“Mestre Bartolomeo, thank you for your hospitality.” Regis inclined his head toward Dan Lawton. The Terran looked a decade older than the last time Regis had seen him. “I regret we meet under such circumstances.”
After a few more words, their host withdrew. Regis and Dan sat in two of the elaborate chairs, with Danilo standing near Regis in the attitude of a paxman.
Regis took the lead, quickly dismissing the last traces of formality. “Dan, I am so sorry about Felix. How does he fare?”
“You were with him when—” Dan’s voice roughened. He swallowed. “He came through the surgery and is stable. Jay Allison thinks he’ll make a full recovery, although it will be slow. There’s been nerve damage. Jay says he would have died of blood loss, but the dagger seemed to have sealed off the severed vessels. That’s not supposed to happen. You—whatever you did, I’m grateful.”
Regis nodded, feeling inadequate to the moment. How could he take credit for something that was not his doing? The healing power had flowed through him, but it had not been his.
“I wish there had not been a need,” Regis said aloud. “It would have been far better if you had kept your word to stay out of our affairs. I’m sorry your son was involved, but the matter should have been handled through Darkovan authorities . . . regardless of your parental interest.”
“Does that matter now? You clearly hadn’t been able to maintain order. Your own people were out of control, kidnapping children, with disorder in the streets, and religious fanaticism running riot. The Federation respects local autonomy, but we can and will intervene under certain circumstances. I know you asked to speak with me, and I agreed to this meeting because of our old friendship. I cannot and will not allow personal factors to interfere with my duties as Legate.”
What was Dan trying to say? That he meant to declare martial law in Thendara or place the entire planet under emergency Federation authority?
The repercussions would be indelible, provoking consequences—accusations, confrontations, escalating violence—that could not be easily undone.
“Any action should be carefully considered.” Regis tried to keep his tone conciliatory. “We have worked together before, each of us on his own side. In this case, there is enough blame to go around. After all, the fighting was initiated by Spaceforce police, not those holding the children. If you break the agreements governing relations between the Domains and the Federation, you will be seen as the aggressors.”
Dan’s mouth tightened. “My son was taken captive by your people.”
“That’s not true. The other children were taken by my brother’s agents, but they were all Darkovan, so the matter remains within our jurisdiction. Felix, on the other hand, was abducted by his own mother. I thought you knew.”
“Where did you hear that?” Dan’s chin jerked up. “Why would Tiphani do such a thing? The accusation is ridiculous! Where’s your proof ?”
“Felix himself told me.” Regis paused, letting the words sink in. “I brought her the news, but she was . . . distraught. I’m not sure she understood. She might respond better if you spoke to her.”
“She—she’s not at the Castle?”
“The last time I saw her, she was being escorted back to the Terran Zone. I cannot say of my own knowledge if she arrived there, but she’s not foolish enough to return to my brother. They did not part on amicable terms.”
“Then I don’t know where she is,” Dan said, clearly miserable. “I’ve listed her as a missing person and initiated a search. The gate logs show she entered Headquarters Building, visited our quarters briefly, and then left again. I assumed she went back to Rinaldo.”
“Do you agree that this new information changes the situation? It must affect your actions with respect to our autonomy if no Darkovan was involved in Felix’s abduction.”
Dan drummed his fingertips on the wooden armrest of his chair. The light in his eyes had shifted from raw emotion to rationality. “You’re right, damn you. I can’t charge Tiphani with kidnapping her own son, not without a legal order transferring custody to me, and that wouldn’t be retroactive.” He glared at Regis. “All right, you’ve made your point. What do you want?”
Regis got up and began to pace, letting the movement loosen his muscles and his thoughts. “It’s not so much what I want as what is best for us all. I’m grateful that you have trusted me enough to keep the Federation off our backs this past year. I must ask you to do so for just a little longer.”
“While whoever is responsible for these outrages perpetrates more of them?”
Danilo reacted to the Terran’s impassioned tone. With a restraining gesture, Regis slid back into his seat. “I don’t think that will happen. In any event, the situation may be radically altered soon.”
