The Gazels

Chapter 15

It came to him, in a rush that left him breathless and his hands limp on the reins, that Dan had made exactly this choice. Made it with without hesitation, without a backward glance, without ever a hint of recrimination at the cost.

“Dan, do you ever regret what you have given up? I know you were raised cristoforo, and they do not look kindly upon lovers of men. You must have been taught to want a wife and family . . .”

“I am hardly an observant cristoforo. It was my father’s faith, one I accepted without question when I was a child,” Dan said with such bleak finality that Damion could think of nothing that would reach him.

“As for the other matter, do not trouble yourself. I have never thought to marry, my lord. I am entirely at your service. Perhaps next time you will see fit to advise me before you decide to marry.”

Damion raised one hand to his heart to ease the ache there. He could not remember such a gulf between them. And he did not know what to do to bridge this one.

“Dan . . .”

“Damion, let it go. Please. We’re both hurt and angry, but it will pass.”

Dan was right. The proposal had touched a sore point, one that might never be resolved. It was best to let the matter rest and to go on as best they could, knowing they would always have each other.

The interview with Danvan Carmen did not go well. Damion had delayed as long as he could, stopping first at the piants Headquarters to meet with Dan Lawt. Dan had masked his disappointment well. Felix was making slow progress and would have greatly benefited from having a Keeper as a guide and mentor. Perhaps, as the remnants of the council returned to Thendara during the old Council season, another teacher could be found.

Damion could not help thinking that if only he had handled the situation better, Linnea would at this moment be preparing to come to Thendara. My clumsiness has cost more than my own pride.

Once the visit with Lawt was concluded, the baggage sent on its way, and the pilot given an additional gift for his excellent services, Damion had returned to the townhouse on the pretext of making himself presentable to his grandfather. Dan performed his duties as paxman and bodyguard with faultless precision and not a hint of personal feeling.

Danvan’s personal servant, a quiet, meticulous man named Rondo, who had come from Castle Carmen about three years ago, ushered Damion into the master suite of the Carmen apartments in council Castle. After the intimacy of Linnea’s chambers at High Windward, the rooms felt emotionally barren. They were certainly comfortable, warm and well-appointed, the stone walls covered in tapestries. Damion remembered staring at the hanging beside the door leading to his grandfather’s study, trying to decipher which of the two women portrayed was the Blessed Cassilda and which was Camilla, but the threads were so faded, he could not be sure. He imagined the accumulation of years, the unrelenting demands of council honor, blending into an oppressive weight. These walls were no better than the bars of a cage, one that pressed closer with each passing year.

Some day, will I be like Grandfather, an irascible old tyrant with only dreams of past council glories for comfort? Danvan Carmen was revered throughout the Seven Domains. Damion knew that his own unhappiness put such thoughts into his mind.

The servant gestured for Damion to enter his grandfather’s study. Wincing at the formality, Damion turned to Dan. “You’d better wait here. He’ll be upset enough, and I don’t want him to take it out on you.”

“As you wish.” An unreadable emotion flickered behind Dan’s eyes. Then he added, in a voice low enough so the servant could not overhear, “Don’t let him bully you, bredhyu.”

Damion felt a smile rise from his heart, stopping just short of his lips. He nodded to Dan and followed the servant inside. The room, like the rest of the suite, was very much as Damion remembered it, untouched by time. A faint aroma of beeswax polish, paper, and leather book bindings hung in the air. A fire brightened the hearth, and ranks of candles produced enough light for even aged eyes to read easily.

Danvan Carmen stood beside his writing table, bracing himself on one hand, a man who once had been strongly built, of commanding presence, but who had now shriveled into a husk. Looking at his grandfather, Damion felt a wave of pity. Time and too many seasons had quenched the fire that once burned in those blue eyes. How many years did the old man have left, and how many of those would he insist on wasting in service to a world that, very possibly, no longer wanted it?

Damion paused, bowed formally, and then approached. Danvan held out his free hand. Damion took it, feeling the bony joints, the slight trembling in the withered muscles.

“Good morning, sir.”

“So you’re back from seeing the Storn woman,” Danvan lowered himself into his chair and gestured for Damion to be seated as well.

“News travels fast,” Damion said neutrally.

Danvan’s scowl deepened. “What a dreadful mess you’ve made of it! You’ve managed to lose a perfectly eligible young woman, one who’s already borne you a child so we know she’s fertile, and, of course, there’s not the slightest question of her parentage or power. Did you deliberately offend her so that she wouldn’t have you? And do you intend to do that with every other suitable young woman—” Danvan broke off, wheezing and coughing.

