The Heirs Of Hammerfe

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

 

  cepted, though not one of them even raised their eyes to see Conn, or paid the faintest attention to him; by their outward demeanor, not one of them acknowledged he was there.

  The Keeper, having joined them together in some manner that Conn was not yet able to understand fully, somehow directed their attention to a heap of building materials at the edge of the street, then gathered their strength-at this point Conn wholly lost track of what was happening-his perception blurred into blue glare as if his starstone were a crystal before-or inside-his eyes. The huge pile of building materials began to rise in the air. Though it was only a loosely piled heap of shingles, they did not slip or slide on one another, but somehow clung as if they were all glued together one to the others. Into the air the pile rose, higher and higher, and Conn felt the "Keeper aiming it so that, within a few seconds, the great heap was balanced on the flat part of the roof, where the workers, without any fuss at all, began pulling it apart and laying the shingles to nail them into their proper places. The taut concentrated circle then seemed to drop apart like the shingles themselves. Floria said to the Keeper in a low voice, "Any more?"

  "No." The Keeper responded. "Not until the pavings in the castle court are ready to be laid. That was the last, and we'd have done it last night except for the rain. We'll have to set the glass in the conservatory in a few days; but no hurry about all that once the roofs on. I talked to Martin Delleray yesterday; the paving can't be put in till they have a gardener come and see about the shrubbery. He'll let us know in good time."

 

  "This part of the city is growing fast; we'll have more streets to put in next spring when the snows melt."

  One of the technicians grumbled, "I don't like construction work; and there is talk in the city that we are taking away honest work from woodworkers and builders."

  "No such thing," said the Keeper, "when we can do in half a day what it would take all manner of heavy equipment to do; and how's it to be moved into this part of town? As much as people grumble they would be grumbling more, never doubt it, if we weren't here to do this work."

  "More likely someone grudges our fees," said the other technician. "There's hardly a paving laid here by hand, or a pane of glass set. Lifting materials with ropes and pulleys not only wastes energies, but endangers the passersby."

  This was a facet of laran which had never occurred, even briefly, to Conn. I wonder if this is how we can rebuild Hammerfell? It had never occurred to him l)ii t that it would take a crew of stoneworkers countless years to raise the burned-out shell of his castle from the ruins; with laran workers, like this, Hammerfell might rise again in less time than he had ever believed possible. While he was thinking it over, Floria raised her eyes and smiled at him and his mother. She beckoned to Copper, who burst from her obedient silence and hurled herself at Floria, licking her hands.

  "And what a good, quiet dog you are," Floria said, caressing her. "Erminie, you have trained her as well as Jewel; soon she will be well-trained enough to lie at our feet in the circle itself! Good dog, good, good

 

  dog," she repeated to the puppy, petting and stroking her, while Copper licked her hands lovingly.

  "Conn is training this one," Erminie said, "and I brought him here to observe the more public work of a matrix circle; he knows little about laran, because of his upbringing. But he's ready for training- and after that for a place in a circle, at least for a time."

  The Keeper, raising a pallid face dominated by large luminous eyes, turned to Conn with a questioning gaze. "I touched you when we were actually within the circle; are you certain you have had no training before this? I thought perhaps you might have worked in the mountains with the people at Tramontana."

  Conn repeated his denial. "None whatever; before I came to Thendara I never had a starstone in my hands."

  "Sometimes the kind with natural gifts make the best matrix workers," the Keeper said, and thrust out a bony hand to shake Conn's. "I shall be happy to welcome you among us. I am Renata of Thendara."

  Conn knew that this kind of address was limited to Keepers, and it was a shock to find a woman-even though, he supposed, the Keeper was not really a woman but an emmasca-among them.

  Erminie said with a deprecating laugh, "Well, I failed with Alastair, my older son; he had not the potential. So I suppose I deserve all the more success with this one."