Dan stared at Regis. A long moment passed, and then another, during which neither man spoke. Then the Terran said, “You aren’t going to tell me what you’re planning, are you?”
“I dare not. You will know everything in a little while.”
“And you want me to keep Spaceforce out of Darkovan Thendara until then?” Dan nodded slightly, his expression thoughtful. “What are a few more days—or weeks, for that matter—in the grand scheme of things? This is a volatile time for us, as well. It would be foolish to endanger everything we’ve worked for without giving you a chance to make it right.”
Make it right, Regis repeated silently. If only it were that simple.
Regis went to the door, Danilo following like the shadow of a cloud-l eopard. “I hope,” Regis said, one hand upon the latch, “that when this is over, we will have the chance to talk. To really talk.”
I do not have so many friends that I can afford to lose one needlessly.
Silence answered him. It was too much to ask, and the gulf might never be bridged. That was a risk he must take, for there was no course of action left but to go on.
The door closed behind him with a faint, decisive sound.
35
Regis arrived early at the Crystal Chamber. He and Danilo had planned to ride to the Castle, with Linnea traveling in a litter. She had refused, quite emphatically, and a horse had been furnished for her as well. Danilo had arranged for an armed escort, Gabriel and the three Guardsmen. With their stern faces and practical, unadorned blades, they presented a daunting sight. Pedestrians and riders alike drew back as they approached.
Their passage did not go unmarked. The party had not gone far when a parade gathered in their wake. Followers cheered, “Lord Regis! Lord Regis!” Regis would have preferred a less conspicuous procession, but once he was recognized, there was no possibility of anonymity.
They were the first to arrive, except for the Guardsmen stationed at the entrance. Nothing more had been seen of Tiphani Lawton, nor had Regis heard anything of Valdir Ridenow’s latest plans. In this atmosphere of shifting loyalties, anything was possible.
Light streamed through the ceiling prisms to cast rainbows on the pale stone floor. The enclosures for the various Domains appeared untouched by the passing years. Aldaran would remain vacant, as it had for the last centuries. Rinaldo’s advisors would surely have informed him that as king, he was entitled to take the seat of Elhalyn. Yes, there hung the banner of that Domain, the same Hastur blue, the silver fir-tree crowned with the emblem of royalty. Danvan Hastur’s ornate presence-chair now occupied the front row of the Elhalyn box.
While Danilo circled the Chamber, performing his usual security check, Linnea searched for any hidden laran devices such as a trap matrix and then set the telepathic dampers.
The Comyn began to arrive, using their respective private entrances rather than the double doors through which Rinaldo would make his formal appearance. Draperies fluttered here and there at the back of the enclosures. Regis could not sense anything through the hum of the telepathic dampers, but for a moment, he received the distinct impression of someone lingering behind the curtains of the empty Aldaran box. The next moment, the fabric stilled, and he decided he was mistake
n. It had been a stray current of air, nothing more.
Regis looked around the room, noting among them Ruyven Di Asturien, an elderly Castamir lord, Francisco Ridenow resplendent in the gold and green of his Domain, and Kennard-Dyan Ardais with Mikhail at his back. Bettany was absent, but Regis would have been surprised to see her. She must be closeted away with her ladies, grieving for a child that had never existed. What would such a loss do to her?
Gabriel sat in the Alton section, looking grim. Javanne, although as a Hastur she had the right to sit with Regis, had chosen to remain beside her husband. Likewise, Danilo could have claimed Domain-right for Ardais, but his oath and the bond he shared with Regis took precedence over status.
Regis reflected, That is all any of us really wants—t o serve the ones we love.
As the scattered audience settled, Mikhail flashed Regis a grin.
Aldones Lord of Light, Blessed Cassilda, any god who is listening! Keep him safe—a nd Linnea, and Danilo. Keep them all safe on this day.
