We had sea crows on Thetis, and they were quite intelligent, Do you think the bird will go all the way to Thendara with you?
Yes—it seems to have adopted me.
Well, then, I will look forward to meeting it.
How are things going at Neskaya?
I think I am making some progress, yet it seems as if I learn something, and then it wiggles away from me. It is very frustrating, but even more so for Istvana, I suspect, though she never lets on. But I am glad to be here instead of at Arilinn. The people with Istvana are friendly, and they don't sneer at me when I make a mistake. . . . Now get to bed! We can talk another time. I love you, Mik.
I feel better for talking to you, but if you are going to order me about when . . . when we are wed . . .
I am, so you had better become accustomed to it. I am
not the least impressed by all your titles, and I have a very forceful disposition! Like your mother!
I know, beloved, I know. Good night.
Mikhail put away his stone, then sat watching the fire, finishing the last of his beer. He savored the strength of Marguerida Alton as she had been in his mind, the power of her, and beneath it, the passion she held for him. What, he wondered, would it be like when he was finally able to feel that passion directly? He imagined her hands running over his naked back, and found himself instantly aroused, despite his exhaustion. Would he ever find out what it would feel like to love her freely? Mikhail was afraid to hope.
He mounted the stairs slowly, his thighs feeling the stiffness of riding all day. After undressing, Mikhail lay between the covers, smelling the clean linen, listening to the wind against the tiles of the roof. Just before sleep claimed him, he heard the rough and familiar sound of his crow, as if it were bidding him good night. Then He slipped into deep dreamless sleep.
The following morning, the sky had clouded over; by the time they set out, snow was falling. The children were restless now, and Liriel was becoming crabbier by the minute. Mikhail, who had never ridden in an aircar in his life, had a sudden longing for one, to carry him and the rest of the company back to Thendara in an hour instead of at least three or four more dreary days.
By midmorning, the snow was coming down steadily, though not very thickly. They were riding along the river, and the gurgle of the waters which were not yet frozen was a pleasant sound amidst the soft rustle of the snow. There was only a light breeze which chilled the cheeks and ruffled his hair, and he was grateful for that. He was weatherwise enough to be concerned.
The crow, which was still riding atop the carriage, lifted off the baggage suddenly and flapped through the air. It landed on Mikhail's shoulder with a thump. He felt the sharp talons dig into the wool of his cloak, and he smelled the slightly fishy odor of the bird. It shifted from foot to foot, then settled into place.
"Are you going to do this all the time now?" He was becoming less uneasy with the bird, but he suspected he
would never be entirely comfortable with that beak close by. The sea crow was a formidable animal at a distance, and more so close up. It gave a rough caw which he took for a yes.
Mikhail was glad of this diversion, since wondering about the crow kept him from thinking about the children. He kept trying to think what he should have done differently, and finding no answer. It was a futile pursuit, and he knew it.
"Do you expect to be presented at court?" he asked the crow quietly, and was answered by the soft trill, the nearest thing to a musical sound the animal could make. "I am going to cut quite a figure, if you insist on sitting on my shoulder all the time."
Then he had the feeling of something brushing his thoughts, just a light touch, like a feather across his brow. There were no words in it, just the sense of some communication that he had never experienced before. It felt calm, but strong.
Mikhail turned his head slowly to look at the crow, and found red eyes gazing at him intently. The huge beak was no more than a handspan from his own nose, sharp and dangerous. But he felt no threat, just a sense of certainty, as if he were being reassured that everything was all right.
PART
TWO
14
They came to the gates of Thendara at dusk on the fifth day, in a wet snow that soaked the cloaks of the riders and made the horses shine with moisture. It took another hour and several detours to reach Comyn Castle, since the carriage could not travel on the narrower streets, but Mikhail sent Daryll and Mathias ahead to prepare for the arrival of five children, two of them ill.
As they passed taverns and cookshops, smelling of stews and roasted meats, full of the sound of voices, Mikhail asked himself why he had not contacted his uncle during the journey. After a few minutes of thought, he decided he was still deeply ashamed of his apparent failure at Halyn House. Nothing Marguerida or Liriel said made any difference to him on that subject.
When Mikhail Hastur rode into the Stable Court of Comyn Castle, with a sea crow riding on the pommel of his saddle, and a bleak mood dampening his spirits, he was not sure what to expect. But in the torchlight flickering on the swept stones of the courtyard, he saw not only grooms and servants waiting to care for them, but Regis himself, standing at the top of a low set of steps, his head uncovered in spite of the cold, his white hair shining in the ruddy light of the torches. Danilo Syrtis-Ardais stood a few steps behind his master, alert as always, but with the hint of a smile gracing his mouth.
Mikhail dismounted, threw the reins to the closest groom, and climbed the steps to meet his uncle. Behind him he could hear the voices of the children, the two girls particularly, and Liriel hushing them as she climbed down from the carriage. When he reached Regis, he found himself tongue-tied. He had not felt this anxious in years.
