Emun watched them move across the room, his eyes a little sad. "Is something wrong, Emun?" Mikhail asked.
"No, no. It is just that Dani is so ... at ease. I wish I were."
"Oh, pooh," Val snapped. "He is just as sweaty-palmed as you are, Em."
"He doesn't look it!"
"Well, he is. Mira says his hand trembles like a bowl of redberry pudding whenever they touch, and is as wet as a fish."
These sharp words seemed to comfort Emun a little. Mikhail marveled once again at Valenta's ability to say things that would be cruel from anyone else, and have them sound perfectly reasonable. Emun gave a brief tug at the hem of his tunic, and straightened his thin shoulders.
Mikhail sensed rather than heard someone just behind him, and he turned to look. Dom Aldaran had just come into the doorway, wearing the great kilt his Domain occasionally displayed, draped around his ample middle, and over his shoulder. He had a sporran hanging from a thick belt, a white-and-black pouch made of fur, and had a sword
dangling from his left hip. All in all, the appearance was rather more martial than seemed fitting for the holiday.
Dom Damon smiled at Mikhail, a baring of teeth that held very little real welcome, and nodded at the children who were on either side of him. He ran his pale eyes up and down Mikhail's form, and quirked a bushy eyebrow. "That is a fetching tunic, Mikhail, but I'll wager it will be itchy before the night is over."
"I think you are likely right," he agreed. The room was very warm already, and the more people who pressed into it, the hotter it would become.
"That's why I favor this—no needlework to catch on every little thing. Now, you, young woman, are a lovely sight. I think embroidery belongs on women, not men— and that dress is very becoming."
Valenta gave Dom Damon an unreadable look, as if she suspected he was trying to tease her, and made a nice curtsy. She was wearing a rose-colored silk gown, embroidered with silver. Her pale skin looked healthy, and it was clear that she was pleased with herself. "Thank you, Dom Damon." She managed to simper, while giving Mikhail an ironic glance.
Then Mikhail saw Marguerida and Lew Alton come in behind Lord Aldaran. He could just make out the shorter form of Ida Davidson beside her, but he barely noticed. His heart leaped in his chest. It was all he could do not to gasp, and he saw from the slight twinkle in her golden eyes, he knew his beloved was perfectly aware of the effect she was having, and enjoying every second of it.
Mikhail took in the line of the gown, so close to her slender body that it was nearly immodest, though the soft folds of the overgown did a reasonable job of concealing the fact. He took in the silken mitts on her hands, and the soft, violet slippers on her feet, and decided she had never been more beautiful.
Dom Damon, aware that he was no longer the center of attention, turned as well, looked at Marguerida. and her father, and made a brief grunting sound that might have meant anything. Then he swiveled his head back to look at Mikhail, and there was no mistaking the slight glare in his eyes.
Mikhail ignored the older man, slipped past him, and
bowed before his cousin. "You look wonderful, Marguer-ida. Dani and Mira have gone to tell the musicians to play a pafan, so perhaps we can stand up in it together."
Oh, dear. I will probably make a total fool of myself, Mik. I cannot dance at all well.
Nonsense. You are as graceful as a breeze, and you will have the best partner in all of Thendara, except Danilo Ar-dais. Here—this is the pattern, and all you need to do is memorize it, and listen to the music. That, I know, will be easy, for you.
Ah, I see. Now, why didn't anyone ever show me dancing like that before? You've made it as clear as glass. Now, if Dom Aldaran will just stop looking as if he' wants to throttle me.
To the devil with Damon Aldaran!
I could not agree more.
Calmly, she placed the fingers of her right hand in Mikhail's though he could feel the pulse of her blood beating in her body, then gave Dom Damon a look that made the older man turn away. Beside her, he could sense Lew trying very hard not to burst into laughter, while Ida Davidson looked at them with interest. He wondered how much Marguerida had told her, and if she knew there were telepaths in the room.
They make such a wonderful couple, so perfect together. Just as Ivor and I were, years ago. I don't quite understand what Maggie said, about there being some problem, because one would have to be a total fool not to know they were completely in love. This world is very confusing, and there is something . . . why can't I put my finger on it? Undercurrents, of course, but there are always those. Oh, dear . . . that must be Gisela Aldaran, looking ready to kill. I am very glad Maggie has told me of some of the people I'll meet here, and a little of their backgrounds. Ida's disordered thoughts gave Mikhail a moment's warning. By the time Gisela reached them, he was prepared for anything.
Or so he imagined, until Gisela Aldaran stopped and looked Marguerida over, as if she were a dairy animal which had somehow wandered into the castle. Her eyes raked Marguerida from head to toe, narrowing dangerously. Then she curled her lip and said in mildly accented Terran, "What a remarkable ensemble. I would never have
the courage to appear in something so outré." Her voice was silky.
Mikhail was aware that Lew and Ida had both overheard this remark, and were ready to leap to Marguerida's defense. Before they could, she answered, "No, of course you wouldn't," in her calmest and most dignified voice, making it sound as if Gisela was not a very brave person.
