The conversation continued through the dinner hour. For the first time, Bettany seemed to be genuinely interested in something besides herself. Perhaps she was relieved or simply attracted to the idea of a husband who was not only rich and powerful but romantically mysterious as well. At least, she was now minimally familiar with the tenets of her husband’s faith.
Danilo escorted Bettany up the stairs to the room she shared with one of the Renunciates.
“What I said about my promised husband,” she said, “I did not mean it. I was told those things out of spite. They wanted me to believe that he could never love me or give me a child. If what you say is true—if the Lord of All Worlds and His saints work miracles for the faithful—then who is to say we will not be blessed as well? Surely, there can be no more devout follower than my husband.”
Leaving Danilo speechless, the girl shut the door behind her.
24
As the party neared Thendara, the weather worsened. Clouds blanketed the sun. Both humans and animals breathed out streams of vapor, and ice formed on skin and clothing. Sleet poured down as they crested the pass through the Venza Hills. The horses plodded on, heads lowered and tails clamped to their rumps. There was no shelter along this stretch of the road, and the winds cut through the hills like razor- edged knives. Darilyn, her face pale and set, shouted to keep together and keep moving. Danilo admired her ability to keep everyone organized.
They arrived in Thendara late, as the quick hush of nightfall settled over the city. They were all thoroughly drenched and aching with cold. Bettany’s lips had turned blue. She was shivering visibly.
Darilyn sent one of her women ahead to alert the Castle. When they clattered into the courtyard, lanterns were already lit and the cobblestones swept clear of snow. Servants waited in the sheltered alcoves of the doors with blankets in hand.
Within the Castle itself, Javanne Hastur and a handful of maids waited to take Bettany in hand. Javanne stripped off the girl’s sodden cloak and wrapped her in a thick shawl.
“Where is her waiting-woman? Has she no kinswoman to attend her?” Javanne demanded of Danilo, as if this lapse of propriety were his fault.
He hesitated to blurt out the truth in front of the girl, that she had been thrust into an unseasonable journey among strangers, without even that small comfort. Javanne pressed her lips together, her posture expressing her opinion, and bustled the girl away.
The Renunciates had finished offloading what did not belong to them and were ready to leave. Danilo offered them a hot meal from the Castle kitchens, but they refused. They looked weary, yet anxious to be back in their own Guild House.
Darilyn and Danilo stood in the lee of the outer wall as he counted out the rest of the fee, adding a generous bonus from his own purse. Instead of taking her leave, Darilyn lingered.
“Is anything amiss?” Danilo asked. He was distracted by the business of their arrival and the safe disposal of Bettany’s dowry, so that he was not blocking telepathic contact the way he normally did. She was unsure but not alarmed.
“You are—you were paxman to Dom Regis Hastur?”
Pain welled, but only a small pulse, quickly fading in the thought: Was and still am, in my heart. Nothing could change that, not all of Rinaldo’s fiery words or the gods themselves.
Darilyn said, “I hear he is lately married to Lady Linnea Storn.”
“Yes, that is true.” Why would the affairs of the Comyn concern a Renunciate? Given Darilyn’s touch of laran and red-tinted hair, could she and Linnea be distant kinswomen? Throughout the Domains, the illegitimate offspring of Comyn lords often had some degree of psychic talent.
“Would you convey my wishes for her happiness?” Darilyn’s usually brusque manner softened. “I met her years ago, you see, when she was Keeper at Arilinn. My freemate and I sought her out when there was no one else we could turn to for help. She was gracious to us when there was no obligation. She accepted us, accepted me for what I am. I have never forgotten that kindness.”
How like Linnea to have seen past the cropped hair, the mannish clothing, and the surgical mutilation to the heart of the woman. There was nothing mean spirited or prideful in Linnea. She would not judge Darilyn for her choices . . . or Regis for his.
“I cannot say when I will next have the opportunity, but I will speak to the lady and give her your greetings.” Danilo bowed in informal salute.
With a whisper of a smile, Darilyn returned to her sisters.
While Danilo was fetching Bettany to Thendara, arrangements for the marriage had been made. The ceremony took place only a tenday later, with barely enough time to sew the wedding clothes.
