Hastur Lord d-23

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Regis tried to keep an open mind, to not anticipate what he would find or what Rinaldo might say. Had Rinaldo become Valdir’s willing pawn?

  He is my brother. I must give him a fair hearing. In turn, he may listen to what I have to say, and that will strengthen him against Valdir’s influence.

  The Ridenow guards conducted Regis to the apartment that had briefly been his. A man Regis recognized as one of the understewards, now wearing a tabard of Hastur blue and silver, escorted Regis inside, leaving the guards in the hallway. The understeward swung the door open and stepped back for Regis to enter. “ Vai dom,Lord Regis is here.”

  Regis smiled inwardly, for the title that had been his for most of his life was now proper again. He walked into a room that was at once familiar and altered. No fire burned in the fieldstone hearth, although ample wood had been laid and the night’s chill still hung in the air. Some of the furnishings were gone, and the walls were now bare of their former tapestries. A massive wooden chair dominated the center of the room, facing two or three more modest seats, none of them softened by cushions.

  A wooden cristoforoaltar had been erected upon the sideboard, where decanters of firiand shallanhad once stood. Regis found the style repellent, emphasizing in sculptural detail the sufferings of the Bearer of Burdens. From the candle stubs, the layers of melted wax, the lingering smell of incense, and the indented pillow on the floor, the altar had been in recent use.

  Rinaldo entered through the door that led to the library. Regis had only a moment to take in the flushed, excited look on his brother’s face and the robe very similar if not identical to the one Rinaldo had worn at the abdication ceremony. Then Rinaldo caught him up in a brother’s embrace, just a fraction of a second too brief.

  “Regis! Sit down, be at your ease.” Rinaldo indicated the smaller chairs and settled into the larger. “I had not meant for so much time to pass. Valdir concocted his own schedule for me, and I myself have discovered many more things to do in each day than there are grains of sand in Shainsa. I would not for the world have you believe I had forgotten you! Have you been well? Has the move to a private residence after the comforts of the Castle been very difficult for you?”

  Regis refrained from commenting that the townhouse was considerably more comfortable than these quarters. “I do not envy your burden in assuming Grandfather’s quarters or his duties. Once Hastur was the most powerful Domain among many. Now that the Comyn are so few, the Head of Hastur speaks for all Darkover. Your opinion on a matter as crucial and far-reaching as Federation membership must be given with great care. Others will try to influence you for their own gain, including Valdir Ridenow. You must not simply do what he says. As Hastur, you are beholden to no one—”

  Rinaldo shrugged carelessly. “Oh, as for that, Valdir advises me when he can, and when he cannot—or when he spouts utter nonsense—then I have my own counselors. Lady Lawton’s insights have been most enlightening, even though she has a woman’s delicate sensibilities and limited understanding.”

  From his limited experience with Terran women, Regis doubted that either description was applicable, but he said nothing.

  “I must ask you to keep what I am about to say in strictest confidence,” Rinaldo continued. “I am thinking of bringing three or four of my Nevarsin brothers here to Thendara. This Castle is so big and empty, it will be a small matter to find them quarters and a chamber big enough to hold services. It’s only a temporary measure until I can locate the right building—or have one constructed—for a proper chapel. What a relief it will be to have their spiritual fellowship and the daily sustenance of our faith! I know you do not adhere to it yourself, but you must have seen how the influence of the holy St. Christopher transforms the lives of all who live under his rule.”

  Regis listened to this remarkable speech with a mixture of reactions. While he was happy that Rinaldo did not seem to be entirely in Valdir’s power, he felt uneasy with the direction of his brother’s thoughts. His grandfather would have turned apoplectic at the notion of a cristoforochapel in Comyn Castle; nor could Regis imagine the traditionalists welcoming such an incursion. For himself, although he acknowledged the benefit of his education at Nevarsin, he harbored no illusions about the harm he had suffered there.

  Trying to keep his tone neutral, he said, “You must follow your own conscience in this and all other matters, my brother. That is what it means to be Lord Hastur. It is your responsibility to safeguard the future of Darkover and all its people.”

