“Valdir is mistaken. It is I who will rule, not he. It will take time to consolidate my position. In order to do that, I must lull his vigilance while I retain his confidence.”
“It seems neither of us has any choice in the matter.”
Rinaldo’s expression turned grim. “Although it pains me to admit it, Valdir does not trust you, and nothing I have said has changed his mind. He means to reform the Comyn Council and become my chief councillor. Mikhail will be released as a token of his good will, but your paxman must remain a prisoner—”
Remain a prisoner—R egis hardly heard the end of Rinaldo’s sentence.
It took every scrap of discipline that Regis had forged over the years not to leap up and throttle the man who had uttered those words. Rinaldo was not to blame. He was merely repeating what Valdir had said.
Valdir, that snake-b rain! That scorpion-ant!
Regis gripped the carved wooden armrests so hard, his joints cracked. Valdir was wrong, damnably wrong, if he thought Regis would give in as long as Danilo still remained a prisoner.
Rinaldo leaned forward, concern furrowing his brow. His eyes were very bright, and his long scholar’s fingers hung gracelessly loose. Let us try to make the best we can of this terrible dilemma,he seemed to plead. Together, as brothers.
“I believe we have said everything we can on this subject,” Regis said. “I understand your viewpoint,” although it is clear you have no comprehension of mine,“and would speak further with DomValdir.”
Valdir was the one he had to face down, and he refused to make any agreement without getting Danilo back.
At Rinaldo’s summons, Valdir and the others returned. Gabriel sought Regis with his gaze, but Regis made no response. He needed all his concentration for Valdir.
With an expression of triumph, the Ridenow lord resumed his place. “Are you now convinced of the necessity of sensible cooperation, DomRegis?”
“I am convinced of the sincerity of my brother’s motives,” Regis replied, “but not of yours. You have stated your demands and my brother has told me your conditions—that my paxman will remain your hostage, regardless of my agreement.”
“Correct.” Valdir’s half-smile did not waver.
“Now I will state myconditions.”
Valdir blinked, for a moment looking unsure. Then his face hardened. “ Youare in no position to dictate terms to me.”
“On the contrary,” Regis riposted, “you need me. You need my public participation in this mad scheme. Not even you, DomValdir Ridenow, are arrogant enough to fake my abdication. If you simply had me killed, the rest of the Domains would rise up against you.”
By the whitening of Valdir’s pale skin, Regis saw he’d made his point. He pressed on. “You want me to cede the ruling of Hastur to my brother. Very well, if he is fool enough to want it. I will do so only when my paxman is free and back at my side.”
No one moved. No one breathed.
“You do not realize you have no say in this matter.” Valdir shifted in his chair, although his gaze remained steady.
“You have nothing to gain by holding the man,” Rinaldo pointed out.
Valdir shot Rinaldo a warning look before turning back to Regis. “How do I know you’ll keep your part of the bargain?”
“I have already said I would.”
“Ah! The fabled Word of a Hastur! I’m afraid that isn’t sufficient. There’s too much at stake. I can’t risk your changing your mind or agreeing now and then blocking me at every turn. I respect your ability to generate all kinds of trouble.”
With a wrenching effort, Regis waited to hear what further demands Valdir would make. Instead, Valdir smiled, an unctuous rictus that left his eyes cold.
“Come now, I have no animosity against your paxman. I hold him only to ensure your good behavior. But if you cross me, if you continue this obstinate defiance . . .” the pale cheeks, which had drained of all color, now turned dusky with emotion, “I will hang Danilo Syrtis and display his body from the Castle battlements as a warning to all who stand in the way of progress.”
For a heart-stopping instant, terror blurred all thought. Then icy certainty swept away all other emotion. Regis dared not deliberate, dared not feel. Dared only to act. “ DomDanilo Syrtis-Ardais is Comyn. He served in the City Guards and as Warden of Ardais. The Comyn will never stand for such an outrage against one of our own.”
If a man as well-born and respected as Danilo could be treated like a nameless outlaw, who would be next? And then Regis realized this was exactly the reaction Valdir wanted.
