“What do you mean?”
“If I know my mother, and believe me, I do, she has been burning up the relays sending messages to Regis. She doesn’t need to be present, physically, though that is preferable. She can manage quite nicely without coming anywhere near Thendara!”
Margaret was near despair at this. What could she do? Nothing! It was frustrating and frightening. There were people who were going to decide her life, and she would have no say in the matter.
Chiya, stop fussing!
How can I do that, Father, when it seems as if . . .
I know how it feels—more exactly than you can imagine! But Javanne will not meddle in your life. Can you trust me to make things right for you?
I can try—but it isn’t easy!
No, it isn’t. Just believe that Regis will not be stampeded into any decisions that affect the realm without careful consideration. He has managed to keep Darkover on her present course for all these years, and he is not about to be overset by his sister, or anyone else.
Beneath these comforting words, Margaret sensed Lew Alton’s concern about his wife, and she felt terrible for worrying about herself. Why couldn’t she just think about Dio, and force her mind away from the man riding beside her. Where was her discipline? If only she did not sense how well she and Mikhail suited each other! It was not fair.
Mikhail shook his head. “Tell me, cousin, if you can, about that niggling worry you have at the back of your mind.”
“Why?”
“Well, I know you have some of the Aldaran Gift. There is something in the past that is disturbing you, and I would like to know what it is.”
“I never wanted any of this. Why couldn’t I be like Ariel and not have telepathy or anything else! I don’t really understand why I have it and, say, Rafaella does not, since her sister had enough to end up in a Tower.”
Mikhail became thoughtful. “That is something we have wondered about for years—centuries, probably. You know that we have, to a degree, bred to preserve the Gifts.”
“Yes, I know, and I think it is a sad thing, because it reduces human beings to animals, like horses or cattle.”
“But you have no objection to Terranan genetic engineering for the purpose of healthy teeth or good eyesight?”
“Ouch! You have me there. No, I don’t because, I suppose, those sorts of things are good for the entire species, not just a few.”
He gave a little chuckle. “I see—we of the Domains are selfish. Well, it is not the first time that charge has been leveled against us, and will not be the last. But, despite our knowledge and our efforts, we have never been able to be certain how the process works. It seems that the tendency is a return to an untalented individual, so that those with the Gifts have become prized, perhaps overmuch, as we have seen in Ariel’s misery.”
“Poor woman. She must have felt like a tone-deaf woman in a family of superb musicians.” Margaret shook her head. “But except for that sudden vision about Domenic, and the other one . . .”
“What other one?”
“About Alanna Alar, your niece to be.”
“Ah—and here I thought you were just being kind to my sister, and telling her what she wanted to hear, based on Liri’s knowledge that she was carrying a girl at last. I did not realize that you got a strong impression of her future.”
“I did, and I do not like it, because . . . well, I would rather not say. I don’t like the idea of knowing the future because I think we always imagine it in terms of what we know, and then when we get to the real future, we try to make it fit into our interpretation of the idea, instead of dealing with the reality. I have read a good many things that various prophets wrote down, and they are full of ambiguities and subject to the sort of beliefs that lead to wars. I don’t want the Alton Gift, but I really, really don’t want the ability to pierce the veil of the future!”
Mikhail shook his head. “But, you were ready to rush up to the door of Hali Tower just yesterday, and you know, in your heart, that someday you will enter it.”
“That’s different!” she tried to explain. “That is my future, and only I will have to cope with it—if it ever comes to be. But I refuse to make predictions about the life of an unborn child! It’s wrong! It’s cruel!”
“This has nothing to do with Ariel’s daughter, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I believe Ashara Alton foresaw me, not me particularly, but the possibility of Marguerida Alton in some hazy future. At least, when Istvana told me she had overshadowed other women, I leaped to the premise that she was anticipating my existence—which she somehow knew was a threat to her own.” She shuddered at the mention of the name, but refused to let her fears overwhelm her. The bulk of the Castle was much closer now, visible above the houses along the street, and she had a much clearer view of the tower where Ashara had continued to reside long after her death.
