Zandru's Forge

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Rakhal said in a low voice that only Carolin could hear, “If you take that position, Cousin, then your treasuries will be empty in no time. How do you think we arm our soldiers or pay for our dinners, if not by tariffs and taxes?‘

  “That may be true, but whether it is wise is another matter entirely.”

  Carolin had spent too much time on the streets, both here at Hali and at Arilinn, to so easily dismiss the temper of the people.

  “I fear that your season at Arilinn has left you too easily swayed, Cousin,” Rakhal said, leaning on one elbow as he turned a smiling face toward the audience. “You should take greater care for the good opinion of the king, and far less for that of the rabble out there. It is their duty to supply our needs, not ours to compromise our goals in consideration of theirs. I refer you to your history lessons. There is a good reason why we Comyn rule and those head-blind cattle obey.”

  Carolin stared at him. Like all educated people of his generation, he had studied the worst excesses of the Ages of Chaos, the laran breeding programs and the strange and terrible Gifts they produced. Comyn flew wherever they liked in aircars, their homes were heated and lit by laran, and whole circles were devoted to shaping beasts for whim or pleasure. Until now, however, he had given little thought to how all this was paid for, and how many people labored so that a few might live in luxury. He had no excuse save ignorance and the heed lessness of youth.

  Both can be remedied, he told himself, and wondered if the same could be said for greed.

  17

  On Midwinter Festival night, the great hall at Hastur Castle glowed with a thousand lights. Garlands of greenery, tied with ribbons and winterberry, filled the air with pungent sweetness. Since the night before, the delicious aromas of spice bread and nut cakes from the bakeries had mingled with that of the oxen roasting over the open pit in the courtyard.

  The feasting began in the early afternoon with the formal blessings of the king. First the royal family, then the other Hastur kin, and finally the assembled noble guests and courtiers took their places beside the feasting tables to hear the time-honored words.

  Carolin thought his uncle had not looked so vigorous in years. Perhaps it was because Felix Hastur spoke not merely for himself, but as the incarnation, the descendant of the first Hastur, the son of a god, who had taken on human mortality for the love of a woman.

  In some places, the mantle of the Blessed Cassilda was taken by the woman of the castle, standing beside her husband as Lady and Lord of Light. Together they embodied the ancient cycles of light and dark, winter and spring, resting and rejoicing, birth and death. The Towers were said to have their own Year’s End Festival, with kireseth and all manner of licen tiousness. Since he had not yet passed a Midwinter at a Tower, nor was he ever likely to, he would never find out.

  No such scandalous behavior would take place here, although there were babes enough born nine months after Midwinter. Still, an aura hung about the old King as he raised his hands and chanted the ancient words. His reedy voice rang out in the hall. Then he clapped three times and the audience broke into wild cheering.

  Musicians in the galleries struck up a lively tune. A veritable army of servants issued forth from the corridors where they had been waiting, bearing platters laden with succulent meats, joints and roasts and huge dripping chops, savory pies decorated with stylized emblems, fowl stuffed and glazed, and baskets of holiday breads. More servants brought beakers of wine and hot spiced mead, the drink favored by King Felix.

  By the time the dancing hall was prepared, the throng had swelled, with every dignitary from Hali and the surrounding lands joining the castle guests, family, and courtiers.

  This evening’s program began with King Felix and Lady Liriel partnered for a stately promenade. Watching the king who had been gray and old ever since he could remember, Carolin saw the echoes of a former grace, for the blood of the chieri ran in the Comyn and especially in his own family. Felix might have outlived his years in human terms, but when the music was sweet and the candlelight soft, his step was as light as any.

  Old Lady Bronwyn had come down for the feast and stayed to honor the King’s first dance with her presence, then retreated to her chambers. Carolin, as usual, danced with a procession of female relatives, beginning with the highest-ranked, who was Liriel. Like an ice statue in flowing white and silver, she moved flawlessly through the intricate movements of the set. Carolin, like all of his caste and time, had been given dancing lessons as soon as he could walk, but he could not match her cool precision.

