The Shadow Matrix

  Danilo looked as if he was going to lose control again. His normally pale face became rather red, and he seemed to be having trouble with his breathing. "He is right, you know," he finally managed to get out.

  "No, I don't know. What do you mean?"

  "Regis, old friend, you have been cheerfully meddling in Mikhail's life for years!"

  Regis glanced toward Mikhail and quirked an eyebrow. "Have I, Mik? Come, tell me all my sins." He sounded neither angry nor upset, only interested and intensely curious.

  Mikhail did not reply immediately, but he noticed that his uncle had not admitted any fault. He knew that Regis was unlikely to do so. Well, he had been invited to speak his mind, and he was not going to get another opportunity soon, if he knew Regis Hastur. But he decided to choose his words with a little care. "I am not an idiot, Uncle, and your 'surprise' of Gisela and her father was not lost on me."

  His uncle's expression became neutral, as if he were trying to conceal his chagrin at being caught once again trying to arrange matters for his own purposes. "I thought you would be pleased to see her—you are old friends, are you not?"

  Mikhail was not surprised that Regis knew this, but he was slightly chagrined. "Yes, we were friends. But I am not the same young man I was at twenty-one, and she is not the woman she was either. I have put up with all the pretty girls you and Linnea have thrown in my path since I was _ old enough to notice them, and I have been polite and courteous. But I don't have a yen for Gisela any longer— and the one I had years back was mild, to say the least."

  "I am sure . . ."

  "I am not your pawn, Regis, and I will not become one. I would like to point out, I am not the only unmarried son of Gabriel Lanart-Alton, although I suspect you have conveniently overlooked that. Your plan is clear as glass, to bring the Aldarans back to the Council by marrying me off to Gisela. It is even a logical idea. But I think that if you introduced this idea to other members of the Council, you would find a greater opposition than mine."

  Regis looked startled, then thoughtful. "What do you mean?"

  Mikhail took a bit more wine and tried to order his thoughts. "Last summer, when we were riding into Thendara, I had a very useful discussion with my cousin Marguerida about the balance of power in the Domains. I was trying to explain to her why my parents were so opposed to the idea of any marriage between us." He paused and nodded. "Marguerida clarifies things with her questions. The man who has her to wife will have a wise counselor."

  "She was remarkable during that uproar in the Crystal Chamber," Danilo interrupted, "and I remember thinking much the same thing at the time.-" He grinned at the memory. "There you were, all screaming at each other, and she managed to bring everyone to a halt by telling us we were behaving like dolts instead of intelligent men. Clarifying is the exact word."

  "Yes, yes, I know that you find her a paragon among women, Danilo! Perhaps the answer is for you to marry her!"

  Regis found himself the focus of two pairs of astonished and angry eyes, and his face flushed.

  "That would certainly be a solution," Danilo drawled, "but not one to which I would agree. She fears me, less than when we first met, but still she finds me less than comfortable. More, I fear her. Even were I inclined to marry—and I am not!" There was a quiet finality in his voice. "Please, Mikhail, continue. I am very interested in your thoughts, and Marguerida's, even if Regis is too impatient to listen to them."

  "That puts me in my place," Regis complained. "This meeting is not going at all the way I planned."

  Mikhail had never thought of Danilo Syrtis-Ardais as a potential ally, and certainly not where it concerned Regis.

  He felt surprised, and more than a little warmed, at the intervention of the paxman, and shot him a look of gratitude. "Yes, I know. I am sure you expected me to bow to your wishes, to say of course I would marry Gisela, for the good of Darkover. I know that I am not a private person, that I have certain duties and responsibilities, for as long as I remain your heir in name, and also am Elhalyn Regent."

  "It was only an idea," Regis muttered, looked mild daggers at both of them. "I had hoped to make the Aldarans

  more acceptable in our usual way, with a proper marriage.

