The Shadow Matrix (16 page)

But Lew was called away almost before he had time to get out of his riding boots, and

she was relieved to be totally alone. Margaret bathed, put on fresh garments, and asked

her maid, Piedra, to bring her a tray of supper. She knew she really should go find

Lady Linnea and be properly social, but she was too tired and too sad to want

company.

Instead, after she had eaten, Margaret got out her recorder and listened to the notes she

had made four months before, on the trail with Rafaella. She had added to it while she

was at Arilinn, for she had discovered an entire body of songs that were sung only in

Towers, written by Keepers and monitors and technicians, that no one had ever

bothered to mention to her. The music was beautiful, closer to ancient plain chant than

most Darkovan songs, and there was a quality of isolation in it that drew her. Margaret

could almost picture long-dead Keepers whiling away cold nights over their rylls and

guitars, creating the pieces to comfort themselves.

It was the first chance she had really had to concentrate on her work in a long time, and

she was deep in thought, writing a few lines for what she hoped would someday be a

monograph, when Lew finally returned. Part of her mind was completely absorbed,

and while aware of his presence, she did not stop until she had her thoughts down.

Then she started a little, and felt a little guilty. She turned off her machine and bit her

lower lip anxiously.

"What are you up to," he asked cheerfully.

"I was just trying to organize my notes. Between trying to learn how to control my

telepathy and the headaches I got from being around all those matrices, I haven't had

the energy until now. I can't tell you how relieved I am to be away from the Tower, and

I do not look forward to going to Neskaya, even though I will be with Istvana

Ridenow."

"You seemed very far away when I came in. Tell me,
chiya,
do you miss it?"

"University? Yes, I do. I have spent a third of my life there. It has become a habit with

me. I miss the discourse, the intense curiosity of other scholars, the opportunity for

contrasts."

"Contrasts?"

"Well, all information at University gets analyzed through the parameters of

comparison and interrelationship. Darkover has some pretty interesting variations on

the human norm, and I don't have anyone to discuss them with! Oh, Mikhail always

tries to understand what I am talking about—he is very curious about the places I've

been—but he often doesn't see what is so fascinating to me. He accepts Darkovan

customs as the norm of
how human beings behave,
instead of being merely one point

along a broad spectrum of behavior."

"I understand completely! When I first went to the Senate, I was constantly shocked by

the wide variety of human behavioral "norms." And, for a Darkovan, I was fairly

sophisticated. Some of the things I encountered seemed so strange, and I could not for

the life of me figure out why some people did the things they did. But, I got used to it,

after a couple of months of getting glared at for passing a Medinite on the left in the

hall, instead of staying to the right. After some years acceptance of variation became

second nature to me—now I have more trouble with the un-

yielding nature of my fellow Comyn than ever!" He smiled wryly. "This telefax came

for you while I was away."

Margaret held out her hand for the thin sheet. She took it and saw that the sender's

code was that of the University. Maybe they were revoking her fellowship. She tore it

open and read through the script rapidly.

Then she grinned and looked up at her father. "It is from Ida Davidson. She thinks she

can get passage to Darkover soon, to claim Ivor's body. There is some problem with

travel permits."

"I am not surprised." Lew sounded almost angry.

"Why?"

"The Expansionists in the lower house are trying to prevent travel to Protectorate

worlds, as a way to force them to become member worlds. They have tried to get two

bills passed since I left the Senate to limit or exclude trade from worlds which are not

willing to open their doors to Expansionist policies. The Senate has managed to defeat

both of them, but it was a close thing."

"But that's crazy."

Lew shook his head. "I spent a lot of time while I was in the Senate studying the

history of governments—without, I confess, the benefit of your scholarly training. Tell

me— do they still use Kostemeyer's text on the life of empires at University?"

Margaret held back her sense of surprise. Somehow she had never thought of her father

as a person who would have read the hoary central text of the Socio-Historists. It had

been written two hundred years before, by a Centauri, and while it had been

superseded by more recent works, it was still a classic. "Yes, and it is required, too. It

is part of the core reading for History of Civilization, which everyone has to take—

much to the annoyance of the engineering and technical students, who seem to think

that history is something that happens to other people." Margaret realized that she was

still thinking of Lew as the man he had been when she was very young, not the

informed and intelligent Senator from Darkover. Of course, when she had left for

University, they had never had discussions like this one. How wonderful to discover

this man, this father she had been denied as a girl, and to find out that he was so

interesting!

"Do you remember what he says about the cycles—what does he call them?"

"The tides, Father."

"Yes, that's it. Now I remember—'To ignore the ebb and neep of the tidal flow of all

forms of governance is the folly of empires.' Rather grand, isn't it? He had a lovely

way with the language. In my opinion, just now, the Terran Federation is in the

beginning of an ebb, which is characterized by both oppression and various sorts of

decadence."

"Decadence? I don't understand."

"When a culture runs out of ideas, it becomes decadent. And, in my opinion, the

Federation is rapidly running out of both ideas and sense!" His face reddened a little

along his cheekbones, and his eyes glittered with passion. "Instead of recognizing that

each world is a unique and wonderful place, they have started to believe that imposing

Terran technology and behavior on the member worlds is the road to control. What

they do not appear to understand is that rather than gain control, they will only cause

rebellion!"

