Hastur Lord d-23

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Regis had not gone very far into Thendara, heading toward the townhouse, when he heard a man addressing the passing traffic. He nudged the dun through the pedestrians to the corner where the speaker stood on a platform. The reaction of the listeners ranged from acceptance to outrage, with much muttering.

  At first, Regis could not make out the words that dismayed so many. When those nearest the platform moved off, he was able to get close enough to hear clearly. He recognized the speaker as a Guardsman who had once performed similar duties for the Comyn Council; now the man wore Hastur livery with a baldric bearing several glittering badges.

  “Hear ye! Hear ye! Know all those present, by the order of His Majesty, King Rinaldo Felix-Valentine, that as of this day, no man shall hinder the free practice of the cristoforofaith . . . Hear ye! Hear ye! Know all those present . . .”

  Rinaldo . . . King?

  Had the entire world taken leave of its senses?

  Regis urged the dun through the swirling crowd. The horse, startled by the determination of its rider, lunged forward. Pedestrians scattered. A woman hissed a curse as she snatched her toddler out of the horse’s path.

  Once free of the crowd, Regis kicked the dun into a hard gallop. Its hooves clattered on the paving stones. The saddlebags flapped like leather wings against its flanks.

  The gelding slid to a halt in front of the town house. Regis jumped to the ground and shoved the reins into the hands of the startled groom.

  “Lord Regis, what—”

  Regis was already racing to the house. He scrambled up the steps and through the front door.

  “Linnea!” he shouted with all the breath left in him.

  Everything in the foyer looked as should, with no sign of forced entry.

  Linnea!

  He darted into the sun-lit parlor where she liked to nurse the baby.

  Empty—

  Heart pounding, he started toward the stairs. A slight, feminine shape appeared along the shadowed corridor. His heart lifted, but it was Merilys who stood there.

  “My wife—” Regis grabbed the girl by the shoulders as if he could shake the answers from her. “Is she—my son—”

  Cario , I am here.

  Linnea emerged from her own bedroom, a shawl in disarray around her shoulders, little Dani in her arms. His face was flushed with sleep, one cheek reddened where he had pressed himself against her breast. A bubble of milk gleamed at one corner of his tiny mouth.

  Regis could not speak. It was enough to breathe.

  With a glance that said, We will discuss things privately,Linnea summoned the coridom.The steward arrived a moment later. Linnea excused herself while Regis was giving instructions for the servants to be properly cautioned not to comment on their master’s unorthodox appearance and sudden return.

  Linnea came back without the baby a moment later, her dress and hair impeccable. Merilys carried a breakfast tray into the parlor, tidied the hearth, and then departed with a curtsy.

  The moment the door closed behind the servant, Regis caught Linnea in his arms. Her body felt brittle with unvoiced questions.

  “Stelli is safe,” he murmured, “and will remain so as long as the Red Sun rises.”

  Her muscles softened, and she let out a deep breath.

  “But you—I should never have left you here!” he cried.

  Linnea’s gray eyes darkened. “Where would you have me go? Not to High Windward, not traveling with a baby this early in spring. The roads would be barely passable for the hardiest traveler, let alone a woman with an infant.”

  She had a point. High Windward was no longer a fortified strong-hold, and even when it had been, it had fallen to a determined assault. Linnea would not risk so many other lives by seeking sanctuary there. Once Rinaldo realized she had fled, it would be the first place he would send for her.

  Only one place on Darkover was truly immune from either royal command or military assault.

  Now Linnea shook her head with a firmness Regis had come to recognize. “I will not endanger my friends by bringing them into this quarrel. Since the Ages of Chaos, the Towers have remained neutral. They must continue to do so. Let us speak no more of this. I will remain here, at your side.”

  She set about pouring the jaco.“From the uproar of your return, I gather you heard the news.”

  Regis took a cup and lowered himself to the divan. She sat down beside him.

