn't know about this?"

  "I don't know an exact number-maybe two percent of the entire population." He

  rubbed the top of his bald head. "As for the other, it is a long tale, and not a

  happy one. Once, years ago, we agreed to participate in something called Project

  Telepath. Just in time we realized that the Federation could not be trusted not

  to abuse our talents, and Lew Alton managed to persuade certain influential

  scientists that the claims had been exaggerated, that there were many fewer

  telepaths on Darkover than had been thought, and that it was a rare and

  inconsistent ability, hardly worthy of pursuit. Then he got the funding for the

  project cut off. He was afraid, as was I when I took his place, that if it

  became known that we here on Darkover possessed a population of capable

  telepaths, we would find ourselves occupied, the way that Blaise II was."

  "But I am your wife! I did not think we had secrets between us." No, that isn't

  true! I knew there were secrets, and I was afraid to discover what they were!

  But I never imagined this . . .

  "I am sorry, Katherine. I did try to tell you once, when we were on Renney, but

  I just couldn't find the right words to begin." He paused, aware of how feeble

  it sounded from him, the glib and clever Hermes Aldaran. "I wish I had kept a

  mistress and fathered a bunch of illegitimate brats instead of not telling you

  about this." He sighed again, deeply this time, and forced himself to tell the

  whole truth, fearing he would not have the courage another time. "I would have

  had to soon enough, because there is a high probability that Ter‚se has

  inherited some of my laran, my paranormal capacities. I have no idea what the

  nature of it might be, but I just have a strong . . ." He wanted to deflect her

  anger now, to direct her attention away from his folly.

  "For a mistress, I would in
deed have killed you." Katherine interrupted, almost

  as if she could not bear to hear the words he was going to say about their

  daughter, and tried to lighten the mood with a soft, feeble chuckle. "You

  promise you have never invaded my thoughts willfully?"

  "I swear it, word of an Aldaran! No more than I would read your personal

  journal, dearest. You must understand that in order for a community of telepaths

  to continue, we learn to respect the privacy of others from a very young age. We

  are a very ethical bunch, we Darkovans."

  "You? Ethical?" Katherine went off into a peal of mirthless laughter. "You are

  the most devious man in the Federation, Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran, and you know it!

  Nana told me that there was something about you that you were hiding, but I did

  not believe her. No, I did not wish to believe her!" She gave him a look, a

  mixture of sorrow and mistrust that wrenched his heart. Then she squared her

  shoulders and lifted her chin, as if bracing herself to make the best she could

  of things. "I suppose I might forgive you in a decade or two-but then again I

  might not. Telepaths! This must be the best kept secret in the Federation."

  "Yes, I suppose it is."

  She was able to hold the stiff posture for perhaps half a minute, then weakly

  sagged against him. He could smell her weariness and the stink of the ship on

  her skin. The knot of hair she had made slipped down, and he could feel the

  silkiness of it brush his hand. "What else? There is something more, isn't

  there?"

  "Yes, there is. Regis Hastur, who has guided Darkover for two generations, is

  dying. At least Rafael says he is, and I do not think he would exaggerate such a

  terrible thing. That is why his consort, Lady Linnea, is not able to welcome us,

  as she would have under any other circumstances, and why Lew Alton deputized

  Rafael to greet us."

  "Did you know that he- Herm, what really made you yank us out of our beds and

  rush here?"

  "A vision, my dearest, if hearing voices can be called that. I have what is

  called the Aldaran Gift, which is the occasional power of foreseeing, although

  in this case I foreheard rather than foresaw. I suddenly knew that the

  legislature would be dissolved, and realized what the implications of that were.

  So I did the best thing I could think of, which was to get us all as far away

  from Federation territory as quickly as I could."