Back off, bitch!
For a second Mikhail was shocked, for he had never suspected Marguerida of being so vehement. Then he realized that it was not her thought he had heard, that the tone was different. He glanced at Ida, for it was certainly a female, but it was not Ida either. Then he realized it was Valenta who had nearly shouted the thought, and he turned a curious look on the small girl.
Gisela, as well, was startled, and her cheeks flushed an unlovely red that did not suit her. She trembled a little, making the silver lace across her bosom move in her agitation. In a moment she had recovered herself, and glared at Valenta. In turn, the girl grinned shamelessly, her eyes alight with deliberate mischief.
As the musicians began to play the introduction to a familiar pafan, people started to form up in the long lines of the dance. Mikhail drew Marguerida away. He led her to a place halfway down the set, where he found himself buttressed on one side by young Dani and Mira Elhalyn, and on the other by Dyan Ardais and Darissa d'Asturien. He found he was holding his breath, and let it out. If Gisela's behavior was any indication, the evening would be very long, indeed.
Mikhail saw Robert Aldaran stroll over to his sister, and say something. Never in his life had Mikhail wanted to eavesdrop more than at that moment. But Robert took her arm and led her to the top of the set, and the first phrase of the music started the actual dance in motion. It was a slow work, with a small tambour keeping the steady beat, while fiols tossed the theme back and forth from one side of the small orchestra to the other.
The dancers faced each other across the lines, bowed or curtsied, then moved to the center to join hands and march four paces toward the gallery. Then there was a dip of knees, and another four paces, followed by a clasping of
hands and a circling of each couple, which ended by placing the men on the opposite side of the line from where they had begun.
They rejoined in the center, and repeated the movements in the opposite direction, their backs now to the musicians. It was soothing and uncomplicated, as they changed sides again, weaving back and forth. The slowness of the rhythm was pleasant, and after a few times, he saw that Marguerida was actually beginning to enjoy herself.
See, I told you it was easy.
You were right. I still feel clumsy, but at least I am not embarrassing myself—or you.
No, I think you are magnificent—but I am a besotted idiot, and have absolutely no objectivity.!
At last, the music ended-, and the dance ceased. Mikhai
l placed Marguerida's hand lightly on his arm and led her to the refreshment table. "We both need some wine, I think."
"Oh, yes. I am really thirsty." She lifted a mitted hand and brushed a wisp of fine, curly red hair off her forehead. "And wishing Gisela Aldaran on the moon, too, though I shouldn't. Why can't she understand that ..."
"She told me she had foreseen herself married to a Hastur, and knew it must be me."
"Oh. You mean she has the Aldaran Gift?"
"So she has hinted, but I think a very active imagination is more likely. She never showed a hint of it when I visited the Aldarans years ago."
"Tell me, Mik, are there any other females in your past that you have not told me about. Not that I am jealous, but I want to be prepared." '
He picked up two glasses of wine and handed one to Marguerida. Then he looked around the room, at people chatting, as another dance was formed up. "I would say that there were a dozen women in this room right now who had been offered for my possible approval. Over there, the lady in the puce gown, that is Ysabet MacRoss, the great niece of Camilla MacRoss at Arilinn, who is very pleasant and extremely dull. She found me confusing, I believe. She's married to MacGowan now, and I think he suits her very well. And that lovely woman in pink is Darissa d’Asturien, now safely wed to one of her second cousins. She's
always been something of a flirt. But there is no one for me except you."
"A pity that your parents do not see it that way. Oh, look. Here are Rafaella and Uncle Rafe. Do you know, I have never seen them together before, and hadn't realized what a handsome couple they make. And I have never seen him wear anything except his uniform."
Mikhail followed her gaze to the doorway, where Rafaella n'ha Liriel and Captain Rafe Scott had just entered. The sudden appearance of a Renunciate in the ballroom, unmistakable with her short-cut hair, caused a subtle stir. From the way her freckles stood out on her pale skin, Rafaella was not unaware of the raised eyebrows she was receiving. She gave Scott a sidelong glance, and Mikhail could see her swallow hard to gather her courage.
But he agreed that they made a good looking couple, both dressed in green, Rafaella in a pale, spring tone, with silver leaves everywhere, and Scott in a dark tunic with a modest amount of embroidery on it. And except for her clipped hair, there was nothing out of the ordinary about the woman. With her fiery tresses, she might have been mistaken for a daughter of the Domains.
"Poor Rafi! She looks as if she is going to faint from terror. I think she needs some wine, Mik." With these words, Marguerida took another glass off the table, and started across the room, skirting the dancers gracefully. Mikhail thought that Rafe Scott could also stand some refreshment, so he took a second glass, and followed her across the floor.
The relief on Rafaella's face, when she saw Marguerida approaching her, would have been comical under any other circumstances. Mikhail knew she was probably regretting coming, and decided he must try to put her at ease.
"You look lovely, Rafi!" Marguerida said, handing her the glass of wine.
