"I might be, but it is not nice of you to notice, Gabe. No matter how much I eat, I can't seem to put enough away to keep my weight up. Istvana says I eat enough for two people."
"Do you like Neskaya?" Rafael asked.
"Well enough, though I don't think I will ever be comfortable in any Tower. The people there are very friendly, and I have discovered another relative—Caitlin Leynier— who has become my friend. After Arilinn, it is heavenly. How are things at Armida?"
"We had a huge harvest," Gabe began, "and next spring we will have a bumper crop of foals. But we have had a lot of trouble with gangs of bandits this autumn. We fixed the roof, too—no more leaks in the Blue bedroom!" He grinned at her. Margaret remembered how she had been put into that room when she came to Armida the previous
summer, and bow Liriel had revealed that there was a leak in the ceiling, much to Javanne's displeasure.
"I am sure you are taking good care of Armida, Gabe. Is that little sister of my Dorilys going to foal? She looked like a fine mare when I saw her last summer, even though I did not have time to get to know her."
"She is, and she was covered by Black Bolt, so the result should be both beautiful and strong. I am hoping for a black, but Rafael hopes for a silver. We even have a small wager on it."
Margaret took a deep breath. "I cannot tell you how wonderful it is to talk of horses and harvests, instead of laran, and to be with my family! It is so good to see both of you!"
"Do you know, I feel very much the same, cousin, and I never thought I would say such a thing." Gabe, looking unusually thoughtful, nodded at her. "You made me look at myself a bit last summer, and I never had the chance to tell you that I was glad of it." His weathered cheeks reddened. Then he straightened a bit, drew up his broad shoulders, and went on. "I am a better man- for you calling me a damn fool, Marguerida, and I think I am man enough to confess it."
Margaret exchanged a glance with Rafael, quite startled by this admission. The middle brother winked at her. "He is quite reformed, Marguerida, and even listens before he speaks these days. He is more like an angel everyday."
"I would not go that far," Gabe blustered.
Margaret stepped between her two cousins, touched both their arms lightly, and smiled from one to the other. "I think it is wonderful, whatever made you better behaved, Gabe. I am happy for you, and happier still that we can be friends."
"Look at Gisela Aldaran looking daggers at the Old Man," Gabe said. "Pretty woman, though nothing beside you, cousin."
"Got a bit of an overbite," Rafael offered.
"Set her cap for Mikhail, has she?"
"That does seem to be the way things stand." Margaret was amused by Gabe's clumsy remarks. And she was too tired now to contain any strong emotions. Her earlier anger
had turned to ashes, and all she wanted to do was get through the meal and go to bed.
"She won't do at all. Father would never allow it, nor would the Council. Besides, we all know how the wind lies, don't we? Not to put you to blush, cousin. I know Mikhail, and once he sets his mind to something, he never wavers."
"She looks a bit like you, doesn't she?" Rafael asked the question and gave his brother a look, as if to tell him to change the subject.
"I suppose she does. In fact, when I saw her coming down the stairs earlier today, I thought for a second that I was seeing myself in a mirror. But her hair is a bit darker than mine, don't you think?"
Rafael gave her a nod, along with a thoughtful glance. "Yes. How was your journey to Thendara?"
"Quite uneventful, which is exactly how I like it! When we arrived, I saw some players that piqued my curiosity, and I am hoping to find out more about them while I am in the city. I am expecting a guest to arrive on the next ship, so when I go to fetch her, I think I will stop in that marketplace and take a look."
"You mean the Travelers? They came to Armida towards the end of summer, and performed a play, a magic show, and some acrobatics." Gabe smiled in memory. "It was quite a good thing, though the play was—nothing for the ladies! But the dancers were good."
"I think we are going to sit down to supper now. Let us hope we can get through the meal without Father and Dom Damon trying to stab one another with the butter knives," Rafael said. "Come on, Gabe. Let's get Marguerida seated and show some Alton family solidarity."
Margaret took a deep breath, steeled herself for the ordeal to come, and prayed to every god she knew of that the meal would pass quickly and without incident. Then she let the two brothers escort her, seating her beside her father on one side, and Gabe Alton on the other. He was not the dinner companion she would have chosen, for his mind was not very flexible, but he was safe. With all the cross-currents in the room, sitting between her cousin and her father seemed wonderful.
She sensed Mikhail looking at her across the table, where
he was sitting between the two Elhalyn girls. He gave her a cheerful look.
I love you, Marguerida!
And I you—but if you make me blush, I will box your ears!
What sweet words!
He laughed, and the girls looked up at him, puzzled. Then Valenta glanced at Margaret, got a very amused look on her face, and joined in his laughter, as if he said something amusing. The moment passed, without anyone else being the wiser, and dinner was served.
