Exile's Song (65 page)

The steady drone of the old man’s voice calmed her, and her fears began to vanish as she listened. She knew some of the stories he mentioned, and a great many more, for it seemed that wherever humans settled, they carried tales of other races, of fairies and elves and dwarves, with them, and they often lived in places where time was somehow different.

Margaret turned in the saddle and looked back over her shoulder. The Tower was gone as if it had never been. All she could see were the ruins of the foundation stones, not white as she had seen, but blackened, as if they had been struck by lightning. It was not the craziest thing that had happened to her since she came to Darkover, but it was surely one of the most unsettling.

“It’s gone now,” she said with deep regret. “Like it never was. But I have a very odd feeling about this place.”

“And what is that?” Jeff asked reluctantly.

“I can’t quite say—except I think someday I
will
bang on the door of Hali. Why do you think I can see it, when you can’t?” Despite the absence of the thing she had seen a few minutes before, Margaret felt a tremendous pull, a tug that seemed to fill her chest. She wondered if she would find Ashara there, a woman still made of flesh and blood . . . or merely find herself standing in an empty room.

“You have a strong part of the Aldaran Gift, Marguerida, and that is precognition.”

“I know—and I wish I hadn’t! But that’s seeing into the future. I was looking into the past! That’s totally different.”

“Metaphysics was never an interest of mine, so I can only guess.” He mused for a moment. “Just because we think time is a past, present, and future doesn’t mean time thinks in those terms. But I trust you will not do anything foolish,
chiya,
and leap off your horse and dash over there, will you?”

“No, I won’t. I think I have had enough adventures already, without going into ghost Towers. But for someone who pretends not to be a metaphysician, you seem to have a pretty good grasp of the matter.” She gave a little laugh, but she did not feel merry. “Time as a matter of viewpoint reality—I studied a bit about that at University—is enough to drive you crazy, there are no reference points, nothing makes sense. Has any Aldaran seen into the past?”

“Well, now I think on it, I do know of one occurrence.” He stopped speaking and looked troubled.

“Are you going to tell me or just let me die of suspense?” She teased him, feeling the need to break the mood. She looked toward her father, riding a few lengths ahead of her, talking to Mikhail. She wondered if she would ever be able to tease Lew Alton this way, the way she had sometimes done with Ivor, the way she already did with Mik. She found she wanted to, that it was an easy way to express affection.

They had drawn closer during the time at Armida, but the habits of a lifetime kept them still somewhat formal and distant. Lew would be almost cheery at times, then fall into his usual brooding silences. Margaret knew he was very worried about Dio, and was upset that he would not talk with her about it. She remembered that Jeff had said her father had a great deal of difficulty in opening up to other people, and she knew her uncle was right. But, for all of that, she still yearned to be at ease with her formidable parent, and she found herself impatient for that closeness. She shook away her thoughts, and turned her attention to what Jeff was saying now.

“My grandfather, old Damon Ridenow, whose name I am proud to bear, entered into Timesearch during the era of the Forbidden Tower. He was successful, but it was very dangerous. You will need a great deal of training to attempt such a thing, and I hope you never will.”

Mikhail had seen Hali Tower? She was so stunned that she did not respond for a moment. Then she felt annoyed.
Don’t you dare say “stupid,” Mikhail. I am not going to rush over there—besides, it’s gone now—but, someday, someday, I
will
go there. I just know it! I can feel it in my bones, and it scares me to death.

Maybe I’ll just come along with you . . . .
He sounded happy—his usual playful self.

Margaret wondered what Mikhail and Lew had been talking about as they rode.
I thought you wanted to run off and see the stars!

Margaret caught the subtle undertone in his words, and knew he was flirting with her. It was a very odd sensation, and she wished she had had more experience with men. There had been a couple of young men at University who had tried to get her attention, but the hidden presence of Ashara, she now knew, had made it impossible for her to do more than draw away abruptly. Most of her knowledge of flirting came from books, and it had always seemed silly and rather embarrassing to her when she read it. Now it filled her with a strange warmth and excitement. Maybe Mikhail
would
come to Hali Tower with her some day. Beneath his teasing tone, there was an element of seriousness.
I would follow you to the ends of the world, Marguerida. Never doubt that.
She had her answer now, and it thrilled her in ways she could not describe, and she had no idea what she should do about it.

T
he party came into view of Thendara the following morning, after a pleasant night at an inn. Margaret could see the tip of the great skyscraper in the Terran Sector, and it brought back memories of her uncle Rafe Scott, the old ethnologist Brigham Conover, and Ivor Davidson. She wondered if he was still in the overworld listening to music, or if he had passed beyond to some other place.

It was midday, but the sky was overcast, and a chill wind swept down from the Kilghards, across their backs. Margaret watched Jeff struggle to conceal the pain from his aching joints and a desire for a hot bath, and felt Rafaella brighten up as she rode beside her. The Renunciate had become more and more quiet the closer they came to Thendara, and also quite tense. Margaret had missed her usual cheerful chatter, but she knew that her friend was thinking of Rafe Scott, and how she would resolve whatever stood between them.

As they approached the gates of the city, Rafaella began to look eager, and her eyes sparkled. It was clear that she was looking forward to returning to Thendara House, and to seeing Captain Scott. Margaret wished her own situation was so easy to resolve, because Rafaella could choose to be a freemate, but, because of the social strictures of the
comyn,
if Margaret remained on Darkover, she herself could not.

“Rafaella—how is courting done on Darkover?”