"Do I? I feel very odd, for while I have attended any number of dances in my life, I have never been in quite such company before. Several of the ladies are looking at me as if I were a spook."
"Here, Scott, some courage in a glass!"
"I am forever in your debt, Mikhail. I had quite forgotten how beautiful this room was, for I haven't been in it in
years. It looks as if the murals have been retouched, too. At least, I do not recall the colors being so bright." He took the offered wine and drained half the glass in one swallow. Then he smiled at his niece. "That is a wonderful gown, Mar]a—excuse me, Marguerida. I suspect you will set a new fashion in Thendara, and when you are an old woman with grandchildren, they will be wearing something like it at Neskaya or Dalereuth, and thinking it all the rage. Things here change so slowly." He seemed sad and slightly worried.
"Thank you, Uncle. I like it myself, though when I got dressed, I thought I was seeing someone else. This doesn't go with Margaret Alton, Fellow of University, nor with Marguerida, student at Neskaya."
"But it is perfect for the heiress of a Domain, chiya."
"Maybe. But sometimes I think that that is a suit of clothing' I will never fit into." She cleared her throat and changed the subject. "I saw young Ethan a few days ago, when I was at Aaron's shop, and he seems to find his studies at HQ very challenging."
'Scott let out a brief groan. "That boy! He asks more questions than I can answer, and he makes me feel old. But I am glad you sent him to me, because he is going to be a fine spaceman, always assuming that—"
"What?" Mikhail interrupted sharply.
"I can't say, or at least I shouldn't." Things at HQ are becoming less and less friendly, what with the Federation issuing new orders every hour on the hour, new forms and passes. It is a bureaucrat's erotic dream, but for the rest of us, it is a nightmare. Perhaps I am borrowing trouble—the interest on which is always ruinous—and it will all work itself out in a few months.
That sounds pretty serious.
It is. The Federation does not like having protected planets that it cannot order about, and there are rumors that all the Protectorates will be changed soon. It is a ploy to force places like Darkover to give up their status and become full members, and they can do it, too.
How?
Quite simple, really. Stop trade, ruin the economy for a generation, and then come in and take over.
Does Regis know about this?
Not from me. Rafe Scott made a face, as if he had a bad taste in his mouth, and finished his glass of wine in a couple of gulps. I am stuck in the middle, because of my double citizenship, and being half Darkovan, and my loyalties are pulling me in all directions. To inform Regis directly would be to break my oath to the Service, and not to would be breaking faith with Darkover. But as long as I remain in the Service . . .
You sound as if you might not be there long.
I will stay in the Service as long as I am able, because it is useful to. Darkover for me to be there. But if it comes to betraying the planet, I will resign. It would be a relief, actually.
Poor Uncle Rafe!
Captain Scott laughed at this, and Rafaella, who was aware that things were being discussed from which she was being excluded, gave him a shining glance. She did not appear to mind at all that she was the only non-telepath in the group. "Come on, old fellow. I came to dance, not to stand around."
Old fellow? Marguerida gave her. uncle a look.
She tells me it's a term of affection, and I think it is. I am old, compared to her, and feeling older every day.
Then get out while you can! Don't sacrifice yourself, Uncle.
The Service has been my life, chiya.
Well, then, it is about time you had another. Why, you and Rafi could go into business together, running a guide business or something.
Tours of scenic Darkover our specialty?
Exactly!
Scott chuckled softly, handed his empty glass to Mikhail, and led Rafaella toward the set that was forming up in the middle of the dance floor.
Valenta Elhalyn slipped in beside Mikhail, looked up at him with her gleaming eyes, and said, "Will you dance with me? I've been practicing for days and days, and I don't want to waste it. You do not mind, do you, Marguerida?"
"Of course not, Val." Then Mikhail looked at the two glasses in his hands, as if they had just then grown out of his fingers.
"No, I don't mind a bit, Valenta. One slow dance is
about all I can manage at present. I think I will go over and stand by the windows, where it is cool—I feel a little flushed. Here, give me those! You look foolish, Mik."
Marguerida took the glasses from him, threading the stems between her fingers. A servant carrying a tray appeared immediately and almost snatched them out of her hands. Mikhail caught the scene out of the corner of his eye, and tried not to laugh. As adaptable as she was, he did not think Marguerida was ever going to become completely accustomed to
servants.
Mikhail turned his attention away, and nearly ran into Gisela Aldaran. He managed to stop just short of knocking her down. She gave him a feral smile, as if aware that she had discomforted him. "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?"
"No, Giz, I am not!"
"What will people think, if you do not stand up with me?"
"I don't care a bit what people think, and if you keep flinging yourself in my way, they will take you for a hussy. Go away. You bore me." He was surprised at himself, for he knew he had not drunk enough wine to be so abrupt. But his temper was frayed, and he realized he had been longing to say those words for weeks.
Hussy! I like that, Mik! But I prefer bitch!
Valenta!
I'm only a little girl, and I can't help myself can I?
You can, and you know it!
Yes, but I love the way your face gets when I am naughty!