Beltran turned as red as a turkey-cock. He was not used to being crossed, and for this shabby nobody to read him a lesson in ethics was more than he could face. I thought for a moment that he would strike the boy. Probably he remembered that Danilo was the only catalyst telepath known to be adult and fully functioning, for he controlled himself, although I could see the signs of his inward wrath. He said, “Will you trust Lew Alton’s judgment?”
“I have no reason not to trust it, but . . .” And he turned to Regis. I knew he had reached the end of his own defiance.
I knew Regis was as frightened as Danilo, but just as resolute. He said, “I will trust no man’s judgment until I have heard what he has to say.”
Kadarin said shortly, “Will you two boys, who know nothing of matrix mechanics, presume to sit in judgment upon a trained Arilinn telepath about matters of his own competence?”
Regis gave me a pleading look. After a long pause, during which I could almost feel him searching for the right words, he said, “To judge his competence—no. To judge whether I can conscientiously support his . . . his means and motives—for that I can trust no man’s judgment but my own. I will listen to what he has to say.”
Beltran said, “Tell them, then, Lew, that we must do this if Darkover is to survive as an independent world, not a slave colony of the Empire!”
All their eyes were suddenly on me. This was the moment of truth, and a moment of great temptation. I opened my mouth to speak. Darkover’s future was a cause justifying all things, and we needed Dani.
But did I serve Darkover or my own private ends? Before the boy whose career was ruined by a misuse of power, I discovered I could not lie. I could not give Danilo the reassurance it would take to enlist his aid, then frantically try to find some way to make the lie true.
I said, “Beltran, your aims are good and I trust them. But we cannot do it with the matrix we have to work with. Not with Sharra, Beltran. It is impossible, completely impossible.”
Kadarin swung around. I had seen his rage only once before, turned on Beltran. Now it was turned on me, and it struck me like a blow. “What folly is this, Lew? You told me Sharra has all the power we could possibly need!”
I tried to barrier that assault and hold my own wrath firmly under control. The unleashed anger of an Alton can kill, and this man was my dear friend. I said, “Power, yes, all the power we could ever need, for this work or any. But it’s essentially uncontrollable. It’s been used as a weapon and now it’s unfit for anything but a weapon. It is—” I hesitated, trying to formulate my vague impressions. “It’s hungry for power and destruction.”
“Comyn superstition again!” Thyra flung at me. “A matrix is a machine. No more and no less.”
“Most matrices, perhaps,” I said, “though I am beginning to think that even at Arilinn we know far too little of them to use them as recklessly as we do. But this one is more.” I hesitated again, struggling for words for a knowledge, an experience which was basically beyond words. “It brings something into our world which is not of this world at all. It belongs to other dimensions, other places or spaces. It’s a gateway, and once it’s opened, it’s impossible to shut completely.” I looked from face to face. “Can’t you see what it’s doing to us?” I pleaded. “It’s rousing recklessness, a failure of caution, a lust for power—” I had felt it myself, the temptation to lie ruthlessly to Regis and Danilo, just to enlist their aid. “Thyra, you know what you did under its impulse, and your foster-father lies dead. I’ll never believe you would have done that, knowingly, on your own! It’s so much stronger than we are, it’s playing with us like toys!”
Kadarin said, “Desideria used it with none of this fuss.” “But she used it as a weapon,” I said, “and in a righteous cause. She had no wish for personal power, so that it could not take her and corrupt her, as it has done with us; she gave it over to the forge-folk, to lie unused and harmless on their altars.”
Beltran said harshly, “Are you saying it has corrupted me?”
I looked squarely at him and said, “Yes. Even your father’s death has not made you see reason.”
Kadarin said, “You talk like a fool, Lew. I hadn’t expected this sort of whining cant from you. If we have the power to give Darkover its place in the Empire, how can we shrink from anything we must do?”
“My friend,” I pleaded, “listen to me. We cannot use Sharra’s matrix for the kind of controlled power you wish to show the Terrans. It cannot be used to power a spaceship; I would not trust it even to control the helicopter now. It is a weapon, only a weapon, and it is not weapons we need. It is technology.”