  "Without a doubt," said Renata gently, "I can tell that after training he will be a credit to us. Since he cannot work in your circle, Erminie, I will welcome him to mine."

 

  Conn was surprised to see his mother color with pleasure. "Thank you, Renata; that is gracious of you."

  Floria, still standing beside Conn, said softly, "Will you come to us in the Tower, then? It will be a pleasure to help with your training, brother-in-law."

  "The pleasure, I assure you, will be mine," said Conn, and turned to hide the flush he felt heating his face.

  As they walked together, following the members of the circle who had turned down a street which would bring them back toward the Tower, she turned to him and said, "It has been a busy season . . ."

  "It has indeed," Conn murmured. His life had changed so radically in a few short tendays, more than he could ever have believed possible."

  Although his name had not been mentioned, Alastair was in their thoughts and they both fell silent; it was as if he were there, standing between them. Conn's thoughts darkened, and Floria seemed to withdraw as they followed the little party of matrix workers some steps ahead.

  She said aloud, "I wonder what Alastair is doing now?"

  "Since he rode off on my horse?" said Conn with a forced laugh. "You are a telepath; can't you reach him?"

  She said, lowering her eyes, "Not really; a glimpse, no more. Perhaps if we were lovers . . . but even then it would not be easy at such distance. You are his twin . . . that is the strongest bond."

  "Then, if you wish, I will search," said Conn. "Though I have never before consciously sought him." He laid a hand on the starstone his mother had

 

  given him, which hung in a small silken bag tied on a ribbon round his neck. He had had so many glimpses of Alastair without any such help, he never doubted that he could see Alastair now.

  When it came, it was nothing like the dreamlike pictures he had so many times caught of his twin. Did the starstone act as an amplifier? He did not know; but all round him were the familiar tall trees, the smell of evergreens,, the sighing winds and skies of his whole life before this. And another smell which filled the heart of any mountain-bred man with dread and panic: fire! Somewhere near his twin, and within Alastair's perceptions, fire raged in the Hellers.

  Standing in the quiet street of Thendara, Conn discovered his heart was pounding so hard he could feel the blood racing in his veins. What was burning? And where? It was not here, though the smell of fire and burning leaves made him feel dizzy and sick.

  Erminie, turning, knew at once what they were attempting. Under ordinary circumstances she would have paid no attention, allowing the young people to do as they would. But Conn's pale face was too frightened. She came quickly back toward the two young people. They had come through the streets to where the Tower loomed only a little way away.

  Erminie laid her hand so lightly on Conn's wrist that she attracted his attention with the least possible interruption or shock. She said quietly, "Inside the Tower it will be simpler to finish what you have begun--and with less danger, Conn, for either of you."

  It had never occurred to Conn that what he had done so often, without even owning a starstone, could be in any way dangerous, either for him or Alastair.

 

  But the strangeness, this new sense of urgency and danger, disarmed him; he said quite meekly that he would be glad of a cup of wine, and came inside with them.

  The wine was brought and poured, but as Conn sipped at it he had the most fearful sense of urgency; he wished that all these people
would go away and let him get back to the search for his brother.

  He took no part in the light social cross talk and banter which accompanied the drinking; he drank oft the wine when it was put in this hand, almost without tasting it. He was unconscious of Renata drawing them all together again through the matrix; he was too new to this to have developed the detachment which protected the matrix worker from dangerous emotional involvement in what he was doing. He was already too emotionally involved; it was his brother, his land, his people. . . .

  The Keeper Renata, who understood this interplay of stresses better than anybody alive, watched with a detached sadness, but made no effort to alter his natural approach; when he was better trained, he would have a more balanced and less passionate method of working, but for that skill, Conn would have to sacrifice some of his youthful intensity.

  Fiona gestured to Conn. "Link with me; together I am sure we can find him."

