"It won't work," I flung at him in a fury. "I wouldn't marry the girl now if she was as beautiful as the Blessed Cas‑silda, and came dowered with all the jewels of Carthon!"
My father shrugged, with a deep sigh. "Of course not," he said wearily. "When did you ever do anything so sensible? Suit yourself. I married to please myself; I told Hastur I Would never compel you."
"Do you think you couldT I was still raging.
"Since I'm not trying, what does it matter?" My father sounded as weary as I felt. "I think you're a fool, but if it helps you feel independent and virtuous to go around with aa ache in your"‑to my surprise and shock he used a vulgar phrase from the Guard hall, one I'd never suspected him of knowing‑"then be just as damned stubborn as you want. You're my son all right: you have no more sense than I had at your age!" He shrugged in a way that indicated he was through with the subject. "Threshold sickness? I have some kirian somewhere, if you need it."
I shook my head, realizing that something, perhaps just the flooding of my system with violent anger, had dispelled the worst of it.
"I had something to say to you, but it can wait till morning if you're not in shape to listen. Meanwhile, I want another drink." He started to struggle to his feet; I said, "Let me serve you, Father," and brought him a glass of wine, got one for myself and sat beside him to drink it. He sat sipping it slowly. After a time he reached out and laid a hand on my shoulder, a rare gesture of intimacy from childhood. It did not make me angry now.
Finally he said, "You were at the Council. You know what's going on."
"You mean Aldaran." I was glad he had actually changed the subject
"The worst of it is, I cannot be spared from Thendara, and what's more, I don't think I can make the journey, Lew." His barriers were down, and I could feel his weariness. "I've never admitted, before, that there was anything I could not do. But now," and he gave me his quick, rare smile, "I have a son I can trust to take my place. And since we've both defied Hastur, Thendara might not be too comfortable for you in the next weeks. I'm going to send you to Aldaran as my deputy, Lew."
"Me, Father?"
"Who else? There is no one else I can trust so well. You did as well as I could have done on the fire‑beacon business. And you can claim blood‑kinship there; old Kenniac of Aldaran is your great‑uncle." I had known I was of the Aldaran kin, but I had not known it was so high in the clan, nor so close. "Also, you have Terran blood. You can go and find
out beyond all rumors, what is really happening back there in the mountains."
I felt both elated and uncertain about being sent on this highly sensitive mission, knowing that Father trusted me with it. Hastur had spoken of our duty to serve the Comyn, our world. Now I was ready to take my place among those of our Domain who had done so for more generations than any of us could count. "When do I start?"
"As soon as I can arrange escort and safe‑conduct for you. There's no lime to be lost," he said. "They know you are heir to Comyn. But you are also kinsman to Aldaran; they will welcome you as they would never welcome me." ‑ I was grateful to my father for giving me this mission, then, a new feeling and a good one, I realized that the gratitude need not be all mine. He genuinely needed me. I had a chance to serve him, too, to do something for him better than he could do it himself. I was eager to begin.
Chapter NINE
At this season the sun was already up when the rising‑bell rang in the barracks. Little runnels of snow were melting in the court as they crossed the cobblestones toward the mess hall. Regis was still sleepy in spite of the icy water he had splashed on his face. He felt that he'd almost rather miss breakfast than get up for it at this hour. But he was proud of his good record; he was the only cadet who had never incurred a punishment detail for sleeping through the bell and stumbling in late and half asleep. Nevarsin had done him some good, after all.
He slid into his assigned seat between Danilo and Gareth Lindir. An orderly slapped battered trays in front of them: thick crockery bowls of porridge mixed with nuts, heavy mugs of the sour country beer Regis hated and never touched. He put a spoon distastefully into the porridge.
"Does the food really get worse every morning, or am I imagining it?" Damon MacAnndra asked.
"It gets worse," said Danilo. "Who's capable of imagining anything at this God‑forgotten hour? What's thatl"
There was a small commotion at the door. Regis jerked up his head and stared. After a brief scuffle a cadet was flung off his feet and went reeling across the room, crashed headfirst into a table and lay still, Dyan Ardais was standing in the doorway waiting for the unfortunate cadet to rise. When he did not stir, Dyan motioned to an orderly to go and pick him up,
Damon said, "Zandru's hells, it's Julian!" He got up from his seat and hurried to his friend's side. Dyan was standing over him, looking grim.