  “Yes, yes, exactly.” Rinaldo leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, face alight. “There is so much I must make right in the world, so many ways I feel myself called. You understand the need to do what is right. It would have been easy for you to ignore my existence and leave me at Nevarsin. You could have accorded me only the meager status of an unfortunate, neglected relation. But you followed a higher standard of honor, and so will I. You have inspired me!”

  Regis murmured that he deserved no such praise.

  Taking no notice, Rinaldo said, “I wonder . . . did it never strike you as unjust that not all men are free to worship as their hearts dictate? That you yourself were prevented from following the one true faith?”

  He meant that as a Comyn and the Heir to Hastur, Regis was expected to worship Aldones and the other gods.

  “When I was a humble monk,” Rinaldo said, his expression pensive, “I thought the highest calling was to bring men into the path of righteousness. As the years passed, I labored at the tasks set to me, but I never surrendered that hope. Now the blessed saints have placed the means within my power.

  “I intend—” Rinaldo’s voice dropped dramatically, “—to grant full equality to every cristoforoin the Domains. I wish to see the true faith raised up in law and in respect. No longer will we gather in dark, cold, remote places but here in the cities, where our message can be heard by multitudes.”

  “Your sincerity is admirable,” Regis said, since Rinaldo expected a response and there seemed no hope of a serious discussion of Federation membership at this time.

  “I knew you would be sympathetic! You see, I cannot do this alone. Valdir has no interest in matters of the spirit, and DomnaLawton, for all her inspired insight, is a woman and an off-worlder, not one of us. I need yourhelp and advice.”

  Regis could not think of what to say. The room, once spacious and echoing, had shrunk, suddenly too narrow. He felt as if he were a wild beast being herded to the slaughtering pen. The cristoforofaith had always existed on the margins of Darkovan society, with its central establishment the remote monastery at Nevarsin. As far as Regis knew, there had never been any overt interference with its practice except that the sole heir to an estate could not be a celibate monk; but there was nothing to prevent any ordinary person from worshiping as he pleased.

  “I believe that each man must answer to his own conscience,” Regis said carefully. “At the same time, change comes slowly. One cannot reverse millennia of tradition in a single year. From the dawn of history, the Comyn have worshiped the Lord of Light.”

  According to legend, Aldones had fathered the first Hastur, progenitor of the Comyn. Nowadays, however, few people doubted the evidence that Darkover was a lost Terran colony.

  “Pah! Aldones!” Rinaldo’s mouth twisted in disgust. “Evanda of the springtime, Avarra the Dark Lady, and Zandru of the Seven Frozen Hells! They’re all nonsense, vile superstition!”

  “Sharra was not a superstition,” Regis said. “Nor was this.” He gestured to his hair, long enough to brush his shoulders. Behind his eyes rose the memory of being drenched in living light, of giving himself over to that power. Whether it had been the embodiment of Aldones or something else, he did not know. A single hour in its grip had turned his hair from red to pure, shimmering white.

  Rinaldo seemed not to have heard. “This is why we need the one true faith! For too long, ignorance and degrading practices have lured our people into wickedness. Every day, precious souls are lost to sin.
Thisis why I was brought from Nevarsin, why such power was given into my hands, not to use for my own pleasure or aggrandizement but for the salvation of our world!”

  He paused, visibly gathering himself. “Now we come to a subject I greatly regret, but I would be failing in my duty if I avoided it. Saying this gives me no pleasure, but . . . I have heard rumors. I did not believe them at first. It was impossible that my own brother should be accused of—of—” Wringing his hands, Rinaldo catapulted from his chair and began pacing.

  Regis swallowed hard. Keeping his voice calm, he asked, “Exactly what are you talking about?”

  “Your . . . relationship with . . . that man. Your paxman. And he a cristoforo!”

