“Yes, and I want to claw her eyes out!” she cried. “Curse them both! No, I don’t mean that! I would never wish him any harm. I’ve always thought it hideous when the heroine of the story says, ‘If I can’t have him, no one else will’.”
“Yes, even though it costs us everything, we want those we love to be happy.”
Alanna nodded, blinking back tears. “I’m afraid that if I let him go, there will be nothing left for me. No one will ever love me again.”
Lew sat quietly, remembering his despair when his beloved Marjorie died in an attempt to control the Sharra matrix. He had never before loved anyone with that exhilarating, soul-deep bond. For a time, he could not imagine living without her. But he had lived, and he had healed. He had loved again. Dio had been a very different wife but every bit as dear to him. Now, he looked into his heart and saw a treasure chest of cherished friends, family, lovers. No one of them could ever replace another. All had enriched him immeasurably.
“There are many who love you,” he told the quivering girl before him. “Your family and Marguerida, who has tried to be a loving foster-mother—”
Alanna refused to be consoled. “Then why did they send me away? Why does Auntie Marguerida always push me aside, or act as if I have no feelings? Oh, I should not have said that! She—Oh! Perhaps she treats me as if I am a spoiled, selfish, willful child because…because that is what I am.”
“But that is not all you are,” Lew persisted gently. “It is said that our past is our fate, but I hope that is not true. I believe you have it within you to become more than what you have been. Stronger, truer. Braver.”
A stillness crept over Alanna as he spoke. “If I make Domenic keep his promise and marry me, that will make both of us miserable. But I don’t know how I can go on without him.”
Lew picked up her hand and stroked it gently. With a sob, she laid her head on his knee. He stroked her hair, brushing away the cobwebs and flakes of rock dust.
“I thought the same thing when I lost my first wife,” he murmured. “She was so brave and so beautiful, and I had never known such love. Have you heard the stories of how she perished in the Sharra circle, saving us all? So I know something of grief.”
A little sigh passed through Alanna’s body, and her muscles softened.
“I think we never forget those we love,” Lew said. “They become part of us forever. In time, the pain subsides. The burden becomes lighter. The memory becomes a wellspring of compassion and strength. And sometimes we are given the privilege of passing that wisdom to someone else, so that they know they are not alone.”
Alanna’s fingers tightened around his own. After a long moment, she straightened up. The childish, petulant quality disappeared from her features. She looked less forlorn, more resolute, as if drawing upon some inner strength she had never before touched.
“I have been a silly, flighty thing,” she confessed, “always getting my way by throwing fits of temper and making those around me miserable. But if you will help me, as my own grandfather might have, I will try to do what is right.”
“I am your friend, and I ask nothing in return.” Lew thought of his many conversations with Father Conn. What would the old monk have said? “If you would act with honor, then let it be for its own sake, not to buy any favors from me.”
Her eyes gleamed in the reflected firelight. “No, but it would mean a great deal to know that you are watching over me.”
Bare is brotherless back, ran the old proverb. No one, not even the highest Hastur lord or the lowliest ragpicker, ought to face the unfolding crises of life alone.
“Then I shall do what I can for you,” he said. “I will not take care of you, but I will help you to learn to take care of yourself. Meanwhile, we had best both get some rest. There is an important Council session tomorrow, and I will need a strong young arm to lean on.”
Cheerfully, Alanna returned to her own quarters for a few hours of sleep before dawn. Lew could not be sure how long her helpful mood might last; she might abandon all her resolutions at the first trial. Then again, he thought with an inward smile, she might surprise them all.
Lew woke to a gentle tapping at his door. He had fallen asleep in the same comfortable chair beside the now-cold hearth. Alanna pushed the door open with one hand and slipped through, carrying an enormous covered tray. She wore a fresh gown, a flattering deep forest green edged with snowflake lace around the high neck and cuffs. Her clean hair was neatly braided and coiled on her neck.
“The kitchen was short on help this morning,” she said. “Half the cook’s helpers were out sick, either they themselves or their families. I ordered everything I thought you might like.”