  In truth, I did not expect to have them show up on the

  doorstep as they did—I think that the damisela may have

  persuaded her father to advance things, for I did not plan

  to get them down to Thendara until Midsummer. I have

  been in very cautious negotiations for over a year now—

  quite difficult, for he is a hasty man at the best of times."

  Regis continued. "You are not the man I sent to Halyn

  House, Mikhail. I will have to become accustomed to that—

  give me time. Your experiences have changed you, and,

  truthfully, I don't quite know what to make of you just

  now." He made a wry face. "I don't suppose an appeal to

  your sense of duty would work? No, I thought not. Why is

  it my best-laid plans seem to come to mischief? It was such

  a nice solution, I thought." ;

  ', "Well, I did not," Danilo snapped. "How could you imagine that Mik would take to Gisela when both Lady Linnea and I have told you that it will be Marguerida or no one? Are you going deaf, or do you only take the counsel of your own mind now?"

  "You are very severe, my friend, and. perhaps I deserve it. Please, go on, Mikhail, and I will try to hear your words." He smiled suddenly, and the expression was charming. "And Danilo will doubtless ring a peal over my head if I don't."

  Mikhail was rather stunned by this sudden turn of events. He had never imagined that Danilo disagreed with anything Regis wanted, and it gave him an insight into the complexity of their lifelong friendship. Like many others, he tended to ignore Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, to forget that he was an extremely intelligent man, with a mind of his own. Danilo's skill at effacing himself was partially to blame, since he

  possessed a capacity for seeming almost invisible most of the time.

  "I told Marguerida that much of the history of the Domains has been about preserving a balance of power, so that no one family was too much greater than another. And since the exile of the Aldaran Domain from our councils, this balance has become more difficult to maintain. The Aldaran Domain was very powerful when they were still in the picture, and has, in some ways, become more so since they have been gone. If we are to be Seven Domains once more, instead of the Six, we must strive to maintain a good balance among the families. Otherwise, we will fall into feuding, as we did during the Hundred Kingdoms and before, and we will be easy prey for the Terranan. And to propose that I wed Gisela Aldaran would provoke the other Domains enormously. Lady Marilla Aillard, for example, would be outraged, and my father would oppose any match of that sort, because he would see it as putting much too much power into these callused hands of mine." Indeed, his hands were as rough now as any farmer's.

  "How did they get into that wretched condition, Mik? I have been meaning to ask you since you arrived." Danilo's question clearly stemmed from genuine curiosity, but Mikhail knew he wanted to give Regis some time to digest what he had said.

  "Oh, if you muck out the stables, haul bales of straw into the barn, carry bags of grain into the kitchen, hammer nails with workmen, and do a dozen other chores, your hands will look like this, too."

  "I had no idea that the conditions at Halyn House were so dreadful."

  "I didn't mind, and it gave me a sympathy with the working men I might never have realized. Actually, Danilo, I almost came to enjoy it. It was a real thing, and it had a good result. Not that I have been idle all my life, but I have been kept from doing the dirty work most of the time. Except for occasionally fighting fires, I have had it easy. Shoveling manure gives you an entirely new perspective on things."

  Both Regis and Danilo roared with laughter. "I never thought to hear such words," Regis said, when he was able to control his merriment. Then h
e grew thoughtful. "I sup-

  pose I should have made Dani my official heir long since, and regularized the situation, shouldn't I?"

  Danilo and Regis exchanged a look which Mikhail could not interpret completely. There was something sad in the eyes of both. He wondered, as he had a few times previously, if there was something he. did not know about Regis' son, some flaw that would make him unsuitable. He seemed a good enough boy, except for the constant look of anxiety around his eyes, and his preference for verse over any other pursuit.

  "You are going to have to pay for your impetuousness at some point, Regis. You gave an oath, and if you break it, you will lose a great deal of the trust you have built up over the years." Danilo spoke gravely, slowly, as if aware that he was treading on some dangerous ground now.