20
Margaret set off the following morning wearing her warmest Darkovan clothing, but carrying her Terran documents in her pouch. She had considered for a few minutes getting back into her now hated Scholar's uniform to greet Ida Davidson when she arrived, but it was just too vile an idea. The thought of the cold synthetic against her skin and the smell of it in her nostrils was repellent. All the years she had been so proud to wear it seemed like a dream now, and she was determined never to put the thing on again. She was tired from the journey, and the dinner the previous evening had seemed interminable. She had a headache-two of them actually. The first was from drinking a bit too much wine, but the second was a kind of shadow headache, caused by the presence of all the tensions at the table. After the quiet and harmony of Neskaya, Comyn Castle seemed noisy, both verbally and mentally.
She had been extremely glad to have Gabe Lanart-Alton as her primary dinner companion. His laran was minimal, -and his interests commonplace. He assumed that since Margaret was the Alton heiress, she would wish to know everything that had happened since she had been at Armida. Margaret found herself interested, and amazed by the amount of work it took to maintain the place. Her respect for her cousin, and for her Uncle Gabriel increased appreciably, and she knew that either of them would have been surprised by it. He charitably forgive her vast ignorance of land management, and his dogged recitation formed a barrier between Margaret and the furies simmering along the board.
Margaret walked through the stable court toward the barracks where the Guardsmen lived. She reached the barricade that fronted the barracks, and a grizzled man in the
green uniform of the City Guards saluted her smartly as she approached. He had black leather belts crossing his chest, and wore a sword on one hip. "May I help you, domna?"
"Yes, you can. I was wondering if Remy was on duty. I am going to the spaceport, and I would like an escort." She had gotten more used to not going everywhere by herself, though she was sure she would never be entirely accustomed to it.
"To be sure, domna. But Remy is not here. There was some trouble in the Horse Market and he went with the company to see to it. But I will find someone. Please, wait a moment."
He left her, and Margaret spent the time looking at the carvings on the entrance, and admiring the arrows and swords which adorned the white stone. Then the gatekeeper came back with a young man wearing a long cloak.
"This is Daryll MacGrath, Domna."
"Daryll? Are you one of the men who went with Mikhail to Halyn House?"
"I am, Lady." He gave her a bow, but his eyes were twinkling when he stood upright.
"I am Marguerida Alton."
&nb
sp; He gave her a broad grin. "I thought you might be." Then he gestured, waving her ahead. "Where are we going, domna?"
"The spaceport. I am meeting a friend."
They left the barracks and started through the streets. A light snow had fallen, and there was a bitter wind that blew down the narrow ways between the buildings. Margaret decided her curiosity about the Travelers would have to wait for a better day. She was not sure of the exact arrival time of the ship, and she would rather wait there than be late.
The morning had advanced considerably by the time they came into the square where the John Reade Orphanage stood. She glanced briefly at the gray facade of the building, remembering the anguish of being abandoned in that austere place, and let it go. She never had to set foot in there again, and she tried not to think about other children, the offspring of Terran men and Darkovan women, who were still confined within its walls. They were fed and clothed and, she knew, turned into good Terrans, unless things had
improved in twenty some odd years. She wondered briefly if it was still forbidden to speak Darkovan there, or if a more enlightened administration had changed that rule.
In a hundred strides, the bleak building was behind them, and she felt herself relax. Margaret had not even realized she was tense until the feeling was gone. A knot of anger lay in her belly, and a deep sense of loneliness rose in her throat when she saw the place. Will I ever be really free of my childhood? Is anyone?
When they approached the wall which separated the entrance to the port from the rest of Thendara, a number of Terran guards in their black uniforms came to attention, looking at them rather suspiciously. One came forward and blocked the way, scowling. In a loud voice, he told her to halt.
Margaret was surprised, and she looked at the man as she dug her documents out of her beltpouch. He seemed tense, as if expecting trouble. It puzzled her until she realized that dressed as she was, he had assumed she was a native.
Margaret held out her various documents, and the man ignored them completely. "State your business," he demanded in halting Trade-speech, his voice raised.
"I am meeting someone on the ship from Coronis." Margaret answered in Terran, and had the deep satisfaction of seeing the man's eyes dilate, and his mouth sag a little.
Then he recovered himself, looked her up and down, and shook his head. "No one is allowed in the spaceport without papers."
"I have papers, you dolt!"
"And just where did you steal them," he sneered.
"Steal? Of all the . . . what's your name?" She could feel herself start to get angry, and was disgusted at how much she wanted to vent all her tangled feelings on this total stranger. Margaret decided she was more out of sorts from the previous night than she had imagined, and reined herself in sharply.
"My name?"
"Yes, your name. I want to be sure I have it right, so I can tell my uncle, Captain Rafe Scott, precisely who it was who behaved like a ruffian. I believe the term is being 'put on report,' isn't it? Then it goes in your record forever,
does it not?" Margaret knew very well how Terran bureaucracy worked, and that once something was in a file, it was nearly impossible to remove it, even if it was erroneous.
Another black-garbed man came hurrying forward. "What seems to be the problem?"
"This person seems bent on denying me entry to the spaceport, although my papers are in order, and I am meeting someone on the ship that I believe is landing even as we stand here, freezing our feet." There was a blazing light in the sky, and the sonic boom of a ship entering the atmosphere.