The intervening time went by in a cascade of autumnal storms, one upon the heels of the next. Ice-edged rain battered the city, sending even the hardiest folk scurrying for shelter. The damp chill penetrated stone and wooden walls alike. Winds swirled through the streets and the courtyards of the Castle. In the brief respites between gusts, common people emerged to rush through the most essential tasks. Street vendors set up their wares with desperate speed and as quickly took them down. On corners and outside taverns, men in ragged cloaks gathered to exchange dire prophecies about the winter to come.
At last, on a particularly blustery day, the waiting came to an end. Danilo’s temper was thoroughly frayed, and he wanted the wretched affair to be over; Rinaldo had kept him running between Gabriel, who was in charge of the security arrangements, Javanne and the Castle coridom, who were in charge of decorations and food, the musicians, the priest who was to perform the cristoforo portion of the ceremony, and almost daily errands to Tiphani Lawton. Danilo had scarcely had a moment to himself, let along to deliver Darilyn’s message to Linnea or find a way of letting Regis know, by look or thought, of his desire for a reconciliation. He had scarcely seen Bettany, for she had kept to her rooms, refusing to see anyone but a bevy of dressmakers and jewelers.
Javanne had taken it upon herself to supervise the bride’s gown and attendants. Everything would be in impeccable taste, but Danilo could not imagine Javanne as a sympathetic friend.
Danilo wondered if Linnea might be able to help Bettany. If anyone could heal the psychic wounds caused by the Ghost Wind, it was a trained leronis. Try as he might, however, Danilo could not think of a way of suggesting it that would not immediately meet with Rinaldo’s refusal.
Rinaldo had wanted the wedding to take place in the Crystal Chamber, but Valdir had convinced him of the impropriety of admitting commoners to a place traditionally reserved for Comyn. Therefore, a smaller but no less stately venue was selected, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom. Paneled in rich dark wood with southern-facing windows, ample wall sconces now filled with beeswax candles, and a fireplace capable of warming the entire chamber, the place was suitable for even a royal marriage. Javanne had outdone herself with garlands of hothouse flowers, tied with ribbons in Hastur blue and white. The honey-sweet smell of the candles mingled with the perfume of the flowers.
The wedding was the highlight of the autumn social calendar. Every Comyn and city dignitary in Thendara received an invitation, as did the Terran Legate. When the first guests arrived, Danilo stood in his prescribed place, a pace behind Rinaldo. This way, he need not respond overtly to any greeting, although many guests included him by a glance or a word. It occurred to Danilo that these people valued him in his own right, not merely for his role as paxman to Regis and now to Rinaldo.
Regis and Linnea were among the earliest to arrive, followed by Dan Lawton and his wife. Rinaldo, infused with a celebratory spirit, had ordered Valdir to remove his guards from Regis. To Danilo’s surprise, Valdir had complied. Perhaps he no longer considered Regis the primary obstacle to his plans.
Warmly, Regis wished his brother every happiness. Linnea did not curtsy but inclined her head in a Keeper’s greeting. She was heavily pregnant, but she carried herself with grace.
Regis paused before making way for the next guest to greet the groom. Unlike the Crystal Chamber, th
is room had no telepathic dampers. Regis had kept his thoughts shielded, but as his eyes met Danilo’s, he lowered his barriers. Linnea stood watch, by her posture and her laran-enhanced vigilance ensuring a moment of intimacy.
Bredhyu!
Then Regis was turning away, Rinaldo had already begun his formal greeting to the Terran Legate, and the fleeting rapport disappeared.
While Dan Lawton offered appropriate congratulations, his wife beamed at Rinaldo. Danilo needed no psychic abilities to detect the bond between the two. Was it the sort of flirtation a couple, each married to someone else, might enjoy? No, the connection was far stronger and eerily disturbing. Danilo sensed no trace of sexual attraction, but passion lay at its roots.
The crowd quieted as Bettany entered, accompanied by Crystal Di Asturien and Javanne’s adolescent daughter, Ariel. Bettany looked very young and small in a confection of cream-colored lace over satin just a shade darker. Her fair hair had been curled and lacquered so that not a strand moved beneath her diamond-studded veil. Tiny silver bells hung by ribbons from her tiara.
