Hastur Lord

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  “I?” Rinaldo faltered. “I had nothing to do—”

  “If this outrage was not carried out on your orders, then it was done behind your back, and you are still to blame!” Regis cut him off. It took all his discipline not to leap across the table and shake Rinaldo into sense.

  “Do you think you can order men to do the things you are too squeamish to handle yourself and then deny all responsibility? Or that ignorance excuses incompetence? I tell you, if those who answer to you do evil without your leave, then you are doubly guilty, for you are responsible not only for their crimes but for your own blindness and your failure to stop them!”

  “This is outrageous! You cannot simply walk in and make these ridiculous accusations!”

  “Haldred is dead, you say?” Valdir blurted out, “How?”

  In that single word, Regis knew that the Ridenow lord, whatever his other failings, had been ignorant of the prison-school and his cousin’s role in it.

  “Haldred was one of three men holding children as hostages from important families in order to ensure their obedience to this—this pretender. ” Regis saw his brother flush and half rise, but he did not falter. “One of them was my own niece, my sister’s daughter. Another was Felix Lawton.”

  “Lawton?” Valdir sounded dazed.

  “He is still alive, although gravely injured. Most of this blood is his. He may not survive.” Regis glared at his brother again. His breath caught in his throat, and he shoved away the memory of adrenaline and blaster fire. “The Federation sent in a rescue team.”

  “What is he talking about?” one of the minor lords stammered.

  “Federation police?”

  “The last time that happened, there was rioting all through the Old Town—”

  “People will never stand for it!”

  “It wasn’t my idea!” Rinaldo protested. “It was—Luminosa said—she took care of everything! I didn’t know about the Lawton boy!”

  Meaning, Regis thought angrily, that you did know about the others.

  “Where is she?” Valdir demanded. “My kinsman is slain! Why is this woman not here to answer for it?” He pointed to the vacant chair.

  Rinaldo pounded on the table. The councillors, all except Valdir, flinched. “You forget yourself!” he roared at Valdir. “I am king here, not you! I give the commands.”

  “Are you hiding her?” Valdir shot back. “Protecting her? I say, bring her forth!”

  “You have no authority over this council or Lady Luminosa.” The cristoforo shook off the moment of mute shock. “She answers only to His Majesty and the Lord of All Worlds!”

  “We will find her,” Regis said, ignoring the priest, “and then we will hear the truth.”

  “You’re distraught, brother, and you forget yourself.” Strain rendered Rinaldo’s voice tinny. “You cannot give orders here! I am the Head of Hastur, your legitimate liege, and I am king over all of you!”

  That is about to change.

  Before Regis could reply, he heard shrieks coming from the corridor outside. A woman’s voice, he thought. The councillors fell silent.

  Rinaldo gestured curtly to Danilo. “Find out what that commotion is about. We have important business here and must not be interrupted.”

  Danilo went to the door and returned a moment later with one of the Guardsman and Tiphani Lawton. For once, she wore the ordinary clothing of a Darkovan noblewoman, a high-necked gown of embroidery-trimmed wool, instead of her usual version of cristoforo robes.

  Anguish churned about Tiphani like a miasmic haze. She rushed to Rinaldo’s side and threw herself at his feet. Her eyes were wide and red rimmed, as if she saw the world through a blood- smeared lens. One of the councillors gasped.

  Regis and Danilo exchanged glances. Danilo gave a small shake of his head. Regis steeled himself even as his gut twisted into an icy knot.

  With surprising gentleness, Rinaldo lifted Tiphani to her feet. “Dear lady, domna cariosa, calm yourself. Tell us, whatever is the matter? Has—has something happened to the queen?”

  Between gulping breaths, Tiphani managed to force out the words, “No, Her Majesty lives. But the baby—”

  Although Rinaldo lacked the gift of laran, the force of his emotional reaction—denial, rage, stunned daze—battered them all. Regis recoiled as if he had been physically struck. Danilo looked nauseated, almost ill. Gabriel’s face turned ashen.

  Rinaldo fell back into his chair. “My son . . . born too soon?”

