“No!” Regis shook his head. “That will not fit in with the plan I have, and Mikhail does not have the experience he needs to take a Senatorial seat. Herm Aldaran will remain in that position. I sent him to the lower house six years ago with the intention that he would someday take Lew’s place, though I did not expect it to be so soon.”
“But,” Dom Gabriel protested, “this is outrageous! I never approved of that appointment, and I still don’t! I think you have lost your mind, Regis.”
Remarkably, Regis kept his temper and answered calmly. “No, I have not. I made the decision after much consideration, because Herm is a canny politician, and because he understands what must be done to protect our world.” He paused, took a deep breath, and looked to Lady Linnea for support. “More, it is my intention to invite the Aldarans to return to the Comyn Council in the near future. We cannot allow ourselves to be divided when we will need every resource to keep Darkover whole!”
Several voices were raised in protest, the loudest being Dom Gabriel’s. “Are you mad? No one will sit at Council with a damned Aldaran—not me, not anyone.”
“Nonsense. What harm the Aldarans did is generations past, and we must heal the wound, not keep it open and bleeding. We will have foes enough from the Expansionist forces to keep us busy without having another one lurking at our backs. With the Aldarans here, we can keep an eye on them!”
“If you imagine you can force me to be party to this nonsense, then you are deluded. In fact,” Dom Gabriel went on, “It seems to me that you are no longer fit to guide Darkover, Regis! Dani is too young to take on your responsibilities . . . but another regent can be appointed.” He drew his shoulders up, puffed out his large chest, and continued. “With the guidance of older men, such as myself I am sure . . .”
Dyan Ardais stirred in his chair. His hand went to the pommel of his small sword. “That sounds very close to treason to my ears, Dom Gabriel,” the young man snarled, startling many people present. “I am loyal to Regis, to Hastur, to Darkover. I will not sit here silently and let you speak so.”
“Be quiet, puppy! You are only looking out for Mikhail’s interests, and I know it, even if you don’t. He has charmed you, like he does everyone. I know he is dangerous, and cannot be trusted! He thinks too much!”
“And that is exactly what Darkover needs—thoughtful men.” Regis’ face was flushed with rage, but his voice was calm and even. Behind him, Danilo was tense, ready to leap to the defense of his liege, and the Guardsmen standing at the doorway were alert. Margaret wondered if blood had ever been spilled in that room before, and hoped her uncle’s would not be the first. A glance at Mikhail’s face told her that his thoughts were running in the same direction, that it was tearing him apart to see his father and his uncle ready to go at each other. If it had not been so serious, if there had not been so many swords and knives in the room, it would almost have been ludicrous, the idea of two men in their early fifties getting into a brawl. But it was serious, and she knew it.
More, Margaret understood that she was right in the middle of it—that as heir to the Alton Domain, she was not some observer but an actual player in a game that she did not fully understand. And a deadly game, if the expressions on the faces of the men were anything to judge by. She could not sit there, passively, silently, any longer. She gave Lew a quick glance out of the corner of her eyes, and saw him give her a little nod, as if he were following her thoughts, even though the room itself prevented it.
“I know I haven’t any business speaking, but—”
“Then keep quiet,” Javanne hissed.
“No, I will not. First, as a University-trained researcher, I have to say that I do not think that Regis has completely revealed his plans, and that theorizing with incomplete data is always foolish.”
“Listen to her!” Dom Gabriel was so red faced now that his ears were nearly purple. “A ‘University-trained researcher,’ indeed! This woman doesn’t know her place, which is to do as she is told, and be quiet the rest of the time. She is unfit to inherit the Alton Domain! She is too Terranan, too independent! Why, she is little better than a Renunciate!”
