The Heirs Of Hammerfe

by Marion Zimmer Bradley

  "This is foolish, Grandsire; you are not strong enough for this kind of work at your age."

  "That's ridiculous, girl; I've been doing this work all my life, and I'm not about to stop now! Get about your own business, and don't presume to try and give orders to me."

  At his glare, most girls would have been annihilated, but Lenisa went on, arguing, "What good do you think it will do to anyone if you collapse from the heat and have to be carried away? Will that not be a fine example to all our men?"

  "What do you want me to do?" he growled. "I have taken my place on the lines every summer, man and boy, for seventy years."

  "Then don't you think you have done a lifetime's share, Grandfather? No one alive would think less of you if you went back to the camp and did lighter work there."

  "I'll ask no man to do what I'll not do myself, Granddaughter. Go on and do your own work and let me tend to mine."

  Against his will, Alastair felt a grudging admiration for the stubborn old man. When Lenisa came to him and held out the pail, he hoisted it to his lips and drank thirstily; this time it contained, as he had believed, a warm herb tea of some sort with a strong fruity flavor, exceptionally thirst-quenching against the charred taste at the back of his throat.

  He returned the pail and thanked her.

  "Does your grandfather always work on the lines with his men?"

  "He has done so as long as I can remember, and

 

  well before, so our people say," she replied. "But now he is really too old; I wish I could get him to go back to the camp. His heart is not really very strong."

  "That may very well be true; but I admire the heart which bids him work beside his men," Alastair said with honest admiration, and she smiled.

  "So you do not think my poor old grandfather is really an ogre, then, Lord Hammerfell?"

  Her tone was mischievous; Alastair gestured to her to lower her voice. Fire-truce might be the law in the mountains and the noblemen such as Lord Storn might very well keep it, but he did not trust all these strangers; if they knew who he was, he might well be mobbed.

  "It would do your grandsire's heart no good to know his oldest enemy was here!"

  She said proudly, "Did you believe that my grand-sire would dishonor the fire-truce, our oldest law?"

  "Only before I saw him; surely you must know that gossip and hearsay could make a monster of Saint Valentine of the Snows himself," Alastair said, but privately he was sure he wasn't going to give Lord Storn a chance, one way or the other. "And hearsay has had much to say of Lord Storn."

  "And most of it good, I must believe," said the girl. "But have you had enough to drink? I must be about my work or he will scold me again."

  Unwillingly he relinquished the bucket, and bent again to his work. He was not used to manual labor; his back ached and there seemed to be a separate toothache in every muscle of his arms and legs. His hands, even protected by heavy leather gauntlets, were beginning to feel as if they were being skinned alive and he wondered if he would be eaten raw or

 

  cooked. He supposed it depended on how near they got to the fire. He cast a glance at the sky and the merciless burning sun. If only some clouds would build up; his shirt was sticking to his aching back. It was only a little after noon and he felt as if it would be forever till supper time.

  If the girl had offered Alastair an easier job at the camp he would have jumped at the chance. He glanced wistfully after the girl's lilac sunbonnet, now retreating down the long line of men.

  They had plenty of manual workers; was every single strong back so valuable? Of course, out here among these mountain types it was perhaps some kind of pride or proof of manhood that kept them at it, even old Lord Storn who certainly in any rational society would have been recognized as being long past such work. In Thendara they would have made some kind of distinction between nobles and commoners, but from his brother Conn he knew there were few distinctions of that kind in the Hellers. Well, just let them offer him an alternative, he certainly didn't feel the need to prove his manhood! He leaned on his hoe, sighing as he straightened his aching back. Why the devil had he come here anyhow? Above him he could hear a strange, almost mechanical whine, an unexpected sound. A ragged cheer went up from the fire-lines as a small airship appeared among the trees, maneuvering carefully to keep out of the eddying smoke. Alastair had heard of matrix-powered gliders in these hills, carrying fire-fighting chemicals; but he had never actually seen a heavier-than-air vehicle. It droned out of sight and the man next to him muttered. "Leroni from the Tower, coming to help us."