Kadarin’s smile was fierce. “But if a weapon is all we have, then we will use that weapon to get what we must from the Terrans! Once we show them what we can do with it—”
My spine iced over with a deadly cold. I saw again the vision: flames rising from Caer Donn, the great form of fire bending down with a finger of destruction. . . .
“No!” I almost shouted. “I’ll have nothing to do with it!”
I rose and looked around the circle, saying desperately, “Can’t you see how this has corrupted us? Was it for war, for murder, for violence, blackmail, ruin, that we forged our link in such love and harmony? Was this your dream, Beltran, when we spoke together of a better world?”
He said savagely, “If we must fight, it will be the fault of the Terrans for denying us our rights! I would rather do it peacefully, but if they force us to fight them—”
Kadarin, coming and laying his hands on my shoulders with real affection said, “Lew, you’re foolishly squeamish. Once they know what we can do, there will certainly be no need to do it. But it places us in a position of equal power with the Terrans for once. Can’t you see? Even if we never use it, we must have the power, simply in order to control the situation and not be forced to submit!”
I knew what he was trying to say, but I could see the fatal flaw. I said, “Bob, we cannot bluff with Sharra. It wants ruin and destruction . . . can’t you feel that?”
“It is like the sword in the fairy tale,” Rafe said. “Remember what it said on the scabbard? ‘Draw me never unless I may drink blood.’ ”
We swung to look at the child and he smiled nervously under all our eyes.
“Rafe’s right,” I said harshly. “We can’t loose Sharra unless we really mean to use it, and no sane human beings would do that.”
Kadarin said, “Marjorie. You’re the Keeper. Do you believe this superstitious drivel?”
Her voice was not steady, but she stretched her hand to me. “I believe Lew knows more about matrices than any of us, or all of us together. You pledged, Bob, you swore to Desideria to be guided by Lew’s judgment. I won’t work against it.”
Beltran said, “You’re both part-Terran! Are you two on their side then, against Darkover?”
I gasped at the old slur. I would never have believed it of Beltran. Marjorie flared. “It was you, yourself, who pointed out not a moment ago that we are all Terran! There is no ‘side,’ only a common good for all! Does the left hand chop off the right?”
I felt Marjorie struggle for control, felt Kadarin, too, fighting to overcome his flaming anger. I had confidence still in his integrity, when he took the time to control that vicious rage which was the one chink in the strong armor of his will.
Kadarin spoke gently at last: “Lew, I know there is some truth in what you say. I trust you, bredu.” The word moved me more than I could express. “But what alternative have we, my friend? Are you trying to say that we should simply give up our plans, our hopes, our dream? It was your dream, too. Must we forget what we all believed in?”
“The Gods forbid,” I said, shaken. “It is not the dream I would see put aside, only Sharra’s part in it.” Then I appealed directly to Beltran. He was the one I must convince.
“Let Sharra go back to the forge-folk’s keeping. They have held it harmless all these years. No, kinsman, hear me out,” I pleaded. “Do this, and I will go to
Arilinn; I will speak with telepaths at Hali, at Neskaya and Corandolis and Dalereuth. I will explain to all of them what you are doing for Darkover, plead for you, if need be, before the Comyn Council itself. Do you honestly believe that you are the only man on Darkover who chafes under Terran rule and control? I am as certain as that I stand here, that they will come to your support and work with you freely and wholeheartedly, far better than I alone can do. And they have access to every known, monitored matrix on Darkover, and to the records of what was done with them in old times. We can find one safe for our purpose. Then I will work with you myself, and as long as you like, for your real aims. Not bluff with a terrible weapon, but a total, concerted effort by all of us, every one of us together, to recover the real strengths of Darkover, something positive to give the Terrans and the Empire, in return for what they can give us.”
I met Regis’ eyes, and suddenly time was out of focus again. I saw him in a great hall, crowded with men and women, hundreds and hundreds of them, every telepath on Darkover! It slid away and the eight of us were alone in the little fireside room again. I said to Regis and Danilo, “You would cooperate in such an endeavor, wouldn’t you?”
