The Shadow Matrix (52 page)

"Ida, I would like you to meet my father, Senator Lewis Alton. Father, this is Ida

Davidson, who was like a mother to me when I was at University."

Lew bowed, then offered Ida his single hand. "I am delighted to meet at last the person

who took such good care of my little girl."

"A pleasure to meet you, Senator. Ivor and I did our best, but I think she would have

turned out beautifully, no matter what." Ida smiled up at him as she shook his hand, her

eyes twinkling. She was utterly relaxed now, and clearly not overly impressed. Why

should she be? Ivor and Ida Davidson had fostered the sons and daughters of kings

from planets where such arrangements still held sway, and treated them just as they did

the rest of their charges. "Now, about that bath you promised. The stink of the ship

seems to have gotten into my skin, and I want it gone. It has been a long time since I

traveled, and I had forgotten how dreadful it was."

"You would think, wouldn't you, that with all the wonderful technology the Terran

Federation holds, they could construct a ship that didn't smell like a cowbyre."

"A cowbyre, Senator, has a good, healthy smell. I know, for I was born on Doris, and

we are famous for our cattle.

If I ever smelled a barn that stank like those ships, I would think there was some

sickness."

"Come on, Ida. I will show you to your room, and introduce you to my maid, Piedra.

She probably has all your bags half unpacked by now, for she is very efficient."

"Thank you."

"And while you are bathing, I will order up some food— real food, not like that

packaged stuff they offer on the ships. Would you like some soup, or something more

substantial?"

"Oh, anything, so long as it is hot and filling." Ida seemed to sag a little, but her cheeks

were rosy, and her eyes were bright. "If I never have to eat a nutrobar again, I will be

quite content."

What the hell? Nutrobar are what they feed Imperial Marines!

I don't know, Father, but from what Ida has told me on the way, things are getting very

odd in the Federation. I promise I'll tell you about it later.

Margaret shepherded Ida Davidson away, took her to a room adjoining her own on the

west side of the Alton Suite, and gave her over to Piedra. The maid was waiting, and

had already sorted out the small amount of baggage that Ida« had brought. Fortunately,

Piedra had a small command of Terran phrases which she had learned from Margaret,

and she took the old woman neatly in hand.

Lew was waiting for her when she returned to the sitting room, stretched out in an

armchair with his feet toward the fireplace. He had a steaming mug in his hand, and

the sweet smell of herb tea rose from it. There was a pot of the stuff on a small table,

and two 'more mugs, so she helped herself and sat down across from him.

"Did you know they had to cut funding to University?"

"Herm mentioned something of the sort. It was so minor compared to the other horse

droppings the Expansionists are trying to get through that I didn't give it much

thought."

"You didn't think it was important that they want to take away the pensions for

professors emeritus? Or that they are cutting the scholarships?" She was outraged.

"Marguerida, there is a great deal more afoot than such small matters."

"It won't be a small matter to those it affects!" Margaret felt a passion for University

that she knew she could never explain to her father, or to anyone who had not been

there. "And, if they do that, what about the widows? Ida and Ivor gave their whole

lives to taking care of their students, and if the pensions are revoked, how will she

live? She is rather too old to go back to giving clavier lessons, I think."

"How old is she? With the LE treatments, it is hard to tell."

"Ivor Was ninety-five, and Ida is two years younger, I think. She doesn't look old

enough to be your grandmother, does she?"

"Not in the least. I would have guessed sixty, if I had been pressed." He paused,

sipped, and sighed. "It is not just old professors, Marguerida, and their widows, who

are being threatened. What the Expansionists propose is a complete overhaul of the

economic basis of the Federation. At present, they are not able to realize their mad

dream, but if there is another election, they might get a majority in the lower house,

and then things would become very . . . unpleasant."

"But, Father, surely no one with any sense would support ..."

"If you tell people it is in their own interest to do something, they will support it, even

if it is a lie. Add to that the fact that the Expansionist Party is supported by the more

rapacious elements of the Federation—those who have always believed that it was the

purpose of all the planets to provide Terra with every luxury, even if it meant that

people would starve for it, and you have the devil's own mess. These men have no

religion except greed, and no more morals than a banshee. People have very short

memories, and do not remember the World Wreckers. We here on Darkover remember,

though, because they came so close to destroying us."

"Do you wish you were back in the Senate?"

"No, I don't. I would be taking out dueling licenses on a daily basis, in all likelihood,

or drinking myself to death. I had the sense to know it was time to pass the torch to

Hermes Aldaran, who is as wily as his name suggests."

"I hope you are right. Something happened at the spaceport that makes me very

uneasy. They would not let me

enter—I suppose I should have put on my uniform instead of wearing comfortable

clothing—even though I had the proper papers. It was something about sabotage on

Ephebe. And they wouldn't let my Guardsman accompany me into the port, because he

was Darkovan, I guess. The man who stopped me accused me of stealing my papers.

I've encountered that sort of treatment from native officials on a few planets, but

Terran servicemen are not usually so rude, or paranoid either."

Lew nodded. "I knew about Ephebe, though I only heard a few days before you

arrived, and it slipped my mind."

"What happened?"

"It is not clear, for I only had a brief account from Herm. He could not explain the

whole matter, and had to use a rather shabby code we worked out just before I left. It

seems that the locals were outraged at some new rule that was put upon them—you do

know that Ephebe is owned almost completely by Transplanetary, don't you—and they

took matters into their own hands, and managed to destroy most of the main spaceport.