“Who’s going to stop me? You?” Valdir growled. “Are you willing to wager this man’s life that I am bluffing? That I cannot produce a convincing public justification for whatever I choose to do with him? Or do you care so little for your paxman after all? Are you thinking that once he is dead, I will have no further hold over you? I do not believe you have noother loved ones.”
And what I have done to one, I can do to another.
“You would not dare—” Regis pushed himself half out of the chair.
“I would.”
Valdir wasn’t bluffing. He would do it.
What choice do I have? Oh gods—D anilo!
Slowly, Regis stood up. Gabriel came alert. His Guardsmen looked to him for a signal. The air hummed with adrenaline.
“Commander Lanart, this is not your affair.” Valdir’s tone dropped menacingly. He lifted one hand and four more men in Ridenow colors filed in, swords drawn.
Gabriel’s glance flickered to Regis. Say the word.
Regis shook his head. This is a fight we cannot win.
Gabriel’s expression turned stormy, but he bowed to Regis and withdrew, his men after him.
“How can I be sure Danilo Syrtis is still alive?” Regis said.
A faint lightening passed over Valdir’s features, not rising to the level of a smile. “I anticipated that you would require assurance.” He offered a folded paper to Regis.
The note was unsealed so that anyone could read it. For a moment, Regis could not focus on the words, only on the exquisite, flowing script. As cadets, they had joked that Danilo wrote with the finest hand of any of them.
The words were undoubtedly dictated by Valdir. But the hand that had written them was as familiar as the rhythm of his own heart.
“I would like to keep this.” Regis folded the note again.
Valdir made a gesture of assent. “And of course, your Heir will be returned to his family.”
“Then,” Regis said, gathering himself, “I agree to your terms. I will formally abdicate my position as Lord Hastur in my brother’s favor at whatever venue you see fit, and I will not oppose the reconstitution of the Comyn Council. I think it is a foolish move,” both of them foolish moves,“but clearly, I have no say in the matter.”
Valdir put forth his most charming, amiable manner as he praised Regis for his difficult and honorable decision. With a little discussion on the logistics of the transfer of power, the meeting ended.
The hectic energy that had driven Regis soon dissipated. The corridors had never seemed so long nor the steps so steep. He felt as if he had been living underground for so long, he would never see the sun again. He was too overwrought to attempt a conversation with the two Ridenow guards or to learn their names.
The guards made no objection as he headed not to his own rooms but to those of his sister, so that he could personally inform Javanne that Mikhail was to be freed.
Javanne lay on the divan in the family room, swathed in a thick shawl. A table had been drawn up beside her, bearing a decanter of wine and flasks of various tinctures. Linnea sat on a bench beside the divan, holding Javanne’s hand and speaking softly to her. Sunlight sifted through the mullioned windows, touching Linnea’s hair with red-gold light.
As Regis entered, Linnea turned toward him. Weariness softened her features, blurring the beauty of bone and flesh to reveal the shining spirit within. He had known her as generous, honest, stubborn,
and passionate, but until this moment he had not seen how deeply compassionate she was, how willing to give of herself. She was, he reflected, exactly the woman who could accept his relationship with Danilo.
At the same time, he sensed—he knew—h er vision pierced his diffidence and guilt, even as it did the layers of lace and silver-trimmed suede. She truly saw him. All this, he had thrown away in a spasm of awkward pride.
The next thought that came to him, in the moment between one heartbeat and the next, was what kind of monster was he, to think such a thing while the man who had shared his life for these many years was a hostage under threat of death?
Their eyes met, and his heart stopped. And he knew that she would never see him as a monster.
All this happened in an instant, and before he could draw breath, Javanne raised her head. Whipcord-taut, she sat up. Questions brimmed in her swollen, tear-reddened eyes.
“Mikhail is alive and will be released,” he blurted out.
“Oh!” Then, as if she did not care, could notpay the price for caring, she demanded, “Regis, what did that terrible man want?”
