Hastur Lord (23 page)

As Regis moved through the glittering crowd in the main ballroom of Comyn Castle, he was not sure whether the shift of public interest from himself to Rinaldo was a good thing. Mostly, he felt a sense of relief at not being the sole object of gossip.

Danilo shadowed him, discreet as usual, the exemplary paxman.

Despite the lively music and air of festivity, Regis danced little and only with his sister. Javanne loved to dance and had few opportunities. She had grown up in a generation when it was improper for a woman to dance with any man not a kinsman or husband. This night, Gabriel had been called away at the last minute to sort out a disturbance in the Trade City. Regis did not want Javanne to be too disappointed. If Linnea had been there, he would have asked her as well, but she was not.

Although he did not dance, Rinaldo took great apparent delight in watching. His eyes followed the ladies gliding through the patterned steps.
Not indifferent, indeed,
Regis thought. It was a shame that as a novice and then a monk, his brother had never learned to dance. The old Darkovan proverb went,
“Only men laugh, only men weep, only men dance.”
During his three years of study at Nevarsin, Regis had returned home for Midsummer and Midwinter Festivals, so he had never thought about how the monks might celebrate. He stood at Rinaldo’s side, watching two of the cadet officers begin the Hellers Sword Dance. Rinaldo, who had been smiling and tapping one foot in time to the music, stiffened.

“Is something amiss, brother?” Regis asked. “All this elegance must be a bit bewildering to you.”

Rinaldo looked abashed, but did not lower his gaze. “The evening was enjoyable enough, until . . .” His gaze flickered to the two cadets, now dancing very close to one another, leaping and twirling with such precision that they seemed to be one being.

“The Sword Dance is a bit barbaric, I admit,” Regis said, “but it is very old, from the deep Hellers, and traditional at Comyn gatherings. When I was young, Dyan Ardais was famous for his performance. Rest assured, the swords are not used as weapons; if anyone gets hurt, it is from overexertion and muscle strain.”

“The swords do not offend me.”

“What then?” Regis wondered at the use of the word
offend
.

Rinaldo inclined his head toward Regis, so that they could not be easily overheard. “It is indecent for two men to—to comport themselves in such an unseemly fashion.”

What, dancing together?
Even as Regis thought this, the two dancers came together for one of the complicated duet figures, arms flung over one another’s shoulders, each in turn using the other for balance and support during the increasingly wild acrobatics. Both men were breathing hard, their faces flushed and gleaming with sweat, their eyes alight with savage joy as they threw themselves into the stylized martial movements. From their excitement, the intensity of their awareness of one another, and the closeness of their bodies, they might almost be lovers . . .

“They are not—” Regis began. “And even if they were, that is hardly
indecent.
This is Thendara, not St. Valentine’s.”

Regis faced his brother directly. He could no longer put off addressing the
cristoforo
attitude toward homosexuality, although he was not ready to confront Rinaldo with his own nature in the middle of such a public gathering.

“Among the Comyn, it is not considered disgraceful but proper for young unmarried men to turn to one another rather than to such women who are common to all. Most set aside the physical joining when they marry, but the ties of devotion and loyalty remain. A few continue to find their deepest connection to other men, but they are no less honorable for it.”

Rinaldo was trembling, visibly fighting for control. Regis could not read the emotion beneath the outward physical signs, only its intensity. Could it be that Rinaldo, like himself, struggled between his sexual preferences and the deeply implanted guilt from years of indoctrination?

No, whatever passions drove Rinaldo, Regis did not think that suppressed love of men was one of them. He must give his brother more time to accustom himself to life outside the monastery.

“I know you have been taught otherwise, and so was I,” Regis said as kindly as he could, “but the world is far larger and more varied than one isolated snowbound corner. In time, I hope you will see that such private, individual choices pose no threat to anyone else and that you can respect and even admire those who are made differently. It is a difficult adjustment, but for tonight, you need not remain if the dance offends you.” Deliberately, Regis repeated the same word.
Offend.

If thy right arm offend thee, cut it from thy body.
The words of the ancient
cristoforo
scripture echoed in memory. As an adolescent, Regis had been appalled at the injunction, and perhaps that was why he could never forget it.

“No one will think ill of you if you retire early.” Regis kept his voice encouraging. “You are not accustomed to such energetic activity late at night. Shall I ask Danilo to attend you, or do you remember your way back to your rooms?”

“I am indeed overtired. A period of cleansing prayer will restore me. Do not trouble your paxman on my account. If it is improper for me to walk alone from one part of the Castle to another, then one of the Guardsmen can do as well.”

With that, Rinaldo bowed to Regis and went to take his leave of Javanne, as the evening’s hostess. Regis watched with relief as Javanne smiled and patted Rinaldo’s arm in a sisterly way. A moment later, Rinaldo disappeared through the archway at the back of the ballroom, one of the older Guardsman marching smartly in his wake.

The following morning, Regis breakfasted late with Javanne and her family. She had transformed the blandly impersonal parlor into an intimate family room. Cushions with brightly colored needlepoint, some of it obviously the work of her daughters, were piled on the divan. A table nearby held a vase of flowers and several open books; a flute had been left on the divan itself.

Gabriel had already left for morning roster, but Mikhail and Ariel greeted Regis warmly. Ariel had not been allowed to attend the dance and was bursting with questions that, she insisted, her older brother was incapable of answering properly. Who had worn what and danced with whom? Regis did his best, despite her growing impatience with his answers.

At last Javanne called a halt to the interrogation. Regis yawned and sipped his second cup of bitter
jaco.
He had not slept well since returning to Thendara. Although they worked together every day, Danilo kept to his own chambers at night. Eventually, they would have to find some private time, before irritations and misunderstandings began to fester.