 

  "They are bringing fire-fighting chemicals?"

  "Thass right. Very good of 'em-if we could ever be sure they han't started the damn' fire themselves with their clingfire or some such deviltry!"

  "More likely it was lightning did it," Alastair said, but the man looked skeptical.

  "Oh, sure. But why are there more fires now than in my granfer's time, you tell me that, can ye?"

  Alastair hadn't the faintest idea. He could only say, "Since I wasn't alive in your grandfather's time, I don't know that there are more fires now; and what's more, I don't think you do, either," and bent again to his work.

  This was no place for the Duke of Hammerfell. If he had known that taking his place as Duke of Hammerfell would mean grubbing away in the dirt, Conn could have come in his place, and welcome!

  Oh, well. Grimly he stared up at the sky, imagining it covered with softening clouds. Cooling clouds, gray and damp, blotting the scorching sun and bringing rain-blissful rain! There was a cloud to the south, small, fluffy; he imagined it growing, spreading quickly over the sky, swirling and darkening, moving closer. ...

  It was growing and spreading, a cool breeze springing up in its wake as it grew darker and heavier. Alastair felt astonished and delighted; did I somehow do that? He experimented briefly until he was sure he was right, somehow his own thoughts controlled and built the cloud higher and higher, till its fantastic castles and pinnacles covered more than half the sky!

  Was this a new laran for which they had not thought . to test him? He had no way of knowing. The cloud

 

  had cooled him substantially; dutifully he bent again over his hoe before it occurred to him to wonder: Could I "make it rain"? Could I put out this fire and save us all a lot of trouble? The trouble was, though he could visualize the cloud building higher and darker, he really had no knowledge of what made a cloud decide it was full enough to rain. He should have paid more attention to his mother when she had tried to tell him something more about the simpler uses of laran. What a pity I cannot get into Conn's mind as I understand he can get into mine, and learn more of this art from him.

  So much time had been consumed by his effort at cloud-minding that the girls and boys who had been set to carrying water were again making their rounds. Among them he saw Lenisa, this time at a considerable distance, and he wondered if she had been moved to a different line. It was at that moment he realized he was jealous of the man who would receive water from her hands . . . more jealous than he was of Conn in Thendara with Floria. Of course, my brother Conn knows so little of city life that he would not even notice--far less seduce-any woman if he thought she belonged to someone else.

  For just a moment, Alastair's scorn of his brother flagged. Is that really something to sneer at, that Conn is honorable? But should I then be bound by his country-bumpkin sense of morality?

  The sky was now so dark with clouds that a damp wind had sprung up. Alastair had stripped to the waist for the work on the lines, and now he shivered and reached for the shirt he had tied round his waist. It was damp with sweat-no; they were drops of rain, large and sloppy and far apart as yet . . . but

 

  he imaged them dropping down smoothly faster and faster. ...

  Another cheer went up from the fire-lines as it began to rain hard and fast, causing clouds of steam to rise along the edge of the burning forest. Alast
air laid down his hoe and gazed at the sky with relief and satisfaction.

  "Look out!" someone yelled. Raising his eyes, startled, he could see a burned-through tree beginning to tilt and topple; and to his horror, Lenisa was hauling her water pail within a few yards of it. Even before he knew what he was doing, Alastair was streaking along the firebreak; he flung himself at the girl, tackling her and shoving her out of the path of the falling tree. ...

  But not quite far enough. The tree crashed down with a great sound like the end of the world, taking a crowd of smaller trees and underbrush with it. Lenisa and Alastair were crushed to the ground beneath it; he thrust the girl in his arms as far as he could out of the tree's path and felt her body beneath his as the world collapsed on top of his head. The last sound he heard was Jewel's frantic howling.

 

  13

  Conn had seen the fire from afar, with no particular wish to intrude on Alastair. Somehow, sooner or later, Alastair must make his own peace with Markos and with the people of Hammerfell. If the people of Hammerfell saw him accepting his duty among them, including fire-watch duty, which Conn himself had done regularly since he was nine years old, they would certainly accept him all the sooner.