Now she realized what had been bothering her as they rode closer. She shook her head, trying to clear her mind. Margaret remembered how the Tower had looked, and how it had given her the shivers when she saw it on her first visit. It had been a fine building of white stones, like the rest of Comyn Castle. Now what stood there was a blackened ruin, the top blasted off as if by lightning. None of the roofs nearby showed any sign of having been burned or damaged. What had happened?
Mikhail followed her eyes, and his mouth sagged for a second. “Ashara’s Tower . . .”
“It looks like it was burned in a fire. I wonder how it . . .”
“I don’t. Wonder, I mean. I think when you pulled the keystone out of the Tower in the overworld, you also seared the physical one on Darkover. And a good thing, too!”
“But, Mikhail—someone could have been killed! If I had ever guessed the kind of damage I could do, I don’t know if I would have been so willing to . . .”
“Dear cousin, you did what you had to do. No one blames you for it.” He smiled at her, and her heart warmed. “Now, you were saying something a moment ago, before we observed the ruins of the Old Tower, about Ashara. About interpreting the future. Please, go on.”
Margaret clenched the reins a little tighter in her hand. “Her name still makes me feel helpless, you know. Sometimes I am not really sure she is gone for good, no matter what anyone says.” She forced herself to breathe slowly, to become calm again. “I still don’t know exactly what happened, but I am sure she made Dyan Ardais bring me to her. It is all rather vague and misty in my mind. When she saw me, I think she knew I was the one that she feared. And she moved to make sure I would never realize the Alton Gift. She must have been a remarkable woman—not admirable, but so powerful.”
He nodded. “By all accounts, she was that and a great deal more. I understand your objections to the Aldaran Gift a little better now. They make sense. But you have enough of it that you are getting hints or something.”
“What I have is the same feeling of foreboding that I had when I was on my way to Darkover. This is stronger, perhaps—it is all so subjective, and I have a lively imagination. I think maybe that you can’t ever really see your own future clearly, and that is what causes problems—when you try to manipulate it for your own purposes.”
“But, Marguerida, everyone tries to manipulate things to their own advantage!”
“I don’t!”
“Of course you do! Otherwise you and my mother would not be at loggerheads! I know what you want—I want it, too. And both of us are going to do everything we can to make certain that it comes out our way. You can’t deny that!”
Caught again, Margaret smiled at him. “No, I can’t. Or, rather, I could, but it would be disingenuous. And while there are plenty of people I would gladly dissemble for, you are not one of them.”
“I know. From the first time we met, I knew that we could never lie to each other, not really.” His voice was warm and tender, and she knew he had spoken rather than used telepathy because that was too intimate now. She was grateful for his
politeness, but also touched by his checked passion.
“What sort of ability do you have?”
“I have laran, of course, but I do not have any of the Gifts. I am just an ordinary telepath, good enough to sit on the Telepathic Council which has been our ruling body for most of my life. Liriel has the greatest ability, which is why she is a good technician, and Mother has it, and Rafael and Gabe, though theirs, like my father’s, is very modest.”
“Oh. When we went into the overworld to find Donal, it seemed to me that you were quite able, but I just don’t know enough to judge. Everyone has made such a fuss over the Alton Gift that I haven’t paid attention to any others. I know there is a Hastur Gift—Lady Marilla tried to explain it to me, but it didn’t make much sense at the time. Don’t you have it?”
“Lord, no!” He seemed shocked and rather upset. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. I admit I rather expected to have it when I got older, and I was really disappointed when it failed to materialize. The Hastur Gift is that of the living matrix—the full gift lets one work without a physical matrix.”
Margaret stared at him, then looked at her left hand for a moment. “But I haven’t used a crystal, and I don’t think I even could.”