For some reason this last, which Gabriel clearly intended as an ultimate insult, made Margaret laugh. Everyone looked at her, even Mikhail, as if she had lost her mind. “I would be proud to be a Renunciate, were it not for the fact that I don’t wish to be one.” She understood her uncle better now. He had a vast sense of inferiority, for reasons she did not know, and he had lived for decades with a managing woman who probably rarely did what he wanted. Suddenly Margaret knew that he found her behavior too similar to his wife’s, and that he wanted more than anything to control her, if only because he could not control Javanne, and never had been able to. That explained his immediate opposition to any match between her and Mikhail—he could not control Mik either.
“You cannot have it both ways, Uncle,” she went on as calmly as she was able. “Either I am important or I am not. I cannot only be important to suit you, and keep quiet the rest of the time.”
Gabriel rounded on Lew. “This is all your fault!”
Lew smiled slowly. “Very likely. I did not try to make her meek and biddable—there was always too much of myself and her mother in her for that.” There was an emotion in his voice, as if for the first time he could think of Thyra without pain or regret, could see that she had been something more than the woman he remembered. “But I believe she is right. Regis has something else he wants to say. I confess I am looking forward to it.”
“And so am I,” Dyan chimed in, clearly ready to cast his lot with Lew Alton.
“Well,” Francisco Ridenow added, “thus far I have not heard anything that disturbs me, so I hope Lord Regis will continue with his revelations.”
Lady Marilla cleared her throat. “Like Dom Gabriel, I cannot like the idea of any Aldaran sitting in this chamber. But I also can see some wisdom in keeping them under our eye, rather than permitting them to do whatever they wish behind our backs. I have thought a great deal about this, since Marguerida asked me about them some time back, and I decided that perhaps I was prejudiced by the past—that I do not know these people and that perhaps they are not really the monsters we imagine them to be.”
“This is still not a full Council, so nothing we say will carry any weight,” Javanne put in. She sniffed and gave Lady Marilla a glance of open contempt. “It is only a lot of heated air. It will all come to nothing.” She seemed quite sure of herself. It seemed likely that she believed she could influence her brother in private.
“How very disloyal of you, Javanne,” Regis said dryly. “It would be shocking, if I did not know you so well.” He gave a little sigh. “Decision has never been my strong suit, for I always see too many possibilities. But I have thought long on this matter, and I do not think I will be swayed by any arguments now. Even my sister will acknowledge that it took me a long while to make up my mind, but now that I have, I will stand by my choices.”
He looked at Linnea for support, then continued. “There are still several matters to be resolved. One is the disposition of the Alton Domain, and that lies at the heart of the predicament. It is not that we have too few legitimate claimants, but that we have too many. Dom Gabriel feels he has a rightful claim on it, because he has held the position for years. I do not know how Lew feels. But since he has returned, his claim is the most valid.”
“I have no desire to reclaim the Alton Domain. I have a wife who is very ill, and all I want is to get her well, not sit in Council meetings until my bottom gets numb. I had enough of that while I served in the Senate to last several lifetimes!” Lew’s single hand roamed restlessly across the table top, back and forth, as if he was trying to put his finger on something which remained elusive.
“And Marguerida’s claim?”
“She is my daughter, my only living child. And since I did not designate Gabriel as my heir before I departed, my sense is that she remains the most legitimate person to hold the Domain.”
>
“She does not follow our ways!” Gabriel roared. “She must be made to resign the Domain into my hands, or the hands of my sons! I will not permit anything else!”
Margaret looked at her Aunt Javanne, and was met with a hard-eyed glare. It must have been hard for her, all these years, married to Gabriel, trying to be a proper Darkovan woman, when she clearly had drive and ambition. Javanne must have hated being able only to manipulate her husband, instead of sitting in a place of power.
And Mikhail was too much like Javanne, Margaret guessed. He could not be manipulated, controlled, or bullied either.
