The Shadow Matrix (56 page)

old Geremy, Lady. We used-to do everything together, and now we do nothing, for the

Terranan discourage any visitors, and they no longer allow good lads to hang about the

entrance to the port either."

"Yes, when I went to fetch
Mestra
Davidson, I noticed there were no boys about, but I

thought it was just because of the cold."

"Mestra
... is that woman the widow of your Professor Doevidson? She and Uncle

Aaron have been yacking away like old friends, and I didn't really realize that she was

a Terranan. Her accent is a bit strange, but I thought she was from up in the hills."

"Let me introduce you."

Margaret began to stand up, but Ethan restrained her lightly. Then he knelt on the floor

and slipped her 'boots back onto her feet. His head was bent down as he said, "I never

thanked you for what you did for me,
domna."

A little embarrassed, Margaret answered, "Of course you did, Ethan."

"Not enough. My family thinks I have lost my mind, that I will lose interest and come

back to them. You were the first person who ever took me seriously, and that means

more than you can imagine,
domna." .

"She is good at listening, isn't she?" Donal piped up. He put a small hand around

Margaret's wrist. "She's my favorite relative, even better than Mik."

"Why, thank you, Donal." Margaret was very touched, but she tried to hide it. The

young man and the boy had made her feel their affection for her, 'and their complete

trust as well. It was a strange sensation for her, and she wondered if, when she had

children of her own, if ever, would they think of her so generously?

Then she stood up again, and took Ethan over to the cutting table. She waited until

there was a break in the intense conversation between the tailor and Ida, then

introduced them.

Ethan made a bow. "I only knew your husband for a day,
mestra,
but he was a good

man, and I sorrow for your loss."

Ida looked at the young man. Margaret could tell she was translating his words in her

mind. Then, her eyes filling with tears, she said, "Yes, he was." She blinked quickly,

and gave Ethan a watery smile. "I am happy that you had a chance to know him,

however briefly."

"The honor was mine,
mestra."
Ethan's young voice; which had started to change into

adult tones, was simple and sincere. What a good lad he was, and what a fine man he

was going to become. She let her worries go for the present, knowing they would still

be there, waiting for her, later, and smiled at both of them.

22

Mikhail Hastur stood before the mirror. It was the evening of the Midwinter Ball, and

he was filled with apprehension. It had nothing to do with the many strong

personalities resident in Comyn Castle, all bickering politely with one another. It was

annoying, and, at times, infuriating, but it was not what troubled him. His belly

clenched, and he felt as if the air around him were about to thicken, to curdle like

cheese. Something was going to happen that night, and no matter how often he told

himself that the dream he had shared with Marguerida was only that, he could not

convince himself.

He studied his new tunic, twitched the hem down with an almost angry tug, and glared

at himself. It was a deep blue, the color of
kireseth
blossoms, and embroidered with

that flower in gold. It felt stiff and itchy, though he knew that was only his

imagination. His trousers were white, and his shoes were new, the leather dyed to

match the tunic. The toes felt as if they were being pinched, but, again, he was sure

that could not be. Was he right to have chosen the Hastur colors for this night, instead

of the Elhalyn ones? It was too late to worry about it. He hated the outfit, he decided,

and wished he were back in his comfortable riding boots, and his favorite old, shabby

tunic.

In the next room, he could hear voices, His brothers were discussing something. He

could hear Javanne's voice, too, sharp and curt. In the days since her arrival, Mikhail

had walked a tightrope, trying to mend fences with her and his father, without

betraying Regis at the same time. The strain had been enormous. He was formal and

polite to both Marguerida and Gisela, and kept his distance from them both.'

Marguerida understood what he was doing, but Gisela kept trying to penetrate his

armor. Fortunately, his mother and

the two little girls had kept him very well chaperoned. Guarded was closer to the truth.

He let himself grin, trying to ease the increasing tension in his muscles.

There was a knock on the door. "Come in."

Liriel poked her head in, then entered. He turned away from the mirror to look at her,

and decided she looked absolutely magnificent. She was wearing a green gown that

fell around her in graceful folds, concealing her size and weight. It was beautiful, and

very plain, without any embellishment except a tiny line of gold thread around the

hem, throat and cuffs. Her red hair was brushed until it shone, and she had swept it up

over her ears, so there were swathes of bronze beside her. cheeks. The butterfly clasp

was almost hidden, but he could just see the tips of it peeking out.

"Are you ready, or do you want' to admire yourself a bit longer?"

"Are you suggesting I am vain, Liri?"

"Not in the least, but you have been in here for half an hour, and I know it does not

take you that long to dress. When I find you standing before the mirror, how can I help

but think that you are admiring your fine figure?"

"Well, I wasn't. I hate this damn tunic—it seems gaudy, though I did n<5t think so

before. And I am not looking forward to an entire evening of dancing and making

polite conversation with people I would cheerfully consign to the coldest of Zandru's

hells."

"You mean dear Gisela?" There was no mistaking the irony in Liriel's voice, and he

grinned.

"Gisela is a complete bother, and her father is worse. The only Aldaran I ever want to

see again is Robert, who seems to have all the sense in the family. I wish Regis had

never taken it into his head to invite them back to the Council. Let them stay up in the

Hellers, plotting Aldones knows what. I've smiled until my face hurts."

"Poor Mik! Shall I protect you from her attentions?"

"There is no need, Valenta will do that—the little minx. She seems to positively enjoy

driving Giz off. I think she knows that Gisela doesn't like children, which probably

lends it savor. She is going to grow into a very interesting woman."