  Tiphani lifted her face, and Regis thought he had never seen such bleak confusion, not even when Felix had been so sick.

  Felix! Had she heard—d id she yet know?

  A few mute movements of her lips, and then she forced the words out: “The babe is gone, vanished from my lady’s womb!”

  Appalled silence hung in the air.

  “Is—is it certain?” stammered one of the courtiers. Tiphani looked as if she would break down again.

  “My son . . . my son . . .” Rinaldo swayed like a man who has suffered a fatal wound.

  “How can this be?” the other councillor recovered himself sufficiently to ask. “A babe spirited away, unborn?”

  “It cannot be natural,” the cristoforo priest intoned.

  The words passed over Regis like so many puffs of air, devoid of meaning. As angry as he had been with his brother only a few moments before, now his heart responded to the bewilderment on Rinaldo’s face.

  And Tiphani, for whom he had never cared, whom he held responsible for the whole bloody disaster and Zandru only knew how much friction yet to come with the Federation, surely she deserved a morsel of compassion as well. She did not even know of her son’s desperate condition.

  As gently as he could, Regis said, “My brother, these are matters that call for a lady’s tender care. Let me send for my wife. She has training in healing—”

  Tiphani’s head shot up, her eyes filled with too much white. “Trained, yes, in that nest of sorcery you call a Tower! Do you not see, my lord,” to Rinaldo, “how she could have cast her evil spells out of jealousy—”

  “No, no, my dear,” Rinaldo replied with surprising calm as he patted her hand. “My brother’s wife is a woman of virtue, and she has not been anywhere near Bettany.” In a quicksilver shift of mood, like the sudden fall of night over Thendara, his features darkened. “She has not . . .”

  His gaze lit upon Danilo.

  “Lady Luminosa is correct. This tragic affair smacks of wizardry!” the priest repeated. “As I said before, it cannot be natural!”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about!” Regis snapped. Cloistered away from women, new to the ways of the world, what monk could be acquainted with the ills of women? But this was no time to educate the man about false pregnancy. “If you will not have Linnea’s help, then let us send for a healer-woman. Mestra Tiphani is overwrought—”

  “Call me not by that vile Terran name!” Tiphani spat.

  “—and will need support to bear her own tragedy.”

  “What could be worse than the supernatural death of the king’s unborn son?” she demanded, her voice rising shrilly.

  “Please, calm yourself—” Rinaldo said.

  “Tell me!” she shrieked at Regis. She looked as if she would claw out the eyes of any man who crossed her. Danilo moved to intercept her.

  In that brief hesitation, Valdir growled, “Your son was almost killed, you heartless vixen—and my own kinsman is dead! The Terranan raided the house in the Trade City—because you took your son there!”

  “Lies! Foul lies, spread by this scheming usurper!” Tiphani pointed at Regis.

  Regis gazed back, and for a moment, his heart ached for her, so lost in self-righteous fury that she could not understand what had happened.

  Then awareness flickered across her face. She lowered her hand. Her tone shifted from strident to hoarse. “What . . . what have you done?”

  “I, lady?” Regis said. “I tried to save your son and would have done so,
if the Federation men had not opened fire. I am sorry, more than I have words to tell you.”

  Tiphani began to weep soundlessly. She turned away, blocked by the solid bulk of Gabriel. He put his arms around her with the same tenderness he would have used with a younger sister.

  Rinaldo rose like the slow gathering of a storm cloud. “These things do not happen by chance.”

  “No, they happen by human folly,” Regis responded. “By arrogance, greed, and ambition. By power without the wisdom to use it wisely.”

  “This terrible winter and now this even more terrible loss,” Rinaldo went on, his voice breathy with passion, “these trials are surely sent to punish us for our wickedness.”

  He fixed Regis with his icy gaze, then glared at Danilo. “We have tolerated evil among us for too long, even in the highest places. Can you gainsay this, Danilo?”

  Lord of Light! I was a fool to think that if Danilo and I were parted, he would be safe!

  “Confess now or risk your immortal soul!” Rinaldo cried. “Confess that you have influenced Domna Bettany and tried to sway her from the path of righteousness!”