“Why, to restore the true and just succession of the Hasturs, not to mention the traditional power of the Comyn and Aldones knows what else.” Regis threw himself into the nearest chair. His spine creaked with prolonged strain.
“It is unkind of you to tease me—” Javanne burst out, “to mock the situation!”
Regis swept the sarcasm from his voice. “I do not mock you, sister, nor do I mean to increase your distress. The situation is as I have said. Valdir Ridenow intends to replace me as Head of Hastur and to elevate our brother into my place. To ensure my—how did he put it? my good behavior? my sensible cooperation—he has taken Mikhail hostage, as well as Danilo.”
“Oh!” Javanne cried out again and swayed on her seat. Linnea reached out to steady her but drew back when it was clear that Javanne was not faint but furious.
“How dare he? That power-mad, overinflated Dry-Towns upstart, that—And you,Regis—I suppose youlet him get away with it!”
“What would you have had him do?” Linnea asked. “Challenge DomValdir to a duel? Put the life of your son at risk, to say nothing of that of his own paxman?”
Silently Regis thanked Linnea for her calm words. At this point, anything he said would only further inflame his sister’s temper.
Javanne reasserted control of her emotions, taking one gulping breath after another. Linnea handed her a goblet of water from the little table.
“For the time being, the hostages are safe,” Regis said. “Valdir wants my willing abdication, and he knows that he would lose any hope of that if he were to harm them. I dare not risk it. Valdir’s demands are not intolerable, and Rinaldo seems optimistic that he can make the best of the situation.”
“Rinaldo? A monk, sitting in Grandfather’s place?” Javanne made no attempt to mask her incredulity.
“He’s an educated man,” Regis pointed out. “Naive, but not a fool. He does mean well.”
“That will not help him if he becomes DomValdir’s puppet,” Linnea remarked.
“Perhaps,” Regis agreed. “But the monastery is not so unworldly as that. There, as everywhere, some men scheme and others collaborate to their own advantage or abuse the trust of others. Rinaldo may have led a sheltered life in some respects, but he is not inexperienced in the ways of men. Besides, he trusts me and wants my good will. If Valdir is content to have me gone, and if Rinaldo is then free to seek the guidance and advice of worthy men, the result may not be so terrible after all. And Mikhail will be restored to us.”
But Danilo will not . . .
Surely, Valdir will not hold him once he has what he wants,Linnea said to Regis mentally.
I—I do not know.
“I do not know Rinaldo,” Linnea mused, “but I cannot imagine any brother of yours being entirely lacking in firm opinions.”
Javanne snorted, and Linnea glanced at Regis, a touch of mischief in her eyes, as if to say that proved her point about the Hastur wilfulness.
“It is too soon to tell,” Regis said, trying to sound hopeful. “Valdir may find Rinaldo less malleable than he hoped. Power changes men and none so much as the lordship of Hastur. I admit I will not be entirely sorry to be free of it.”
In answer to Javanne’s question, Regis added, “The abdication announcement will take place in the Crystal Chamber. Valdir’s delusional if he thinks he can resurrect the Comyn Council, but I don’t expect him to take my word for it.”
At this, Linnea smiled wryly, perhaps remembering the struggles that led to the abandonment of that body and the establishment of the Telepath Council.
“I don’t know if I would do any better in your place, Regis,” Javanne said after a pause. “What is to become of the rest of us?”
“You and Gabriel and your other children, nothing. I hope Valdir does not mean to overturn all order in Thendara. As Rinaldo has no wife, he had asked me to convey his hope that you will continue as chatelaine of the Castle. There is no question of Gabriel’s position as Commander of the Guards. Half the city would rise in outrage if he were to be dismissed. Once Mikhail is freed, I will make provision for his safety in case Valdir changes his mind.”
“The estate at Armida—” Javanne began.
Regis shook his head. “—cannot be well defended, and I would rather not create a reason for it to be attacked. It would be better to convince Valdir that Mikhail poses no threat.”
