Hastur Lord d-23

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  Make it right,Regis repeated silently. If only it were that simple.

  Regis went to the door, Danilo following like the shadow of a cloud-l eopard. “I hope,” Regis said, one hand upon the latch, “that when this is over, we will have the chance to talk. To really talk.”

  I do not have so many friends that I can afford to lose one needlessly.

  Silence answered him. It was too much to ask, and the gulf might never be bridged. That was a risk he must take, for there was no course of action left but to go on.

  The door closed behind him with a faint, decisive sound.

  35

  Regis arrived early at the Crystal Chamber. He and Danilo had planned to ride to the Castle, with Linnea traveling in a litter. She had refused, quite emphatically, and a horse had been furnished for her as well. Danilo had arranged for an armed escort, Gabriel and the three Guardsmen. With their stern faces and practical, unadorned blades, they presented a daunting sight. Pedestrians and riders alike drew back as they approached.

  Their passage did not go unmarked. The party had not gone far when a parade gathered in their wake. Followers cheered, “Lord Regis! Lord Regis!” Regis would have preferred a less conspicuous procession, but once he was recognized, there was no possibility of anonymity.

  They were the first to arrive, except for the Guardsmen stationed at the entrance. Nothing more had been seen of Tiphani Lawton, nor had Regis heard anything of Valdir Ridenow’s latest plans. In this atmosphere of shifting loyalties, anything was possible.

  Light streamed through the ceiling prisms to cast rainbows on the pale stone floor. The enclosures for the various Domains appeared untouched by the passing years. Aldaran would remain vacant, as it had for the last centuries. Rinaldo’s advisors would surely have informed him that as king, he was entitled to take the seat of Elhalyn. Yes, there hung the banner of that Domain, the same Hastur blue, the silver fir-tree crowned with the emblem of royalty. Danvan Hastur’s ornate presence-chair now occupied the front row of the Elhalyn box.

  While Danilo circled the Chamber, performing his usual security check, Linnea searched for any hidden larandevices such as a trap matrix and then set the telepathic dampers.

  The Comyn began to arrive, using their respective private entrances rather than the double doors through which Rinaldo would make his formal appearance. Draperies fluttered here and there at the back of the enclosures. Regis could not sense anything through the hum of the telepathic dampers, but for a moment, he received the distinct impression of someone lingering behind the curtains of the empty Aldaran box. The next moment, the fabric stilled, and he decided he was mistaken. It had been a stray current of air, nothing more.

  Regis looked around the room, noting among them Ruyven Di Asturien, an elderly Castamir lord, Francisco Ridenow resplendent in the gold and green of his Domain, and Kennard-Dyan Ardais with Mikhail at his back. Bettany was absent, but Regis would have been surprised to see her. She must be closeted away with her ladies, grieving for a child that had never existed. What would such a loss do to her?

  Gabriel sat in the Alton section, looking grim. Javanne, although as a Hastur she had the right to sit with Regis, had chosen to remain beside her husband. Likewise, Danilo could have claimed Domain-right for Ardais, but his oath and the bond he shared with Regis took precedence over status.

  Regis reflected, That is all any of us really wants—t o serve the ones we love.

  As the scattered audience settled, Mikhail flashed Regis a grin.

  Aldones Lord of Light, Blessed Cassilda, any god who is listening! Keep him safe—a nd Linnea, and Danilo. Keep them all safe on this day.

  Regis took his seat in the Hastur box, with Danilo behind him. As if they had been waiting for his signal, the others came to order. Conversation diminished into whispers and then silence. The Chamber seemed to be holding its breath.

  The doors swung open, and a Guardsman cried out in ringing tones, “His Majesty, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, First of that Name, Warden of Hastur and Sovereign of the Seven Domains!”

  As one, the greatly reduced assembly stood. All heads turned toward the doors. A procession entered the Chamber, led by a pair of Castle Guardsmen. Their formal uniforms, encrusted with badges and decorations, glittered in the multihued light. After them came Rinaldo’s council, including Valdir Ridenow, and finally Rinaldo himself.