"Why?"

"Because the Federation cannot know what's best for everyone, and particularly not for

Darkover and other Protectorate worlds! There is this perception that Protectorate

worlds are taking resources from the Federation and giving back nothing in return."

"Was that one of the reasons you gave up your seat in the Senate?"

"You mean did I see it coming?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps. I noticed that the bureaucracy was becoming more complex, which is"

always a signal of oppression, in my understanding of history. There has been a

proliferation of permits, taxes, and laws concerning the movement of goods and

people. It has grown slowly, beginning just about the time you left for University, and

at first it did not appear to be anything malignant. By the time Dio got ill, however, I

could see the handwriting on the wall, and I knew that I could no longer function in the

increasingly hostile environment of the Senate. The travel tax alone has been raised

three times in the past nine years."

"I know. Don't forget, I made all the arrangements when Ivor and I went from world to

world."

"Of course you did. I just didn't think of that."

"What I noticed was that our funding kept dwindling. When I began traveling with

Ivor, we could go second class, but on the last two trips we had to go third because

there were almost no travel funds. And I couldn't understand it. My fellowship grant

was being eaten up with new taxes, and the stipend was less each year. They will

probably revoke my grant eventually ... if I don't go back. And I don't suppose I will,

ever." She felt more despondent than she would have thought possible.

"But, Marguerida, you don't need the grant. You are the heir to the Alton Domain, and

you will never. ..."

"I earned that grant, Father! I worked for it. It isn't a great deal of money, of course, but

it was mine. I don't want some damned Expansionist taking it away from me!"

He sighed. "I know it is important to you, but . . ."

"Father, I cannot submit papers to the University if I am no longer a Fellow. I could not

complete Ivor's work, or do any of my own. That would be intolerable."

"You really loved it, didn't you?"

Margaret knitted her fingers together. "It was not exactly that I loved it, but it was

totally mine. I was not a Fellow because of you or even because of Ivor. It was not

something I could inherit. I had to work very hard to create an original piece of

scholarship that earned me my fellowship, and while it is a rather obscure thesis that

few people will ever dig out of the archives, it was completely original. I don't want to

lose that. It isn't logical—I just don't!"

"There is something more to this than your fellowship, isn't there?"

"I am never going to be a 'good' Darkovan woman, Father. I am never going to be

willing to submit meekly to men like
Dom
Gabriel, who imagine they know what is

best for me. If you had sent me back here when I was an adolescent, I might have

learned to be another sort of person. Now, it is too late. I am too used to being able to

do what I like, regardless of my gender, and I resent the restrictions of having to have a

chaperone or a groom and all the rest of it. The only reason I put up with it is because

it would reflect badly on you if I behaved as I normally would on University."

"I didn't realize how much you chafed under Darkover's rein," Lew said slowly.

"There is nothing anyone can do about it. Oh, certainly sometimes I think about giving

up my claim to the Domain, getting on the first ship I can find, and shaking the dust of

Darkover from my skirts. Do you know, when I came here, I was very happy. Things

smelled
right and
sounded
right for the first time in my adult life. I had been longing

for Darkover without even knowing it. That was before I really understood that I was

only a pawn in a local game of chess, that I am Marguerida Alton, not just plain

Margaret."

She took a deep breath and plunged ahead, releasing the

tension that had preyed on her for months. "I am an heir

ess." The words tasted foul in her mouth. "I am a thing to

be used for your purposes or Regis', to thwart

Dom

Gabriel

or someone else. I am not free to marry as I wish, to pursue

my own ends. I am not a person, but only an object." She

tried to keep the bitterness from showing in her vocal tone,

but she could not help it.

"I think you are mistaken in that."

"What would you do if I decided to become a Renunciate?"

He stared at her, astonished. "Anything in my power to stop you."

"Exactly!"

"But you love Mikhail, and you want to marry him, don't you?"

"And that is supposed to be enough? Marriage? Shall I wear a shackle on my arm until

I die in childbed or just get old and doddering?"

He ran the fingers of his single hand through his hair, tumbling the tresses across his

furrowed brow. "Well, I
do
wish to see you settled down, and—"

"And let my mind be blunted by counting linens, arranging meals and directing the

servants! I do love Mikhail, but I do not think that being married to him, even if you

can arrange that miracle, will ever satisfy me completely. I am too used to
thinking,
to

studying and learning." She stood up from behind the desk. "We are never going to be

able to see eye to eye on this, Father. I will do my best to be a dutiful daughter, but I

cannot promise to enjoy it." She sighed and looked slyly at her father. "Now, is there

any-

thing you can do to make it easier for Ida Davidson to travel to Darkover? I must send

her the disks I've done, and a better guide to the language than I had when I arrived. I

want her to feel as comfortable here as possible, and if she can get the basic language

down before she lands, that will help enormously. I am sure Uncle Rafe Scott can help

me—he enjoys making himself useful, and I have no hesitation in taking advantage of

it." She grinned at her father.

Lew looked bemused. "Termagant," he said affectionately.

"By all accounts, I come by it very honestly. Thyra was my mother."

"And you have never reminded me more of her than in this moment. Give me the

telefax. I'll go over to Terran HQ tomorrow and see what I can do. Don't expect much."

"Thank you."