  But. danger of death broke all barriers; Alastair's panic as he saw the falling tree and snatched Lenisa from its path broke into Conn's mind as if he himself had been in the path of the burning treetop crashing down; the stifling holocaust of the flaming forest and the cracking smash of the falling giant-even Jewel's frenzied howls-roared through his brain as if it were all here in his mother's quiet room. He leaped to his feet, for an instant unaware that the pounding of his heart, the rush of adrenalin through

 

  all his limbs, had no reality for his own body and brain.

  He was cognizant only of danger; desperate terror and danger; and not until several harrowing moments had passed was he once again aware that he was alone in the falling twilight, hearing only the sounds of the quiet streets of Thendara outside; a dog barking somewhere in the distance, the faraway rumble of a cart. Suddenly Alastair was gone-dead or unconscious, that fierce situation wiped from Conn's awareness.

  Conn mopped unexpected sweat from his face. What had happened to his brother?

  Sternly as he had judged him at times, his heroism had endangered his life; had it actually taken his life, then? Cautiously, Conn sought in his mind for the broken rapport with Alastair, and found pain and darkness . . . but at least the pain meant Alastair had survived, perhaps gravely hurt, but he still lived.

  On the floor the young dog Copper whined restlessly; perhaps, Conn thought, she, too, had picked up something from her absent master, or had she only picked up Conn's own disturbance and distress?

  "It's all right, girl," he said, patting the puppy's silky head. "It's all right, then. Calm down." Copper's huge dark eyes looked up at him beseechingly, and he thought, Yes, I must somehow go to him; one way or the other, Markos will need me there.

  He was accustomed to making his own decisions; he flung clothing into a saddlebag, and made his way to the kitchens for food for the journey before it occurred to him that he was living as a guest in his mother's house and he really should-if not actually ask her leave-at least inform her of his plans.

 

  He left the saddlebag half packed and went in search of Erminie. But as he traversed the hall, the outside door of the house opened and Gavin Delleray carne in, looking like a brightly plumed bird, the leather of his boots dyed crimson, to match the coloring of the tips of his curls and the ribbons in his shirt cuffs. He looked at Conn and could tell that something was wrong. "Good morning, dear friend, what's the matter? Have you had news of Alastair, then?"

  Conn, who was in no mood to waste time on pleasantries, said curtly, "There's fire in the hills, and he's been hurt-perhaps killed."

  The aspect of a young dandy slid off Gavin's face like a mask. He said quickly, "You should speak with your mother at once about it; she will be able to find out if he still lives."

  Conn had not thought of that; he was still too new to the life of the laran-gifted. He found that his voice was shaking as he said, "Will you come? I cannot bear to face her if I should cause her to learn of Alastair's death-"

  "Of course," said Gavin.

  Together they went in search of Erminie, and found her in her sewing room. She looked up, smiling to her son, but when she saw he did not respond, her look turned to one of frightened foreboding.

  "Conn, what's the matter? And you-Gavin, what are you doing here? You know you are always welcome, but to see you here at this hour-"

  "I came only to ask for news, at first," Gavin said, "but I found Conn in this state-"

  "1 must go at once to Hammerfell, Mother; Alastair

 

  has been hurt-near killed, I suspect-on the fire-lines."

  Her face went white.

  "Hurt? How did you know?"

  "I have been in contact with him before this; strong emotion-fear or pain-will do it," he said, explaining what she knew already as swiftly as she asked the question. "I saw him hit in the fall of a burning tree!"

  "Merciful Avarra," Erminie whispered. Snatching out her starstone, she bent over it and in a moment looked up with relief. "No; I do not think he is dead. Badly hurt, perhaps, even unconscious, but not dead. He is beyond my reach; I should send for Edric-1-or for Renata-who will be able to reach the people in the Tower at Tramontana; they will know what is happening in the hills. All the Keepers can reach one another."