"Back to your seat, cadet. Finish your meal."
"He's my friend. I want to see if he's hurt.** Ignoring Dyan's angry glare, Damon knelt beside the fallen cadet; the other cadets, craning their necks, could see the bright smear
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of blood where Julian's head had struck the table. "He's bleeding! You've killed him!" Damon said in a shrill, shaking voice.
"Nonsense!" Dyan rapped out. "Dead men don't bleed like that." He knelt, quickly ran his fingertips over the boy's head and motioned to two third‑year cadets. "Take him back to the staff offices and ask Master Raimon to have a look at him."
As Julian was carried out, Gabriel Vyandal muttered across the table, "It's not fair to pick on us at this hour of the morning when we're all half asleep." It was so quiet in the mess room that his voice carried; Dyan strode across the room and said, looking down at him with a curl of his lip, *Times like this are when you should be most on guard, cadet. Do you think that footpads in the city, or catmen or bandits on the border, will pick an hour of your convenience to attack? This part of your training is to teach you to be on your guard literally every moment, cadets." He turned his back on them and walked out of the room.
Gareth muttered, "He's going to kill one of us some day. I wonder what he'll say then?"
Damon came back to his seat, looking very white. "He wouldn't even let me go with them and hold his head."
Gabriel laid a comforting hand on his arm. He said, "Don't worry, Master Raimon will take good care of him."
Regis had been shocked at the sight of blood, but a sense of scrupulous fairness made him say, "Lord Dyan is right, you know. When we're really in the field, a moment of being off guard can get us killed, not just hurt."
Damon glared at Regis. "It's all right for you to talk, Has‑tur. I notice he never picks on you."
Regis, whose ribs were chronically black and blue from Dyan's battering at sword practice, said, "I suppose he thinks I get enough lumps working out with him in armed‑combat training." It occurred to him that there was an element of cruelty in this too. Kennard Alton had taught him to handle a sword when he was believed to be the best swordsman in the Domains. Yet in daily practice with either Kennard or Lew for two years, he had collected fewer bruises than he had had from Dyan in a few weeks.
A second‑year man said audibly, "What do you expect of the Comyn? They all hang together."
Regis bent his head to the cold porridge. What's the use?
he thought He couldn't show everybody his bruises‑4ie shouldn't have opened his mouth. Danilo was trying to eat with trembling hands. The sight filled Regis with distress but he did not know what he could say that would not be an intrusion.
In the barracks room, Regis quickly made up his bed, helped Damon fix up Julian's cot and arrange his possessions; when Julian returned, at least he would not have to face demerits for leaving his bed and shelf in disorder. After the other cadets had gone off for arms‑drill, he and Danilo remained. It was their turn to sweep the room and clean the fireplace. Regis went meticulously about the work of scraping ashes from the fireplace and cleaning the hearth. You never knew which officer would make inspection and
some were stricter than others. He did the work with all the more thoroughness because he detested it, but his thoughts were busy. Had Julian really been hurt? Dyan had been too rough.
He was aware that Danilo, shoving the heavy push‑broom with scowling determination at the far end of the room, was filled with a kind of sullen misery that overlaid everything else. Regis wondered if there was any way to block out other people's emotions, for he was far too sensitive to Danilo's moods. If he knew what Dani was thinking, or why he was so angry and miserable all the time, it might not be so bad, but all Regis got were the raw emotions.
He sensed Lew Alton's presence and looked up to see him coming along the room. "Not finished? Take your time, cadet, I'm a little early."
Regis relaxed. Lew could be strict enough, but he did not go out of his way to look for hidden fragments of dust. He continued his work with the hearth‑broom, but after a minute felt Lew bend and touch his arm. "I want a word with you."
Regis rose and followed him to the door of the barracks room, turning to say over his shoulder, 'Til be with you in a minute, Dani, don't try to shift that table until I can help you." Just outside, aware of the touch of Lew's thoughts, he looked up to face his smiling eyes.