  "What do you mean," Mikhail asked, very puzzled.

  Regis held out his empty glass, and did not respond until Danilo had replenished it. "I promised that you would be my heir, as you know, before I found my dear Linnea and had my own children."

  "I know that."

  "You do and you don't. The wording of it was rather tricky, and the interpretation even more so. The way it was done, as Danilo enjoys reminding me, was hasty and ill-thought, for it says that you will be my heir no matter what. This, at least, is how Javanne sees it, and a number of others as well. This is why I have not done anything— hoping the entire matter would go away. I do not want to be remembered as Regis Oathbreaker, Mikhail. When you snarled at me that you did not break your word, it made me feel perfectly disgusted with myself."

  "I'm sorry, Uncle. I had no real idea. I never meant that to happen."

  "No matter. I am stuck with leaving both you and my son in this ambiguous situation, which I hoped to resolve by making you the Elhalyn Regent. Javanne nearly took my head off—-she saw right through my plots, as she always does." He sighed. "Danilo told me not to do it, but I did not listen."

  "Well, that clears up some of my confusion, at least. I take it that unless I fall off a cliff and break my neck, or Dani does the same, you cannot untangle this mess?"

  Regis nodded, looking sad. "I have not treated you well, Mikhail, have I?"

  "Yes, and no. You have been a good uncle to me, a better father to me than my own, a teacher and a guide. But what you have done to your son disturbs me much more. No wonder he always looks at me so fretfully. I am surprised he has not wished me dead—well, he likely has."

  "Well, perhaps he has, and doubtless felt dreadful about it afterward, since he is a very serious boy. Too serious, I fear."

  "He did not look serious when he was staring at Miralys Elhalyn, Regis—he looked dumbstruck!" Danilo smiled to himself, which gave his face an expression of foxlike cunning.

  "Yes, I noticed, and felt both relieved, since he has never shown the least interest in any girl, and incredibly old! Of course, Miralys is lovely, but I think her sister the real prize."

  "When I was at Halyn House, Uncle, I found myself regretting that we cannot have an Elhalyn queen instead of a king, for the girls are by far the best of Priscilla's children."

  "Now, there's a thought to set the Council on its ear!"

  "Why have we never had a queen, if I might ask?"

  "I don't know, lad. But it goes against all tradition, and I think I have done enough untraditional things during my time for me not to wish to do another."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, appointing Herm Aldaran to the Terran House eight years ago, for instance. And allowing him to remain as Senator when Lew Alton resigned, for another."

  "That was not untraditional, Regis, it was simply highhanded!"

  "What a sharp tongue you have tonight, Danilo. What would you have done?"

  "Nothing different, but perhaps I would have moved with more subtlety," the paxman answered, not the least disturbed.

  "There is a time for subtlety, and a time for boldness— the only problem is deciding which is which." He turned back to his nephew. "So, Mikhail, it is your opinion that a match between you and Gisela Aldaran would not only be

  unsuitable but would create more trouble than it is worth. Perhaps you are right. Have you any ideas to propose?"

  Mikhail felt his face soften into a large smile. "I can only point out again that my brothers Gabe and Rafael are unmarried, and that, since they have no claim to the throne, are both more appropriate for such a marriage."

  "You seem amused by the thought."

  "Well, the idea of Gabe and Gisela is pretty funny isn't it? Not that he wouldn't be a better husband than old Bertrand was. What was Dom Damon thinking of, handing her off to-that old sot?"

  "The pickings for suitable husbands for his daughter were rather slim, I suppose, but I agree that I would not have wanted my girls to be shackled to that old fellow. I am told he did it to keep her from galloping off with some Terranan or other. I would love to know the particulars! Only good manners prevents me from inquiring. It seems there were a lot of them around, up in the Hellers, more than I realized, and some of them were quite presentable." I don't like it either. I have let things get out of hand! Damn!