She gave Mikhail a glance, and he smiled at her, as if he knew her thoughts despite the dampers in the chamber. Suddenly the matter of the Alton Domain seemed irrelevant. Uncle Gabriel was a good man, in his stubborn, slow way, and he had kept her lands well. On the other hand, she realized she had a responsibility, a duty to fulfill. Her father had never asked anything of her, not really, but he clearly wanted her to inherit his estates, and she knew she would not fail him. She was just afraid that the cost was going to be one she did not wish to pay. Funny, she thought. I never believed there would be any man who would be a light in my life, and now there is, and he cannot have me, nor I him. Life is not fair!
“The crux of the matter is that the people will have—demand to have—a Comyn Council again. So the Heir-ships must be settled, clearly defined, or else we will spend all our energy squabbling and have none left for our real business—which is to serve the people of Darkover as well as we are able. I may be Regent, but I know that I am a servant of the people I rule, and I never want to forget that!” Regis’ voice rang out against the great windows, echoing, and bringing everyone back to attention.
There was a rather shocked silence at this statement, and Dom Gabriel looked as if he had had the wind knocked out of him. Javanne, on the other hand, looked very thoughtful, and Margaret did not doubt that she was looking for ways to turn this new political situation to her advantage.
“Serve the people?” Gabriel sounded as if he suspected a trap in that.
Regis ignored his brother-in-law. “First among the Domains comes the Elhalyn of Hastur, but those among them are too young to govern wisely and have had no experience with ruling, they will need guidance. Danilo—my son by Linnea—will be heir to Hastur of Hastur, but again he is too young to have a seat at Council.” He paused, and Margaret saw something in his face, a shadow of doubt or worry. She remembered the tense young man who had greeted them on their return to Thendara. She noticed that Regis had very carefully not declared his eldest son the heir, but put it off to some vague future, and she wondered if there was something amiss with Danilo Hastur. “Mikhail is my next heir, after Danilo, and I am minded to appoint him to the Regency of the Elhalyn Domain. Your good sense and Terran education will stand you in good stead for this task, Mikhail, until we can be sure that the eldest living son of Derik’s sister is sound of mind. We cannot risk another Derik. In another year he will be of an age to rule, but there will be no talk of crowning for some time to come.”
Javanne stared at her brother, and Margaret did not blame her. It sounded as if he were perfectly prepared to abdicate his position in favor of a young man who had never been trained to rule. It was a bold move, and a dangerous one, to surrender his power so quickly.
Mikhail looked as if he had been struck with an ax. “Lord of Light,” he whispered. “Me, a Regent!”
Regis heard him and gave a slight smile. “It is completely appropriate. Your grandmother was Alanna Elhalyn.”
“I never thought of that,” Mikhail muttered.
“Why Mikhail and not Gabriel or Rafael?” asked Javanne, her cheeks full of color. She glared at her brother, then at her son, as if they were some sort of monsters.
“Mikhail has been trained to rule, and he can give the correct guidance. Gabe and Rafael are good men, sister, but they are not suited to the task I have in mind.”
Mikhail looked very distressed, almost as upset as his mother. “I am sworn to Hastur, Regis. If I take on the Elhalyn Domain, it alters everything. My loyalties will have to be to them, and . . .” He tried to shrug it off. “Well, Priscilla’s son Alan will be old enough to be crowned soon. But, frankly, he is a little odd. It is the second son, Vincent, who . . .” Like a sleepwalker Mikhail moved from his place behind Dyan’s chair. He went to a chair almost opposite Regis, a chair marked with the silver tree of Hastur but with a crown above it, and sat down. “Now that I no longer want the crown that Regis swore to me, I have the burden of a crown I never sought,” he whispered.
This turn of events was puzzling to Margaret. She was not sure why Regis was so bent on restoring the traditional kings of Darkover—the little she had heard made her think they were a strange family—nor why he should appoint Mikhail, except that his grandmother had been an Elhalyn. By that logic, Javanne would be just as good a candidate for the role of regent, and she would love it! Maybe there was some custom that prevented a woman from being regent.
