The Shadow Matrix

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  day or a night."-

  "Oh, dear," Mikhail answered with a playfulness he did not really feel. "I think I am going to have to hear about this trip until I die."

  "Longer than that," Liri replied cheerfully. "I intend to have an active life in the overworld."

  Mikhail stared at her in horror for a moment, then realized she was teasing him as she had when they were young. She could not know that the very mention of the overworld turned his bowels to water, and that he hoped never to see another ghost as long as he lived.

  "I do love family reunions," Regis announced, his blue eyes twinkling at his niece and nephew. "Now, off with the pair of you. You can squabble to your hearts' content until dinner, at which time I expect you to behave in a civilized manner:"

  "Will there be anyone besides you, Lady Linnea, and Dani?" Mikhail had a sudden feeling of unease, since Regis did not usually demand the best behavior when only the family was present. It was one of the things he liked best

  about meals at Comyn Castle, the informality and ease of conversation.

  "We do have some visitors, yes."

  "Are you going to tell us who, or make us sit on tenterhooks until supper?" Mikhail could feel his temper starting to rise, since he knew that Regis was being provocative, and deliberately so.

  "Francisco Ridenow is here."

  Mikhail was not surprised by the presence of the Ridenow representative to the Comyn Council, and had a brief moment of relief. But it was dear that he was not the only guest at Comyn Castle. "And?"

  "A surprise, Mikhail."

  He glared at his uncle for a second. "I have had enough surprises to last a lifetime," he snarled, finally allowing himself to vent his well-deserved spleen. Then he walked out of the entry, stamping up the stairs behind Liriel, not regretting his momentary fury. It was over quickly, for no one could stay angry at Regis very long. And, at least, he was back where he belonged, and his relief knew no ·bounds.

  By the time he had soaked his aching bones, and donned a fresh tunic and trews, Mikhail was nearly restored to his normal good spirits. It was clear from Regis' welcome that he was not going to be punished or exiled. All his fears had come to nothing, and he was mildly annoyed with himself for being so foolish. He might even escape much criticism for the way he had handled the children and Priscilla.

  Thus, he was whistling one of the songs Marguerida liked as he walked into the smaller dining room on the second level of the castle. The sound faded when he saw a woman standing with her back to him, with a familiar spine and red hair. Marguerida! No wonder Regis had been so mysterious! But how? He had spoken with her three nights before, and she had been at Neskaya.

  Then the woman turned and faced him, and Mikhail realized it was not Marguerida Alton, but Gisela Aldaran. He had not remembered how alike they were in height and coloring, though this was hardly surprising. Marguerida was part Aldaran, after all. She smiled, and he noticed that her eyes were, green, not golden, and that her teeth were

  somewhat more prominent than those of his beloved. But they could have passed for sisters to any unknowing eye. The hearty appetite which had accompanied him down the stairs vanished.

  What the devil was she doing there? And what was Regis up to now? There was no doubt in Mikhail's mind that Gisela's presence was no accident, that it had a distinct purpose in Regis' schemes and plans for Darkover. And, knowing how his uncle's mind worked, he had a tingle of apprehension.

  "Mikhail—how wonderful to see you again!" Her voice was deeper than Marguerida's, a throaty alto that sounded caressing, and his suspicions deepened. She had been a girl when last he saw her, and now she was clearly a woman.

  "Gisela! This is a great surprise. Has Regis managed to get the Council to let the Aldarans breathe the sacred air of the Crystal Chamber, then? I have been away." Damn Regis for springing her on me like this!

  "Not yet," she answered, as she moved smoothly across the floor to meet him. Gisela was wearing a green gown of finest wool, embroidered with roses all along the hem and cuffs. It fit her body closely, so that the shape of her fine figure was revealed almost immodestly. "But things are progressing to the satisfaction of almost everyone."

  Mikhail bowed over her hand. "That is good to hear. We were all surprised when Regis proposed the return of the Aldaran Domain to the Council last summer—but my uncle never does the expected, does he? Who, might I ask, is not happy with the situation."