  Orain was sitting out this part of the evening, claiming he was saving his strength for the more athletic dancing once the older folk had gone to bed and the holiday mead fueled the young. Orain’s wife had retired immediately after the ceremony. Carolin suspected he was tired of dancing with his cousin Jandria and much preferred the wild masculine energy of the sword dance.

  Carolin caught sight of Eduin and Dyannis together. They circled the room, oblivious of the other couples. On any other night, it would have been unseemly, if not scandalous, for an unmarried couple to dance the secain in public. Carolin thought they looked very well together. The girl’s pink dress shone like a pearl from the sea beds of Temora against the rich bronze satin doublet and short cape of her partner. Eduin bent his head close to hers, his arm protectively around her.

  A slender figure in simple, somber colors stepped onto the dance floor and paused, rigid with tension.

  “Varzil!” Carolin called.

  Varzil cut like a dark arrow through the glittering throng. As soon as Dyannis saw him, she broke off dancing and gave him an enthusiastic greeting. With an abrupt, jerky movement, he put her off. Carolin couldn’t hear the words above the music, but he caught Varzil’s stony expression and the sudden reddening of the girl’s cheeks.

  “I will dance with whomever I please!” Dyannis cried. “And you have no right—”

  “We didn’t mean—” Eduin began, raising his hands.

  “Here now,” Carolin said, using his best cortes voice. “What’s this all about?”

  “Nothing worth the breath to tell it,” Dyannis snapped. With a toss of her curls, she slipped her hand through Eduin’s bent arm. “Please be so kind as to escort me back to the other ladies. I am too fatigued to continue.”

  With that, she pulled Eduin away. Varzil made as if to follow them, but Carolin restrained him with a touch.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “What’s the matter!” Varzil repeated scornfully. “My sister—he’s dancing with my sister!”

  “Eduin? And why shouldn’t he?” Carolin said. “She’s right, you know. Even here in a lowland court, it’s perfectly acceptable for a close friend of her brother to ask her to dance, even if it were not Midwinter. It’s no less proper for Eduin than for me, and I did just that while you were convalescing, rather than leave her sitting all forlorn when any blind fool could see how much she wanted to dance. Will you scold me, too? She’s having a wonderful time, and so is Eduin. Out here in public, what is the harm in that? Or do you trust her so little that you must guard her honor every waking moment?”

  Retreating from the dance floor, Varzil shook his head. “I don‘t—it wouldn’t make sense to you.”

  “Are you talking about that old feud between you?” Carolin demanded, following him. “Just because he behaved badly when you first came to Arilinn? He’s told me a dozen times how much he regrets it, how he’s been trying to make up for it ever since. I thought it beyond you to carry on a grudge, Varzil, or to make your sister miserable on Midwinter Festival night.”

  Varzil turned away, pushing on until he passed the group of older lords and bachelors standing around the perimeter of the room. Here, in the shadowed corners and arched doorways, he halted. His shoulders rose and fell with each heaving breath. Carolin followed at a distance, watching. After a long moment, he went up and laid one hand gently on Varzil’s shoulder.

  He’s been ill, far away from his home. E
ventually he and Eduin will put the past to rest, but I can’t force it under these conditions.

  “I’m sorry,” Carolin said. “I came near to provoking an argument between us, and I don’t want that. Let’s enjoy the holiday in good fellowship.”

  A shiver ran through Varzil’s thin frame. “You’re right, as usual. Two days ago, we talked of men finding peaceful ways of settling their quarrels, and here I am, ready to punch Eduin in the nose.” He forced a laugh. “I should know better than to try to resolve differences on the dance floor.”

  “Well, if you must,” Carolin said in a lighter tone, “you could challenge him in the sword dance. You know, who can jump farther or kick higher or whirl around more times without falling over.”

  “In my state, he’d win the first round, even if he were lame and blind. No, I’d best let the matter rest.” Despite his words, Varzil looked pensive, his face closed.

