The Gazels

Chapter 26

At least the meeting would not take place in the Crystal Chamber or the chamber in which he had addressed the Telepath Council. Instead, Dan had prepared a smaller room, one designed for informal gatherings and furnished with comfortable chairs around a central table. Instead of the echoing spaciousness of the stately chamber, this room afforded a degree of intimacy. Damion would be able to make easy eye contact. There would be no telepathic dampers, nor would any be needed. This was not a debate, but a simple introduction. It was as much an honor for the other council as it was for Rinaldo, so there was no reason why it should not be a pleasant and enjoyable affair.

Bless Dan, there was but a single Guardsman standing at attention at the door. Damion waited until he could be reasonably sure the others were already assembled. Then Rinaldo arrived.

The tailor had done his best. Rinaldo’s raiment, although minimally ornamented, was of exquisite quality, the gray wool so fine it shimmered like snowfox fur. The jacket had been shaped to enhance Rinaldo’s spare frame. Had he been dressed as Damion was, the sumptuousness would have turned his complexion gaunt and rendered him pretentious. As it was, he looked grave and dignified, a man who had lived simply but meaningfully.

Rinaldo bowed, the salute of one of noble birth to another of higher rank. He took no notice of Dan. Damion inclined his head and together they went in.

Damion did not expect a formal announcement of their entrance, complete with the recitation of all his titles, and he received none. Instead, the reaction was exactly what he had hoped for: conversations paused, heads swiveled, and eyes brightened as he took his place at the head of the table with Rinaldo beside him. Dan slipped into the chair beside Marilla Lindir-Aillard, whose son, Kennard-Dyan, was to inherit Ardais. Whether this gesture on Dan’s part was a subtle reminder that, as former Warden of Ardais, he claimed the right to sit among the council lords or simply that it was the most convenient unoccupied chair, Damion could not tell.

Not everyone who had attended the funeral for Danvan Carmen had remained in Thendara, but most of the great houses were represented: Damion himself, Javanne and Gabriel, who was acting as Warden of Alton, Marilla Lindir-Aillard, Ruyven Di Asturien, one of the Eldrins, and a few from lesser families—Castamir, Lindir, and a very elderly man from the Montereys, distant cousins of the Altons. At the far end of the table, Valdir Ridenow watched calmly, his nephew Francisco at his right elbow.

Where Dan had found all of them, Damion had no idea. Most wore courtly dress in the beautiful colors of their houses, like a flock of exotic birds filling the otherwise somber chamber. Jewels and precious metals glinted in the headdresses of the women. Chains draped the chests of the men. Their expressions ranged from distantly polite to courteous. In the absence of telepathic dampers, their emotions curled like smoke through the room. Damion did his best to block them out. Dan’s face was a shade paler than usual; he had always been the more sensitive of the two. It must be costing him an enormous amount of psychic energy to remain free of the outside mental influences.

“Vai domyn, kinsmen, lords and ladies,” Damion said. “Thank you for coming and on such short notice.”

“The honor is ours.” Ordinarily, it would fall to the member of the next highest-ranking Domain to speak, but in this informal setting, Ruyven Di Asturien answered. His dignified gaze took in the assembly.

“You have brought us together, as we council have always gathered at this season since before our sun turned red. We never thought to do so again. But now, we welcome you, Lord Carmen . . .”

“And the man who sits beside you,” Valdir Ridenow broke in.

Damion rose with all the dignity at his command. “It is my pleasure to present to you my father’s nedestro son, Rinaldo Lanart-Carmen. I declare Rinaldo legitimate and desire that he should enjoy all the privileges and responsibilities of our caste. It is my intention that my brother take his place among us, and I call upon you to acknowledge him now.”

The announcement could not have come as news. Damion knew all too well the pervasive and insidious currents of gossip that saturated Thendara in general and the council in particular. Yet there was no mistaking the unease that rippled around the room.

“Dom Damion,” Lady Marilla began tentatively, then corrected herself,

“Lord Carmen. We are of course delighted to receive any kinsman to o

ur midst. There are so few of us that every new addition must be precious. Your brother looks to be a fine, sober man, a credit to your Domain and to us all. But . . .” Her eyes shifted between Damion and Rinaldo, although her composure did not waver. “You are proposing more than a simple welcome. Such a step requires careful consideration of all the . . . implications.”

Damion found the woman’s indirection maddening. What she meant was she thought it inappropriate to discuss Rinaldo’s position in front of him. He sensed, from Dom Ruyven’s air of disapproval and the downturned curve of the old man’s lips, that he was not at all in favor of what Damion proposed. Despite the barriers Damion had summoned in his mind, he could not escape the surge of emotion from where Valdir Ridenow sat.

“Some might say,” one of the Lindir lords put in, “that the Carmens had too much power even before the demise of the Council.”

“Speak plainly, my lord,” Gabriel said. “What are you insinuating?”

“Why, nothing more than what everyone already knows. The Telepath Council was created by Lord Carmen, and they answer to him with an almost slavish devotion. It is bad enough that the Carmens have traditionally been the most powerful of all the Domains, more so than their royal Elhalyn cousins. But when personal charisma is combined with exemplary leadership—I say nothing against Lord Carmen, you understand—we are all cognizant of the debt owed to him—when all this is added to political influence and the legends that have grown up over the last few years . . . can it be wise for one man to possess so much power?”

“My reputation is not at issue here,” Damion said tightly. “Do you accuse me of deliberately creating a cult of personality? I assure you, I never sought or wanted—”