The maid swung open the outer door and Rinaldo entered. As before, he was simply but richly dressed. If the colors of his garments were somber, the quality was unmistakable.

“Please join us,” Regis said, adding, “or perhaps I overstep the prerogative of my sister, since this is her apartment and her breakfast.”

“Oh, Regis! We are family and must not be so formal!” Javanne began handing Rinaldo plates of sausages and cold sliced meat pie and bowls of stewed mountain peaches and fresh cheese, followed by baskets of spiced pastries.

“I looked for you this morning.” Rinaldo’s tone was even, but the words came out as an accusation. “They told me you were here.”

Regis shrugged. “It’s far more pleasant to spend the morning after a ball relaxing with one’s family than returning immediately to work.” He started to say,
Even if one is not exhausted from dancing,
but thought better of it. “You look as if you have rested well.”

“I have indeed.”

“What did you think of the ball, Uncle Rinaldo?” Mikhail asked.

“Yes!” Ariel joined in, clapping her hands. “Were the ladies dressed very grandly?
No one
has been able to tell me!”

Rinaldo paused in cutting a sausage into tiny slivers. “I have been a monk for most of my life,” he said, avoiding looking directly at his young niece, “and know little of how to judge such things. But if
grand-ness
can be measured by the brightness of the silks and the number of bows and frills, then yes, very grand indeed.”

“That is enough,” Javanne interrupted before Ariel could pose another question on the latest fashions. “Your uncle is our guest, not our entertainer.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Regis said, “Rinaldo, was there something you wanted?”

Rinaldo finished the last bite of sausage and mopped up the juices with a bit of bread. “Only a trifle. Nothing worthy of taking you from your work. But since you are at leisure and you have asked . . . I have seen many things in this city, some admirable, some otherwise. I suppose such behavior is to be expected without firm moral guidance.”

Ariel lifted her head with a puzzled expression. Mikhail pretended to whisper to her, “He means houses where—”

Javanne cut him off. “Mikhail! We do not speak of such things in front of children! I am so sorry, Rinaldo. Mikhail really knows better. But boys will be curious, and he is of an age . . .”

“Let us hope his curiosity extends only to vocabulary and not
experience,
” Rinaldo said severely. “Once he is married, he will have no cause to pollute his thoughts in this way.”

Mikhail’s flush was all the more obvious because of his fair complexion. He looked as if he wanted to sink through the carpeted floor and into the Castle’s forgotten dungeons. Regis felt a surge of sympathy for the boy. When he was Mikhail’s age, he would never have spoken the word
brothel
before any person of his parents’ generation.

And so, we were left to our own companions and the ravages of adolescent hormones.
Not that it would have made much difference in his case.

“Mikhail is a fine young man,” Regis said temperately, “and would never do anything to bring shame to his family. As you say, sister, he is still learning the habits of discretion.” Mikhail shot him a look of gratitude.

“See that he is taught well,” Rinaldo said, not to Javanne but to Regis. “I did not come here to instruct you in the proper discipline of your family. I’m afraid my purpose is far less serious. Self-indulgent, I must confess.”

Regis smiled at his brother’s habitual self-deprecation. A lifetime of self-effacement could not be erased in a few tendays “What is your pleasure?”

“Last night, and from time to time, I have heard much discussion of the Terran Federation. Until I came here I had never set eyes upon an out-worlder. What exotic beings I imaged them to be, these creatures from the stars! Now I find they are men much like ourselves.”

“In some ways,” Regis agreed cautiously. He did not want to give the impression there were no differences between Federation races and Darkovans. Certainly, there were many political differences. Out of the corner of his vision, Regis saw that Mikhail was following the conversation closely.

“But not all ways, is that your meaning, brother?” Rinaldo smiled as Regis nodded. “Yes, yes, that makes sense. If I am to take my place in Comyn society, I must not remain ignorant of the issues that divide us.”

“I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear you say that,” Regis replied. “On the surface, the Federation offer of membership is tempting. When you understand the cost to our culture, our independence, even the ecology of our planet, things look very different.”

“That is a simplistic way of putting it,” Rinaldo said.

“I am sorry to interrupt what must be a long, involved conversation,” Javanne said, “but I really must get to work. There is a great deal to do, cleaning up after the ball in addition to the normal daily housekeeping.”

Regis rose. “Please, do not let us keep you. Your work is deeply appreciated.”

Javanne gathered up her daughter and swept from the room. Mikhail remained behind, very much on his best behavior, perhaps hoping to escape any suggestion that he might assist his mother.

Regis turned back to Rinaldo. “So you would learn more of the Terran Federation situation?”

“I must begin by becoming acquainted with these Terrans themselves. The Holy St. Christopher bears the burdens of all who pray to him, regardless of their worldly allegiances. Do you not try to see these star travelers as fellow creatures, with their gifts and sorrows, rather than as a single nameless adversary?”

Regis nodded. All too many tragedies might have been prevented, had the parties thought as his brother did. He proposed a visit to the Federation Legate and a tour of the Terran Zone. Rinaldo was openly delighted with the prospect, as was Mikhail with being asked to accompany them.

R
egis strolled beside his brother through the Trade City, which lay between the older part of Thendara and the Terran Zone. Mikhail followed half a pace behind, serious with the weight of his new responsibility. Since Regis had decided against summoning Danilo or a pair of the Castle Guards to accompany them, Mikhail had taken it upon himself to protect his two uncles from any possible harm. Regis suspected that if there were any danger he and Mikhail could not handle together, the addition of two or even twenty swordsmen would make no difference. The Terran authorities did all they could to prevent the illegal sale of blasters and other Compact-banned weapons, but it was still possible to obtain them on permit.