  Carolin, fearing Varzil might withdraw from the festivities entirely, suggested again they invite Maura and Jandria to dance with them on the next set. To his surprise, Varzil agreed.

  The dances had been getting progressively more spirited and less orderly, with plenty of opportunities for the couples to make eye contact or even steal a kiss. By chance, however, the next one was decorous enough to win the approval of the strictest chaperone. Maura tripped through the figures at Carolin’s side. Jandria was in an unusually talkative mood. By the time the musicians played the chords which signaled the final courtesies, even Varzil was smiling.

  Carolin escorted Maura back to her seat and lingered there for an extra moment. She glanced back to the dance area where Varzil and Jandria still stood in animated conversation.

  “Varzil’s looking better,” Maura said. “For a moment, when he first came down, I wondered ... Is there some unresolved argument between him and Dyannis? She is what the Venza folk call strong-headed, and I would assume he is the same, from what you have told me of how he got into Arilinn. That doesn’t always make for family harmony.”

  So Maura, too, had sensed the discord across the room. Carolin smiled, thinking there was little privacy to be gained by lowered voices around telepaths. He said, “I think it more a matter of Varzil discovering that his baby sister is a woman grown and capable of pleasing herself.”

  “To be sure!” Maura said with spirit. “I would expect nothing less, for she has the talent and the ambition to do well in a Tower, instead of sitting home mending socks and making babies.” She tilted her head, eyeing Varzil and Jandria. “They’re rather a good pair, don’t you think? Varzil doesn’t know what to make of her, and Jandria has even less patience with receiving instruction from a boy her own age than does Dyannis.”

  “Shall I rescue him, then?”

  “Oh, no!” Maura’s eyes twinkled. “I think it’s good for both of them. Especially on Midwinter Night!”

  When the dance came to an end, Varzil bowed again to Jandria. He could see in her eyes that she would have kept him for another round or three, for although she enjoyed dancing, she did not care much for the usual flirtations. He had no interest in her beyond the mutual enjoyment of stepping to music.

  The dance and the brief, light conversation which followed it had given him time to cool down, to decide what to do about Dyannis. Carolin was right, of course. She had committed no social trespass in accepting Eduin’s invitation to dance. But she did not need to look at Eduin in that frankly adoring manner. She was too young, too impressionable for such a grand court. She ought to have stayed at Hali for the holidays, or at the very least had her brother present as chaperone and guide.

  Carolin’s question niggled at the edges of his mind—Or do you trust her so little that you must guard her honor every waking moment?

  Why did she have to pick Eduin, of all people?

  Well, he would put a stop to it. A word or two, and she would come to her senses. In a few days, she would be returning to Hali and her training. Meanwhile, if she wanted to dance, then he himself would dance with her.

  He found her sitting beside Maura Elhalyn. As he approached, she lifted her eyes to his. Her thoughts brushed against his, still largely untrained, but sweet and clear.

  Varzil, it is so good to see you well.

  She was so pleased with herself and her newly-developing abilities, he didn’t have the heart to point out the rudeness of speaking mind to mind in a company of nontelepaths. He smiled and held out his hand, palm up, for hers. She looked a bit surprised when he formally requested the next dance.

  Unlike the last dance, sedate enough to carry on a conversation, this one was full of jig steps and complicated turns with the comer couple. Varzil tripped over his own feet.

  Dyannis giggled at him. “Are you sure you’re up for this?”

  “I rather think I’m not,” he admitted. “But I do want a word with you.”

  She slipped her hand through the crook of his elbow, comfortable and sure of herself, and led the way off the dance floor. The willful hoyden he had known as a child had given way to a charming young woman. When they were well clear of the other dancers, she released him and looked directly in his eyes in a manner he found disconcerting. If he were not her brother, such boldness would surely have been a cause for scandal.

  “Well?” she said, one eyebrow lifting in merriment. “Why are you looking so glum?”