By the time Lew returned from washing his face and changing his shirt, Alanna had finished stirring the fire to new life and setting out the meal. The customary pitcher of jaco sat steaming on the little table beside bowls of brown eggs, boiled in the shell and still hot, stewed apples, a basket of nut-crusted pastries, and pots of berry jam, honey, and butter.
“Good provender for a hard day’s work,” he said approvingly.
“Yes, and you will need all your strength.” Smiling, Alanna stirred a spoonful of honey into a mug of jaco and handed it to him.
“And you, chiya? You must eat as well.”
“I had a little bread and soft cheese down in the kitchen while they were making up your tray,” she said. “But if it would please you, I will eat more.” She bit into one of the pastries.
While they were eating, Marguerida arrived. She was already dressed for Council in dove-gray silk bordered by wide bands of embroidery in shades of blue. She had done up her air in a graceful swirl with strings of tiny Thetan shells instead of the usual coil low on the neck so common among Comynara. Her expression darkened slightly at Alanna’s presence, but she said nothing beyond bidding the girl good morning.
“Have you been up all night, Father? I had hoped we could sit and talk.”
Alanna bowed with a fragile, self-conscious dignity and excused herself. When they were alone, Marguerida seated herself in the second chair, opposite Lew.
“Father, do you seriously mean to attend Council today? Illona said you were thinking of it and that neither she nor the healers had any objections, but I didn’t believe her. What can they be thinking of, to permit it?”
“I believe,” Lew said dryly, “they understand I would do myself more harm by staying here and fretting. After yesterday’s astonishing events, how can I miss today?”
“Your presence will not solve anything if you make yourself ill again.”
“I am quite recovered, I assure you. Shall I dance a secain to prove it to you?”
With a laugh, Marguerida sat back in her chair. “Just listen to me, fussing over you like an old mother hen! I’m sorry I’m so short of temper.” She rubbed her temples. “It’s this headache.”
“Another precognition?”
She shrugged. “Who can say, with so much going on? Every time I think we’ve passed the crisis, I get another one. I can’t stop worrying about what Francisco may do. His scheme to marry his daughter to Domenic came to nothing. Katherine left her and Terése safely back at Aldaran and says she’s much happier there, not that Nico was all that interested. Francisco will try something else, I just know it! I don’t think Mikhail should have allowed him to make a presentation.”
“Don’t you trust your husband’s judgment?” Lew asked.
She gave him a horrified look. “Of course I do! But he’s so bighearted, he sees good in everyone. I’ve never known anyone less likely to hold a grudge. At the same time…isn’t there a Darkovan version of Trust in God but tie up your camel?”
Lew could not restrain himself from chuckling. “I’m sure the Dry Towners have something like that, only involving Nebran the Toad God and a herd of smelly, foul-tempered oudrakhi that no sensible person would want to have anything to do with in the first place.”
When Marguerida laughed, some of the tension in her
muscles eased. “You see how I’ve needed you, Father, if only to help me see the lighter side of things.”
“Let’s go in, then,” he said as he rose to his feet. “I do want to have a serious talk with you, but now is not the time.”
“We will have plenty of opportunity later,” she replied, getting up and kissing his cheek.
Very shortly, they were to discover how wrong she was.
28
After Marguerida departed to prepare for the Council meeting, Lew’s body-servant helped him into his formal court attire. The elaborate cloak, trimmed with fur and silver-thread embroidery, never hung properly over his empty sleeve. He would have been just as happy wearing comfortable, ordinary clothing, but as Lord Alton, he felt an obligation to present a certain dignity and grandeur.
Alanna, unusually silent, accompanied him through the maze of corridors, down the stairs and across the courtyard to the entrance to the part of the Castle housing the Crystal Chamber.
