“I agree it is unwise to take foolish chances,” Mikhail went on. “But, if Domenic is to rule in his own time, he must know the city and its people. He must learn to gauge those risks for himself, to rely on his own judgment, nor out protection, no matter how loving or well meant. I do not think he could have a better guide than Danilo Syrtis.”
Who, Marguerida reminded herself, kept Regis safe for many years, against World Wreckers, assassins, and many other dangers.
She sighed inwardly. When Domenic was born, she had wanted him to be self-sufficient, confident in his abilities, and capable of making his own decisions. Now, she reflected ruefully, it was too late to change her mind.
12
Domenic spent the next day and a half in frustration. Alanna slept most of the time. He knew this was a good sign, that her body and mind needed rest, but the thought did not make waiting any easier. When, finally, she woke, she refused to discuss the events leading up to the riot. Clearly happy to see him, she chatted excitedly about their secret engagement. What Istvana had said was indeed true, he decided. Alanna had returned emotionally to the condition the Arilinn workers had created in her, spirited and capricious, but sexually oblivious. She might have been made emmasca, she was so unresponsive. The passion they had shared had disappeared as if it never existed. When he kissed her, she turned her head, so that his lips pressed against her cheek.
The Castle bustled with more than the usual Council season activity, and Domenic’s family seemed to be in the center of it all. Marguerida, with Yllana’s help, managed the added housekeeping until all the unexpected guests could return safely to their own homes, as well as all the usual arrangements necessary for Council season. Danilo met several times with Mikhail, coming and going with his usual quiet discretion. Domenic did not have a chance to speak more than a few words with him, for his father had delegated a surprising amount of boring but essential Council work to him. Nor did Domenic see much of his grandfather. Lew appeared for one or two family meals, saying little and eating less. Only a stern look from Mikhail restrained Marguerida from fussing over him.
The riot at the Castle gates granted Domenic an unexpected reprieve. Francisco Ridenow did not send his daughter home, but he seemed to have given up the idea of a marriage alliance, at least for the time being.
Yllana mentioned in passing that she had seen the Ridenow girl playing at hoops and streamers with Katherine Aldaran’s daughter, Terése, who was the same age. Yllana spoke of their game so wistfully that Marguerida suggested she take a break from her household duties to join them. Yllana happily went off to do so, looking more like a carefree damisela than a young woman struggling with new responsibilities. Domenic hoped the friendship would be good for all of them. At least, he doubted even Francisco could exploit it for a political betrothal. In addition, Terése had spent the first decade of her life on Terra, among diplomats, and was unusually sophisticated for her age.
As for the Council meetings, once the initial furor had subsided into attempts to place blame for the incident, business resumed as usual. Discussions degenerated into each side jockeying for advantage, regardless of the merits of the case. Domenic found himself looking forward to the audience with the Kazarin Forst men. At least, something real might happen then.
The mob at the Castle gates might have been drunk, egged on by a few vocal malcontents, but they had legitimate grievances.
Danilo sat in the Crystal Chamber and listened to the men of Kazarin Forst tell their tale. As he had reported to Mikhail, they had been in the city since the passes opened up in the spring. What they said was also true, that they had tried for a Cortes hearing and were turned away. The information was not difficult to gather. The men had told their story throughout the poorer areas of the city, generating sympathy and outrage. Unfortunately, theirs was not an isolated case.
On the day of their hearing, the two brothers stood together, dressed in their mountain garb. Their fur shirts looked even shabbier in the opulent glitter of the Chamber. They were proud folk, and nothing less than the gravest extremity would have driven them here to beg for help.
They told a story as old as Darkover itself—forest fires, followed inevitably by mud slides and erosion, then drought. The natural cycle of fire and flood was an essential part of Darkover’s ecology. In settled areas, everyone from Comyn to the poorest farmers banded together to control the worst blazes, for the forests provided food for man and beast as well as fuel and shelter for wildlife and, hence, furs and meat. Even in modern times the importance of fighting fires was so great that the penalty for breaking fire-truce was exile or death.
In Danilo’s memory, another scene played out with other men. It was early in the World Wreckers time, before anyone knew that the destruction of forest and soil and the assassinations aimed at decimating the Comyn were part of a deliberate and far-reaching plot to reduce Darkover to such desperate straits that they would accept rescue from the Federation at any cost.
Regis had sat under the blue and silver fir tree banner of the Hasturs, listening to a grizzled old man with a profile like a sharp-toothed crag.
“I swore thirty years ago that I’d starve before I crawled down to the Lowlands to ask the Comyn for anything,” the old man had said.
In the end, Darkover had had no choice but to negotiate with the Terran Federation. Regis had been adamant about not placing themselves in debt to the Terranan. He insisted on full restitution from the World Wreckers and poured out his personal fortune to import food and also medicines, for people weakened by toil and hunger were especially vulnerable to disease.
Even the most heavily damaged areas recovered as the World Wreckers brought in special equipment to speed the restoration of soil and forest. Yet the natural cycle of fire and flood continued, and therein lay the current problem. Even though Darkover remained independent, able to purchase what it needed, it never acquired advanced technology. The planet was too poor in minerals to support industrialization. The population was too thinly distributed, and it was not suited by either temperament or training to factory regimentation. There would always be things too expensive or difficult for Darkover to make for itself and other things Darkover could offer in exchange.
