The Shadow Matrix (51 page)

holding a case of some sort against his chest. She tried to wave, to get Ida's attention,

but the little woman did not see her. Ida looked smaller than she remembered, smaller

and older, too. Worn, that was the word she wanted. She jigged a little impatiently, and

tried to school herself to tranquillity. But she was much too excited by Ida's arrival.

Not precisely happy, since Ida would never have come to Darkover if Ivor had not

died, but heartened. She had a deep sense of connection to this woman who had been

her guide during most of her adult life.

The line snaked along slowly, the customs officers peering at papers, asking

impertinent questions, poking through carry-ons, and putting the correct stamps in the

proper places. At last Ida came to the head of line, saw her, gave Margaret a weary

wave, and waited to be processed.

She came through the barrier, and Margaret swept her up in a firm hug that lifted the

smaller woman's feet right off the floor. Then she planted a kiss on her cheek and

received one in return. "You are, I think, the most beautiful sight I have seen in days,"

Ida murmured.

"Thank you! You look pretty wonderful to me, too! Come on. Let's get the rest of your

luggage and get out of

here. This way." Margaret took Ida's arm gently and led her down the maze of

corridors until they reached the baggage area. They found Ida Davidson's case, and in a

few minutes, they were out of the building, into the crisp air.

"My God! No wonder you are wearing wool. I had no idea it was so cold! I mean, yes,

I knew that Cottman was a chilly place, but nothing prepared me for this, Maggie! Is it

always like this?"

"This is actually a pretty pleasant day for this time of year. But I know what you mean,

though. Come on. It is a goodly walk back to the Castle, and there is no ground

transportation. Your all-weather cloak will keep you from freezing."

"If you say so," Ida answered doubtfully, shivering all

over. .

"I should have brought along a real cloak for you. I wasn't thinking, Ida. I'm sorry."

None of the guards tried to stop them as they walked through the open gate, but the

man called Ritter gave Margaret a Venomous look as they passed him. Margaret

ignored him. All she could think of was getting Ida back to the Castle as quickly as

possible. She cursed herself for not thinking to order a carriage.

Daryll was leaning against a wall, waiting, but he came to attention as soon as he saw

Margaret. After a glance at Ida clutching the slithery cloth of the all-weather cloak

around her, he swept his own off and drew it around Ida's shoulders in a single,

graceful movement, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Ida nearly jumped

out of her skin at the quick motion, but then tugged the garment over her. "Thank you.

I am past the age where I expect chivalry, but not so old I cannot enjoy some."

The Guardsman looked at her blankly, since Ida was speaking in Terran, not
casta.
But

he seemed to understand that she was glad of the cloak, and grinned at the older

woman.

"Will he be warm enough?" Ida asked Margaret in a worried way.

"Darryl will manage, I am sure. Give him your bags. The streets are rather slippery,

and I don't want you to overbalance and fall. Here, take my arm."

"Very well," Ida answered, slightly grumpy. "I am not enfeebled, Maggie—not yet,

anyhow."

"Of course you aren't, but if you broke your leg, you would end up in the Terran

Medical Center, and I would hate to have your visit here ruined."

"Is this how you managed Ivor?" The asperity in her voice was a little muffled, as the

small woman tried to manage with a cloak intended for a much taller person.

Margaret chuckled. "Oh, no. I never had to manage him, because he just dumped

everything on me and assumed I could take care of it."

"Yes, he would have done that. He was a very single-minded man." She sounded near

to tears, and Margaret could sense she was keeping her feelings in check by sheer will.

"Did I tell you how much I appreciated the message you sent me when he died?"

"Yes, Ida."

"I am so tired that I can hardly think straight. After sitting on the ship for days, doing

nothing but napping and trying to find a comfortable position, it does not seem

reasonable. But I am weary to the bone, to the heart."

"I know, Ida, and I wish . . ."

"There is nothing you can do, child. Time is all that can heal me."

They moved slowly across the square, and Ida began looking around with mild interest

as she leaned lightly on Margaret's arm. They passed by the orphanage, and the taverns

and cookshops which clustered near the entrance' to the port, and finally entered the

narrow streets that led away from it. Ice crunched beneath their feet, and their breaths

misted the air before them. The wind had died down a little, for which Margaret was

grateful, both for Ida's sake and her own.

"Where are we going?" Ida asked after a while.

"See that great white pile up there, looming over the city? That is Comyn Castle, and

that is where I am taking you."

"Oh. Somehow, when you said 'castle,' I thought you meant an inn or hostel, not a real

castle." She panted a little, her warm breath making foggy billows in the air. "Why do

you live in a castle?" Ida managed at last.

Margaret had not explained very much to Ida about her

adventures since coming to Darkover, since the cost of telefaxes was enormous, and

there was a great deal which she had not wished to expose to curious eyes. Although

these communications were supposedly private, she had a dark suspicion that they

were not really. She had informed Ida about Ivor's death, but had not said anything

about being an heiress, having
laran,
or any number of other matters. Now she felt a

little strange, guilty and tense for having said so little.

"Technically, I don't. I only stay at Comyn Castle when I am in Thendara. Right now I

'live' at Neskaya, which is a place north of here, where I am studying. I'd probably be

there now, but the Midwinter Festival and your visit allowed me to leave for a time."

How the devil was she supposed to explain the Towers of Darkover to Ida?

"Studying? Is this Neskaya a musical center?" Ida had a good ear, and it was clear she

had listened to the language disks Margaret had sent months before, for her

pronunciation of the word Neskaya was good.