“Yes, I know. Liriel tried to explain it to me—your shadow matrix—but it just gave me a headache, since the description was extremely technical. She did say it was different from the Hastur Gift, though. She and Jeff sent word to Arilinn about it, and the Archivist there is apparently going slightly mad trying to find any reference to such a thing in the past.”
“Tell me more about this Telepathic Council, will you? Uncle Rafe mentioned it, but somehow it never got explained, or else I didn’t understand.”
“For centuries Darkover was governed by the Comyn Council, which was made up of one member, male except for the Aillard representative, from each of the Domains, plus leroni from the Towers. The Aldaran were originally part of it, and then we threw them out. It is a long, involved story, full of betrayal, and I will tell it to you some other time. The Council sat in summer, and made decisions about trade with the Terranan and a great many other things. But when your grandfather, Kennard, left and took your father with him, the Council ceased to function, and a few years after the Sharra Rebellion, it ceased to exist. Regis created the Telepathic Council to take its place, but, truthfully, no one has ever been happy with it. It is less exclusive than the Comyn Council was, but because there are now many voices where there had been few, it accomplishes less. More, the people are not happy with it.”
“The people?” Margaret glanced at craftsmen in their shops along the street, and saw women and men who were involved with the daily business of living. She hadn’t thought about them a great deal, for those she had encountered had seemed both content and able-bodied. There were no beggars in Thendara to be seen, and no obvious evidence of aristocratic abuse, though she was sure there were instances of it. Human nature was still a long way from perfection. “How do you know what they think?”
“By listening. As Dyan Ardais’ paxman, I hear things which would never come to his ears, and as the least son of my father, I have heard more than you might imagine from farmers and craftsmen and others. Many of them have no interest in anything beyond their own lives, of course, but those who do feel that the Telepathic Council does not serve Darkover well any longer.”
“What do they want instead?”
“That I cannot answer. There are a few, with Terranan educations, among the Domain families who think that something like the Federation government would be good, but what I have heard from the ordinary folk is that they would prefer to restore the Comyn Council.”
“Isn’t that trying to turn back time, Mikhail?”
“Perhaps. But we are not Terra, and we have no tradition of anything like a democratic system here. Elections would be very difficult with a populace that is unlettered, don’t you think?”
“I had not considered the problem, but I can see you have given it a great deal of thought, Mik.”
“Yes, I have. At first I did it because, as Regis’ titular heir, it was my duty. Now I do it because it interests me greatly. And I have had a lot of time to think about it, about the future of Darkover, even if I cannot see into it.”
“Perhaps it is just as well, don’t you think? Not to see into the future?”
“I think I do not need to see into it—because, as Uncle Jeff said, I am riding into it, whether I want to or not.”
26
The sun was lowering behind them, turning the white stones of Comyn Castle a wonderful pink as they finally left the crooked streets of Thendara. Guardsmen in the blue and silver colors of the Hasturs stood on either side of the gates, and they saluted as Lew rode beneath the carved lintel and into the outer court. This was a different entrance than the one Rafe Scott had taken Margaret through on her earlier visit, and she looked around with interest.
The pleasant and pungent smell of horses rose in the air, and several hostlers and grooms sprang forward. On one side, Margaret could see a large stabling facility, and on the other what she suspected were barracks. A set of steps stood at the end of the courtyard, and on it waited a lad of thirteen or fourteen. He was dressed in blue tunic and gray trousers, and Margaret wondered who he was, for he did not look like a servant.
A groom helped Margaret to dismount, and she found she was very glad to be on firm ground once again. She watched the groom lead the horse away, and wondered how she was going to get it back to Rafaella. Then she thought of the lovely Dorilys, back at Armida, and gave a little sigh. She was tired, and there were too many things going on in her mind.