"Yes, I knew the other day, in Council," Lew said, "but I had no chance to speak to you then. When did this happen, Regis? And how?"
"I'm not sure," Regis said, "but somehow, I‑touched‑ Danilo, or he touched me, I'm not really sure which it was,
and some kind of‑of barrier seemed to go down. I don't know how to explain it."
Lew nodded. "I know," he said, "there aren't any words for most of these experiences, and the ones there are, aren't very enlightening. But Danilo? I sensed he had laran the other day, but if he could do that, then‑" He stopped, his brow furrowed, and Regis followed the thought, that would mean he's a catalyst telepath! They're rare, I thought there were no functioning ones left.
"I'll speak to my father before I leave for Aldaran."
"You're going instead of Uncle Kennard? When?"
"A few days before Council season is over, not long now. The trip into the mountains is hard at any season, and impossible after the snows really begin in earnest."
Danilo was standing in the doorway of the barracks room and Regis, recalled abruptly to his work, said, "I'd better get back; Dani will think I'm shirking my share."
Lew took a perfunctory glance inside the room. "Go ahead. It looks all right; I'll sign the inspection report. Finish up at your leisure." He came to Danilo and said, "I'm leaving for Aldaran in a day or two, Dani. I shall be passing Syrtis on my road. Have you any message for Dom Felix?"
"Only that I strive to do my duty among my betters, Captain." His voice was sullen.
"Ill tell him you do us credit, Danilo." The boy did not answer, going off toward the fireplace, dragging the broom. Lew looked after bim with curiosity. "What do you think is bothering him?"
Regis was worried about Danilo's moods. His silent weeping had wakened Regis twice more, and again he had been torn between the desire to console his friend and the wish to respect his privacy. He wished be could ask Lew what to do, but they were both on duty and there was no time for personal problems. Anyway, Lew might be required by Guard regulations‑he didn't really know‑to tell him he should ask his cadet‑master about any personal problem. Regis said at last, "I don't know. Homesick, maybe," and left it at that "How is Julian? Not dead?"
Lew looked at him, startled. "No, no. He'll be all right. Just a bit of a knock on the head." He smiled again and went out of the barracks.
Danilo leaned the broom against the wall and began to
shift the heavy wooden table to get at the litter under it. Regis jumped to catch the other end.
"Here, I told you I'd give you a hand; you could hurt your insides trying to lift a heavy thing like that." Danilo looked up, glowering, and Regis said, "I wasn't shirking, I only wanted to say goodbye to my kinsman. You were rude to him, Dani."
"Well, are we going to work or gossip?" "Work by all means," said Regis, giving his end of the table a heave. "I've nothing to say to you when you're in this mood." He went to fetch the broom. Danilo muttered something under his breath and Regis swung around, demanding, "What did you say?"
"Nothing." Danilo turned his back. It had sounded suspiciously like, "Don't get your hands dirty," and Regis stared.
"What's the matter? Do you think I ought to finish up? I will if you want me to, but I don't think I was away talking that long, was I?"
"Oh, I'd never think of imposing on you, Lord Regis! Allow me to serve you!" The sneer was openly apparent in Danilo's voice now and Regis stared in bewilderment "Danilo, are you trying to fight with me?" Danilo looked Regis up and down slowly. "No, I thank you, my lord. Fight, with an heir to Comyn? I may be a fool, but not such a fool as all that." He squared his shoulders and thrust his lip out belligerently. "Run along to your fencing lesson with Lord Ardais and leave the dirty work to me."
Regis1 bewilderment gave way to rage. "When did I ever leave any dirty work for you or anyone else around here?" Danilo stared at the floor and did not answer. Regis advanced on him menacingly. "Come on, you started this, answer me! You say I haven't been doing my fair share?" No other accusation could have made him so furious. "And take that look off your face or I'll knock it off!"
"Must I watch the very look on my face, Lord Hasturt" The title, as he spoke it, was an open insult, and Regis hit him. Danilo staggered back, sprang up raging and started for him, then stopped short.