Now the Federation was gone, having withdrawn to fight its interstellar civil war. Where could people like these Kazarin Forst men turn except to the Comyn who had always guided them?
Danilo blinked, and it was no longer Regis who sat across the room, but Mikhail. Mikhail had made good use of the foreknowledge of the complaints and he had an answer ready for them. His plan was innovative but sound. The strange illnesses besetting beasts and crops might indeed represent some new threat or might be only a recurrence of older ailments. A trained matrix technician and one of the Renunciate healers who had been working alongside the Terrans as part of the Bridge Society exchange would accompany them to determine what kind of assistance would be most efficacious.
Humbled but clearly moved by Mikhail’s thoughtful response, the Kazarin Forst brothers withdrew. The Council concluded the rest of its business for the day and adjourned.
As the Council members rose to leave, some lingered briefly to discuss the session. Mikhail’s brothers, Rafael and Gabriel, gathered with Marguerida and Gisela Aldaran, Rafael’s wife.
Since they were a small group, the most convenient place to meet was the antechamber between the main Hastur enclosure and the private entrance. Members of the Domain once used the place to speak undisturbed before making a formal appearance in Council. The antechamber had not been used much since the time of Danvan Hastur; the wood paneling was dark with age but richly grained, carved in designs of interlocking fir branches and leaping stags. The benches that lined the walls had been newly refurbished, however, and covered with long flat cushions. The air smelled of wood polish and herbs.
As Danilo joined them, Marguerida was saying to her husband, “That was well done, love.”
“Aye, but a hundred more such men stood outside our
gates the other night.” Gabriel had not yet taken his seat. He shifted from one foot to the other, slapping his fist against his open palm for emphasis. “For each one who dares to come forward, there are as many others, fomenting discontent and rebellion.” He scowled at Marguerida, who had opened her mouth to reply. “Don’t look at me that way, sister-in-law. I speak only what we all know.”
“I saw them in the streets as I rode out this morning,” Rafael commented.
“Gabriel, please sit down,” Marguerida said, holding out her hand. “There’s room here on the bench, and you’ll make us all nervous, pacing about like that.” With a grunt of resignation, Gabriel complied.
“Danilo,” Mikhail said, smoothly changing the subject, “you have my deepest thanks. I doubt the hearing would have gone as smoothly without your information.”
From his own place in the corner, Danilo inclined his head and said he was happy to be of service, but the credit was due entirely to Mikhail’s skillful handling of the situation.
“Modestly spoken,” Mikhail replied graciously. “I nonetheless value your wise counsel.”
“You shall always have it.”
“Mikhail, you cannot seriously propose to give an audience to every malcontent in Thendara,” Gabriel said, returning to the previous topic. He had always been the most tradition-minded and conservative of the three brothers. “You know as well as I do that the Council barely tolerated today’s hearing. If you press them or abuse their patience, you will lose their support on issues of real importance.”
“And this isn’t important?” Marguerida put in.
“What else are we to do?” Domenic asked. “We cannot turn these people away. As Comyn, we have a responsibility to them.”
“There speaks the idealism of youth,” Rafael said, but not at all maliciously.
“Rest assured,” Mikhail said, “I will not underestimate the seriousness of the problem. That’s why I want to know how you see it and what suggestions you have for how to proceed.”
Marguerida ran her fingers over the embroidered cushion cover and looked thoughtful. “As Gabriel says, the men at our gates are just the tip of the iceberg. The old ways are breaking down. We need to put something new in their place or run the risk of going the way of the dinosaurs.”
“The what?” Gabriel said. “What are dinosaurs?”
“I forgot there were none on Darkover. Just think of them as slowwitted, wingless dragons, lumbering blithely on their way to extinction, like some Council members,” Marguerida said with a chuckle, then sobered. “What we need right now is a better way to use our existing resources.”
“You clearly have something in mind,” Mikhail said, grinning at his wife, “some scheme that will no doubt send the traditionalists on the Council into apoplexy.”
“Don’t tease me, Mik. I don’t mean to upset them. I just don’t cope well with people who think nothing should be ever done for the first time.”
Mikhail laughed outright, but Gabriel looked unhappy. Gisela, who had been sitting beside her husband, listening, said gently, “You must admit that Marguerida’s ideas—like setting up a publishing company with Thendara House—have been of great benefit.”
“I’m not the one she must convince,” Gabriel muttered. He leaned back against the paneled wall, then scowled at the sharper edges of the carvings.
“Like illiteracy, this problem won’t go away on its own,” Marguerida said. “If these people don’t get help locally, they will come here and expect us to do something.”
“My point exactly,” Gabriel said. “If we attempt to hear every case brought before us, the Council will be swamped with every trivial dispute in the Seven Domains. It would be better to handle these things as we have always done, each Comyn governing his own lands.”
“If that were possible, if there were enough of us, would those men on the street be here?” Domenic asked. “Isn’t this proof that the old ways are no longer enough?”