Gabriel growled. “That is ridiculous. Mikhail will fill Alan’s head with a lot of Terranan nonsense, if he isn’t already ruined.”
Lew stirred. “Gabriel, you are still living in the past. We have to try to adapt, both of us. The old Darkover that we grew up in is gone. Forever, I suspect. Even restoring the Elhalyn line to the throne will not bring it back. Regis has made several remarkable proposals, and I think we need time to digest them. May I suggest we adjourn, and let our tempers cool.”
“You can suggest anything you like—but I will oppose all of these matters—Aldarans in the Comyn Council and Mikhail sitting for Elhalyn! I will take it to the Cortes, and they will see the . . .”
“I would not recommend you oppose me, Dom Gabriel,” Regis said formally. He looked at Margaret. “I have the best interests of Darkover in mind, and opposition will only lay us open to the schemes of our enemies. And, if you do, then I will remove you from the Council.”
There was no mistaking his tone. A silence settled across the room, while everyone digested this threat. Margaret looked from face to face, trying to judge the mood. But most of all, her eyes were drawn to Mikhail. Well, she thought, at least he won’t be leaving Darkover.
28
Gabriel stormed out of the Crystal Chamber, nearly knocking over one of the Guardsmen as he went to the door. Javanne started to follow him, but her brother grasped her wrist in a hard grip. “We must talk, sister,” he said, his face unsmiling. “We must talk about loyalty.”
Javanne looked surprised now, as if Regis were a complete stranger. “Loyalty?”
“Precisely. Come along.” Regis rose, slipped his arm into Javanne’s, and started toward the door. Danilo had to step back quickly to avoid being hit with the chair, but he fell in smoothly behind Regis. Then Lady Linnea stood up slowly, her face grave, and the four of them left the chamber.
“Well,” Francisco Ridenow announced, “this was not quite what I expected when Regis asked me to come here. I thought it was going to be dull.” He chuckled and turned to Lew. “Is it always this heated?”
Lew shook his head. “Believe me, this was rather tame compared to a few previous occasions!”
“I see.” He gazed at Mikhail, whose head was in his hands, then at Lady Marilla and Dyan Ardaisi. “It has given me quite an appetite, you know. As well as a great deal to think about. Aldarans in the Crystal Chamber? Who would have believed that?”
“I would,” Dyan Ardais said suddenly.
“Really?”
“I know what they did, the deals they made with the Terranan, in the past, but I have always thought that it was a bad idea to let them get up to new mischief behind our backs.”
“There is a certain wisdom in that,” Francisco agreed.
He studied Dyan and Lady Marilla, then looked at Mikhail again. “But I am too hungry to think properly. Nothing more is going to be settled today, is it? Then I say we should go find some food, and perhaps some wine as well. Perhaps
a great deal of wine.”
Despite the air of tension and uncertainty in the room, everyone laughed. Dyan helped his mother to her feet, and Francisco rose. They walked to the door, paused to see if the last three occupants would follow them, then left.
“He seems a cheerful sort,” Margaret told her father. “Can we get out of here—this room makes my skin crawl. Come on, Mikhail—don’t just sit there like the end of the world has come.” She spoke with more heartiness than she felt, for she could not imagine why he was so upset. When she had first met him, he had expressed his frustration at being only a paxman, when he had been trained to be a king. Now he would be regent for this Alan Elhalyn, or one of his younger brothers, and he didn’t appear pleased at all.
Mikhail looked up, and seemed to compose himself a little. “You are right. The end of the world has not come—it has only been turned upside down! Regis never gave me a hint of his plans! It changes everything, and I am not quite sure . . . oh, to hell with it. Mother will never let him . . .”
Lew looked at Mikhail. “I think that we should leave now.” He glanced toward the two Guardsmen still standing near the door, trying to look as if they had not been listening, as if what had been said would not be the talk of the barracks in a few hours. “There is a little terrace that I rather liked when I was younger. Let’s go sit and enjoy the sun and clear our minds.”