"Oh no. You can't get me in trouble that way. I told you I'm not going to fight, Lord Hastur."
"Yes you will, damn you. You started this! Now put up your fists, damn you, or I'll use you for a floor‑mop!"
"That would be fun, wouldn't it," Danilo muttered, "force
me to fight and get me in trouble for fighting? Oh, no, Lord Regis, I've had too much of that!"
Regis stepped back. He was now more troubled than angry, wondering what he could possibly have done to upset Dani this way. He reached out to try to touch his friend's mind, met nothing but surging rage that covered everything else. He moved toward Danilo; Dani sprang defensively alert.
"Zandru's hells, what are you two about?" Hjalmar stepped inside the door, took it all in at a glance and collared Regis, not gently. "I heard you shouting halfway across the courtl Cadet Syrtis, your lip is bleeding."
He let Regis go, came and took Danilo by the chin, turning his face gently up to look at the wound. Danily exploded into violence, pushing his hand away, his hand dropping to knife‑hilt. Hjalmar grabbed his wrist.
"Zandru's hells! Lad, don't do thatl Drawing a knife in barracks will break you, and I'd have to report it! What the hell's the matter, boy, I only wanted to see if you were hurt!" He sounded genuinely concerned. Danilo lowered his head and stood trembling.
"What's between you two? You've been close as brothers!"
"It was my fault," said Regis quietly, "I struck him first."
Hjalmar gave Danilo a shove. It looked rude but was, in truth, rather gentle. "Go and put some cold water on your lip, cadet. Hastur can finish doing the barracks alone. It will teach him to keep his big mouth shut." When Danilo had vanished into the washroom he scowled angrily at Regis. "This is a fine example to set for the lads of lower rank!"
Regis did not argue or excuse himself. He stood and accepted the tongue‑lashing Hjalmar gave him, and the three days of punishment detail. He felt almost grateful to the young officer for interrupting a nasty situation. Why, why, had Danilo exploded that way?
He finished sweeping the barracks, thinking that it was not like Dani to pick a fight.
And he had picked it, Regis thought soberly, throwing the last of the trash, without realizing it, into the newly cleaned fireplace. But why? Had they been tormenting him again about trying to curry favor with a Hastur?
All that day he went about his duties preoccupied and wretched, wondering what had brought his friend to suc
h a point of desperation. He had halfway decided to seek Danilo out in their free time, brave his anger and ask him outright
what was wrong. But he was reminded that he was on punishment detail, which turned out to be the distasteful duty of working with the orderlies sweeping the stables. Afterward it took him a long time to get himself clean and free of the stable stink and he had to hurry to be in time for his new assignment, which he found boring beyond words. Mostly it consisted of standing guard at the city gates, checking permits and safe‑conducts, questioning travelers who had neither, reminding incoming merchants of the rules covering their trade. After that he and a junior officer were assigned supervision of night guard at the city gates, his first use of authority over any of the Guardsmen. He had known, in theory, that the cadets were in training for officers, but until now he had felt like a menial, a flunky, junior to everyone. Now, after a scant half season, he had a responsible duty of his own. For a time he forgot his preoccupation with his friend's trouble.
He came back to barracks near midnight, wondering what duty Danilo had been assigned at this mid‑year rotation. It was strange to walk in and see the night officer simply marking off his name as being on late duty, rather than scolding him for being tardy. He paused to ask the man, "Do you know anything about Julian‑cadet MacAran, sir?"
"MacAran? Yes, he has a concussion, they took him to the infirmary, but he'll be all right in a few days. They sent for his friend to come and stay with him there. His wits were wandering, and they were afraid he'd climb out of bed and hurt himserf. But he recognized Damon's voice. He didn't seem to hear anyone else but when MacAnndra told him to keep quiet and stay put, they say he went to sleep quiet as a baby. Concussion's like that sometimes."
Regis said he was glad to hear Julian was no worse, and went in to his bed. His end of the dormitory was almost empty, with Damon and Julian in the infirmary. Danilo's bed, too, was empty. He must be on night duty. He felt regretful, having hoped for a word with him, a chance, perhaps, to find out what was troubling him, make friends again.
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