Regis, his eyes gleaming with excitement, said, “With all my heart, Lord Beltran. I am certain that even Comyn Council would put all the telepaths and towers of Darkover at your service!”
This was a greater dream than the one which had drawn us together! It must be! I had seen it! Beltran must catch fire from it too!
Beltran stared at us all, and before he spoke my heart sank. There was icy contempt in his voice and words.
“You damnable forsworn traitor!” he flung at me. “Get me under the heel of Comyn, would you? That I should get on my knees before the Hali’imyn and take from them as a gift the power which is my right? Better even to do as my doddering old father did, and grovel to the Terrans! But I am lord of Aldaran now, and I will plunge all Darkover into red chaos first! Never! Never, damn you! Never!” His voice rose to a hoarse shriek of rage.
“Beltran, I beg of you—”
“Beg! Beg, you stinking half-caste! As you would make me beg, grovel—
I clenched my fists, aching with the need to fall on him, beat that sneer off his face . . . no. That was not his true self, either, but Sharra.
“I am sorry, kinsman. You leave me no choice.” Whatever happened after, the closeness of this circle was broken; nothing could ever be the same. “Kadarin, you placed Sharra in my hands and pledged to abide my judgment. Before it is too late, the circle must be broken, the link destroyed, the matrix insulated before it controls us all.”
“No!” Thyra cried. “If you dare not handle it, I do!”
“Breda—”
“No,” Marjorie said, her voice shaking, “no, Thyra. It is the only way. Lew’s right, it can destroy us all. Bob.” She faced Kadarin, her golden eyes swimming in tears. “You made me Keeper. By that authority, I have to say it.” Her voice broke in a sob. “The link must be broken.”
“No!” Kadarin said harshly, repulsing her outstretched hands. “I did not want you to be Keeper; I feared just this—that you would be swayed by Lew! Sharra’s circle must be preserved! You know you cannot break it without my consent!” He stared fiercely at her, and I thought of a hawk I had once seen, hovering over its prey.
Beltran stood in front of Danilo, facing him down. “I ask you for the last time. Will you do what I ask?”
Danilo was trembling. I recalled that he had been the youngest and most timid of the cadets. His voice shook as he said, “N-no, my lord Aldaran. I will not.”
Beltran turned his eyes on Regis. His voice was level and grim. “Regis Hastur. You are not now in the Domains, but in Aldaran’s stronghold. You came here of your own free will, and you will not depart from here until you command your minion to use his powers as I shall direct.”
“My paxman is free to follow his own will and conscience. He has refused you; I support his decision. Now, Lord Aldaran, I respectfully request your leave to depart.”
Beltran shouted in the mountain tongue. The doors suddenly burst open and a dozen of his guards burst into the fireside room. I realized, in sudden consternation, that he must have meant this all along. One of them approached Regis, who was unarmed; Danilo quickly drew his dagger and stepped between them, but was swiftly disarmed. Beltran’s men dragged them back out of the way.
Marjorie faced Beltran is angry reproach.
“Beltran, you cannot! This is treachery! He was our father’s guest!”
“But not my guest,” Beltran said, and the words were a snarl, “and I have no patience with barbarian codes under a pretense of honor! Now for you, Lew Alton. Will you honor your pledge to us?”
“You speak of honor?” The words seemed to rise from some hidden spring within me, and I spat on the floor at his feet. “I honor my pledge to you as you honor your father’s memory!” I turned my back on him. Within the hour I would be in touch with Arilinn by matrix, and the Comyn would know what Beltran planned . . .
I had forgotten the link still strong between us all. Kadarin said, “Oh, no, you won’t,” and gestured to the guards. “Take him!”
My hand fell to sword-hilt—and found, of course, nothing. Wear no sword, at kinsman’s board. I had trusted in my safety in my cousin’s own house! Two guards seized me, held me motionless between them. Kadarin came to where I was held and raised his hand to my throat, jerking the laces of my tunic undone. He raised his hand to the leather bag containing my personal matrix.
