Hastur Lord d-23

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Then came the pivotal point: If Lord Rinaldo would consent to a simple genetic test, a comparison of his DNA with that of Regis Hastur, his authenticity could be verified. The message concluded with formulaic protestations of sincerity.

  Danilo stared at the letter. Not in his wildest dreams could he imagine such a strategy for delaying action on Federation membership. Regis must have had something to do with it.

  “Well?” Rinaldo demanded. “Is this an affront or just plain foolery?”

  Danilo collected his thoughts. “These Terrananhave strange notions about honor, but I do not believe this was meant to give offense.” He generated an approximation of a tolerant sigh. “If you intend to represent the Domain of Hastur in any official capacity, you must comply with their requirements, however petty. Of course, there is no need for you to do so for domestic purposes. No one will dispute your legitimacy, not after Lord Regis has declared it so. But—” this time, with an careless lift of his shoulders, “—the off-worlders know little of civilized politics.”

  Rinaldo took the letter and read it over. “This implies that my brother will be obliged to submit to the same procedure.”

  “Yes, that does seem to be the case. I believe it would be possible for Terran Medical to send a technician to collect the samples if it is not convenient for you to go to them.” Danilo did not add that, with a little finesse, the process of setting up those appointments might stretch out for some time.

  Rinaldo agreed, as much for the purpose of exercising his power over Regis as satisfying the Legate’s certification requirements. The cadet was dispatched back to Federation Headquarters with the reply.

  Summer passed its height, and the days began to grow noticeably shorter. Many of the Comyn who had journeyed to Thendara for the seasonal festivities prepared to return home while the weather was still good.

  Danilo attended Rinaldo in a small sitting room overlooking one of the inner courtyards of the Castle. He stood at his ease a respectful distance from where Rinaldo sat, a book of prayers open on a table. Late afternoon sun cast slanting crimson-tinged shadows across the dwarfed trees that even now intimated the coming brilliance of autumn.

  Rinaldo directed the conversation to his own role in extricating Danilo from Valdir’s clutches. “Indeed, I was the one who convinced the Ridenow to release you, over many protests.”

  An expression of thanks seemed to be called for, so Danilo murmured, “I am grateful, vai dom.”

  “ DomValdir made it clear that your continued freedom is contingent upon your good behavior.” Rinaldo stared meaningfully at Danilo, expecting a response.

  “What would he,” or you, more like,“consider ‘good behavior’?” Rinaldo gestured with one long- fingered hand. “You should know. To make no trouble, especially not to conspire with Regis Hastur—”

  For all his outward calm, Danilo shivered inside. He had thought himself past hurting, past hoping.

  Never to speak with him, to walk with him, to touch him . . .

  “—in any manner,” Rinaldo went on as if the world had not just shuddered on its axis. “Those are Valdir’s demands. As for my own: to serve me loyally and honestly, as you have. To comport yourself in a morally correct and responsible manner . . . particularly in regard to the faith in which you were raised.”

  Regis! It always comes to Regis!

  And then, in a rush of self-loathing: I wish I had died before I ever met him!

  Rinaldo had gone on, in that gently persuasive voice, “It has troubled me greatly that you and my brother share this . . . sinful practice.” He sighed as might a parent over the disobedience of a beloved child. “I have done what I can to save Regis. He has fulfilled my expectations in turning away from—in changing his course to a more righteous path.”

  Could the truth be any plainer? Regis had abandoned everything they had shared, the love, the passion, the bonds of lord and paxman. What was it these women—Linnea in particular—offered Regis that he, Danilo, could not? Was it merely the ability to bear his children? Or was there something deeper, more fundamental? A flaw or shortcoming in himself?

  “I expect some sign of repentance from you as well,” Rinaldo said. “If not now, then soon.”

  Overcome, Danilo bowed his head.

  Rinaldo appeared to take the gesture as assent. “As for myself, I can hardly expect my own people to follow where I do not lead.”