"Let me see," the second man said, holding out his hand. He scanned the documents quickly. "These seem fine." He held them out, and Margaret took them, and put them away.
"But, sir, she's a ... a native!" the first man protested, his face white with rage. "We have our orders ..."
"You have a lot to learn about Cottman Four, Ritter."
"How do you know she didn't steal them?"
"Be quiet, Ritter! You must excuse him, Miss Alton. He's only been here a week, and he doesn't know much."
"Of course, Lieutenant." She knew what the emblems on his tunic meant. "But I don't understand. Last summer there wasn't this sort of fuss." Margaret looked at the second man, and instead of meeting her eyes, he looked down at the stones beneath his feet.
"No, there wasn't, Miss. But some bigwigs think that . . . well, there was some sabotage in the spaceport on Ephebe Three a few weeks ago, and everyone has been put on alert."
Margaret gaped at him, shocked. She hardly believed him, since such events were rare. Then she forced herself to laugh casually. "I never thought to be mistaken for a saboteur, Lieutenant."
"Laugh if you like, but it is serious."
"I am sure it is, but I cannot help finding the entire situation amusing." Margaret savored the humor in the situation, and felt her earlier anger begin to dissipate. "Now—may I go? The ship will be down in a minute."
"Yes, you can. But your man here will have to wait. We can't let him into the port. Orders, you understand."
"I understand that the Federation is jumping at shad-
ows." She turned. "Daryll, wait here for me, and I will be back soon," she told her Guardsman in casta.
"Domna?"
"It is all right. No harm will come to me in the spaceport, and the faster we get this done with, the sooner you can be back in your warm barracks!"
"Yes, domna. But, you watch yourself. You know how the Terranan are." His voice was dark with suspicion, as if he expected someone to harm her.
Margaret sighed. "I do, Daryll, indeed, I do."
She crossed beneath the arch which separated the city from the port, walked through two more checkpoints without incident, and then entered the building. Margaret went through several corridors, hating the dry heat of the air, and the stale smell of it, and finally reached the customs area. There was a long line on. the other side of the barrier, and she stood on her tiptoes, hoping to spot Ida in the crowd.
And then, there she was, her slender body almost hidden behind a heavyworlder holding a case of some sort against his chest. She tried to wave, to get Ida's attention, but the little woman did not see her. Ida looked smaller than she remembered, smaller and older, too. Worn, that was the word she wanted. She jigged a little impatiently, and tried to school herself to tranquillity. But she was much too excited by Ida's arrival. Not precisely happy, since Ida would never have come to Darkover if Ivor had not died, but heartened. She had a deep sense of connection to this woman who had been her guide during most of her adult life.
The line snaked along slowly, the customs officers peering at papers, asking impertinent questions, poking through carry-ons, and putting the correct stamps in the proper places. At last Ida came to the head of line, saw her, gave Margaret a weary wave, and waited to be processed.
She came through the barrier, and Margaret swept her up in a firm hug that lifted the smaller woman's feet right off the floor. Then she planted a kiss on her cheek and received one in return. "You are, I think, the most beautiful sight I have seen in days," Ida murmured.
"Thank you! You look pretty wonderful to me, too! Come on. Let's get the rest of your luggage and get out of
here. This way." Margaret took Ida's arm gently and led her down the maze of corridors until they reached the baggage area. They found Ida Davidson's case, and in a few minutes, they were out of the building, into the crisp air.
"My God! No wonder you are wearing wool. I had no idea it was so cold! I mean, yes, I knew that Cottman was a chilly place, but nothing prepared me for this, Maggie! Is it always like this?"
"This is actually a pretty pleasant day for this time of year. But I know what you mean, though. Come on. It is a goodly walk back to the Castle, and there is no ground transportation. Your all-weather cloak will keep you from freezing."
"If you say so," Ida answered doubtfully, shivering all
over. .
"I should have brought along a real cloak
for you. I wasn't thinking, Ida. I'm sorry."
None of the guards tried to stop them as they walked through the open gate, but the man called Ritter gave Margaret a Venomous look as they passed him. Margaret ignored him. All she could think of was getting Ida back to the Castle as quickly as possible. She cursed herself for not thinking to order a carriage.
Daryll was leaning against a wall, waiting, but he came to attention as soon as he saw Margaret. After a glance at Ida clutching the slithery cloth of the all-weather cloak around her, he swept his own off and drew it around Ida's shoulders in a single, graceful movement, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Ida nearly jumped out of her skin at the quick motion, but then tugged the garment over her. "Thank you. I am past the age where I expect chivalry, but not so old I cannot enjoy some."
The Guardsman looked at her blankly, since Ida was speaking in Terran, not casta. But he seemed to understand that she was glad of the cloak, and grinned at the older woman.
"Will he be warm enough?" Ida asked Margaret in a worried way.
"Darryl will manage, I am sure. Give him your bags. The streets are rather slippery, and I don't want you to overbalance and fall. Here, take my arm."
"Very well," Ida answered, slightly grumpy. "I am not enfeebled, Maggie—not yet, anyhow."