The Gazels

Chapter 21

“And does so still,” Damion replied, grateful to change the subject from his own shortcomings. “Dan serves as my paxman and attends to my official correspondence. In fact, it might be said that although the will of a Carmen might be law, without Dan’s pen to set it down, no one would be able to read it.”

A flic

ker of emotion passed over the monk’s features. Damion sensed no trace of power, no mental presence, so he could not tell what his brother might be thinking.

“You have the better of us, Brother Valentine,” Dan interjected. “You remember the two of us well enough, but I have no memory of you at all.”

The monk turned to Dan with a good- humored smile. “It would surprise me if you did. When I first came to St. Valentine’s, it was many months before I could tell the brothers one from another. No doubt, we looked as much alike as so many fleas.”

“Hardly fleas,” Dan muttered.

“When I was here all those years ago,” Damion said, “why did you not make yourself known to me? I would have welcomed a brother’s company.”

“It was for you to speak, if you wished to claim me as kin.”

The first thing Damion thought was that this answer was very much what he himself might have said in like circumstances. Then the world slipped sideways for a heartbeat—

—b ut I didn’t know, and he did, I was a child and he was grown—

—and then resumed its normal course.

In that brief pause, Brother Valentine lifted his head in an attitude of listening. “It is time for prayer.”

Damion caught the deep, throbbing sound of a bell from afar.

“Our reunion must yield to a greater obligation.” Brother Valentine set aside his work materials. “You used to worship with us, little brother. Will you join us now?”

“I think not.” Damion did not add that as a son of Carmen and a member of the council, he had been raised to follow the four traditional gods of elsha. Aldones, Lord of Light, was reputed to be the ancestor of the first Carmen. But Damion could not say so aloud and risk the implication that his brother might have to choose between his heritage and the demands of his caste on the one hand and his religious vows on the other. How deep that commitment ran, Damion could not tell.

A man ought to be able to follow his own conscience!

Brother Valentine turned to Dan. “Come, we must hurry.”

“I beg your leave,” Dan replied with a stiff bow. “My duty is to my lord.”

The monk’s gaze swept from one to the other. Whatever he thought of Dan’s refusal, he kept it to himself. “Then, with Father Master’s permission, I will come to you in the Stranger’s Room afterward.”

The monk’s sandals made no sound as he strode down the stone-floored corridor. Without discussion, Damion and Dan headed back to the visitors’ quarters. Damion felt pulled by conflicting feelings. Certainly, he was disappointed and beset by memories of an unhappy childhood. He told himself that his brother was an exemplary monk, dutiful and observant, that these same qualities bespoke an honorable nature.

When they were alone, Damion lowered himself onto one of the cushioned chairs. In their absence, someone had left a tray with jaco and slices of coarse nut-bread.

“Well, Dan, what do you think of my brother? Or have you formed an opinion from so brief an encounter? Did you truly not remember him from before?”

“Vai dom, he is not my brother, but yours. Therefore, your opinion is the only one that counts.”

Damion frowned. “Don’t go all vai dom on me! It’s clear you don’t like him, but I don’t understand why. He was perfectly polite.”

“He was perfectly glib.”

“What the devil do you mean by that?”

“Damion, you can’t have it both ways. If you ask for my opinion and I offer it against my better judgment, you have only yourself to blame if you dislike what you hear. Or would you have me bow and scrape and agree with every blockheaded thing you say, like a courtier?”

“I expect—” Damion realized he was on the edge of losing his temper. What was wrong with Dan? Why was he acting this way? Damion drew in a breath and began again. “I expect you to give my brother a fair chance, taking into consideration his lack of worldly experience. If you won’t do it as a matter of fairness, then do it as a personal favor to me. He’s going to have enough difficulties adjusting to his new life without you censuring him before you even know him!”

With a snort of exasperation, Dan got up and went to the door leading to the bedroom. From where he sat, Damion could see four narrow beds, straw-tick mattresses on simple wooden frames, a washstand and a couple of chairs. Their baggage had been stacked neatly beside the nearest bed. Without another word, Dan began unpacking and making up two of the beds with a precision that would have made a Cadet Master proud.

Damion poured himself a mug of jaco and sipped it, staring into the fire. Why could there not be peace between the people he loved? Why did it always come down to a choice?

Damion was still turning over these depressing questions when Brother Valentine arrived. Dan, having finished preparing for the coming night, joined them in the sitting room.

At the insistence of Damion, Valentine took one of the chairs. He smiled as he settled against the cushions, clearly enjoying the unaccustomed comfort.

“You may not remember me,” the monk said, once they had resumed their conversation, “but I have kept myself informed about you, little brother. Although they call me Valentine, after the holy saint who founded this order, I was named Rinaldo. You may call me that if you would claim me as kin.”