Margaret laughed. "There is music everywhere on Dark-over, Ida. I have collected

enough material since I arrived to earn a full professorship, if I ever had the time and

energy to get it organized. But since I do not expect to ever return to University—"

"You aren't coming back?"

"Not in any future I can foresee, Ida." The problem was, she thought, that she couldn't

see any future at all.
So much for the Aldaran Gift. I wonder if Gisela has it. A pity I

can't just ask the woman. But I could never do that.

"I see. I always imagined, and Ivor, too, that when he was retired, you would get his

seat at University. We were really looking forward to that, I confess, because of all the

students we had, you were the best real scholar. Not to mention a better musician than

you ever gave yourself credit for. I think you were intimidated by Jeffy and some of

the others into thinking you were not outstanding."

As always, Margaret warmed with praise, and shrank away at the same time. Then she

tried to shake her mind free of old habits. "That is nice to hear, Ida. And I am sorry to

disappoint you."

"Perhaps it is for the best."

"Why do you say that?" The street ahead of them looked

fairly clear of ice, so Margaret released her grip on Ida, and the older woman gave her

a little smile.

"Things have changed a great deal in the few months since you left. And not for the

better either. There is talk of cutting off the funding, not just to the music department,

but to all the arts, and some of the sciences as well. Those Expansionist Philistines

insist that art is a luxury, not a necessity, and that public monies should be spent on

important things, like more technologies and armaments. As if we needed more guns!

We haven't had a war in generations! They are trying to suspend all the emeritus

positions—say it's a waste of credits to support old geezers who are no longer making

a contribution. And next term they are doubling the tuitions, and eliminating a great

many of the scholarships as well. The Board of Regents is in an uproar, and it is

perfectly dreadful." Ida's small face wrinkled with distress.

Margaret thought about the suspected sabotage on Ephebe, and some of the things Lew

had told her, but decided not to say anything. "I see. My father suspected that things

might go this way, so I am not really surprised, but I am saddened." She squeezed Ida's

hand in her own. "We will be at the Castle soon, and then you can rest and have a

lovely hot bath, and put all this nonsense out of your mind, Ida."

Ida began to shiver in spite of Daryll's cloak, and she fell silent, failing even to look at

the shops that were open for business. Margaret was now glad she had said nothing

about Ephebe, and bit her lower lip anxiously as she observed the older woman. Her

breath came in little gasps, reminding Margaret all too much of how Ivor had been the

day before he died so suddenly. She felt her heart clench with fear. What if she had

brought Ida to Darkover, only to have her die like Ivor?

Then, to her astonishment, she had a flash, the sense of peering into another time, the

way she had had on three previous occasions. She "saw" Ida, now incredibly ancient,

seated beside the huge fireplace at Armida, speaking quietly to a very pretty girl of

about twelve years. She was wearing the oddest clothing—neither Darkovan nor Ter-

ran—and seemed perfectly at home. Margaret strained to hear any words in the vision,

but the two were speaking

almost in whispers, and all she caught was the pleasant crackle of the fire, and the

sound of the wind outside.

Margaret was so surprised she nearly stumbled. The vision was gone almost as soon as

it began. She would have doubted it earlier, but now she was ready to accept the image

as something possible, if not immediately real. It might even happen. The experience

left her light-headed, and she wished she had eaten a larger breakfast.

They reached the entrance to Comyn Castle which Rafe Scott had taken Margaret

through in what seemed like another lifetime. The stairs leading to the entry had been

swept clear of snow, and there were Guardsmen standing at the door. They bowed as

they opened the door, and she felt Ida start a little.

"Maggie, dearest, are you someone important? I mean, I know you are the daughter of

Senator Alton, but..." the older woman whispered as they entered the foyer. Daryll

followed them carrying the bags, and a servant appeared immediately to take them

from him.

"You could say that, Ida." Margaret's response was murmured, and she felt odd. She

still was not used to thinking of herself as a person of importance.

Ida stood absolutely still for a second, taking in the tapestries and the paintings. Then,

with trembling hands, she unhooked the cloak that Daryll had lent her and turned to

give it to him. The hem was clotted with ice, for she was much shorter than the young

Guardsman, and the white of the wool was stained in places, from being dragged over

dirty cobbles.

Her little face registered distress as she saw the mess, and she looked up at the tall

man. "Thank you for the loan of your garment—I hope you were not too cold—and I

am sorry that I got it so dirty."

Daryll gave Margaret a look of inquiry, so she translated Ida's words. "Tell the
mestra

that it was an honor to be of service, and the day is quite clement for this time of year."

Margaret laughed, and Ida waited for her to stop. "What did he say? I have been

listening to those disks you sent me, and I think I've learned some of the words, but I

am so tired I can't follow him. And it sounds different when he speaks. What did he

say?" She sounded tired and a bit querulous.

"Only that he was glad to lend you his cloak, and that the day is rather balmy for

winter."

"Balmy! I shudder to think what he thinks is cold, then." Ida gave Daryll a piercing

look, as if she suspected she was being made fun of.

"Come along. We have several miles of corridors to get through before we reach the

suite. Well, that is a slight exaggeration. It will only seem like miles, but at least you

will be warmer, Ida."

"Oh, yes, I feel more comfortable already." She tugged off the all-weather cloak that

she had worn beneath Daryll's, and draped it over her arm. "Let's go. That hot bath you

promised sounds like heaven."

The servant had preceded them, so by the time they reached the Alton Suite, the doors

were open. Lew Alton was standing by the door, waiting. He was dressed in a dark

brown tunic and matching trousers, and Margaret thought he looked very handsome in

the pale light that streamed through the windows behind him.