  Regis had hoped that his brother had understood their discussions on the acceptance of differences, whether of Rinaldo’s emmascacondition or the Comyn tolerance of donas amizubetween men. True, Regis and Danilo had always maintained a modicum of discretion. They did not share a bed while staying in public accommodations or at Syrtis. Was Rinaldo so oblivious he had not noticed the bond between them? Or did he, lacking laran,think it no more than the loyalty of lord and paxman?

  Or did Rinaldo’s religious training render him blind to what he could not accept?

  “Do you wish me to address these rumors?” Regis asked. “Think for a moment. Do you really want to hear the truth?”

  Rinaldo glanced away, his jaw clenching so that the muscles leaped into stark relief. “These accusations cannot be true, or if they are . . . You must have been deceived, misled, s-sed—” His mouth worked, as if he could not bring himself to pronounce the word seduced. “You did not know what you were doing.”

  “I beg to differ. I knew exactlywhat I was doing. What I wanted. WhoI wanted. In all the years since I gave my oath to Danilo and he gave his to me, I have never had a moment’s regret.”

  Regis paused to let the words sink in and was met by tight- faced silence.

  “I know that this is difficult for you to accept,” Regis went on, “having lived your life according to the cristoforofaith. I am not ignorant of the prohibitions against . . .” out of consideration for Rinaldo’s obvious distress, he tempered his words, “against certain relationships. We’ve talked about this a number of times. Among the Comyn, as I have told you, these feelings are not judged sinful. Such a bond between men too young to marry is considered far more suitable than frequenting women who are common to all—”

  “Stop!” Rinaldo cried. “Do not speak of such things!”

  Regis regrouped his thoughts. “Perhaps later, when we know one another better, I can find words to make this truth less . . . offensive to you.”

  “You—you would make such a sin an acceptable topic of conversation?”

  “Rinaldo,” Regis said as gently as he could, “St. Valentine was a holy man, but in this matter, he was either ignorant or just plain wrong. Each of us, men and women, love in the way the gods shaped our nature. The only sin, as I see it, is pretending what we do not feel.” Or hiding, even from ourselves, what we do feel.

  “No, no, I will not listen to such blasphemy!” Rinaldo threw himself back into his chair and glared at Regis. Regis wondered if he would be allowed to leave without giving some sort of pledge, one he had no intention or ability to keep.

  “How do you propose to save me? Will you lecture me until I say what you want? Or send me back to St. Valentine’s? Three years among the monks could not alter what I am, and I was a boy then. Now I am a man and know myself. A hundred years of sermons will make no difference.”

  “No, no, you misunderstand me!” Rinaldo exclaimed, his tone shifting like quicksilver. “I spoke from brotherly love, out of my desire to free you from sin. Virtue cannot be coerced. For all my zeal, I would not see you mistreated or shamed. What would that accomplish except to harden your resistance? I do not believe you a vicious man at heart. I myself have experienced your generosity.”

  And this is how you repay me?Regis clenched his fists at his sides.

  “You have been led astray, polluted by the loose morals of your upbringing, the victim of a decadent society. I must—I willsave you from such evil impulses!”

  Something inside Regis snapped. He launched himself to his feet. “You and your ally have extorted my cooperation only by the most cowardly and dishonorable threats against those I hold dear. You have my place—you are Lord Hastur now. Do what you like, I will not challenge you, so let this be an end to squabbling. There is no further need to hold anyone prisoner. Release the last hostage, and let us be quit of one another.”

  “The last one . . . that is the problem, is it not?” Rinaldo’s voice turned silky. “How can I permit you, my dearest brother, to plunge back into a life of perversion?”

  “This is ridiculous! You have no authority over my private life!”

  “Please sit down. I truly do not mean you ill. In fact, I have every intention of freeing Danilo Syrtis.” At an incredulous look from Regis, he added mildly, “I assure you, I have the power to do so.”

  Wrestling his temper under control, Regis lowered himself back into the chair. If what Rinaldo said was true, if he could restore Danilo’s liberty, then what would be the price?