  Danilo lifted his head. “I’m sorry, vai dom. I was pondering what you just said, and I failed to grasp your meaning.”

  “Yes, that’s understandable.” Rinaldo smiled. “Speaking plainly, I too must marry. I admit, it is a circumstance I never considered in all my years at St. Valentine’s. I never anticipated the bliss of the nuptial bed. But my vows no longer bar me from earthly unions, and I must set a virtuous example. Valdir agrees and has suggested a woman from his own Domain. I had considered another candidate, but that did not work out. So a Ridenow bride it will be. That is where you come in.”

  Danilo felt as if his head were spinning so fast, it might fly off his body at any moment. That a former monk might wish to marry was understandable, but one who was also emmasca? Danilo could not wrap his thoughts around the notion. Rinaldo appeared to respond to feminine allure, so perhaps he could function sexually as a male.

  “Excuse me again, my lord. You are to wed one of the Ridenow ladies? Then I wish you joy. But what has it to do with me?” Do you expect me to court her for you?

  Rinaldo’s expression turned dour. He settled his hands in his lap, clasping his fingers so tightly his knuckles whitened. “I do not altogether trust the Ridenow, so I wish you to escort my bride hither.”

  “Are you sure that is wise, my lord? Should any harm come to the lady while she is in my keeping, I could never prove that it was not my doing.”

  Rinaldo unbent enough to make a scoffing noise. “That is exactly the point. I count on you to make certain nothing happens to her. I have another, even greater reason. Although you have previously shown some lapse of moral judgment, to my knowledge it has involved only other men. You are cristoforo, and my bride is not. Therefore I would have you school her in our faith and take her measure for me, since I do not believe I have received a true report of her character from her kinsman.”

  Danilo could not decide whether he was more appalled or incredulous at Rinaldo’s simplicity. Valdir Ridenow meant to use this poor girl and the resulting obligations of kinship to bind Rinaldo even more tightly under his control.

  But who, Danilo wondered, was the greater fool—Rinaldo for walking into the trap? Valdir for thinking that marriage to a woman of his Domain could keep Rinaldo from pursuing his own goals? Or he himself, for having anything to do with it?

  When Danilo hesitated, Rinaldo pressed his point. His tone was smooth yet implacable. “A cristoforoshould never deny such a request of another, not when there is an opportunity to bring an innocent into the true faith.”

  Danilo recognized the futility of argument. He knew Rinaldo well enough to be quite certain that in matters of faith, he was unshakable.

  Danilo sensed no duplicity in Rinaldo’s request; he did not think he was being set up as a scapegoat. He would simply have to make sure that the lady arrived in Thendara as happy as might be expected.

  Danilo bowed a shade more deeply than was necessary. “Para servirte, vai dom,”he said, using the formal castaphrase. “I am at your service. I will undertake to ensure the lady is treated with respect and that every possible comfort is provided for her along the trail. The best way to accomplish this is to hire Renunciate trail guides.”

  “Renunciates?” Rinaldo scowled. “Ah, you mean those disreputable women called Free Amazons. I hear they wear men’s clothing and reject their proper roles as wife and mother. I hardly think they are suitable attendants.”

  “Very well, but I will be hard-pressed to find men who are as capable of seeing to a lady’s comfort and privacy, not to mention her safety.”

  “Her—sa
fety. Yes, yes, that’s a thought.” Rinaldo looked torn between disapproval of women who lived outside social convention and distrust of men apt to act on their baser impulses.

  “Many noble families employ Renunciates, especially when their wives and daughters must travel without kinsmen,” Danilo explained. “Renunciates are skilled fighters and understand as only women can the needs of a gently reared damisela. In their care, no insult would come to your intended bride.”

  “You have offered your advice, and I am minded to heed it.” Rinaldo held out a purse. Judging by its weight, Danilo could buy a small village. “The travel arrangements I will leave up to you.”