“Huh?” The guide, deep in her own thoughts, looked puzzled for a second at this question. “It
isn’t
very much, at least not among the
comyn.
Even the merchants and traders arrange those matters for their own profit, not for love or romance. Oh, at balls and such there is a bit of flirting, I have heard, but we don’t have much actual courting, I think.”

“Yes. I should have guessed, what with all the marriages being what they are.” Margaret sighed. She knew what she wanted now, and she knew what Mikhail wanted as well. She knew, as well, that Gabriel Lanart and Javanne Hastur would oppose her marriage to their youngest son, and she rather doubted that her father had enough power to influence the outcome. His position was, as she understood it, extremely ambiguous, since he had given up his claim to the Alton Domain long ago. She did not know enough about Darkovan law to guess what would happen, and it was fairly pointless to speculate.

It seemed hopeless, and rather ironic. She had finally found the man who captured her heart, and he seemed to be the one person she could not have.

As they passed beneath the wide gates of the city, Margaret looked at her father, riding ahead, lost in his own thoughts. She could tell he was very worried about Dio, and was eager to get back to her. How selfish she was being, worrying about Mikhail when Dio was sick. She was disgusted with herself.

Lew Alton had been very close-mouthed about Dio’s illness, and that made her afraid. Until she left for University, there had never been anyone she loved or trusted more than her stepmother, and so soon after Ivor’s death, the mere idea that Dio might die was unthinkable. She tried to harden herself, to make herself strong and able to face anything, but inside she wanted to crumple up and cry.

She very much wanted to talk to her father, but after that wonderful dinner at Armida when they had seemed so easy with one another, Lew had withdrawn from her again. It was not as bad as when she was a girl, but it was so reminiscent of the past that she hesitated to ask him the many questions that plagued her night and day. Her problems, right now, were unimportant beside the health of Diotima Ridenow Alton.

Margaret was used to keeping her own council, and now she realized that it was a habit she had picked up from her father, and that it was both good and bad. It made it very difficult to ask for help, to ask questions of a personal nature at all. She thought he liked Mikhail well enough, but though he had indicated that he understood her feelings about her cousin, he had showed neither approval nor disapproval. Maybe he wouldn’t like the idea any better than Javanne had or perhaps he was genuinely indifferent.

She cursed herself for a fool. Lew Alton was never indifferent. He might be a near stranger to her now, but Margaret knew that he was a strong and passionate man, who did what he did for what he believed were good reasons. She would just have to depend on him to be her advocate—he owed her that at least—and stop fussing over things she could not control. She gritted her teeth. It was so hard to trust him, or anyone, it seemed.

They rode through the narrow streets from the city gate, and approached the great bulk of Comyn Castle. Margaret was now in a state of grim despair over her own future.

Margaret was so deep in her own thoughts that she hardly noticed Rafaella begin to draw her horse away. “I think I will leave you now and return to Thendara House. I’ll fetch the mule back from the Castle stables later.”

“Must you?” Margaret felt lost without her friend. Suddenly she did not want Rafaella to leave her, and loathed herself for being stupid and selfish.

“I don’t have any business at the Castle.”
My business is elsewhere, and it has been delayed long enough!

“No, of course you don’t. I wasn’t thinking clearly. Please give my regards to Mother Adriana, and tell her you were an excellent guide and a good companion. I don’t know what I would have done without you.” Margaret felt tears form in her eyes.
I do know. I would have died, but for you, Rafaella.
She blinked hard. “Say hello to Rafe Scott for me, won’t you.” She forced her face into something like a smile, but it hurt.

Rafaella, knowing her expressions well now, was not fooled. “Oh, Marguerida. Don’t be sad.”

“I will miss you!”
I wish you every happiness, and I wish the same for myself!

“And I will miss you—but I am not going away forever! You can always find me by leaving word at Thendara House.” She leaned out of her saddle and gave Margaret a firm hug across the shoulders. Then she turned away and put her heels into the horse’s flanks, riding into one of the narrow side streets.

Margaret was left bereft by this abrupt departure, and she swallowed her feelings and straightened her shoulders. Mikhail rode up beside her, his big bay snorting. “Where’s she gone off to?”

“Home.” The word seemed to express all that Margaret would never have, and she struggled to cheer herself up. She realized she was tired, for the journey had been pleasant, but still wearisome. She was glad for Rafaella, no matter what. But it still was very painful. “I think she has someone she wants to see very much.”

“Really? People say a great many unkind things about the lives of Renunciates, as if they were not quite civilized. So, does this mysterious lover have a name?”

“Can you keep a secret?”

“Of course!”

“I believe she and my uncle, Rafe Scott, are . . . becoming fond of one another.” She knew she was expressing herself awkwardly, but it was a private thing, and she felt oddly embarrassed in sharing it, even with Mikhail. “Do you know him?”

“Rafe? Of course I do—but are you sure? I mean, he’s much older than she is and . . . well, it does seem unlikely. An odd romance.”

“I was not sure to begin with. It all started when he escorted me to Thendara House, to meet Mother Adriana and hire a guide. As he walked away, I heard him thinking about someone in the house with a great deal of . . . yearning. I didn’t think much about it at the time, because I was not entirely sure that I was picking up thoughts, and besides, I was still in a state about Ivor’s death and all the rest. So much had happened! You have no idea how peculiar it is to set foot on a planet and have total strangers bowing and scraping at you, or announcing they are your long-lost uncle that you didn’t know you had!” Her sense of outrage pressed forward again, and she frowned. It was fine to have a focus for it, even for only a moment.