  “I have done nothing to harm the lady or her babe,” Danilo protested. “I have tried as best I could to be her friend.”

  “You!” Tiphani shrilled. “You dared—”

  Rinaldo cut her off. “You took advantage of my wife’s inexperience. You used her vulnerable condition—you seduced her thoughts—not that you would know what to do with a woman’s body!”

  “If that is so,” Danilo answered with a flare of heat, “then she can be in no danger from me.”

  “She can be in very grave danger,” came the silky rumble of the priest. “Spiritual danger, far more potent than mere physical lust. Your perverse inclinations, hidden but never abandoned, have struck down the unborn prince!”

  “There is no evil in any form of love if it is given honestly,” Danilo said, his voice steady. “I cannot believe that a just god would so punish an innocent child.”

  “Aha! There we have the heart of it!” cried Rinaldo. “I have known all along, but I have refrained from taking action for my brother’s sake. I had hoped you would repent, but now I see that is impossible. The evil has taken too deep a hold. It is you, Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, who are the cancer at the heart of this city!”

  Rinaldo pointed at Danilo. “There is the sinner whose transgressions have brought retribution on us all. Seize him!”

  Before the Guardsmen could respond, Valdir jumped up. “This is going too far! I have no love for your paxman, Your Majesty, but he is no way responsible for the actions of the Federation. I will have no part in this!”

  “Rinaldo, I consider it no edifying sight for Comyn to trade insults like a pair of gutter rats,” Regis interposed. “But this matter, as Lord Valdir said, goes too far. Mourn the dead, see to your lady wife, but more than that, I will not permit. Touch Danilo Syrtis at your peril.”

  “How dare you speak to me in this manner?” Rinaldo cried. “I have endured this pestilence among us because he was a favorite of yours and the Holy St. Christopher urges us to be compassionate—but Danilo Syrtis overstepped the limits of decency in speaking as he did. And in our very presence! That he should—oh, most insufferable effrontery—link the word love to such base carnal deviance in one breath and God in the next!”

  “He did no such thing,” Regis countered, keeping his voice even, his words measured, “but only spoke as a man of sense.”

  Rinaldo gestured to the guards. “Seize him, I said! If my brother gives you any trouble, lay hands upon him, too!”

  “Danilo has committed no crime,” Regis insisted. “He has acted in good faith to you.”

  “His own words reveal the blasphemy in his heart.” Rinaldo’s expression turned adamant. “Any man who sins in his thoughts sins in fact.”

  “You cannot truly believe that,” Regis said, growing even more deeply troubled. “How can a man be damned for thinking about an act he then chooses not to commit? If that’s the case, we are all lost!”

  “But we are lost!” Rinaldo’s eyes went wild and opaque. “Don’t you see?”

  “I see that your mind is made up,” Regis said.

  “He should be hanged as a warning to other sinners, but you would make trouble. Your loyalties have never done credit to your rank or education. I must be content to expose him for a day or two in the stocks. That will do him a measure of good and will demonstrate that the eternal Divine Law is no respecter of high estate.”

  “In this weather? He would be dead before nightfall!” Now Regis had no doubt of the force of his brother’s delusions.

  Blessed Cassilda, my brother truly has gone mad. Danilo, bredhyu, you were right in your suspicions. How I wish I had heeded you then!

  “If you intend to send Danilo to the stocks, you had better be prepared to put me there, too.”

  “Don’t tempt me, my brother,” Rinaldo said. “If I thought for a moment the people would stand for it, I would do just that!”

  I allowed him this power, I welcomed it . . .

  “I know what you have been plotting.” Rinaldo’s expression twisted into slyness. “You want my crown for your own. Yes, yes, I see your ambition in your eyes. You deserve to be punished, for you have sinned as well. Oh, don’t tell me that those disgusting lusts are sinful only for cristoforos. God’s commands apply to everyone. Your only hope is to repent and chastise the flesh, which is weak. You should welcome a night in the stocks for the good of your immortal soul.”