Although the Chamber was only half filled, the telepathic dampers had already been set. After greeting Gabriel, Lew settled himself in the Alton enclosure and placed Alanna behind him. She had no official right to appear with him, but Gabriel nodded pleasantly to her and made no objection. Marguerida had gone to speak with Istvana in the Keepers section, and Mikhail already occupied the central position under the blue and silver fir tree of the Hasturs. Domenic was there, his face taut and pale, and Rory as well, looking his usual jaunty self. From across the Chamber, under the banner of Ardais, Danilo nodded to Lew.
Mikhail waited until the Head of each Domain had arrived and Marguerida had taken her seat beside him. Then he called the meeting to order. He began the agenda, calling for old business. To everyone’s surprise, Danilo answered.
“Kinsmen, vai domyn and vai leroni, I would return to a subject we have discussed since our first meeting, that is, the need for an heir to Aillard. Since we have agreed to consider nedestro lineage, I believe I have found a candidate to fill that position. He fully understands that he cannot hold the Domain in his own right, but only as Regent for his daughter, when he has one. He will, of course, be subject to the approval of Lady Marilla and this Council.”
Beside Lew, Gabriel muttered, “What is Danilo Syrtis up to? The Aillards died out years ago.”
“I know no more of the matter than you do,” Lew answered in a hushed voice. Then he added, keeping his tone neutral, “Let us hear what he has to say before we pass judgment. It won’t be the first time a Domain has passed to a collateral branch.” It was only because both Lew and Marguerida had forfeited their rights to the Alton Domain that Gabriel now ruled Armida and sat here in Council.
Marilla Lindir-Aillard got to her feet. This morning, she looked older than her years, her sharp features tired and flushed. “I cannot imagine who you mean, Dom Danilo. None now live with full Aillard blood, and every member of the Lindirs and other related families is known to me. Do you perhaps mean some distant Eldrin cousin?”
“No, I speak of one who can trace his lineage from Lady Cassilde Aillard through her son, Auster. As you may remember, he was called Ridenow in order to protect him from the backlash aimed at Cassilde’s sister, the Keeper Cleindori Aillard.”
“Cleindori…” The whispered name spread through the Chamber. “The Golden Bell” was still revered for having challenged the old ways and freed the Towers from the crippling burdens laid on earlier Keepers.
“And so,” Danilo picked up his story, “the bloodline was hidden. But Auster in his turn fathered a nedestra daughter, and it is her son I would present to you.”
“Has he laran?” Lorrill Vallonde asked.
“Even if he has none himself,” Dani Hastur said, “he may be a perfectly suitable Regent and may pass the talent to his daughters. What sort of man is he, Uncle Danilo? Would he give us wise counsel?”
“I do not think any of us could give better, although he is yet young,” Danilo answered. “He has demonstrated his laran to my satisfaction.”
Lew noticed that none of the Aldarans made any comment. It was not so long ago that the enclosure below the double-headed eagle stood empty, curtained from sight. Aldaran had never taken part in the persecution of Cleindori. Indeed, they had long regarded many of the restrictions imposed by the Towers as obstructive and unnecessary. Sometimes, Lew thought as he rubbed the stump of his right arm, they had been wrong. Beltran Aldaran had sought to harness the power of Sharra for his own purposes, with only disaster as the result. The current family, however, were sound, prudent men. Hermes, who had succeeded Lew as Darkovan Senator, had proven himself an asset to any undertaking.
The discussion continued, ranging in tone from curiosity to veiled suspicion.
“Enough of this bickering!” Marilla snapped with more than a touch of irritation. She pressed one hand to her forehead. “One more word from any of you and my head will explode!”
“Mother, are you well?” Kennard-Dyan asked, from his seat in the Ardais area.
“I’m perfectly capable of making decisions for Aillard while it is in my keeping,” she retorted. “Let’s have no more useless chatter. I myself will admit this person as my guest. Bring him in, and he will sit here beside me.”
Danilo signaled to the Guardsmen to each side of the front doors, and a few moments later, a slight, red-haired young man entered. He wore ordinary clothing, a jacket and long pants of brown wool, well-made and very clean but worn and several years out of style. It was probably, Lew thought, the best the poor fellow could afford.