  "I'm afraid that Lady Marilla is reluctant to agree, and your father is ..."

  "You need go no farther. My father seems to delight in being contrary. My mother has often commented to that effect, and she is a very wise woman."

  Gisela smiled again. "Let us not talk of such matters. How are you?"

  "Well enough, considering I have just ridden five days with a storm at my back, several small children crammed into a carriage too small for them, and a sister who would have liked to murder me many times over. And you?"

  "Did you know I had married?"

  Mikhail's chest loosened with relief. "No, I had not

  heard. We have not really had any contact for ... what, almost six years? The only news of the Aldarans that has come to us was that your brother Hermes took Lew Alton's position in the Terran Senate. Who is your husband?" He looked around the dining room, but they were alone, except for a footman who was pouring wine at a sideboard.

  "It was closer to seven years now, but I am glad you remember it as recent." Her voice was thick and honeyed, and she moved closer to him, eyeing him in a way he found alarming. He had seen that look on any number of faces of young women. He had never known exactly how to describe it before, but at that moment the word "predatory" leaped into his mind. He felt very much like a fat gander being stared at by a hungry fox. "I married Bertrand Leynier four years ago. And now I have two children."

  "Two. How wonderful." Mikhail wished someone would arrive and rescue him from this uncomfortable conversation, but was relieved to know that she was not really husband hunting, just being overly friendly. "I do not know your husband—I have heard of him, I believe, but we have never met. I look forward to making his acquaintance." He. managed to appear interested and polite, but his heart sank a little. Bertrand was a man of unsavory reputation, a minor landholder up in the Hellers, who was at least as old as Dom Gabriel and had already buried two wives. Surely the Aldarans could have done better for Gisela, even considering how they had been excluded from the mainstream of Darkovan society. A Terranan would have been better! Then he chided himself for being so uncharitable and provincial—a Terranan indeed!

  Gisela shook her head, setting the fine curls that coiled around her forehead into movement. "You will not have that dubious pleasure, Mik. Bertrand had the good grace to fall and break his neck two years ago, much to my delight."

  "I see you have not abandoned your habit of plain speaking," Mikhail replied with as much calmness as he could muster. A young widow of proven fertility, a woman near his own age, one he knew and had even enjoyed the company of at one time—though he had not thought anyone knew about that—was precisely the sort of person who would find favor in the eyes of many people. Except that she was Aldaran, of course.

  Tired as his mind was, it examined the possibilities. He saw the fine hand of Regis Hastur in her presence, with the notion of healing the breach between the Aldarans and the rest of the Domains by marriage, for which he was likely the tool. Or perhaps he was wrong, and Regis intended that one of his brothers would suit Gisela. He spent a pleasant moment envisioning Gabe trying to cope with her quick mind, and decided that Rafael would make her a better husband. He, at least, was clever.

  "Well, he was old, and he drank a great deal, and he

  had no conversation to speak of, and pretending otherwise

  will not change those facts. And I have never learned to

  be as ladylike as I might have been, having no mother to

  guide me."»

  Her smile, which had beguiled him a few
years before, had lost its attraction, and her green eyes seemed calculating now. "Why are you in Thendara, then?"

  "My son, Caleb, who has never been a hearty child, was in need of medical attention, and I brought him here. He is presently creating havoc at the Terran Hospital. You have no idea how exhausting children can be." Gisela sounded a little sharp, as if Caleb's infirmity was deliberate.

  "Oh, yes, I do. I have just spent the past two months trying to manage the Elhalyn brood—the Elhellions they should be called—and not succeeding overmuch. If you think that young children are exhausting, just wait until they reach adolescence!"

  "You terrify me." She did not appear at all frightened, but widened her smile and drew a little closer to him, as if seeking to return to their former intimacy. This had consisted of no more than some pleasant rides in the mountains, games of chess, and long conversations about everything from horse breeding to the state of Darkovan politics as they understood it at twenty-one and seventeen respectively. Which, he realized in retrospect, was not a great deal—mere youthful imagining.