Regis took his seat in the Hastur box, with Danilo behind him. As if they had been waiting for his signal, the others came to order. Conversation diminished into whispers and then silence. The Chamber seemed to be holding its breath.
The doors swung open, and a Guardsman cried out in ringing tones, “His Majesty, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, First of that Name, Warden of Hastur and Sovereign of the Seven Domains!”
As one, the greatly reduced assembly stood. All heads turned toward the doors. A procession entered the Chamber, led by a pair of Castle Guardsmen. Their formal uniforms, encrusted with badges and decorations, glittered in the multihued light. After them came Rinaldo’s council, including Valdir Ridenow, and finally Rinaldo himself.
Rinaldo proceeded across the central area at a slow, stately pace. Regis thought his brother could hardly have moved briskly under the layers of fur and jewel-studded velvet and the thick, ruby-set copper chains. Rinaldo’s crown outshone the gold of the crown on the Elhalyn banner, which overlaid but could not obliterate the Hastur fir-tree.
Permanedál, ran the ancient motto of the Hasturs. I shall remain.
Yes, my brother, I am still here.
Rinaldo lowered himself into the carved and gilded presence-chair. He took a moment to arrange his lace-trimmed sleeves. An expression of satisfaction lighted his angular features.
“Kinsmen, nobles, Comynarii, I bid you welcome.” Rinaldo pitched his voice to fill the Chamber. “Lord Valdir, will it please you to call the roll of the Domains?”
So, Regis thought, Rinaldo been studying the ritual forms. Valdir was to be rewarded for his loyalty with a meaningless ceremonial privilege. As the Ridenow lord began the recitation, Regis reconsidered. Valdir was no fool, to be bought with an empty gesture. He was biding his time, watching for the right opportunity, and young Francisco was following his every move.
On more than one occasion, the opening of a session had resulted in a challenge to the rightful holding of one or another of the Domains. This time, however, the roll call proceeded smoothly, marked only by the silences when there was no one present to respond.
We are so few, Regis thought. How can I risk even one of us? Even if this day went as he hoped, what place would Rinaldo have in Thendara, with all the enemies he had made? Perhaps he might be content with a minor role at Castle Hastur, or he might prefer to retire to Nevarsin . . .
Regis dared not think that far into the future. Anything might happen before tomorrow’s sunrise.
When the roll call was done, one of Rinaldo’s aides handed him a prepared speech. In flowery legalistic phrases, he declared the Council valid only for this session and only to hear one complaint. He had, he stated, no intention of permanently reconvening it or investing it with any other authority.
“My younger brother, whom you all know, has requested this audience. Since there is no other business at hand, I am now prepared to hear what he has to say. I hope—” and here Rinaldo cleared his throat, brows drawing together, “—the results will not constitute an abuse of anyone’s time.”
Regis approached the railing of the Hastur partition and paused, one hand on the gate. The Chamber seemed immense. When he stepped onto the floor, the clatter of his boot heels was far too loud. Acutely aware of the intense interest of the audience, he lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and faced his brother.
“Know ye by all present,” he used the formal words, “that I, Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn, do declare you, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, unfit to rule the Domain of Hastur. How answer you?”
Rinaldo half-rose in his chair, then regained his composure. He might be impulsive, and devout to the point of zealotry, but he was not a simpleton. He realized that an outburst would only strengthen the case against him.
Muted exclamations rippled through the Chamber, as quickly hushed. Everyone wanted to hear what came next. Some of those present, old enough to have witnessed the intricate web that was the old Comyn politics, showed no surprise. Others startled, and one of the younger lords—Francisco Ridenow—gaped openly. No one present had been alive when Danvan Hastur had assumed the position of Regent for the incompetent King Stephen, but they had all grown up with the tale. No matter what the outcome of the challenge, history was unfolding before them.
What Regis had not said, and what every Comyn understood, except possibly Rinaldo himself, was that Rinaldo could claim the throne only as Head of Hastur, based on the preeminence of his Domain. Regis, on the other hand, traced his lineage through his mother, the only sister of the last Elhalyn king. Rinaldo might be recognized as his father’s legitimate son, thanks to the actions Regis had taken, but his Domain-right was to Hastur, not Elhalyn.