I began to struggle now in deadly fear. It had never been more than a few inches from my body since I had been keyed into it when I was twelve years old. I had been warned what it meant to have anyone else touch it. Kadarin hauled at the leather bag; I brought my knee up into his groin. He yelled with pain, and I felt the shock of the agony through my own body, doubling me up, but it only strengthened his fury. He beckoned to the rest of the guards. It took four of them to do it, but before long I was spread-eagled on the floor, arms and legs pinioned down, while Kadarin knelt atop me, straddling my helpless body, his fists flailing blows on my face. I felt blood breaking from my nose, my eyes; I gagged on my own blood, streaming down my throat from a broken tooth. I could no longer see Marjorie for the blood in my eyes, but I heard her shrieking, sobbing, begging. Were they hurting her too?
Kadarin drew his dagger. He stared straight down into my eyes, his face flickering with that unholy flame. He said between his teeth, “I should cut your throat now and save us all some trouble.”
With a swift, downward slash, he cut the throng that held the leather bag; seized it between his hands and wrenched it away.
Until the day I die, I shall never forget that agony. I heard Marjorie scream, a long, death-like shriek of pain and terror, felt my whole body arch backward in a convulsive spasm, then fall limp. I heard my own voice screaming hoarsely, felt steel fingers clutch at my heart, felt my breathing falter. Every nerve in my body was in spasm. I had never known I could live through such anguish. Red haze blurring what was left of my sight, I felt myself dying and instinctively I heard my own tortured shriek:
“Father! Father!”
Then it all went dark and blind and I thought, This is death.
I don’t know what happened in the next three days. For all I know, I was dead. I know it was three days because I was told so later; it might have been thirty seconds or thirty years later that I came up to foggy awareness that I was alive, and that I would much rather not be.
I was lying on the bed in my quarters in Castle Aldaran. I felt bruised, sick, every separate bone and muscle in my body with a separate ache. I staggered into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror. From the way my face looked, I can only imagine that my body kept on fighting long after I wasn’t in it any more.
There were a couple of broken teeth ragged in my mouth, and they hurt like hell. My eyes were so bruised and swollen I could hardly get them open to see. My face had been cut by
something hard, the big rings Kadarin wore, maybe. There were going to be scars.
Worse than the physical pain, which was bad enough, was the terrible sense of emptiness. Drearily, I wondered why I had not died. Some telepaths do die of shock, if they are forcibly severed from their own personal keyed matrices. I was just one of the unlucky ones.
Marjorie. My last memory was hearing her scream. Had they tortured her too?
If Kadarin had harmed her I would kill him . . .
The thought was wrenching pain. He had been my friend—he could not have pretended—not to a telepath. Sharra had corrupted him. . . .
I wished he had cut my throat instead.
Sharra. I went to look for the matrix, but it was gone. I was glad to be rid of the damnable thing, but I was afraid, too. Would it let us go?
I drank cold water, trying to lessen the dry sickness in me. My hand kept fumbling for the place around my neck where the matrix should have been. I couldn’t think straight or see properly, and there was a constant dull ringing in my ears. I was really surprised I had survived this shock.
Slowly I realized something else. Sore and aching as I was, there was no blood anywhere on my face or garments. Nor had I fouled my clothes. Someone had therefore been here, tended my wounds after a fashion, put clean clothes on me. Kadarin, when he came to take away the Sharra matrix?
I found I very much disliked the thought of Kadarin coming here, handling my unconscious body. I clenched my teeth, found out it hurt too much and made myself relax. Another score to settle with him.
Well, he’d done his worst, and I was still alive.
I tried the door cautiously. As I had suspected, it was bolted on the outside.
I ached so much that the thought of a long hot bath was tempting. The thought of being surprised naked and defenseless in the bathtub, however, removed all temptation from the idea. I soaked a cloth in the hot water and bathed my bruised face.
I ransacked the apartment, but of course my sword was gone, and the dagger, too. When I rummaged in my saddle-bags for my heavy traveling boots, even the small skeandhu in the boot was gone from its sheath.
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