But his uncle embraced him in a warm hug, his face so
filled with obvious joy at their reunion, that Mikhail's fear's vanished. They stood in the chilly afternoon, not speaking, but only savoring the moment.
Then there was a nutter of dark wings, and the crow alighted on Mikhail's shoulder, giving Regis a red-eyed look that made the older man draw back quickly. "I promised I would present him at court, and he seems eager for the honor," Mikhail said, finding his tongue with relief. Regis' welcome was too genuine for him to continue feeling uneasy.
Regis laughed. "You always were the most unorthodox boy, Mikhail, and I see that you are still capable of surprising me. But I don't know what Lady Linnea is going to think of a crow in her dining room!"
"Oh, I don't think we'll have to worry about him. He prefers to remain outdoors and scrounge scraps from the kitchen. I hope you are not disappointed to see me return with all of the children, Uncle."
"I am never disappointed in you, Mikhail. And when you sent for Liriel, I rather anticipated that something was amiss. Come. Let's get inside." I don't want to arouse any more gossip than I must.
Of course, Uncle. And I am sorry I made such a mess of everything.
Nonsense! I pitchforked you into an impossible situation. In hindsight, I regret it. He smiled at Mikhail.
What do you know?
Only what Liriel has told me, which is a great deal. More to your credit than mine. Why didn't you ask for help sooner?
I couldn't.
Mikhail turned and looked toward his sister, who was coming up the stairs, holding the girls' hands tightly. She had not told him that she had contacted Regis, and he felt both relieved and somewhat betrayed. Her intention had been to protect him; still, he felt a little annoyed at sheltering behind her voluminous skirts, then angry at himself for being ungenerous.
Two servants were lifting Alain onto a stretcher, while Emun watched them with round eyes. He took his brother's limp hand and patted it, and Vincent stood beside him, quiet again, although he had had several sudden bouts of
fury during the journey. They had been at a loss as to what to do, for to have given the young man a sleeping draught might have been disastrous. He seemed to be able to answer questions, though he complained of headache, and s
tarted at noises and bright lights.
Emun, looking much older than his fourteen years, herded Vincent up the stairs, following the men with the stretcher. Mikhail reflected on what a good lad he was, to treat Vincent with such kindness after all the bullying he had endured.
They proceeded into the castle, a straggle of weary travelers. As they passed the door, the crow flew off with a caw, no doubt heading for the kitchens. Mikhail took off his damp cloak, shook it, and handed it to a servant who was close by. Then he stamped his cold feet and looked toward his uncle again.
Regis caught his glance, smiled, then shrugged. "I think that hot baths and clean clothing are the first orders of business."
Mikhail caught the guarded tone in his uncle's words, and studied him for a moment. There was something different about Regis, though he could not quite put a name to the change. He seemed much older, grayer somehow. But he was too tired to untangle that puzzle now. "I think you are right."
At that moment, Valenta released her grip on Liriel's hand and approached the two men. She looked very hard at Regis, her dark eyes sparkling. "Are we going to live here now?" she demanded.
Regis leaned down, so that he was at eye level with the younger girl. His expression was mild, the way it had been with his own children, and with Mikhail. "Would you like that?"
"I don't know. It's nice and warm here. I haven't made up my mind yet."
"Do you know who I am?" >«;
"Of course! With that white hair you must be Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn, and you are my cousin."
"You have the advantage of me, knowing all my names, which, truthfully, I rarely even think of."
"I am Valenta Felicia Stephanie Elhalyn. Now . . . where is that bath you mentioned?"
What a resilient young woman! Mikhail, is she always so . . . brash?
She has been since we left Halyn House. Even before that she demonstrated a lively mind. She and her sister are going to be remarkable—it's the boys who are the problem.
Yes. We will discuss it later.
"I am very pleased to have met you at last." ,He took Valenta's hand and bowed his head over it gracefully, considering his present posture, and then smiled at her. He stood up slowly, and looked at the other girl.
Miralys did not sparkle like her sister, but stood back a little, still clinging to Liriel’s hand. The death of her mother had shaken her more than it had Valenta, and she had lost some of her calm assurance. Still, she looked Regis Hastur in the eye, swallowed hard, and made a small bob of a curtsy. There was great dignity in her stance, as if she were much older than her years. Mikhail experienced a rush of sadness that she had never had a real childhood. He knew what that was like, since he felt that he had not had one himself.
"This is Miralys, Regis," Liriel said. She looked down at the small girl. "I don't know all her names, for we haven't talked about that yet."
"What a pretty name, to be sure. Welcome to Comyn Castle."
"Thank you," Mira said very softly. "It seems very grand."
"Anything would seem grand after Halyn House," Val interjected, grinning. "Now, about that bath and some clean clothes."
"Of course. How rude of me to keep you waiting here." Regis gestured at a maid who was standing patiently at the back of the entry way. "Please show the young ladies to the Elhalyn Suite, and make them comfortable."