  Again, gently, the broken link reforged. Surprisingly, what Conn saw first was the face of his fosterfather Markos, and through his eyes looked on Alastair. The smell of smoke and fire was physically distant but seemed somehow to dominate their every thought as it dominated the countryside with the immanence of any violence of nature. No more to be

 

  ignored than a tornado or a tidal wave, it licked constantly around the edges of their thoughts, nibbling away at confidence and courage.

  Alastair, he knew, was angry.

  "What is this that you are telling me? That I must go, after all these years of blood feud, and fight to save the property of this man who killed my father and so many of my ancestors? Why? Isn't it better for all of us if it burns him out and be damned to him?"

  Markos stared. "I am ashamed of you," he said sharply. "What upbringing did you have that you can say that?" he demanded. Conn, too, felt ashamed of his twin for such ignorance, unbelievable in any mountain man. Fire-truce was the first fact of life in forested country. All other considerations, whether kinship's dues or blood feud, all were suspended during the forest-fire season in the Hellers.

  Then Conn remembered; how could he have expected Alastair to know?

  Markos answered as Conn would have, and Conn somehow felt responsible for all that he had neglected to explain to his twin.

  "Tomorrow your own slopes may be burning and you will need to know that Storn-or anyone else who may be present-will help to defend you. As you should know."

  He added in a more conciliatory tone, "You're weary and you have ridden a long way. Time enough when you've slept a bit and eaten something."

  Markos led him through a door into an inner room roughly furnished. Conn knew the place well; he had lived there with Markos since he was fourteen years old.

 

  At this point Conn dropped out of the rapport. The faces of Markos and Alastair died out in a blue flare as of the matrix jewel and he stood up, saying aloud, "It is ill done to spy on him without his knowledge; he is safe with Markos, then."

  He looked up into Erminie's stricken eyes. "Your son is safe, Mother. No," he added, as she reached out to him, "I understand-he was the one brought up in your lap, not I; it is only natural that you fear for him."

  "That seems very sad to me," said Erminie. "My greatest wish all these years was to have you both in my care."

  Conn came and gave her a rough hug.

  "Oh, I know now what I missed, and I wonder if my brother truly appreciated it. But if there is trouble up north, I should be gone-Markos will need me! Alastair-" he broke off; he could not say to his mother that he did not think her favorite son was fit to take his place at Hammerfell. But his hand, almost without thought, touched the hilt of his father's sword, and he knew Floria, at least, was still reading his thoughts. He reached out to break that rapport and met her eyes. Instantly she lowered her gaze, but the shock of intense emotion was palpable in the room full of telepaths.

  Dear Gods, he thought, what shall I do? This is the woman of my dreams; I loved her before ever I set eyes on her, and now I have found her, she is all but my brother's wife; of all women in this world, she is the one forbidden to me.

  He could not look at her, and as he raised his eyes, he realized that the Keeper was looking at him. The

 

  emmasca, safely insulated and removed both by high office and sexlessness from this most painful of all human problems, was regarding him with sad, wise eyes.

 

  12

  Work on the fire-lines was making Alastair reconsider his mental picture of hell. At the minute, the thought of being in one of Zandru's frozen upper hells was rather appealing. Sweat drenched his hair and clothes, the skin on his face felt as though it was being slow-roasted, and his mouth and throat were dry and burning. And though he wasn't as much of a dandy as some people might think, all his life he had been encouraged to consider his appearance as an indication of his position and title. Now he was unhappily aware that his clothes were never going to be the same again. Even if the damage being done to them by flying sparks was carefully mended, he would look as disreputable as the old man working to his right.

  The peasants here certainly do seem to be tough, though. He must be old enough to be my grandfather, but he's still going strong while I'd like to curl up and die. Of course, peasants aren't, as sensitive as I am.

 

  Jewel was curled up at the end of the fire-line; he sensed the extra call of loyalty it was demanding to keep her there. She was unwilling to take her eyes off him or go out of earshot despite the fear she must be feeling. He should have made the effort to send the old dog away from the fire-line to a place where she would not be so acutely troubled.