“Who is he?” Alanna asked Lew.
“I have no idea. Someone Danilo found in one of his searches?”
Danilo had finished introducing the newcomer, Darius-Mikhail Zabal, who in his turn made a few impeccably polite comments, bowed to Mikhail, the assembled Comyn, and Domna Marilla, all in proper order. He answered their questions about his parentage and upbringing clearly and articulately. There was no doubt, Lew thought, that he was an intelligent young man, far better-spoken than many who sat here through no virtue of their own but only their birth. The fact that he had been earning his living as a licensed matrix mechanic seemed promising to some and shameful to others. Marilla, who could be as snobbish as any Comynara, nevertheless smiled as she welcomed him.
“Vai domyn, worthy members of this Council,” Mikhail said, an amused smile playing across his features, “it seems our numbers have grown beyond anyone’s expectation. Aldaran is once more united with the Domains. Today we are honored not only by the presence of a company of Keepers in our midst but also by three new Ardais and now a new member of Aillard, who I hope will produce many Gifted daughters to ensure the continued prosperity of his Domain.”
The assembly responded with a round of applause. Mikhail’s words had touched on all their hopes for a renewed and flourishing Council.
“Dom Francisco Ridenow, whom we welcomed back among us last year, now wishes to address us,” Mikhail said, once the applause subsided.
Francisco stepped out into the center of the Chamber. In contrast to the elaborate finery of the rest of the Council, he wore a closefitting jacket so dark it looked black, and matching hose tucked into soft boots, the kind of clothing a man might easily dance—or fight—in. A fire burned in him, igniting his every movement.
Lew’s head throbbed with a sense of imminence. Even with the telepathic dampers in place, he sensed Francisco’s pride, his arrogance, his barely suppressed triumph…
“Lords and kinsmen, vai Comyn and Comynara!” Francisco’s voice, powerful and resonant, rang out. “I have no desire to spoil the festive mood of this morning, but a matter of utmost gravity has come to my attention, something that cannot be denied or delayed.”
The audience shifted restively. Someone—Lorrill Vallonde, Lew thought—asked, “What is he talking about?” and his neighbor hissed for him to be quiet. Rory leaned forward to whisper something to his mother, who shook her head and then turned back to glare at Francisco.
In gr
owing horror, Lew listened as Francisco related how a commoner, a Terran expatriate, claimed to have suffered an abuse of laran at the hands of a member of the Comyn, a member of this very Council. The Chamber fell deathly silent.
Jeram…it had to be Jeram! No wonder Domenic had been unable to find him, if he had fallen into Francisco’s clutches.
Laurinda MacBard surged to her feet. Her features bore the disciplined calm of a Keeper, but her posture revealed her feelings of outrage. “Who among us stands accused of such a terrible act? Where is this Terranan, that we may hear his testimony from his own mouth?”
Francisco turned to face the Dalereuth Keeper. His tautly controlled movement drew every eye. Across the Chamber, Marguerida clasped her hands so tightly that Lew could almost hear her joints crack. He could not sense her thoughts through the telepathic dampers, but her eyes shone like molten gold. Clearly, she was wondering what Francisco was up to, bracing herself for some nasty trick.
At a nod from Francisco, the Guardsmen opened one of the double doors. Jeram entered, his hands bound behind his back, flanked on either side by armed men in Ridenow colors. A lanky, pale-haired man in Ridenow livery followed close behind them.
Jeram had changed almost beyond recognition from the man Lew had known at Nevarsin. With his skin gray and dull, his hair hanging in tangles down his back, he swayed on his feet, held upright only by his captors.
Blinking hard, Jeram glanced about the Chamber. His pupils were so widely dilated that his eyes looked black, but his expression was one of bitter determination. His gaze shifted from Francisco to Lew and, finally, to Marguerida. She looked back at him with genuine sympathy but no hint of recognition. Domenic’s face tightened, and across the room, in the Aillard section, Illona’s chin came up.