  Rinaldo proceeded across the central area at a slow, stately pace. Regis thought his brother could hardly have moved briskly under the layers of fur and jewel-studded velvet and the thick, ruby-set copper chains. Rinaldo’s crown outshone the gold of the crown on the Elhalyn banner, which overlaid but could not obliterate the Hastur fir-tree.

  Permanedбl,ran the ancient motto of the Hasturs. I shall remain.

  Yes, my brother, I am still here.

  Rinaldo lowered himself into the carved and gilded presence-chair. He took a moment to arrange his lace-trimmed sleeves. An expression of satisfaction lighted his angular features.

  “Kinsmen, nobles, Comynarii, I bid you welcome.” Rinaldo pitched his voice to fill the Chamber. “Lord Valdir, will it please you to call the roll of the Domains?”

  So, Regis thought, Rinaldo been studying the ritual forms. Valdir was to be rewarded for his loyalty with a meaningless ceremonial privilege. As the Ridenow lord began the recitation, Regis reconsidered. Valdir was no fool, to be bought with an empty gesture. He was biding his time, watching for the right opportunity, and young Francisco was following his every move.

  On more than one occasion, the opening of a session had resulted in a challenge to the rightful holding of one or another of the Domains. This time, however, the roll call proceeded smoothly, marked only by the silences when there was no one present to respond.

  We are so few,Regis thought. How can I risk even one of us?Even if this day went as he hoped, what place would Rinaldo have in Thendara, with all the enemies he had made? Perhaps he might be content with a minor role at Castle Hastur, or he might prefer to retire to Nevarsin . . .

  Regis dared not think that far into the future. Anything might happen before tomorrow’s sunrise.

  When the roll call was done, one of Rinaldo’s aides handed him a prepared speech. In flowery legalistic phrases, he declared the Council valid only for this session and only to hear one complaint. He had, he stated, no intention of permanently reconvening it or investing it with any other authority.

  “My younger brother, whom you all know, has requested this audience. Since there is no other business at hand, I am now prepared to hear what he has to say. I hope—” and here Rinaldo cleared his throat, brows drawing together, “—the results will not constitute an abuse of anyone’s time.”

  Regis approached the railing of the Hastur partition and paused, one hand on the gate. The Chamber seemed immense. When he stepped onto the floor, the clatter of his boot heels was far too loud. Acutely aware of the intense interest of the audience, he lifted his chin, squared his shoulders, and faced his brother.

  “Know ye by all present,” he used the formal words, “that I, Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn, do declare you, Rinaldo Felix-Valentine Lanart-Hastur, unfit to rule the Domain of Hastur. How answer you?”

  Rinaldo half-rose in his chair, then regained his composure. He might be impulsive, and devout to the point of zealotry, but he was not a simpleton. He realized that an outburst would only strengthen the case against him.

  Muted exclamations rippled through the Chamber, as quickly hushed. Everyone wanted to hear what came next. Some of those present, old enough to have witnessed the intricate web that was the old Comyn politics, showed no surprise. Others startled, and one of the younger lords—Francisco Ridenow—gaped openly. No one present had been alive when Danvan Hastur had assumed the position of Regent for the incompetent King Stephen, but they had all grown up with the tale. No matter what the outcome of the challenge, history was unfolding before them.

  What Regis had notsaid, and what every Comyn un
derstood, except possibly Rinaldo himself, was that Rinaldo could claim the throne only as Head of Hastur, based on the preeminence of his Domain. Regis, on the other hand, traced his lineage through his mother, the only sister of the last Elhalyn king. Rinaldo might be recognized as his father’s legitimate son, thanks to the actions Regis had taken, but his Domain-right was to Hastur, not Elhalyn.

  “I have issued a lawful challenge,” Regis repeated. “If you do not answer, you admit the validity of my charges and forfeit your place.”

  “I admit no such thing! I hereby dismiss this gathering!” Rinaldo gestured to the Guardsmen. “Sergeant-at-arms, clear the Chamber!” He pointed at Regis. “Arrest that traitor!”

  “Stand as you are!” Gabriel thundered. “That is an illegal order, one you are oath-bound to disregard!”

  The Guardsman, who had hesitated to lay hands on a Hastur Lord, even on the direct order from the King, hurried back to their places.