  A slim figure in an old, shabby tartan dress and a broad-brimmed lilac sunbonnet came up to the old man and handed him a waterskin. He handed her his shovel to hold as he rinsed his mouth and took a quick drink. Then she handed him back the shovel, took back the waterskin, and continued down the line toward Alastair. Her eyes widened as she recognized him; one of her escort had evidently told her who he was.

  She kept her voice low. "I am astonished to find you here, my Lord Hammerfell!"

  She might well say that, thought Alastair; he was somewhat astonished to find himself here.

  "Damisela-" He gave her his most courtly bow. "What can you possibly be doing here? Of all places in the Domains this is the last for a lady."

  "I suppose you think a lady will not burn if the fire gets out of hand? Anyone could tell that you are a foolish lowlander!" she flared angrily. "Everyone here turns out on fire-watch-men and women, commoner and noble!"

  "I haven't seen old Lord Storn risking his precious neck," Alastair growled.

  "That's because you haven't bothered to look in the right direction-he's standing less than a dozen feet from you!" Lenisa indicated the old man with an outflung arm.

 

  Alastair gaped in shock. That old man, Lord Storn? That stooped old fellow, could he truly be the bogeyman of Alastair's childhood? Why, he looked as if a sudden gust of high wind would blow him away! He didn't seem terrifying at all!

  Lenisa's gesture had attracted Storn's attention; he Hung down his shovel and headed toward them with a grim expression on his face.

  "This idiotically dressed young dandy annoying you, girl?"

  Lenisa hastily shook her head. "No, Grandfather."

  "Give the fellow his water, then, and get about your work. Don't hold up the line! You know how important it is to keep water coming regularly to everyone-do you want the men farther down collapsing on the lines?"

  "No, sir, of course not," she said meekly, and raising her eyes briefly to Alastair, passed on down the line with her bucket. Alastair stood for a moment watching her, until the man next to him nudged him in the elbow and he resumed his work with the hoe, scraping at the firebreak in the leaf-strewn forest floor.

  Storn's granddaughter. Nothing like the old man that he could see, "idiotically dressed," indeed. Yet this woman and he were forever
separated, and if only because of that she had the lure of the forbidden. He reminded himself sternly that he was a man promised in marriage . . . promised to Floria, who wailed for him in Thendara, and therefore not to be eyeing other women-especially not a woman with whose family his family had been at blood feud for the last four generations! He tried to put Lenisa firmly out of his mind, to think only of Floria in

 

  Thendara; he wondered how she and his mother fared in his absence, even wondered what being a telepath was like-able to summon up in his mind an instant communication with an absent loved one.

  The thought troubled him; he was not sure he would want that. If he were now in communication with Floria, would she watch him flirting with the Storn girl, and think him faithless? Would she read his mind and be troubled by the images of Lenisa? He found himself trying to explain in his mind to her, and broke off, troubled by the knowledge that Conn, his twin brother, was mentally linked to him and would know his innermost thoughts. He would never be able to lie to Conn nor persuade his brother of his good intentions or his worth. . . .

  What was it like, to live like that, with all one's innermost thoughts and desires exposed to any number of people?

  It frightened him. He had been open to Conn; his brother knew him perhaps better than he knew himself, and that was a frightening thing. But even more terrifying was the realization that his brother knew the worst of which he was capable. . . .

  He tried to bring Floria's image before his mind, and failed; he saw only Lenisa's flirtatious little smile.

  He turned off his thoughts with an effort and put all his attention to the work he was doing on the firebreak. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed that the old man, Lord Storn, was keeping pace with the younger men, doing his share and more of the hard manual work. When the girl Lenisa came round again with her water pail-this time, he noticed gratefully that the pail was steaming and decided it must be some sort of herb tea-Lenisa stopped beside her

 

  grandfather, and Alastair could just hear what she said.