Linnea looked at him as if she had had the same thought, that few places in the Domain were truly safe, even if Mikhail had the aptitude for Tower work and could shut himself away at Arilinn or Neskaya.
And Linnea herself,Regis thought with a frisson of panic. What if Valdir decides his hold on me is not sufficient and goes after her? If she were still a Keeper, she might defy him, but as she is . . . carrying our son . . .
He thrust the idea from his mind, praying she had not sensed his fear.
Meanwhile, Javanne had gotten to her feet, rearranged her hair and skirts, and set about putting the room to rights. Work would steady her, Regis thought.
Regis departed to make his own preparations for his move back to the townhouse. He dared not ask Linnea to come with him. Her best hope lay in the illusion that he no longer cared for her. How long that deception would hold, he did not know.
18
The Crystal Chamber was the last place Regis wanted to be, and he thought it ironically fitting that Valdir Ridenow had chosen it for the abdication speech. The chamber had been the meeting place of the Comyn Council from time out of memory, and it struck Regis as nothing short of pretentious for the small remnants to gather as if they were still the ruling faction in the Domains. True, the Telepath Council had not lived up to his hopes of a broadly inclusive fellowship of those with psychic talent, and true, its internal bickering and inertia, its inability to unite in common cause, had paralyzed any hope of effective leadership. As he waited in the private entrance to the Hastur section, Regis wondered if a smaller, unified Comyn Council might be able to accomplish something. But was that a good thing or an invitation to tyranny?
Beyond the dusty curtain that once shielded Hastur women from public view, Regis heard the sounds of people entering and taking their places in the sections reserved for their Domains. Footfalls echoed, for the chamber held only a fraction of the assembly for which it had been designed. If he closed his eyes and reached out with his laran,he could feel the ghosts of the great Comyn lords and ladies, Keepers, and leroniwhose lives had been given meaning in this place. Were they watching him now, waiting to see how he would conduct himself?
Did the spirit of his grandfather watch him as well? For an instant, Regis almost believed it.
He felt the assembly waiting—Gabriel by the massive double doors, Javanne boldly in the front of the Hastur section, Linnea— ah! Linnea!—in the dim recesses under the Alton banner, Valdir like a glowing ember across the room. The others were phantoms with less subst
ance than the echoes of the great men and powerful Keepers of the past.
The telepathic dampers hummed into life, and he sensed nothing beyond the sickness in the pit of his own belly. Although the waiting was a torment in itself, he held himself still until he heard a booming male voice, one of Gabriel’s lieutenants, rolling out his many names and titles. At any other time, he would have shrunk from such ostentation.
“Regis-R afael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn . . . Warden of Hastur . . .”
Regis had never wanted spectacle and mythic adoration, and yet these were what his Grandfather had drilled into him, what the people on the street expected. So many times he had longed to be free of it, and now that his wish was granted, he felt nothing.
He pushed aside the curtain and took his seat in the front row of the Hastur enclosure, the same seat his Grandfather had used. Rinaldo would enter later, on Valdir’s summons.
Regis took a moment to survey the Crystal Chamber and the faces washed by the pastel rainbow light from the prismed ceiling. Some looked grave, others confused, a few desolate. He glanced toward the Ridenow area long enough to notice Mikhail there, sitting between two burly men. The boy looked shaken but well enough to stand on his own. Valdir had kept his word.
“Kinsmen, nobles, Comynarii,” Regis began, “I welcome you to Council.” These were the same words his Grandfather had used. He could think of no more fitting farewell.
After he finished the formal greeting and the roll call of the Domains, such as it was, Regis drew out the paper bearing the speech he was to deliver. He had not written it; Valdir had, and Regis saw no reason to pretend otherwise. He would read it word for word, giving his enemies no cause to charge him with equivocation. If this was what they required as the price of Danilo’s life and Mikhail’s freedom, then they would have it.
The words came awkwardly to his tongue. Valdir was not much of a writer, although the legalistic language was inescapable. There was nothing that could be misinterpreted, no vague stipulations, no euphemisms. All intention was made clear, even as Valdir had commanded.
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