  Mikhail glared at his uncle. "Do you think we will ever be able, on Darkover, to stop treating our females like children, and allow them to choose their own lives?"

  Regis looked stunned. "No, I don't, so long as there is laran, and we value it. I hear the voice of Marguerida Alton in your words—she has had quite an influence on you, and not completely for the best, I believe."

  Stung, Mikhail felt his face redden. "She is the finest woman I have ever known, and her influence on me has been to make me look at Darkover with new eyes, to more clearly see our strengths and our weaknesses."

  Regis glared at his nephew for a moment, sincerely angry. Then his face relaxed, and a wry grin stole across his lips. "Damn, but you make me feel old!"

  16

  Margaret woke.

  For a moment, she was not sure where she was. Then the faint moan of the wind against the stone walls of her room bought her fully awake. She listened to the gusts and smelled the odor of wet snow mingled with woodsmoke and the particular scent of the silken hangings around the ceiling of the chamber. She was at Neskaya Tower, and the storm that had battered the walls for two days was passing. Margaret realized how weatherwise she had become in so brief a time, and had a pleasant sense of accomplishment. Anticipating the weather was so much easier than mastering telepathy.

  She had been dreaming again. She thought she had been dreaming about the dormitories at University, but now she realized it was another place with endless corridors. Looking for something again. She sighed and turned onto one side, snuggling beneath the covers.

  What had she sought? If only she could remember!

  It felt as if she had been looking for something all her life, running along dark corridors and past shadowed rooms. There had been a time when those night journeys had been full of terror. Now she knew the source of those memories, and they no longer frightened her. Or, she told herself truthfully, they did not scare her quite so badly.

  Istvana Ridenow, who was now her teacher as well as her friend, said she would probably never be completely free of the shadow which Ashara Alton had cast over her for so many years. She had instructed Margaret in techniques that calmed her mind, and that had helped. Still, just the thought of that terrible woman, who had enthralled her when she was a child, was enough to set her shivering. Intellectually, she knew that Ashara was no more. She her-

  self had destroyed what remained of the Keeper months before. Emotionally, she didn't quite believe it.

  Margaret Alton smelled the balsam-scented sheets and blankets that covered her body, and that other odor, the strange smell of the great matrices, charged with energy, working above her. When she looked up, she could see the swathes of silk which hung from the ceiling, now casting huge shadows in the dimness of the room. Her little harp stood in one corner of the room, and there was a holo of Lew and Dio, but beyond that, there was nothi
ng very personal in the chamber. She had been tempted by a few things in the marketplace, where she had gone with Caitlin Leynier, but she had only bought some shawls and a set of petticoats. They were not up to Aaron's quality, and she knew she was spoiled. She could have been packed and ready to depart from Neskaya in less than an hour. Why was she so reluctant to settle in?

  Maybe it was because her life had been so peripatetic before she came to Darkover. Margaret knew this facile explanation was not the real reason she was not comfortable making Neskaya her home for the foreseeable future. In spite of Istvana's efforts, and the warm welcome she had received from the others at the Tower, she remained an unenthusiastic student.

  Margaret was restless, despite her efforts to be otherwise. Something deep within her knew she was not going to remain at Neskaya very long. She could not define the feeling, but she had it in her bones. It lacked the power of a foretelling, but it was strong enough to trouble her. She had not discussed her feelings with Istvana, and had done her best to conceal them. But Caitlin had asked her several times what was bothering her, and she had been forced to make up excuses that left her feeling dishonest. It was not a logical feeling, and after years of depending on logic, she felt wary of trusting it.

  After six months, she felt she had spent a lifetime on Darkover, and not a very quiet one at that. No; closer to seven, she realized, and her heart pounded a bit faster. Soon Rafaella would come back and take her away to Thendara for Midwinter. It had all been arranged. If the winter storms didn't mess things up for her, she would be seeing her father soon, and Mikhail as well. Sternly, she