  “Your Majesty,” Ruyven Di Asturien said with grave courtesy, “even a king must answer such a challenge. None of us may hold himself above the law. The very name, Comyn,means ‘equal.’ Regis has the right to demand an accounting of you.” When Rinaldo made no further objection, Di Asturien continued, “Lord Regis, on what basis do you accuse His Majesty?”

  “I declare that my brother has abused his authority by either authorizing or by failing to prevent the abduction of a member of his own Domain, my niece Ariel Lanart-Hastur, as well as other Comyn children.”

  “I deny these charges unequivocally,” Rinaldo announced. “They are spurious and without merit. This has nothing to do with my fitness to rule Hastur! Regis makes these wild statements out of envy, because he seeks to wrest from me the crown helacked the courage to take for himself. Envy, I say! Ihave achieved what henever dared! The crown is mine, and nothing he says can change the fact!”

  Uproar swept the Chamber. Raised voices echoed off the walls, jumbling together.

  Kennard-Dyan, his face flushing in outrage, surged to his feet. “We Comyn do not tolerate tyranny in our midst—not even from a Hastur! It would be better to disband our caste entirely than to submit to such dishonor!”

  A few, Mikhail among them, cheered.

  Regis knew he must act before the situation got further out of hand. Rinaldo would not hesitate to use force, and some Guardsmen were still loyal to him.

  “Kinsmen, listen to me!” Regis raised his arms for attention. “Calm yourselves! We are not living in the Ages of Chaos! We must not be ruled by the passions of the moment but by honor and reason!”

  The clamor died away, leaving the Chamber once more with that ghostly emptiness.

  “ DomRegis has brought grave complaints against Your Majesty,” DomRuyven said. “They cannot be summarily dismissed. What say you to the charge of kidnapping your sister’s child?”

  “She was not kidnapped.She was given the honor of being one of the first students in the school that I myself established for the spiritual betterment of our children. As Head of Hastur and as King, I had every right to do so.”

  “You had no right to seize my child!” Gabriel’s features congested with outrage. “King or not, you have no authority over my daughter!”

  “Or my nephew!” came a voice from the other side of the Chamber.

  “Or my granddaughter!” That was one of the Eldrins, hurling the words like the opening of a blood-feud.

  “Do you admit your guilt?” asked DomRuyven. “Think carefully, vai dom.Your intentions may have been noble, but that does not change the serious nature of these accusations. Not even the greatest of our ancient kings dared commit such an offense.”

  By the set of Rinaldo’s jaw and the stormy angle of his brow, he had little patience for the question. He was not going to concede. Wars had been fought for less cause.

  Valdir, who had been watching the interchange, gestured for permission to speak. Regis needed no laranto recognize the man’s simmering frustration. Everything in Valdir’s posture, from the coiled tension in his shoulders to the angle of his jaw, conveyed menace.

  “A school for Darkovan children is commendable,” Valdir said, “and Your Majesty can argue that you have the right to compel attendance. But you did nothave the right to take a Terran child and provoke Federation military intervention. Did you think the Federation would sit idly by while the Legate’s own son was abducted? They sent a rescue party, a tactical strike team armed with blasters. And, as you well know, they usedthem.”

  “Blasters?” the Eldrin lord exclaimed.

  “In the Trade City?”

  “But the Compact forbids—”

  How did Valdir know about the blasters?Regis had carefully avoided mentioning them when he stormed into Rinaldo’s council meeting.

  “The Terrans have shown their willingness to ignore the Compact on more than one occasion!” Skillfully, Valdir maintained control. “That’s why I’ve argued for full Federation membership, so that we can stand among them with full rights. Now, thanks to this debacle, they’ll be screaming for justice—justice they won’t hesitate to take into their own hands. Whose responsibility will that be? Who will answer their charges?”

  Valdir had not given up his dream of Federation membership. He had used Rinaldo only as long as the puppet king did his bidding. Now, when threatened with retaliatory martial law, he would not scruple to place the blame on Rinaldo. He would throw the Council into chaos, discredit the Comyn as rulers of the Domains, and then step in as the one man who could speak for Darkover.

  In another moment, the Comyn would be all too happy to hand over Rinaldo, as the guilty party, to the Terrans.

