Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
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