  Between his teeth, Regis muttered, “If I believed for a moment that you really meant it—”

  “Believe it!” Rinaldo snapped. “Believe I mean every word of it, my brother. God has sent a pestilence upon this land and I am the instrument of its cure—”

  Entirely out of patience, Regis interrupted, “Oh, go and preach to the crows! I’ve had enough! Danilo, I hereby revoke the transfer of your oath to this—this—to my brother, and require of you all allegiance and service as my paxman.”

  His face somber and unrevealing, Danilo inclined his head, the salute of a Comyn lord to one of higher rank, to Regis.

  “Vai dom. I am yours to command.” As I have always been.

  “You—you can’t do this! I am Lord Hastur, your sworn liege! I am King!” For a breathless moment, Rinaldo glanced about the chamber. The other members of his council refused to meet his eyes. Tiphani had stopped sobbing, her face as pale as marble.

  “Lady,” Regis said to her, “my counsel, if you will have it, is for you to return to your husband. He cares deeply for you. In the days to come, your son will need both his parents.”

  She stood there, stunned, until Gabriel led her to the door and delivered her into the care of one of the Guardsmen. Although she left the chamber docilely enough, Regis caught the look of pure malice that she directed, not at himself, but at Rinaldo.

  Regis broke the awkward silence. “Rinaldo, you and I are not finished. What I have to say to you next concerns not only Hastur but all the Domains. According to law as well as custom, any such action must be witnessed by the Comyn. In the absence of a formal Council, we will accommodate tradition as best we can.”

  “What are you talking about? I am King! You cannot make me do anything! As for the Comyn, they are without consequence. I do not grant them any rights whatsoever over me.”

  “But I do. I summon you to answer me in the Crystal Chamber. There, as has been custom since the Ages of Chaos, we will discuss the future of Hastur. I will not insist we meet immediately. You and your lady wife deserve time to mourn your loss,” for although there had never been an actual pregnancy in fact, it had existed in their minds and hearts. “Therefore, the hearing will take place tomorrow at this very hour before all members of our caste who can be assembled.”

  Rinaldo gaped at him. Regis thought ruefully that if he had been decisive to begin with, matters would never have deteriorated to this point. But that opportunity, like last winter’s snows, was gone p
ast recall.

  “I warn you,” Regis went on, “to take no precipitous action during this time. I have issued a summons to you, and a truce now exists between us until the matter is resolved.”

  Around the room, heads nodded. The Guardsmen looked frankly relieved.

  “If you do not behave with honor or if you fail to appear at the Crystal Chamber,” Regis added, aware of the tightness in his jaw, “then all the world will know you have agreed to whatever I decide in your absence. Think hard on it, my brother, for you may not care for the result.”

  Regis did not wait for an answer. Giving the council members a scowl worthy of his grandfather, he strode through the door, with Danilo and Gabriel a half pace behind.

  34

  “Have you gone mad?” Gabriel asked Regis as the three men hurried from the main part of the Castle and crossed a series of courtyards to the nearest gate.

  Regis felt the subtle, sustaining touch of Danilo’s laran. I could not do this without him, any more than I could have come this far without Linnea.

  “No,” Regis answered with a ghost of a smile. “For the first time in far too long, I have gone sane.”

  The gate was locked from the inside, but it was unguarded. Regis lifted the latch. “Gabriel, you must return to Javanne and tell her what happened. I will need both of you present tomorrow. You have a rightful claim to represent Alton in Lew’s absence.”

  Gabriel’s eyes darkened with understanding. “By all the gods, you mean to do it.”

  “In full view of the Comyn, whatever is left of us. In order for the outcome to be binding, the challenge must be seen as legitimate beyond question.”

  “We’ll be there,” Gabriel said. “And Mikhail as well. He sent word he expects to arrive late today, bringing Kennard-Dyan with him.”

  The news gave Regis an unexpected lift to his spirits. Danilo breathed, “What a stroke of luck.”

  “Mikhail left Ardais as soon as he received word about his sister’s abduction,” Gabriel explained. “He meant to comfort his mother, although he could not have known what would come next. He has an extraordinary sense of timing, if I say so myself.”