“I am in need of kinsmen, for we are so few,” Damion said with a sigh.

“Tell me, have you thought—would you be willing to come with me to Thendara, to take up your place as a Carmen?”

Rinaldo regarded him with those strange gray eyes. “Until your message arrived, I never expected to enter the world. I understood there is little acceptance for one such as I.”

“I intend to have you formally legitimatized,” Damion said quickly. “Then no one will question your right—”

“No, no, that is not what I meant.” Rinaldo protested. “Our grandfather could have done the same, but he chose not to, for reasons that seemed good to him.”

“Your . . . difference, you mean.”

“You are too courteous to ask,” Rinaldo said, “so I will tell you straight out. I would not have you think I withheld the truth in order to curry your favor. We do not speak of such things here at St. Valentine’s, but I believe I am emmasca. That is, I am shaped as other men, or I could not live among the brothers. Although I admit to being curious, I have never had the opportunity to lie with a woman, but I am not indifferent to the prospect. As to fathering a child, who can say, but from everything I know about my condition, I cannot believe it possible.”

Damion looked away. So his first impression was correct. Yet to be born emmasca and without power would be very strange indeed, since the telepathic genes ran so strongly in their chieri ancestors.

Rinaldo paused. “Do you wish to withdraw your offer, now that you know what I am?”

“We are not living in the Ages of Chaos, when a man’s value was measured by his pedigree, his power, his ability to father children, or anything else except the quality of his character,” Damion said with feeling.

Rinaldo gave him a long, measuring look. “Bare is a brotherless back, as they say?”

“As they say. Carmen does not need another stud horse to breed heirs, but I have need of a brother.”

“It seems that I am indeed called to be of service in the outer world. To my family . . . to my brother,” Rinaldo inflected the word with a warmth that brought a rush of pleasure to Damion. “In that case, I will petition Father Master for a release from my vows. He has already indicated he would do so if I wished.”

“I welcome you to the family with a joyful heart,” Damion said.

Rinaldo bowed his head in a gracious gesture. “As you know, we monks are not permitted to own property. Even my robe and sandals and the wooden bowl and spoon I eat with do not belong to me. You must provide me with clothing suitable to my rank and a means of transportation.”

Was there a hint of reproach beneath the words delivered with all civility? Although of equal blood, Damion had e

njoyed all the privileges and luxuries that the Heir to a Domain might expect, while his brother had languished in obscure poverty.

“It will be my pleasure to furnish you with all that you require,” Damion gently assured his brother. “Dan, I leave the matter in your capable hands. There must be a stable or horse market where you can obtain a mount for my brother.”

“You can ride, I suppose?” Dan asked Rinaldo, a little stiffly.

“I have made sure I could, although I learned on a stag- pony, not a proper horse. I will do my best not to disgrace you.”

As they sat at their ease, Damion went on, “I am afraid that any clothing to be found in Nevarsin will fall short of the elegance proper to a son of Carmen. Once we reach Thendara, I will order an appropriate wardrobe for you.”

“That is most generous of you, little brother.”

“It is no more than you deserve,” Damion returned with a smile.

“You have convinced me,” Rinaldo replied. “I believe you are right. I deserve the best, even if I must wait to receive it.”

In the presence of the monastery community, gathered together in the chapel, the Father Master performed the ceremony that formally released Rinaldo from his vows. He would no longer bear the name of Brother Valentine or be bound by the rules of the order. If only, Damion thought, there were such a council ritual for himself.

The monks embraced their former brother for the last time, exchanging blessings and wishes for peace. The ceremony concluded with a speech by the Father Master exhorting Rinaldo and every other man present to faithfully and scrupulously adhere to the principles set forth by the holy saints, to emulate the Holy Bearer of Burdens, to keep themselves pure through the Creed of Chastity, and to redeem their sins by acts of charity and penance.

“Never stray from the path of righteousness!” The Father Master’s thunderous voice filled the chapel. “Accept your burdens . . . no, rejoice in them! Remember always—Righteousness flourishes under the lash of discipline!”

A lifetime of sitting through formal events had given Damion the ability to look interested no matter how bored or irritated he felt. He allowed the lecture to wash over him, paying little heed to its content. He was a guest here, an observer only.

But Dan, who was an adherent to this faith, what must this tirade be like for him? Damion stole a glance at his companion, sitting a short distance away. Dan’s cheeks had gone pale.

As they made ready to depart, Dan was taut and silent. He answered Damion in monosyllables. Damion did not press the issue. Dan would speak to him in his own time or deal with his feelings in his own way.