  Poor, deluded Rinaldo! He probably had no idea what was happening. Regis pitied his brother. It was like watching a drowning man as the tide carried him ever farther from the shore.

  Regis faced Rinaldo once more. Throughout the Chamber, men paused in midsentence to listen. “My brother, I appeal to you and to the honor of the Hasturs. Our father and grandfather and all our ancestors, from the beginning of recorded time, devoted their lives to our world and its people. For their sake, you must step down. Only then can we convince the Federation that we are capable of handling this matter ourselves.”

  For every Valdir Ridenow, there was a Varzil the Good, the visionary who brought about the Compact and ended centuries of horrific laranwarfare. Dyan Ardais, Kennard-Dyan’s father, had sacrificed himself for the greater good as he saw it. His actions might have been disastrous, but his integrity had been beyond question; in the end, he had seen his error and paid for it with his life.

  As he spoke, Regis searched for the phrases that might reach Rinaldo, bringing forth that same altruistic spirit. Surely, the cristoforosstrove to emulate their own holy saints, men who placed the welfare of others above their own.

  Regis shaped his argument in accord with that hope. He reminded Rinaldo of Nevarsin’s long tradition of service and humility. He tried to speak only to Rinaldo, to focus only on convincing his brother, not anyone else, and in so doing, he captured the entire audience.

  The words slipped off the shield of Rinaldo’s single-minded determination like paper swords against a wall of stone. Within moments, Regis heard the rhythmic beat of men running in formation, converging on the Chamber. Rinaldo’s picked Guards would arrest or eliminate any man who stood against their King.

  Despite the telepathic dampers, Regis read the thoughts behind Rinaldo’s simmering fury: Rebels and traitors, and Regis the most vile of them . . .

  “I am no traitor!” Regis insisted. “When I have I ever dealt with you dishonorably? Have I lied to you or cheated you? Have I taken what was rightfully yours? I could have left you at Nevarsin, hidden away by your own family as if you were a shameful thing. Or brought you to Thendara as a nedestro,without rank or place.”

  Something shifted behind Rinaldo’s eyes, like a stray beam of sun through storm-gathered clouds.

  Regis stepped closer and held out his hands. His throat thickened, but he f
orced the words through. “You were the brother I longed for, the brother I chose to stand at my side, the brother I was proud to acknowledge. Compared to you, the privileges of Hastur meant nothing. Can you understand how important you were to me? How much I wanted to love you? You are the only brother I will ever have, just as I am yours.”

  Rinaldo’s pale face took on a faint tinge of color and wetness gleamed in his eyes.

  “Let us not be adversaries, each striving for power over the other,” Regis pleaded. “Can we not work together, each of us with our own gifts to offer our people?”

  As if in a daze, Rinaldo passed one hand over his face. He mumbled a few words, a prayer, perhaps. As he swung open the gate and stepped onto the Chamber floor, he cried, “My brother! Everything you said is true! You have never been anything but generous and truthful. Yet . . . I do not know how to answer you. Have I not been given this power,” looking down at his heavily ornamented ceremonial garb, “by the Lord of All Worlds? Must I then break faith with either my brother or my God?”

  “With neither of us,” Regis replied. “You will find a way to honor your spiritual calling. You will open the hearts of men by example, by goodness and compassion, not by fear and coercion. Is that not the way of St. Valentine, whose penitential life we once studied together?”

  “The holy saint preached forgiveness as a path to salvation.” Tears spilled over Rinaldo’s cheeks. “I had all but forgotten that lesson. God will indeed find a way. Truly, I am a flawed instrument. For whatever harm has come from my best intentions, I must make restitution.”

  Regis was moved beyond speech by the grace of his brother’s surrender. He had hoped but not expected that his words would make a difference. When he had used hard tactics, challenging Rinaldo’s position, he had met with equal resistance. Only when he had spoken from his heart and laid open his longing for a brother’s love had he succeeded.

  The Chamber hushed in respect. Weeping openly now, Rinaldo stepped forward to embrace Regis.

  “You snake!” A woman’s voice split the silence. “Seducer! Pervert! You’ve ruined it all—everything God has called us to accomplish!” Tiphani Lawton burst through the curtains at the back of the Aldaran enclosure.