“I have issued a lawful challenge,” Regis repeated. “If you do not answer, you admit the validity of my charges and forfeit your place.”
“I admit no such thing! I hereby dismiss this gathering!” Rinaldo gestured to the Guardsmen. “Sergeant-at-arms, clear the Chamber!” He pointed at Regis. “Arrest that traitor!”
“Stand as you are!” Gabriel thundered. “That is an illegal order, one you are oath-bound to disregard!”
The Guardsman, who had hesitated to lay hands on a Hastur Lord, even on the direct order from the King, hurried back to their places.
“Your Majesty,” Ruyven Di Asturien said with grave courtesy, “even a king must answer such a challenge. None of us may hold himself above the law. The very name, Comyn, means ‘equal.’ Regis has the right to demand an accounting of you.” When Rinaldo made no further objection, Di Asturien continued, “Lord Regis, on what basis do you accuse His Majesty?”
“I declare that my brother has abused his authority by either authorizing or by failing to prevent the abduction of a member of his own Domain, my niece Ariel Lanart-Hastur, as well as other Comyn children.”
“I deny these charges unequivocally,” Rinaldo announced. “They are spurious and without merit. This has nothing to do with my fitness to rule Hastur! Regis makes these wild statements out of envy, because he seeks to wrest from me the crown he lacked the courage to take for himself. Envy, I say! I have achieved what he never dared! The crown is mine, and nothing he says can change the fact!”
Uproar swept the Chamber. Raised voices echoed off the walls, jumbling together.
Kennard-Dyan, his face flushing in outrage, surged to his feet. “We Comyn do not tolerate tyranny in our midst—not even from a Hastur! It would be better to disband our caste entirely than to submit to such dishonor!”
A few, Mikhail among them, cheered.
Regis knew he must act before the situation got further out of hand. Rinaldo would not hesitate to use force, and some Guardsmen were still loyal to him.
“Kinsmen, listen to me!” Regis raised his arms for attention. “Calm yourselves! We are not living in the Ages of Chaos! We must not be ruled by the passions of the moment but by honor and reason!”
The clamor died away, leaving the Chamber once more
with that ghostly emptiness.
“Dom Regis has brought grave complaints against Your Majesty,” Dom Ruyven said. “They cannot be summarily dismissed. What say you to the charge of kidnapping your sister’s child?”
“She was not kidnapped. She was given the honor of being one of the first students in the school that I myself established for the spiritual betterment of our children. As Head of Hastur and as King, I had every right to do so.”
“You had no right to seize my child!” Gabriel’s features congested with outrage. “King or not, you have no authority over my daughter!”
“Or my nephew!” came a voice from the other side of the Chamber.
“Or my granddaughter!” That was one of the Eldrins, hurling the words like the opening of a blood-feud.
“Do you admit your guilt?” asked Dom Ruyven. “Think carefully, vai dom. Your intentions may have been noble, but that does not change the serious nature of these accusations. Not even the greatest of our ancient kings dared commit such an offense.”
By the set of Rinaldo’s jaw and the stormy angle of his brow, he had little patience for the question. He was not going to concede. Wars had been fought for less cause.
Valdir, who had been watching the interchange, gestured for permission to speak. Regis needed no laran to recognize the man’s simmering frustration. Everything in Valdir’s posture, from the coiled tension in his shoulders to the angle of his jaw, conveyed menace.
“A school for Darkovan children is commendable,” Valdir said, “and Your Majesty can argue that you have the right to compel attendance. But you did not have the right to take a Terran child and provoke Federation military intervention. Did you think the Federation would sit idly by while the Legate’s own son was abducted? They sent a rescue party, a tactical strike team armed with blasters. And, as you well know, they used them.”
“Blasters?” the Eldrin lord exclaimed.
“In the Trade City?”
“But the Compact forbids—”