  “If you have no further need of me, I will take my leave,” Danilo said. “There is still daylight enough to begin preparations. If possible, we must begin our return journey before snow blocks the passes.”

  The woman at the gate of the Thendara House of the Guild of Renunciates eyed Danilo without the slightest trace of friendliness as he explained that he wished to hire guides and a protective escort for a young woman traveling from Serrais. It puzzled Danilo that Valdir had not made arrangements for the journey, since there were surely kinsmen to provide her escort.

  Although the hour was late, one of the Guild Mothers met with him in the Strangers Room. The old woman, her face seamed with decades of working outdoors, asked Danilo a string of penetrating questions. He made no effort to prevaricate; he carried out his lord’s wishes, not his own. He did not know the lady’s name or if she had consented to the marriage. Rinaldo Hastur meant his bride no harm and would treat her with kindness if not understanding. This satisfied the old Renunciate. After a little more negotiation and questions about the desired degree of comfort and warnings about the hazards of traveling so close to winter, she named a fee. Danilo thought it high, but considering the weather and the need for security, he decided it was more than reasonable. The Renunciates would be ready in three days, an unusually short time.

  Danilo spent the three days gathering what intelligence he could. The markets and taverns buzzed with the recent political changes. Popular sentiment ran strongly in favor of Regis. Although Danilo had expected difficulty in hearing the name spoken aloud, the news lifted his spirits. Regis had been more to him than liege and lover; even stripped of former rank, the name of Regis Hastur continued to inspire hope. A chilling thought came to Danilo, wondering what might befall Darkover if something happened to Regis. Regis would live a long time, wouldn’t he?

  But what if—what if Regis died with this estrangement still between them? What if the times Danilo had avoided speaking with Regis were the last chance he would ever have?

  With this thought heavy on his heart, Danilo departed for the Ridenow seat at Serrais.

  23

  Under the expert care of the Renunciate guides, the journey to Serrais was unexpectedly easy. The snowfall was light, far less than a winter storm, and they had come well provisioned and warmly garbed.

  The head guide was a lanky, flat-chested woman with graying red hair named Darilyn n’ha Miriam. She furnished Danilo with a fur blanket as if he were a delicate Lowlands lordling. Danilo had traveled under much rougher conditions, but he accepted the blanket. He did his best not to stare at Darilyn, which would have been offensive to any woman and especially to a Free Amazon. She had a touch of laran,enough to increase her sensitivity to such attentions, and had the physical appearance of one who had been surgically neutered. Danilo had heard of the illegal operation but had never before met anyone who had undergone it. He wondered what had driven her to such a desperate measure and found the answer within himself. Here he was, preparing to bring back a wife for his lord as if the girl were no more than a sack of root vegetables without any voice in the matter. If a woman could sense a man’s lustful thoughts and her husband—or father or a stranger on the road—cared nothing for her happiness, what choice did she have?

  At least, he thought, Regis had offered the women who had come to him no false promises or seductions. He had been kind because that was his nature, and he was considerate of their pleasure, from all appearances.

  Danilo had anticipated a long journey, and he was not disappointed. The Ridenow estates lay on the very edge of their Domain on an upland plateau adjoining the Plains of Valeron and very close to Dry Towns territory. The current Ridenow line descended from both the original Comyn family of that name and Dry Towns bandits who, after taking control of the lands, abandoned their own heritage and intermarried with the surviving heirs. Although many generations had passed and some doubted the story, the Ridenow were still held in suspicion in many quarters. Valdir was undoubtedly the least popular Ridenow in modern times. Time would reveal what sort of man young Francisco would become under Valdir’s tutelage.

  Danilo and his party arrived during a snow flurry, so he caught only glimpses of the great house. As he passed through the outer gates, he received the impression of a fortress, not a home. As they entered the courtyard, servants and horseboys came running to take charge of animals and baggage. Danilo was accustomed to caring for his own mount on the trail, as were the Renunciates. One of the servants, an understeward, urged them all to come inside the great house, but Darilyn declined, saying she and her women would sleep in the stables. Danilo wished he might join them, for an evening of quiet fellowship sounded much preferable to ostentatious luxury amid uncertainty and tension.