  "Send for Floria, too, kinswoman," said Gavin. "She would want to know what is happening to her promised husband."

  "Yes, of course," said Erminie, bending over her starstone. After a moment she looked up and said, "They will come."

  Conn said, "I do not like this delay; I feel I should go to him at once."

  Erminie shook her head firmly. "There can be no such haste as that; better, if you must go, to go knowing exactly what is happening. Otherwise you could ride into a trap set by Storn-as your brother did, long before you were born."

  "If there is any question of that," Gavin said, "he shall not ride alone into danger; I swear I will be at his side for life or death."

 

  Erminie embraced Gavin, so moved that she had no words; she stood clinging to them both until Copper pricked up her head and barked; there were steps in the hall, and Floria came in, with Renata in her crimson robes, and a little behind them, Edric Elhalyn.

  "I came as soon as I knew you wanted me, kinswoman," he said, going quickly to Erminie.

  Renata said in the husky and sexless voice of the emmasca, "Tell us what has happened, my dear."

  Conn explained swiftly; Edric frowned. He said, "Word of this should be sent to King Aidan at once."

  Renata frowned and said, "By no means; His Grace has enough troubles of his own at this moment, and no thought to spare for those of Hammerfell."

  "Is Antonella dead, then?" Gavin asked. "I heard she was mending."

  "Till last night, that was true," said Floria. "Last night they sent for me to monitor her; another blood vessel in her brain has burst. She will not die, but she cannot speak, and her whole right side is paralyzed."

  "Ah, poor lady," Renata said. "She is good to everyone, and Aidan will sorely miss her; at least he must stay with her as long as his presence can still give her any comfort."

  "I should remain with her, too," Floria said. "Perhaps vigilance and constant monitoring might prevent another stroke-which would most probably mean death."

  "Then it is I who should go to her," Renata said. "At this time I think your place is here, Floria, with your promised husband's mother-" but it was directly at Conn that she looked, "and I think your father will agree. Erminie needs you, and I will re-

 

  main with Her Grace. I was a monitor before I was Keeper-"

  "And your skills are immeasurably greater than mine," added Floria, relieved and grateful.

  Conn felt t
orn, too, between his brother's danger and the king he had begun to love. His voice was irritable. "Then, in the name of all the Gods there are, let us know at once what is happening with my brother."

  He looked at Floria; she raised her eyes to his and neither of them dared acknowledge the thought that hung between them.

  I wish my brother no harm. I swear it; but if he is no longer between us--

  And her answering thought: 7 think maybe I only loved Alastair because it was through him I saw you. . . .

  One way or another, Conn knew, he and Floria could no longer ignore their feelings. But first, they must care for Alastair.

  Even before Renata could raise or uncover the starstone, the outer house door opened and Valentine Hastur came in. "Ah, Renata, I hoped to find you here. You are needed; go at once to His Grace, I will look after the Lady Erminie and her sons-after all, they are to be my stepsons."

  Renata nodded briskly and hurried out. Erminie blushed, then looked up briefly and smiled at Valentine.

  I am so glad you are here, kinsman; you always come when I am most in need.

  Conn thought: 7 am glad for her; she was married to my father almost before she had put away her dolls, and has lived alone all these years, thinking only of my brother's welfare. It is time she had someone to think first of her happiness.

 

  The starstone blazed in Edric's hand; swiftly he drew them together into the circle. At once, Conn felt the presences of another circle, and knew without being told that they were the assembled workers of the faraway Tower at Tramontana.

  Welcome, kinsmen; the fire is contained and we have leisure to greet you now. In Conn's mind was a picture of the timberlands burned over, one village made all but uninhabitable-a village on Storn lands, not his own-and the shelters set up for the homeless, food and clothing distributed.

  What of my son? It was Erminie who formed the question, and her mind went out seeking him, Conn immediately present in the search.

  He is recovering, but in Storn's hands-pledged as a guest, under the laws of hospitality which he holds sacred, the faraway Keeper reassured Erminie at once. No harm will come to him, and his wounds are not mortal, we assure you.