As she halted beside Rinaldo, Bettany’s gaze met Danilo’s. A glassy light filled her eyes. For a moment, she seemed not to know him, or anyone. Her thin fingers plucked at the lace of her gown. Then she sniffed, lifted her chin, and turned away, as if Danilo were beneath her notice.
The ceremony itself was longer and more complex than Danilo had ever witnessed. As Lord Hastur, the Head of his Domain, Rinaldo must be wed by the ancient Comyn tradition of di catenas. He insisted on a religious rite as well.
Rinaldo had asked Regis to officiate for the first portion. The honor should have gone to Ruyven Di Asturien, but no one thought any the worse of Regis for it. For Regis, it was no privilege but a humiliation, a public reminder of his lesser status.
Regis carried out his part with quiet dignity. Linnea stood a short distance away in the front row of onlookers. Danilo sensed her mental presence sustaining Regis. When Danilo opened his mind, it felt as if a door had cracked ajar and sunlight streamed into a darkened room.
The chamber dimmed in Danilo’s sight; he felt a surge of—was it welcome? acceptance?—from Linnea.
Then Regis was clasping the catenas bracelets on the wrists of his brother and the new bride. Danilo’s vision sharpened. One of the fabulously expensive Arcarran rubies set in the bracelets sparkled. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of freshly spilt blood.
The participants rearranged themselves for the religious ceremony. Tiphani Lawton stood directly behind Bettany. Had he not known Rinaldo’s adherence to cristoforo morality, Danilo might have suspected him of marrying both women at the same time.
The cristoforo priest, a slight man with a straight line for a mouth, intoned the nuptial benediction. Tiphani closed her eyes and swayed dramatically in time with his words. Rinaldo bowed his head as if receiving absolution. Bettany looked blank, her face the color and immobility of a wax doll.
Watching her, Danilo was suddenly overtaken by the certainty that this wedding was a serious mistake, one they would all come to regret. The girl was not bored, as it first appeared. She was trembling. Overwrought, confused. Near tears. Perhaps even aware of the spectacle of Tiphani Lawton behind her.
How could her family have done this to her? Danilo thought angrily. Anyone else would have known the marriage was a sham, her husband incapable of giving her children. Rinaldo was marrying her not for love but out of religious duty and as a way of slacking his long- repressed desires without guilt.
Well, Danilo thought, it was no business of his whom Rinaldo married or why. He did not know whether he pitied more the bridegroom with the glowing, beatific smile or the frightened child who was now his wife.
Or, he added to himself, Tiphani Lawton. The woman had retreated to a corner and was holding forth to a rapt audience. Danilo could not catch her words, only her animated features.
Danilo was more interested in the sight of Linnea and Regis standing close together. Something in his stance, the angle of his shoulder, was tender and protective. She held herself well, despite the awkwardness of her pregnancy, accepting his attention and yet in no way lessened by it. Regis could have done far worse.
The witnesses drifted toward the ballroom, where the reception and dancing would take place. As much with his mind as with his ears, Danilo overheard Regis murmuring to Linnea, “I fear what may come of this, although I do not know why.”
A surge of agreement from Linnea: “What are we to do? As the old proverb says, ‘The world will go as it will and not as you or I would have it.’ ”
“Perhaps.” Regis did not sound convinced.
Regis, Danilo thought with a private smile, had never waited passively for the world to do as it willed.
Following the knot of guests, Dan Lawton maneuvered to walk beside Danilo. “Can you get a word to Regis? Every message I’ve sent has been refused.”
Danilo kept his gaze ahead, his expression guarded, and said nothing..
“At least he looks well enough. I feared—” Dan broke off as they came into the ballroom itself. The guests parted to allow Rinaldo and his new bride to enter. “If you can, let Regis know the genetic tests confirmed Rinaldo as a Hastur, so we’ve had to accept his credentials. I won’t be able to ignore him if he starts pressing for Federation membership.”