  Mercifully, Liriel came into the dining room at that moment, with Miralys and Valenta. The girls had been scrubbed, dressed, and turned out in good style. Even Val's wild mop of dark hair had been tamed a bit, and they were wearing long tunics of rose and gray respectively, with paler pink petticoats beneath them.

  Mikhail was relieved to see her, and he turned to introduce his sister and the girls to Gisela Aldaran. "Liriel, this is an old friend of mine from my misspent youth, Gisela Aldaran. Gisela, my sister Liriel Lanart-Alton, and two of my charges, Miralys and Valenta Elhalyn."

  The Aldaran woman flashed her brilliant smile and extended her hand in a rather condescending manner. "I am delighted to make your acquaintance," she drawled, ignoring the girls completely.

  Since each of her hands was firmly entrapped by one of the children, Liriel was not forced to return the gesture. She nodded at Gisela calmly. "Well, this is certainly a delightful surprise. When did you arrive? How was the journey from Aldaran at this season?"

  "Oh, we came in Father's flyer, right onto the tarmac at Thendara Spaceport. My father does not think that we should eschew the conveniences of Terranan technology just because a lot of old fuddy-duddies think it is un-Darkovan. It was a little exciting coming down from the mountains—the winds are so treacherous—but we arrived in one piece, and I, for one, am glad to skip a tedious journey on horseback."

  "Since I have just spent several days in a poorly sprung carriage, I quite agree with you." Mik, what the devil is she doing here? I never really thought to see an Aldaran standing around in the dining room. Was this what Regis was . . . ?

  I don't know, but I suspect the worst.

  As well you should. Be careful.

  I am always careful, sister, except when I am foolish.

  I know, and that is precisely what worries me.

  The footman came across the room with a tray of wineglasses, the golden contents gleaming in them, as Regis Hastur and his consort, Lady Linnea entered, followed by Francisco Ridenow and Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, Regis' paxman. A moment later they were followed by Gisela's father, Lord Damon Aldaran.

  As glasses of wine were served, and Dom Damon greeted Mikhail with evident pleasure and enthusiasm, Mikhail was rather startled to see how much the man had aged since he had last seen him. He was no older than Regis, but looked ancient. His once red hair was streaked with gray, as was his beard, and there were wrinkles around his eyes

  that belonged to a much older man. The hand he thrust into Mikhail's was dry, and he squeezed the younger man's fingers hard, as if trying to prove his vigor.

  Dom Damon was an older half brother of Beltran, who had been the heir to old Kermiac Aldaran before the Sharra Rebellion. But he was nedestro, and would never have come to be lord of the Domain if Beltran had not died without issue, and Captain Rafe Scott had not refused the title. He had three legitimate children: Robert, his heir; Herm, who was now Darkover's Senator; and Gisela, the youngest. He had several other children, by various consorts and lovers, including a son, Raul, who was his horse master, and another, Renald, who piloted the flyer Gisela had spoken of. At least, this had been the case when Mikhail had visited them. For a moment, he had the impulse to ask Dom Damon about Emelda, but he quashed it. This was neither the time nor the place.

  "You look none the worse for your adventures," Dom Aldaran boomed, and Mikhail realized that the man was probably losing his hearing.

  "No, sir, none the worse. I am glad to see you." This was true, for Mikhail had always liked the man. He was intelligent, curious, and, for a Darkovan, very progressive. This would not win him friends on the Council, always assuming that Regis ever managed to get them to accept an Aldaran of any stripe on it. Robert, as Mikhail remembered him, was a sober man, rather dull, but more the sort of person who would fit into the Council.

  Dom Damon clapped Mikhail on the shoulder, then reached for a glass of wine. He sipped a little, then he noticed the little girls, who were clinging to Liriel as if they feared they would be snatched away from her. He bent down and peered at them nearsightedly.