Transplanetary is demanding that troops be sent in to 'restore order,' and the Senate is

dragging its collective feet."

"I don't understand. Why could he not tell you everything?"

Lew drank the last of his tea, made a terrible face, and set his mug aside. "It might

have been construed as treasonous, if he had given Regis and me the details. Because

we' are a Protected planet, rather than a member world."

"That makes a difference?"

"It certainly does. The Expansionists are deeply suspicious of Protectorates, and want

nothing more than to bring them into member status, the better to seize their resources

and dispatch them to Terra. Did you know that we made some tentative agreements

after the World Wreckers to share some of our matrix science with the Federation. It

was a mistake, and we realized it before it had gone too far. Regis did some very fancy

footwork, as did I, and we managed to undo the damage. I was never so grateful for the

Alton Gift as when I persuaded a few key people that the claims of matrix science

were greatly exaggerated, and hardly worth notice. But afterward I was disgusted with

myself, too, for using forced rapport, even in a good cause.

It reminded me altogether too much of Dyan-Gabriel Ar-dais's actions in the past." His

head sank toward his chest, and he looked depressed. "The things I have done for

Darkover!" he finished bitterly.

"Was that when information about Darkover was suppressed?"

Lew brightened a bit. "Yes. I managed to attach a small amendment to a trade bill,

something so apparently unimportant that it was almost unnoticed, subtly altering the

status of Protectorates in the Federation. By the time anyone realized what had

happened, there was nothing they could do, other than rescind it, and there were other

pressing matters that received attention instead. The Federation is starting to crack,

Marguerida. It is too large to govern, and those who imagine they can run it are

deluded. What is needed is not a return to the greedy policies of the past, but instead a

whole new form of government, instead of the muddle we have now, a patchwork of

agreements that no longer serve. Only the vision is lacking. The Terranan have

expanded their horizons without enlarging their imaginations. I cannot do anything

about that. All I can do is try to keep Darkover from being gobbled up by

Transplanetary of some other corporation."

"I remember that Ida had a lot of trouble getting the papers to come here. Is that part of

it?"

"Absolutely! The Expansionists want ships to carry goods, not people, and certainly

not information about other worlds. That is how they hope to control the Federation,

by limiting the exchange of knowledge. Their assault on University is only the first

step. I do not believe they have a conscious plan. After being out of power for almost a

generation, their majority in the Senate has made them a little drunk, I suppose. These

are not thoughtful people, Marguerida. They are ambitious, and not evil by their own

lights. And, I think, there is no one more dangerous than a man with power who does

not realize he is capable of real evil."

They fell into one of the companionable silences that they had begun at Arilinn, when

both were too tired to speak, and too sorrowful to wish to be alone. It was very

pleasant, with the crackling of the fire, and the sound of the wind rising outside the

castle. Margaret thought that

her father had found some sort of peace at least, and she was glad for him. As for the

Federation, it seemed more and more distant from her concerns, and she let herself

think about other things, like Mikhail, and that peculiar dream they had shared a few

weeks before.

Ida Davidson joined them, looking much refreshed, and wearing a strange garment of a

sort Margaret had not seen before. At the same time, it seemed very familiar, and after

a moment she realized it was similar to what she had seen Ida wearing in her flash of

foresight. It consisted of a knitted tunic above voluminous wool trousers, not unlike the

garments worn by Dry Town males, and over it, a striped coat in a variety of bright

colors. Piedra had pinned a small veil over Ida's thin hair, which was too short to be

braided or fastened up. The overall effect was both exotic and interesting.

Where, she wondered, had Ida gotten that getup? Margaret had seen Ida in her

academic robes on important occasions, and wearing the usual clothes of Federation

women not functioning in any official capacity—blouses, skirts, or dresses—but this

was a totally different thing.

"Yes, I know. I look quite odd. I thought so when I stood before the mirror, and your

maid had a great deal of trouble not giggling. But I had these things in a trunk, and I

thought that since Cottman was such a cold place, my old Dorian things, which I

haven't worn in a couple of decades, would be just the thing. Fortunately, I have not

gained much weight, so they fit just fine. And I always loved this robe. Ivor said it

made him think of Joseph, in the Bible, you know? The coat of many colors? And J am

glad I brought them, because I never want to see those things I traveled in again!"

"You look wonderful, Ida. But tomorrow, weather permitting, we will go to my tailor

in Threadneedle Street and get you something local." She gestured at her own

garments. "Like these. We will probably have to take a small boy with us, my cousin

Donal, who is eight and bright as brass. I promised him I would take him to get a new

tunic, for Midwinter."

Lew had risen when Ida came in, and now he strode to the windows, watching and

listening intently. "I think it will have to wait until the next day—it sounds like we are

in

for a bit of a blow tonight, and the streets will be terrible. And I think you should take a

small carriage, unless you ride,
Mestra
Davidson."

"You must call me Ida, Senator.
Mestra
Davidson sounds very old, and I really don't

want to feel old right now."

"Then you must call me Lew. Ah, here is food. I ordered some lentil soup, bread,

honey, and- mulled wine, as well as tea. I hope that meets with your approval."

"Lentil soup sounds perfect!"

There was a small round table at one side of the sitting room, where the servant set the

tray down and began laying out the crockery. In a few minutes they were all seated

around it, eating. Ida brought Margaret up to date on various scandals at University,