  “I must speak with you—about dancing with Eduin.”

  “You apologize for not being here earlier to partner me? Good! I accept. Is that all?”

  “No, that is not all!” He wanted to shake her. “I still don’t want you dancing with him. It’s not a matter of being proper—as Carolin so rightly pointed out, there is no objection there. But I would rather you not form any kind of—” he searched for the word, “—attachment to Eduin. Not that such would last more than another tenday, wth you returning to Hali and he to Arilinn. But it would not be ... appropriate.”

  “And why not?” Colorless brows drew together like pale storm clouds. “Is he not a fully qualified laranzu of Arilinn, as worthy of a woman’s good opinion as you? Is there some defect of character which you have detected that his Keeper has not? Tell me exactly why it is Eduin you object to, and not Carolin or Orain or even that lecher Rakhal?” Her eyes narrowed. “It’s that he is not of sufficiently noble birth, isn’t it? You should be ashamed, Varzil, to judge a laranzu by his family and not his character and ability!”

  Varzil held up his hands at the barrage of her words. “I make no such judgment, sister! Nor have I ever questioned Eduin’s talent. I have worked with him in the circle enough to know his skill. His Gift is not an issue here. He is, after all, not offering to marry you, only to dance with you.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And I would rather you not. As your brother and closest male relative, I order you—”

  “Order me? I cannot believe what I am hearing! You would presume—I am not your horse or your dog or even your wife! If you have some reasonable concern, I will give it due consideration, but I do not consider your—your groundless, unfounded—irrational—tumip-brained whims to be sufficient reason for anything!”

  Dyannis broke off, chest heaving, face and neck flushed with emotion. With a toss of her head and jangling of the tiny white bells in her hair, she shoved him away. Without another word, she pushed her way through the knot of nobles, oblivious to their astonished expressions.

  Eduin watched in amazement as Dyannis stalked from the dance floor. Her brother, who ought to have escorted her back to the chairs where the ladies sat, stood as if she’d knifed him. He looked as if he would topple over any moment now.

  I don’t know what he said to her, but I wouldn’t be in his boots for all the gold in Shainsa.

  Eduin felt an unexpected surge of empathy for Varzil. Even if he had not been lightly in rapport with Dyannis from their dances together, he would have sensed her fury. The room quivered with it. It was a wonder that every person on the floor who possessed the merest hint of laran di
d not react.

  Someone will have to teach her better telepathic control— he caught the edge of Maura’s thought as she hurried after Dyannis. With a pang, he wished he could go with her.

  He’d never met anyone like Dyannis. It wasn’t just her forthright manner. When he’d first come to Arilinn, he’d thought the women there embarrassingly bold. Whether they had come to a Tower for a season or the rest of their lives, they quickly adopted its unspoken rules of behavior. They took lovers as they pleased, but however much pleasure a lover might be, when the sun set and the circles gathered, work was work. They were comrades who held each other’s minds—and lives—in their hands.

  Dyannis, though she had joined the Tower at Hali, was something else entirely. Behind the sparkle in her gray eyes shone the clearest, purest light he’d ever seen. From that first evening’s dance, when he had taken her into his arms, he had felt himself falling into that pellucid radiance. He had felt himself seen, truly and without flinching, right down to the darkest recesses of his secrets, seen and accepted with a simplicity that shook him to his roots.

  Eduin’s first impulse was to rush after her, to gather her to him, to shield her from whatever had distressed her. He knew this was impossible. His actions would only make matters worse. Besides, Maura, as another woman and her fellow leronis at Hali, was far more suitable to sort things out with her.

  His next impulse was to stride out onto the floor and ram his fist into her brother’s nose. You’ve interfered enough! First with Carolin and now Dyannis! He restrained himself, keeping his laran barriers tightly raised to prevent any hint of his true feelings from leaking out. There must be no questions asked about exactly what Varzil had interfered with. Here in this Hastur stronghold, surrounded by so many men and women touched by laran, he could not afford the slightest misstep.