  “When I first heard, and that was rumor only,” he said, “I thought it must be some halfwit who’s been hiding out in the back corridors of Castle Elhalyn all these years, now seized with delusions of royal glory. It didn’t occur to me it might be Rinaldo. What was my brother thinking, to get himself crowned? The monks at Nevarsin never preached royal ambition.”

  “They were quick enough to promote the notion of a cristoforoking,” Linnea said darkly. “Some of Rinaldo’s new ‘councillors’ produced historical records that the Hasturs had once held the throne.”

  Regis felt a sudden, heavy tension in his jaw muscles. “Of course, no Elhalyn candidate came forth to protest.”

  “This isn’t an usurpation in the strict legal sense. Rinaldo took the matter to a senior judge of the Cortes, who ruled that he has a legitimate claim.”

  “The same judge, no doubt, who presided at the crowning.”

  Linnea raised one slender eyebrow. “Along with every Comyn in the city . . . except you.”

  Regis had hoped his absence might have gone unnoticed. He had not planned on missing such a public event.

  “Of course,” Linnea said, “we were both expected to attend the ceremony. I cannot tell you how tempted I was! In the end, though, we both declined with regrets.”

  “Hmmm. How did you manage that?”

  A smile twinkled behind her eyes. “With dexterous diplomacy, worthy of the most convoluted Tower politics. A touch of milk-fever required my seclusion and your attendance on me. The refusal was remarked, of course. For several days, I expected a summons for you to present yourself and explain.”

  “But none came?”

  She shrugged. “It seemed my subterfuge had been successful, or Rinaldo was so occupied with his own concerns that other things took precedence.”

  “My brother would not overlook my refusal to witness his coronation and thereby endorse it. Another Comyn would use such a lapse as grounds for a blood feud.”

  “Rinaldo was . . . annoyed. Disappointed. Furious. Incredulous. Concerned. All in turn, and no reaction lasting very long. Still, you should tread lightly.”

  “That is, until this mockery of a kingship has been nullified and things put to rights.”

  Linnea got up and moved restlessly about the brightly lit chamber. She seemed a fey, wild creature, and Regis realized that he did not know her well. They had had a few brief, intense encounters and a short span of married life, little more.

  “Just because Rinaldo’s coronation was hasty and unexpected does not mean it can be easily undone,” she remarked. “Unless he himself chooses to abdicate, he is King of the Domains. Or would you set aside law and tradition because the particular personalities do not meet with your approval?”

  She was right. He must not waste time and resources on the colossal anachronism of a king in this age. He must try to understand Rinaldo’s intentions, reason with him, and guide him. And if he could not . . .

  Regis surged to his feet and strode to the window. He looked over the walls to the city beyond. “What about my brother’s court? Who has replaced Gabriel as Guards Commander?”

  “At first, it was to be Haldred Ridenow, but at the last minute, Rinaldo changed his mind and appointed Bertram Monterey.”

  “I don’t know him.”

  “He’s only a junior officer, but he is a devoted cristoforoand absolutely loyal to Rinaldo.”

  “How is Gabriel taking all this? And my sister?”

  “Javanne expected you to storm the Castle and rescue her daughter, and when you didn’t . . .” Linnea winced.

  M
y poor sister, to have lost two children. First Mikhail to me as my heir, then Ariel . . .“Do you now fault me for seeing to Stelli’s safety first?”

  “I have not changed my mind. You did the only thing you could, no matter how disappointed Javanne might be.”

  “I suppose you will now remind me of the impossibility of eating nuts without breaking their shells.” Regis could not mask the anguish in his voice.

  Linnea’s brows drew together, troubled but resolute. “If it had been Stelli instead of Ariel in Rinaldo’s clutches, I might feeldifferently, but I would thinkthe same.”

  “I wish my sister had your strength of mind. I fear she will never forgive me for betraying the bonds of our kinship.”

  I have lost Danilo and my brother, and now Javanne as well . . .

  “There is an even greater reason for me to remain here, despite the risk,” Linnea said with quiet intensity. “Regis, you act as if the weight of the world rested on you alone.”