"If someone doesn't strangle her first," Liriel answered

a little darkly. "Several times during the journey I was tempted myself."

Mikhail laughed in spite of his ill humor and a peculiar sense of unease for which he

could find no explanation. "Yes, she can be maddening, but it is wonderful how much

she has blossomed since leaving that dreadful house. I only wish Emun were as

resilient." Although a good diet and untroubled rest had done a great deal to restore the

boy, he was still very frail. Mikhail swallowed his persistent worry about Emun, and

tried to think of more pleasant matters. He would stand up in a dance with Marguerida

— that was something to look forward to.

"You really like the children, don't you?"

Liriel's question startled him out of his thoughts. "I do, though I never thought I

would."

"You are going to make a fine father."

"If I ever get the chance—which at the moment seems very unlikely. I wouldn't marry

Gisela for all the gold of Carthon, and it seems I cannot marry Marguerida. Should I

wait for Valenta to grow up?"

"Mik! What a shocking thing to say. She could be your ..."

"I know she could, but she isn't. She is half in love with me right now, as Mira was

until she clapped her eyes on Dani, but it will not last. Besides, her present ambition is

to become the Keeper of Arilinn Tower, and lord it over all the other telepaths on the

planet. Come on. I hear Mother ordering up the troops, and I don't want to annoy her. I

do that just by being alive."

A short time later, Javanne and
Dom
Gabriel led their family into the enormous

ballroom of Comyn Castle. Mikhail was bringing up the rear, with the two Elhalyn

girls and Emun, and he could hear the sound of music all the way down the corridor.

The children were almost beside themselves with excitement, and he found their

enthusiasm contagious. The persistent prick of unease at the back of his mind was

fading, and he nearly forgot it.

There were two ballrooms in Comyn Castle, one on the lower floor which opened onto

several terraces, and was used in summer, and this one which was reserved for winter

occasions. It had a great set of high bay windows on the

west wall, polished and gleaming. The lights of the spaceport could be seen, and the

night was remarkably clear. Mikhail could see a few clouds scudding across the

darkness of the sky. There would be a storm sweeping down from the Hellers soon, but

probably not before morning.

The floor was tiled in the pattern of a great starburst, in the blue and silver of the

Hasturs. It had been scrubbed until it shone, but not waxed. The musicians gallery was

on the left wall, and on the right a long table set with sweets, small morsels of meat

wrapped in pastry, and little white cakes, frosted in many colors. There was also wine

there, and he found himself wanting a glass, not from thirst but for courage.

Mikhail swept the room with a quick glance, seeking one face among the throngs of

people who had arrived before him. He saw Regis in deep conversation with Robert

Aldaran, a serious expression on his face, and Lady Linnea nearby, with Gisela beside

her. The look on Gisela's face was one of boredom and impatience, as if she wanted to

get away from Linnea as quickly as possible, but was trapped by politeness. Danilo

Syrtis-Ardais was in his usual location standing just an arm's length from Regis,

staring off into space, and clearly trying not to overhear whatever was being said. He

saw Regis frown and shake his head at Robert, and wondered what they were talking

so solemnly about. A ball was no place to discuss anything important.

Just then Danilo gave him a sharp look, an unreadable glance.
Whatever happens, Mik

—
keep calm!

That is not a very soothing thing to tell me.

No, it isn't. Regis is in a bit of a bind, but I think he has a way out of it.

Sometimes I wish my uncle were not so damned clever.

So do I, Mikhail, so do I.
There was the sense of ironic humor in his thoughts, and

Mikhail smiled to himself.

Many of the minor families of Dark over had come to Thendara, as had been the

custom for years, to winter over in the less harsh weather there, and the room was

almost full. Comyn Castle was crammed, and every house and hostel in Thendara was

stuffed to bursting. Mikhail saw Rufus d'Asturien, and his pretty daughter Darissa, one

of the many girls who had been paraded before him over the years. He had been in the

Cadets with Rufus' son Emile,

so he looked around and finally found him, hanging back against the wall below the

musicians gallery, looking glum. Emile loathed dancing, and Mikhail was pleased and

a little surprised to actually find him there.

He decided that it would be a good maneuver to introduce the Elhalyn girls to the

d'Asturiens, if only to keep himself out of Gisela's orbit for another few minutes. But

before he could accomplish this, young Danilo Hastur, looking very fine in a blue-and-

silver tunic that was almost as overembroidered as Mikhail's own, arrived and took

Miralys' hand, looking deep into her silvery eyes.

"I hope we can stand up in the
pafan
together, Mira," the boy said.

Mira smiled at him gaily. "Since I have been practicing it all week, I hope so, too. It

would be a shame to waste all that instruction."

"Come on—let's go tell the musicians to play one. They are just fooling around right

now, filling time, but I don't see any reason not to begin the dancing. That is what we

are here for, after all." He took her hand tenderly, as if it might break, and drew her

away.

Emun watched them move across the room, his eyes a little sad. "Is something wrong,

Emun?" Mikhail asked.

"No, no. It is just that Dani is so ... at ease. I wish I were."

"Oh, pooh," Val snapped. "He is just as sweaty-palmed as you are, Em."

"He doesn't look it!"

"Well, he is. Mira says his hand trembles like a bowl of redberry pudding whenever

they touch, and is as wet as a fish."

These sharp words seemed to comfort Emun a little. Mikhail marveled once again at

Valenta's ability to say things that would be cruel from anyone else, and have them

sound perfectly reasonable. Emun gave a brief tug at the hem of his tunic, and

straightened his thin shoulders.

Mikhail sensed rather than heard someone just behind him, and he turned to look.
Dom