“I say we should send those people back where they belong, using the force of the City Guards if necessary,” Gabriel said. “Times of unrest have come and gone before. If we are steadfast in our determination, matters will resolve themselves.”
“That may have been true once.” Domenic refused to back down. “But we’ve never faced a situation like this, not since the Terranan first landed on Darkover. I believe we have not yet seen the fullest impact of their departure.”
“Or replaced the benefits they brought,” Rafael added.
“Domenic’s right,” Marguerida said. “When the Federation left Darkover, they created a vacuum—of power, of resources, of people. In time, we will adjust. A new balance will emerge. The question is, how do we make that transition as smooth as possible?”
Danilo seized the opening. “I believe there are far more people with laran than are presently represented in the Comyn. Some of them may be nedestro offspring, like that Traveler girl, Illona Rider. Others may be from collateral families or possess only minor talent, not enough for Tower training, but—”
“I don’t understand your point,” Gabriel interrupted. “Are you proposing throwing open Council membership to every by-blow or commoner with a touch of laran? The result would be chaos!”
Danilo paused. He had not been thinking of the Council itself but of the other ways Comyn served Darkover with the talents of their minds. At the same time, Why not? The Federation Senate included representatives from every level of society.
“In the meanwhile,” Mikhail said in a quiet voice that drew everyone’s attention, “we must do what we can to minimize the suffering of the people in our care.”
“My thought, exactly.” Marguerida nodded, her golden eyes shining the way they did when she got a new idea. “We need a way of sorting out the more serious issues and dealing with ordinary things on a lesser level, the way the Cortes does, or referring them to the appropriate authority. We could set up a screening center—not here in the Castle, but somewhere more accessible.”
“The City Administrative Office would make an excellent location,” Mikhail suggested. “That would have the advantage of being available all year round, not just in Council season.”
“It’s true, there’s room in the building,” Rafael said, catching their enthusiasm. “But who would do this screening? We’re stretched too thin as it is.”
“Since it’s my bright idea,” Marguerida said, “I’ll be the first to volunteer. I’ll get Domenic and Rory, when he’s off duty, to help. It will be good training for both of you,” she added to Domenic. “Who knows? The idea may be catching, and then we can enlist young people from other families, too.”
Danilo said to Marguerida, “I will take my turn, if I can be of use.”
“As will I,” Gabriel said, more out of duty than real interest.
“And I, as much as I am able,” Rafael added. Since he lived at Aldaran much of the year, this was not likely to be much. Fondly, Gisela laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
“By your leave,” Danilo went on, “I will discuss the proposal with Dom Cisco. We could use a cadet or two, those with legible writing, to keep records for us. That might make a useful rotation of duty.”
“Which is a nice way to say, for those who’ve overdone it on the practice yard or who need a little concentration to sharpen their minds,” Mikhail said.
“So you see,” Marguerida concluded delightedly, “it is to everyone’s benefit!”
As the meeting broke up, Domenic glanced in Danilo’s direction, but there was no possibility of a private word. Danilo could not help thinking that although Marguerida’s suggestion would undoubtedly relieve some of their current difficulties, it was a temporary measure only. He doubted that Darkover’s rural population would adapt well to such centralized authority or to the disruptions in home and farm caused by the necessary travel. Despite all the years of Federation presence, Darkover had few roads, no mechanized transportation, and no means of communication except mounted messengers and telepath
ic relays.
There are too few of us…
Then he must find more.
The next morning, Danilo left the Castle early. Although he had a meeting to attend, one he had taken a great deal of trouble to arrange, he paused at an open-air stall selling hot drinks and fried meat pastries. A knot of workmen stood waiting for the next batch to emerge from the oil pots, steaming and fragrant with spices. Danilo bought a mug of jaco and took it to a sheltered corner to sip. The sounds of men’s laughter, the clatter of cooking implements, horses and carts, the street vendors crying out their wares, washed over him. Nearby, another cookshop sold fried fish and mushrooms on skewers; shawled women stood in clusters, baskets under their arms, gossiping while their children played between the stalls.
As he passed into the market area, he noticed a group of idlers listening to a speaker who was clearly worked up about something. Above the heads of the listeners, Danilo caught a glimpse of the speaker’s lanky frame, his emphatic gestures, and pale hair partly hidden beneath a cap. Danilo moved closer for a better look, but as soon as the speaker noticed his interest, he cut short his oration and vanished into the morning traffic.
Danilo made his way through a district of parks, past high, wide houses whose walls shimmered with panels of pale translucent stone. At one of them, the servant at the door showed him to a workroom hung with insulating draperies, a matrix laboratory.
Matrix mechanics, trained at the lowest levels, had been licensed in the city since the time of the Forbidden Tower, but there had never been very many of them at any one time. The earliest licensed mechanics had been leroni who, for one reason or another, by their own choice or involuntarily, did not remain within a Tower. That austere life did not suit every temperament. Nowadays, they might have acquired their training without ever having studied in a Tower. They accepted mostly small domestic projects like creating matrix-keyed locks. The Terrans had hired them for other things as well; the shabbiness of the laboratory suggested that those commissions had not been replaced with other work.