  “The failure is mine,” he said stubbornly. “So must the remedy be.”

  Linnea regarded him with that deep, searching gaze, but she made no attempt to breach the fragile shell of his isolation.

  A heartbeat later, he had gathered himself. “Given what you just told me, I must waste no more time in dealing with my brother.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Try to reason with him, certainly. He must be brought to see this concentration of power cannot be good for Darkover.”

  “And if he will not listen to you? What then?”

  “I will fly that hawk when his pinions are grown,” Regis retorted. “Do you mean to cripple me with prophecies of failure?”

  She sighed but did not argue further.

  Regis went to make himself presentable for a visit to the Castle. He did not know what awaited him or what arguments or actions he might be forced to take. If Rinaldo would not listen to reason, what then?

  What then?

  30

  By the time Regis arrived at Comyn Castle, he had acquired an escort of three off-duty City Guardsmen, all seasoned officers. The sincerity with which they offered him their service as an honor guard bespoke their hope that now all things would be put right. Eventually, Regis would need a paxman, and Gabriel might be willing, but in the urgency of the moment, these volunteers provided the necessary security.

  The three Guardsmen sliced through knots of pedestrians. Even the occasional rider steered clear, so they made much better time than Regis could have on his own.

  They passed the outer gates of Comyn Castle and entered an open-air courtyard. In summer, the garden would be a haven of flowers and arching green branches. Now the benches were rain- wet, and the buds of the branches had only begun to open. The place seemed to be holding its breath.

  The three Guardsmen who had attached themselves to Regis, although none had been on active duty since the coronation, were well informed. At this hour Rinaldo was within the Castle, not visiting one of the many new cristoforoshrines about the city. The new king held court daily in the same elegant hall used for his wedding, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom.

  Regis would have preferred a private place where each might speak in confidence, most likely the study that Regis still though of as his grandfather’s. He had not anticipated the effect of Rinaldo’s newly royal status.

  A pair of Castle Guards stood at attention outside the Grand Ballroom. They looked barely more than cadets, and they offered no objection as their senior officers escorted Regis through.

  The hall had been newly furbished with hangings and carpets. Paintings and sculptures of various cristoforoholy images, many of them gilded or bejeweled, dotted the walls. Between these religious objects and tapestries that looked as if they had recently been dragged from the Castle storage rooms, there was hardly an inch of bare wall. Regis, who had never cared for ornate embellishments, felt as if the true beauty of the place, the stones so beautifully cut and placed, and the panels of translucent blue, had been crusted over and obscured.

  Regis drew himself up. The decoration was trivial, although it revealed much about the man who had ordered it. He must not allow it to distract him from his own purpose.

  With his escort on each side and behind him, Regis marched down the central aisle. Onlookers stared as he passed. The faint, rankling buzz of a telepathic damper blurred his laransenses.

  A dais had been erected at the far end. Rinaldo occupied the massive carved chair used by Danvan Hastur when he presided over meetings of the Comyn Council. In fact, Regis realized, the configuration of the room approximated that of the Crystal Chamber. The arrangement of the seating formed a roughly octagonal shape, angled toward the throne. Rinaldo seemed to be saying, As the Comyn once ruled the Domains, I do now.

  The assembly drew back as Regis approached. He knew some of them, city dignitaries, members of the Telepath Council, and a few minor Comyn. All were formally dressed, and many looked pleased with themselves.

  Rinaldo’s courtiers are showing off, vying for power and royal favor,Regis thought with disgust. Here and there, he heard whispers and expressions of surprise.

  Ignoring several attempts at greeting, Regis drew near the dais. Rinaldo was wearing a long robe in Hastur colors, the fir tree embroidered in silver thread. His belt and ornamental chain were of gleaming copper. A crown perched on his head, bright with Ardcarran rubies and sapphires. Danilo stood in the proper position of a paxman, features waxen, mouth set. His eyes came to life when he saw Regis, but he gave no other sign of recognition.