The lad, bright-haired and rather slight, came down the steps and bowed to Lew, then to Margaret. He gave Mikhail part of a grin, then seemed to remember he was being formal. “I am Danilo Hastur, heir to Hastur,” he said courteously, as if he had practiced the words while he waited. “My father sends you welcome, and regrets he cannot be present to greet you. He is presently occupied with matters of state, but wishes you to join us at dinner.” His voice cracked once while he spoke, and he turned very pink.
So, this boy was the one who had taken Mikhail’s place. He appeared bright but tense, and unsure of himself. Margaret wondered if the burden of Hastur weighed heavily on his small shoulders.
Margaret glanced up at the Tower she had spied from a distance, at the place where Ashara had maintained an earthly presence for so many centuries. It was ruined, like Hali, broken and blackened. She felt a surge of guilty pleasure, and felt secretly glad she had destroyed it—although she desperately hoped no one had been injured. Yet another of Ashara Alton’s ties to the real world had been severed.
Before she could continue her thoughts, Margaret found her father’s hand lightly on her elbow. “Come along. We will go to the Alton Suite. I want a bath, and I am sure you do, too.” And I want to see Dio right away!
She felt suddenly very fatigued, and more than a little anxious. Now that she had a chance to see her stepmother, she discovered she was extremely reluctant to do so. She did not want to see Diotima sick! She didn’t want her to die, like Ivor!
Lew was quiet and brooding, like his former self, but Margaret knew that he was desperately worried. Obediently, she followed him into the castle and through several corridors and up three flights of stairs. Lew was half a corridor ahead of her when they finally arrived at their goal. Despite all the twisting and turning, she did not feel at all lost or disoriented. Deep in the recesses of her mind, there remained a map of the maze that was Comyn Castle, and she was certain she could have found her way to the Alton Suite blindfolded.
Lew Alton opened the tall double doors, and walked into the room beyond. It was what Margaret had now come to think of as a typical sitting or living room, with lots of patterned rugs, hangings on the walls, and large couches. On one of these, Dio lay dozing, covered with a light blanket. The first sight of her stepmother made her throat close up and her breath catch. Nothing L
ew had said had prepared her for the reality.
She was so pale she was almost colorless, and her golden hair was brittle and lifeless. Her once-pretty hands rested on her lap, limp and shrunken. She stirred a little as they came in, but did not wake until Lew bent down and brushed a sunken cheek with his lips.
“I was dreaming of you,” Dio whispered from between cracked lips.
“I hope it was a nice dream.” Lew tried to sound casual, but instead sounded worried and tired.
“Nicer than some I have had. Your hair was dark, and you shone like Aldones himself.”
“How romantic of you, after all these years, my dearest. Look who I have brought with me!”
Margaret swallowed the cold terror in her throat and moved closer. She bent down and touched Dio’s hands. They were icy and the skin beneath her fingers was flaky and dry. “Hello, Dio.” She felt awkward and very young as she looked down at the only mother she had ever really known.
“Marja!” A weak smile touched her lips. “How wonderful to have you here. I have been longing to see you. When did you arrive?” How lovely she is now! My beautiful daughter, my little girl—well, woman, isn’t she?
“More than a month ago. It seems like a lifetime, really. Father found me at Armida, and Lady Javanne was not pleased to see him walk in from the storm.”
“Storm? Have you been having adventures without me again?” Dio sounded like an echo of her usual self, as if she were trying to conceal her illness. “Every time I left you alone, Marja, you got into some mischief. Remember the time you built that tree house with the children from . . . I can’t recall their names . . . and you stole the wood from the lumberyard.”
“What’s this? I never heard anything about a tree house,” Lew said. His features were stern, as if he were fighting despair with all of his tremendous will.
“Of course you didn’t! We hushed up the whole thing, didn’t we, Marja? It was rather fun. And it was a very well-made tree house.” A spasm of coughing choked off her words, and Margaret looked at her father, terrified. Her pulse quickened with fear. But Lew did not appear to be very disturbed by Dio’s coughing.