  Danilo was shown to quarters sumptuous with off-world luxuries. This was not surprising, for Lerrys and Geremy Ridenow, brothers to Lew’s second wife, Diotima, had been in the forefront of the craze for all things Terran. Moving about the room, touching the costly, exotic ornaments, Danilo wondered at Valdir’s rise to power. How very convenient that every other male claimant to the Domain had chosen exile or died, either by assassination, like Lord Edric, or from mysterious causes.

  Regis would have had something to say about that.

  Danilo paused in his preparations for dinner. He had been so caught up in feeling abandoned, he had not considered all the aspects of his relationship with Regis. They had been lovers, but that had come later. First they had been fellow cadets. Then, very quickly and under terrible stress, they had pledged themselves as lord and paxman. When had his heart truly opened to Regis? Did it matter? Over the following years, they had defended one another, argued, debated, confided, advised, consoled . . . If it was true that he would have given his life to save Regis, it was also true that Regis would have done the same for him.

  They had been friends in the deepest and truest sense.

  Danilo shivered, as if the season had just turned inside out. Was he willing to throw all that away because current circumstances divided them? Was he so insecure that he still feared being displaced by a woman? Should a man like Regis, bearing as he did so much responsibility, making so many sacrifices, being so set apart, have only onefriend, onecouncillor, oneperson who loved him for himself?

  Sitting in the shadows of the elaborate hangings, Danilo forced himself to acknowledge the truth. He had never been pleased with any of the women Regis had slept with over the years, but he had been able to set his anxieties aside and believe that Regis did not “have love affairs” with them.

  But Linnea . . . Linnea was different.

  I have done them—a nd myself—n o honor in this.

  Had the world gone otherwise, had Regis not been born Heir to Hastur and therefore under constant pressure to produce sons, would things have been different? Even then, Danilo told himself savagely, there would have been other people who loved Regis. How could they not?

  But not as I have. Not as I do.

  Not as he loves me.

  Was it too late? Had he lost everything they shared because of one difficulty?

  A tap at the door roused him. A servant came to summon him for dinner. Danilo finished making himself presentable.

  A small group of men and women, most with the flaxen hair and distinctive features of the Ridenow, stood talking in the near end of the
hall. DomValdir was not in attendance, being back at Thendara, but Francisco came forward to greet Danilo. Francisco, although more confident in his own home, looked younger and less arrogant. Danilo wondered how much of what he had seen in Thendara had been Valdir’s influence.

  “ DomDanilo Syrtis-Ardais,” Francisco said, with a friendly smile, “allow me to present my cousin, DamiselaBettany Sabrina-Ysabet Ridenow.”

  A young woman stepped forward and curtsied. In her brocade gown, her flaxen hair arranged in ringlets over her shoulders, she looked very young. A second glance showed her to be well grown but excessively thin. The vacuous expression in her eyes contrasted with a hint of stubbornness in her mouth and chin.

  “S’dia shaya,”she said, her eyes lowered.

  Danilo bowed and returned the appropriate greeting. She hesitated as if unsure what to do next. He said, meaning only kindness, “I am paxman to Lord Hastur, and he has sent me here to escort you to Thendara for your wedding and to prepare you as best I can for your new life.”

  “But why did he not come for me himself?”

  Francisco looked aghast. “We have explained that to you, chiya.Please excuse my cousin, DomDanilo, she is—this is all very new to her.”

  “So I see,” Danilo replied dryly. Poor Rinaldo,he couldn’t help thinking as Francisco led her away to the table. Was the girl simple or merely ignorant and ill-mannered?

  The dinner itself was small for the occasion, for the Ridenow, like other great houses of the Comyn, were much reduced in numbers. About a third of the guests were neighbors, holders of small estates, and clearly excited to be invited.