  “I am sorry for my heated words,” Regis said. “I . . . misunderstood you.”

  “It is a difficult situation, and no man relishes being powerless. Listen to me, Regis. I may not know everything about the niceties of court etiquette, but I do know the nature of men and how hearts may be reformed. You are correct, we do not choose the impulses that arise within us, but we candecide whether and how to act upon them. I myself have done penance many times for my wayward thoughts. I prayed I might overcome the weakness of my flesh, but now I see that I was made as other men for a reason, that someday I might enjoy the blessed delights of marriage.”

  As Regis tried to formulate an appropriate response, Rinaldo waved him to silence.

  “I am willing to release your paxman, but only if I can be assured that neither of you will return to your former ways. As a sign of submission to the true moral precepts of the cristoforofaith, you must give up your abhorrent and unnatural practices. Even your own people consider them scandalous.”

  Regis held his tongue. How dared Rinaldo lecture him on what his own peoplethought? It was better to say nothing. The important thing was to agree, as long as that did not require an outright lie.

  “Proximity and habit create a powerful temptation,” Rinaldo continued. “Therefore, I am not willing to send him back into your service. He will join mine.”

  “What does Danilo say? Does he consent?”

  “He will if you command him. There will be no negotiation or compromise on this point.”

  Regis forced himself to breathe. “Then I can see him? Speak with him?”

  Rinaldo nodded. “You may, but only with witnesses present and in a decorous manner. Habits take time to reform, but it is not impossible.”

  “If I must agree in order to see him free and unharmed, then I will give him up. That is the condition, then?”

  “One of them.”

  Regis felt his heart sink.

  “In order to effect a true rehabilitation, you must focus your affections on a more appropriate person. I am not so naive to think a man such as yourself can be celibate. Therefore, you must marry decently. You must take a wife.”

  With great effort, Regis kept himself from laughing. Did Rinaldo mean to accomplish what Danvan Hastur himself had failed to do? Yes, he did. And he wielded the only leverage that would force Regis to it. Danvan Hastur had never threatened Danilo’s freedom . . . or his life.

  The pause in the conversation had drawn on overlong. Savagely, Regis said, “What does DomValdir think about this arrangement?”

  “I assured him that you will be cooperative, little brother, as I am certain you will. There is no need to be brutish, but the truth is that otherwise, your paxman might not continue to ah . . . prosper.” Rinaldo’s lips stretched into a smile, one that did not
change the hardness in his eyes. “I cannot guarantee what may befall Danilo Syrtis should he remain in present custody. Valdir Ridenow’s threat to hang him was not an empty one.”

  A feeling of helplessness swept through Regis, so intense he thought he would choke on it. Finally he managed to speak.

  “Rinaldo, Grandfather tried for years to induce me to marry. I am not indifferent to women. As all the world knows, I have done my duty in producing sons and daughters for Hastur. Unfortunately, almost all died or were killed by the World Wreckers assassins. In the end, it seemed wrong to continue to father babes with such a fate. But I tell you now what I told him then: I will not marry a woman I cannot love.”

  “Love? Love comes after marriage more often than not. When it comes before, the illusion of happiness ends when lust burns itself out,” Rinaldo commented with a faintly lascivious glint in his eyes. “Do you seriously mean that you have nevermet a woman you could marry?”

  A quick retort rose up, but Regis knew it for a lie. He could say nothing, and that would also be untrue. “I have, and I have asked her to marry me. She refused.”

  Rinaldo’s expression wavered between surprise and triumph. “You said nothing of this before.”

  “Should I have offered her to Valdir’s ruffians as another hostage? Even if I no longer cared for her, I would not do such a thing.”

  Regis prayed that he had not made a colossal blunder in revealing Linnea’s existence. Now the only way to ensure her continued safety was to change her mind, and that was as poor a way to begin a marriage as any he could imagine.

  “You must ask her again,” Rinaldo said, clearly pleased. “You must be persuasive. You must woo her.”

  Regis shook his head. “That would only jeopardize what good will remains between us.”