  A man in a suit of opulent bronze brocade knelt at Rinaldo’s feet, hands placed in the attitude of a vassal pledging his loyalty. Rinaldo bent forward, his face intent. A cristoforopriest, who had been standing beside the dais, came forward.

  Regis slowed his pace. The ceremony was akin to that used among the Comyn from ancient times. Regis himself had, at various occasions, both given and accepted oaths in just this fashion, but never with the participation of a priest . . .

  The meaning of the ritual became evident a moment later: The new vassal had just publicly converted to the cristoforofaith. Regis set his jaw to suppress a shudder. In Darkover’s long past, kings and re-gents and Comyn lords had demanded—and received—fidelity of word and deed, even unto death. A man’s religious beliefs were matters for his own conscience. They had never been the price of royal patronage.

  The ceremony concluded as Regis reached the dais. Rinaldo’s head jerked up, his expression momentarily unreadable. The newly sworn liegeman withdrew with alacrity.

  Regis schooled his features into a pleasant smile and bowed. He lowered himself to the exact degree due to a kinsman of slightly higher rank. It was the salutation of a Comyn lord to the Head of his Domain, nothing more. How easily such niceties came to him, but, then, he had been drilled in the intricacies of Comyn politics since the time he could walk. If the nuances were lost on Rinaldo, they would be obvious to those few Comyn present.

  “Regis! Brother!” Rinaldo exclaimed. “Where have you—I mean—we bid you welcome!”

  Regis permitted himself an answering smile. “It gladdens my heart to see you well, my brother. Or should I say, Your Majesty?”

  “It seems we have much to say to one another.”

  “Then we had best do so privately.”

  Rinaldo surged to his feet and raised his voice, addressing the assembly. “No more for today! Out, all of you!” As he strode out the door behind the dais, he barely managed to avoid knocking over the startled priest. Danilo followed closely, as a paxman should. Regis thought he saw a fleeting smile lighten Danilo’s mouth.

  Rinaldo rushed along the Castle corridors at such a pace that Regis did not catch up with him and Danilo until they halted outside the study door.

  “You’re not needed,” Rinaldo snarled at Danilo.

  “As you wish, vai dom,” Danilo bowed with impeccable grace and backed away.

  Rinaldo slammed the door and rounded on Regis. “What do you mean, disap
pearing without a word and then returning in such an ostentatious manner, interrupting my court?”

  Regis made sure his own voice was under steady control. “I should as soon ask you, my brother, what youmean by defying custom in claiming the throne no Hastur has wanted for generations. I might inquire whether you feel yourself more worthy than Grandfather,” or myself, for that matter,“or what sudden and overpowering need our people have for a king. But none of these questions will accomplish anything except to widen the rift between us.”

  “If there is a rift,” Rinaldo said tightly, “it is yourdoing. You promised to advise me, and then you vanished! My agents could not find you anywhere! Where did you go? With whom did you meet?”

  His eyes narrowed. “What exactly were you up to?”

  Regis had never before heard such naked hostility in his brother’s voice. “Let us sit down and discuss matters like civilized men.”

  Trying to appear more calm than he felt, Regis walked over to the two chairs before the hearth, thus drawing Rinaldo away from the desk. There was no point in placing such an imposing piece of furniture between them; it would only serve to heighten the antagonism.

  Rinaldo hesitated for a moment, then threw himself into one of the chairs. He was clearly angry at having lost the initiative.

  Regis moved into the breach. “I was attending to necessary family business, if you must know. Am I not free to do so? Or do you intend to take care of our entire Domain single-handedly?”

  When Rinaldo glared at him, Regis shifted to a more conciliatory tone. “You trust me enough to ask for my advice. Can you not trust me to handle my own affairs and fulfill my other responsibilities?”

  Rinaldo had the grace to look abashed. “I was wrong to be angry when I did not understand. I had thought—erroneously, I see—you would be by my side. Everyone said it was an insult that you did not attend my coronation.”

  “I am here now, and we have much to discuss. How did it come about that you are now king? What crisis required such a drastic step?”