In the ballroom, the musicians had tuned up and were waiting for the newly married couple to begin the night’s dancing. Rinaldo had given strict instructions as to which dances and songs were acceptable. There would be no wild mountain secain nor any modern, licentious off-world gyrations and especially no Sword Dance. Danilo remembered how Dyan Ardais, in a brilliantly barbaric costume from the Ages of Chaos, had brought a fierce masculine grace and barely sublimated sexuality to the ancient steps. No, this evening would be one of sedate formal dances, preferably ones in which men and women danced only with one another and touched no more than their fingertips.
Rinaldo had clearly been taking lessons, for he squired his new wife through the measures of the opening dance, a promenada, without hesitation. Bettany, now the center of attention, smiled up at her husband with the first expression of happiness Danilo had yet seen in her.
The dance concluded to restrained applause. Rinaldo was so pleased with himself that he bade Danilo to dance with any lady he liked. There were not many women with whom Danilo was on cordial terms. Javanne seemed pleased, if startled, when he asked her, and it was not improper because they had been introduced so long ago. Javanne made a restful partner, for she made no attempt at conversation. Danilo enjoyed dancing and wished it were permissible for him to dance with her more than once, but he could not pay special attention to another man’s wife.
Bettany had been partnered by Valdir, who escorted her back to her new husband. Rinaldo was talking with the cristoforo priest with such absorption that he gave his wife only a cursory nod. Danilo felt a pang of sympathy for the girl. How could Rinaldo fail to see that she craved attention as a drowning man craved air? Moved, Danilo bowed to each of them in turn, including the priest, and then asked if he might request the next dance.
Bettany’s fingers felt cold as they rested lightly on Danilo’s. The musicians played the opening measures of the next dance, a passolento in two lines. Danilo handed Bettany into the position of honor among the other ladies and took his place opposite her. The two lines bowed to one another, moving through the stylized courtly display. Bettany brightened as the two of them swept down the center with all eyes upon her. There was an artless enjoyment in the way she skipped through the close-steps. Her eyes sparkled, and her lips parted. The melody was very old and familiar, and she hummed along like any young woman at her first fancy ball. In that moment of simple pleasure, Danilo saw the girl she had been before the Ghost Wind and might yet be again, given care and understanding, gentle guidance, and, most of all, affection. Could Rinaldo love her?
The passolento closed with another formal salute. Danilo offered Bettany his arm. “It’s good
to see you happy, damisela—p ardon me, Domna.”
“Happy? Am I happy?” She hesitated, and he slowed his step to give them more time before he must return her to Rinaldo. “I do so love dancing and pretty dresses, but these are things of the moment. At night, in the dark, I am alone with my thoughts. I suppose that will be different now—the being alone. Perhaps he will talk to me.”
Danilo’s heart ached for her poignant hope. “Bettany—Domna—if you ever need someone to listen to you, to give you counsel—”
She looked up at him, eyes full of questions. “You would be such a friend to me?”
“I doubt your husband would permit it. I meant you might seek out Domna Linnea. As your sister-in-law and a Comynara in her own right, such a friendship would be perfectly suitable. You will find her kind and sympathetic. She has been trained as a healer of the mind—”
He saw from Bettany’s reaction that he had gone too far. Her face, which had softened like a flower in the sun, closed. “I do not need anyone to be kind to me. And there is nothing wrong with my mind! I require you to take me to my husband with no more unseemly delay!”
Afterward, Danilo waited out several dances and then, seeing Linnea sitting with a group of ladies, he approached her. Linnea flashed him an expression of relief when he asked her to dance, for what he heard of the conversation concerned this season’s fashion in crocheted- lace ruffles.
“I have a message for you,” he said as the musicians played the opening bars. “From Darilyn n’ha Miriam.”
“Who—oh, the Free Amazon. I remember her. How did you—” Linnea broke off as the pattern of the dance drew them apart, for they were the first couple, casting off.
“I hired her to escort Damisela—a h, Domna Bettany—from Serrais.”
Linnea joined his hands as they circled one another.
“You could not have done better. How does Darilyn fare?”
“She is well and sends her thoughts of you. And her thanks—” they drew back as the second couple moved into the center of the set to circle, “—for your kindness to her.”