“Grandfather, please calm yourself,” Damion said, alarmed at the old man’s breathing. “You mustn’t make yourself ill.”

“It isn’t me that’s making myself ill,” Danvan snarled.

“I regret that you think I arranged for my proposal to be refused in order to annoy you,” Damion said hotly. “My offer to Domna Linnea was quite genuine. I am as—as distressed by her answer as you are.”

“I doubt it.”

“Nonetheless, it is done. Are you sure you are well? Can I get you jaco? A tisane? Hot wine?”

Danvan leaned heavily on one armrest, still breathing with difficulty. At the mention of hot wine, he nodded, and Damion called Rondo to bring some. A few minutes later, the servant returned with the drinks. He hovered, face furrowed with worry, as Damion poured out a goblet. A little of the wine spilled as Danvan grasped the cup in both hands and brought it to his lips. He took a large gulp, closed his eyes, and sagged in his chair.

“Rondo, don’t linger,” Danvan grumbled. “My grandson can tend to me.” The servant glided away.

“You aren’t well, sir,” Damion said. “Have you seen a healer?” There was no point in asking if Danvan had consulted a piants physician.

“I’m fit enough for the work before us,” Danvan muttered. “The only thing wrong with me, other than the passage of time, is I was foolish enough to think that when you went to High Windward, you’d finally acquired sense: marriage, then accepting the throne, standing up to the Federation . . . But I was mistaken. You haven’t come around to my way of thinking, have you?”

Damion shook his head. “We’ve had this discussion a dozen times before. Nothing you can say will change my mind. I don’t believe returning to a monarchy will solve anything. In fact, I believe the opposite, that we must move toward broader participation, increased literacy and communication, not a concentration of authority.”

“Spare me your degenerate notions! Clearly, you’ve been contaminated by your piantsan friends. Next you’ll be saying we should look to the common people for leadership, against all our history and traditions.”

“If you’ll forgive me saying so,” Damion said stubbornly, “the days when we council were regarded as descended from the gods are long over. elsha is in transition, and such times are never easy. The old ways are gone, and we must create new ones, a culture that embodies the finest of who we are. I have a great deal more trust in the people than you do. If we allowed them more education, if they understood what was at stake, then they could fully take part—”

“Where would that get us? The r****e see only the advantages of piants citizenship, the luxuries. They have no concept of the price. It’s up to us to maintain our integrity in the face of these temptations—we, the council, what is left of us.” The old man subsided. He had half-risen from his seat in the heat of the argument, but now he sank back. Under his breath, he muttered something that sounded to Damion like, “—if you won’t do your duty, there is another who will—”

What was the old man talking about? Had he not emphasized, time and again, that Damion had the only legitimate claim to the throne? The only other possibilities were the minor Elhalyn children, hidden away by their reclusive mother.

“Grandfather, I think it prudent that we discontinue this conversation. Clearly, it is distressing to you, and neither of us can possibly say anything that will change the other’s mind. I wish you good day, then, and take my leave of you.” Without waiting for an answer, Damion bowed and strode out of the room.

Damion passed Rondo outside the door. “Look after

him.” Rondo nodded and went inside.

7

When Damion returned to his townhouse, a message was waiting for him. Dan Lawt had sent word of the vote in the piants Senate. The Empire was now a Federation. Pending the reformulation of planetary classification protocols, all Class D Closed Worlds, including elsha, were now Protectorates of the new piants Federation.

Damion barely had a moment to sleep in the next tenday. Half the people he talked to reacted with outrage to Protectorate status as a de facto military takeover, and the other half rejoiced in it as a step toward full Federation membership. Several small riots had taken place in the markets, for the warming weather had brought a stream of traders and farmers who feared its impact on their livelihoods.

Working closely with Gabriel Lanart, Commander of the City Guards, Damion was able to disperse the worst of the gatherings with a minimum of violence. It had been a decade since he had led elsha through the World Wreckers crisis, and many people still remembered him. He began walking the streets when he wasn’t meeting with Telepath Council members, Guild masters, or Cortes judges. His height, features, and distinctive white hair made him stand out in any crowd. Dan was not happy about this public vulnerability, but he assumed his role as bodyguard with good grace. In a way, it was like old times, the two of them together.

Felix Lawt improved enough to be discharged from Medical, although he remained housebound. Damion visited from time to time, which allowed him to hold informal discussions with Lawt. The piants Legate hinted that the newly reconstituted Federation Senate was unlikely to take immediate action on elsha’s planetary status. They had time to plan their strategy, but plan they must, for the reprieve could not last.