The maid, a woman in her twenties, came forward, took the two girls by the hands, and led them away. Valenta cast a cheerful look over her shoulder as they went, and Mikhail felt relieved that they, at least, appeared well enough. Miralys would recover in time, and Valenta was clearly ready for anything—-even perhaps hoping for adventures. After the events at Halyn House, Comyn Castle would, he hoped, be blessedly dull.
Emun, who had been waiting silently in Liriel's shadow, still holding Vincent's hand, stepped forward. He looked even whiter than before, as if he were afraid of Regis. Vincent's face, by contrast, was empty of expression, and his cheeks were rosy. In the light of the room, Vincent looked every inch a manly figure, like the king he had planned to become. The glazed expression in his eyes, though, marred the effect somewhat.
Making a stiff bow, Emun stood before Regis Hastur, as if awaiting judgment, and expecting to be found wanting. His pale red hair, slack and brittle fell across his narrow brow. "I am Emun-Estavan Mikhail Elhalyn, and this is my brother Vincent-Regis Duvic Elhalyn y Elhalyn. I hope you will not be offended if he doesn't say anything—he is riot himself just now." The quaver in his voice was near to a squeak.
Regis' face did not register any shock, but Mikhail knew he was startled by Vincent's name. He saw his uncle glance quickly at Danilo Ardais, then turn back. Mikhail himself was rattled by the name—Elhalyn y Elhalyn! If only he had managed to find out the full names of all the children earlier—why hadn't he asked? But they likely would not have told him. Even on his earlier visit, none of the children had mentioned their entire names, and he suspected that their mother had given them very strict instructions about it. But Derik had died long before Vincent had been conceived, so it was impossible that he was Vincent's father. Still, claiming Elhalyn y Elhalyn would make the lad's certainty that he would be the king more comprehensible. It was a shame that Priscilla had taken her secrets to the grave.
Regis glanced around, but none of the servants was standing close enough to hear Emun's quiet introduction. Who was Vincent's father, to make him claim such a name—unless he was some nedestro half brother of Priscil-la's? And what would the Comyn Council make of it, if Regis ever let the knowledge be made public? He did not know if Vincent would ever be of sound mind again, or as sound as he had been, but it was clear that with such a scandalous heritage, he would never be acceptable as king. Mikhail could not decide if he felt more sorry or relieved. Certainly he was very sad about Vincent's present condi-
tion, but since he had given up any real hope that the young man could ever take the throne, even as a puppet to the Hasturs, he was slightly relieved that circumstances had conspired to make that impossible. It left him with only Emun as a suitable candidate, and the lad was so frail and thin that Mikhail was not certain he would live to adulthood.
Mikhail ignored the rush of despair that swelled in his chest. He was going to be stuck with a throne he did not want, and he might as well resign himself to the idea. The anger which had been absent during the trip stirred, and with it a deep resentment. Then a bleak mood began to darken his mind. Gods, he was tired! The only good he could see coming out of it was that some of the opposition to a potential match with Marguerida might vanish, since the Elhalyn throne had no real power, and therefore might not upset the balance between the Domains. But even that seemed dubious.
"I understand, and I have a healer waiting to see to Vincent, and to your other brother . . . Alain, is it?"
"Yes, dom!" Emun was trembling now, looking ready to cry. Mikhail could not guess what was troubling the lad, nor why he appeared to be so terrified as he stood before Regis Hastur.
"You must be tired from the journey," Regis answered calmly.
"The carriage bumped a lot."
Liriel snorted. "Emun is being very tactful. I now know every rock between here and the coast intimately, having passed over them twice in a tenday. My bones will never forget them. Mikhail and the men had it easy."
Emun turned and looked over his slender shoulder at Liriel, giving her a look of enormous gratitude which lit his haggard young face and made him look like the child that he still was. She flashed Emun a brief conspiratorial grin, and Mikhail realized that his sister had a gift with these children that he had failed to notice before. Then Emun glanced toward Mikhail, as if seeking guidance for what he should do. He was clearly frightened, though Mikhail could not imagine why. There was nothing threatening about Regis Hastur, or even about Danilo Ardais, standing behind him.
I guess he isn't going to throw me into a dungeon, like Mother always said he would.
Emun's thought startled him, and
he could tell that Regis had caught it as well. His uncle looked very perturbed, but before Mikhail had time to wonder what it meant, two manservants moved toward the boys, took them in hand, and bustled them out of the entry. When they were gone, everyone remaining breathed a sigh of relief.
Mikhail, what did he mean by that?
I am not sure, Uncle, but Priscilla had the children terrified, and she seemed to have the idea that you were going to snatch her children away and do terrible things to them.
I see. I wonder where she got that notion?
Mikhail had a good idea that Derik Elhalyn's ghost might be the perpetrator, remembering what it had said during the séance, but he was not ready to discuss it. Certainly not in the middle of the entryway, with servants all around. And he was just too tired to continue the matter at present. "Come on, Liri. In payment for my sins, you can have the first bath."
She chuckled. "That will be a good beginning, I believe,
though the debt is rather larger than can be repaid in a