  Just then young Danilo Hastur, Regis's son, came into the dining room, looking anxious at his tardiness. He looked around the room, and his eyes fell on Miralys. Mikhail heard his sharp intake of breath, and watched with amusement as the young man tugged his formal blue tunic straight and smoothed back his pale hair with a nervous hand.

  Regis Hastur watched as well, and an expression came over his face, as if he were pleased with his son's reaction.

  Lady Linnea left his side then, came toward her son, smoothed his hair again quite needlessly, and led him over to meet the girls. She made introductions in a quiet voice., and Mira extended her free hand with her usual dignity while Valenta tried very hard not to giggle.

  Mikhail gave her a stern look; she was still his charge, and he wanted her to behave well. Val twinkled at him, but sucked her cheeks in firmly, then lowered her eyes demurely, as if to say that this was all rather silly, but she would try to keep her countenance. What a marvel the child was, he thought. He only wished any of the boys showed half the intelligence of their sisters, and once more regretted that an Elhalyn queen would never be acceptable. It would be a good solution, but not one that he even wanted to try to convince anyone of.

  The company sorted itself out and proceeded to the table. Mikhail found himself seated beside Gisela, with Francisco Ridenow on her other side, and braced himself for a long and trying meal. He watched young Dani hold a chair for each of the Elhalyn girls, showing his excellent manners even though he had eyes for no one in the room except Mira. He seated himself between them. Liriel, never uncomfortable, took a chair on the other side of Valenta, and gave Mikhail a small smile.

  This could turn out more interesting than I expected.

  Damn it, Lin—I don't want interesting!

  Poor Mikhail!

  He was unable to continue his mental conversation with his sister, for he realized Gisela had spoken to him. Mikhail summoned all his wits—they seemed at the moment few and scattered—brought his years of experience with husband-hunting females to the fore, and managed an answer. Then he favored his uncle with a look of censure, and had the pleasure of seeing Regis Hastur blush to the roots of his white hair, as if he had been caught at trickery.

  The soup was served, followed by crispy fish, a rabbithorn forcemeat in a tender pastry, and several side dishes. Mikhail, his appetite returned, ate heartily, and Gisela, mildly rebuffed by his apparent indifference, turned her sensuous attentions toward Francisco Ridenow. By the time the dessert course was brought—honeycake with dried fruits—he was back in a good humor, and enjoying himself.

  When, at the end of the meal, Liriel rose and took the Elhalyn girls away with her, he saw the stricken look on Dani Hastur's young face, as if the light had gone out of the room. Gisela made a move to reclaim his attention, but Lady Linnea intercepted her and drew her away. Mikhail sympathi
zed with young Dani, and gave silent thanks to Linnea. He was too tired to deal with Gisela any longer. More importantly, he saw Regis Hastur nod, and he knew it was time for them to talk.

  15

  Regis kept a study on the same level as the smaller dining room. Mikhail followed him, with Danilo Syrtis-Ardais walking a pace behind, guarding the back of Regis Hastur as he had for more than two decades. Regis fully trusted no one except his paxman and his wife, and Mikhail had never been completely alone with his uncle in his life. He wondered if Regis ever chafed at being guarded all the time, and missed his solitude? Or whether his inseparable relationship with Danilo had forged them into merely two parts of the same whole.

  Mikhail knew that this care with Regis' person dated back to the period when the World Wreckers had been busily assassinating many members of the Comyn, even going so far as to murder babies in their cradles. They had defeated these forces, but it had left a scar, a kind of paranoia that Mikhail did not quite understand, for he had been too young at the time to realize what was going on. But since he did not wish anything to happen to his uncle, he was glad of Danilo's quiet presence.

  Seating himself behind a large desk, Regis looked at his nephew. The room was a spare one, where Mikhail had endured lectures on his duties and scoldings for his childish indiscretions. He did not doubt that his uncle had chosen this site for their discussion for the purpose of invoking these memories. Regis was not one to waste such an opportunity.