The Apogian War

Chapter 44

and sipped at it, not looking up. He had grown sensitive to the far too-frequent comments on his good looks at Evertin and in the barracks. From Cyan they seemed somehow more pointed. He gave a mental shrag, recalling what else they said in the barracks, that Lord Cyan had an eye for pretty boys. Cyan looknt up maddenly from his glass. "Where do you intend to pend the winter, kinman? Will you return to Castle Darkov?" think not. Crandfather is needed here, and I think he would ther have me close at hand. The estate is in good hands, so I'm not needed there." "True. He lost so much of Rafael's life, I spect it's a mistake he doesn't want to repeat. I imagine I'll be here too, with crisis on crisis in the city and Poseidon ill much of the time. Well, Thendara is an in teresting place to spend the winter. There are concerts enough to satisfy any music lover. And there are fashionable restaurants, balls and dances, all manner of amusements. And, for a young man your age, one should not omit the houses of pleasure. Are you familiar with the House of Lanterns, cousin? In contrast to the other flashes of intensity, this was almost too ca al The House of Lanterns was a discreet brothel, one of the very few which were not specifically f*******n to the cadets and officers. Darkovan knew that some of the older cadets visited the place occasionally but al though he shared the curiosity of the other first-year cadets, curiosity had not yet overcome his distaste for the idea. He shook his head. "Only by reputation. "I find the place tiresome," Cyan said offhandedly. "The Golden Cage is rather more to my liking. It's at the edge of the Persian Zone, and one can find various exotic entertainments there, even aliens and nonhumans, as well as all kinds of women. Or," he added, again in that carefully casual tone, "all kinds of men or boys." Darkovan blushed hard and tried to hide it by coughing as if he'd choked on his cider. Cyan had seen the blush, and grinned. "I had forgotten how conven tional young people can be. Perhaps a taste for... exotic entertain ments...needs to be cultivated, like a taste for fine wine instead of cider. And three years in a monastery hardly cultivates the taste for any of the finer amusements and luxuries which help a young man to make the most of his life." As Dark only blushed more furiously, he reached out and laid a hand on his arm, "Cousin, the monastery is behind you, have you truly realized that you are no longer bound by all its rules?" Cyan was watching him carefully. When Regis said nothing, he con tinued. "Kinsman, one can waste years, precious years of youth, trying to cultivate tastes which turn out to be mistaken. You can miss too much that way. Learn what you want and what you are while you're young enough to enjoy it. I wish someone had given me such advice at your age. My own son never lived to need it. And your father is not here to give it and your grandfather, I have no doubt, is more con cerned with teaching you your duty to family and Couryn than with helping you enjoy your youth" Cyan's intensity did not embarrass him now.s realized that for a long time he had felt starved for junt such an opportunity to talk about these things with a man of his own caste, one who nodentood the world he must live in. He set down his mug and said, "Kinsman, I won der if that isn't why Grandfather insisted I should serve in the cadets Cyan nodded. "Probably so," he said. "It was I who advised him to send you into the cadets, instead of letting you spend your time in idle ness and amusements. There's a time for that, of course. But it's true I felt that time spent in the cadets would teach you, more quickly, the things you'd failed to learn before." Dark looked at him eagerly. "I didn't want to go in the cadets. I hated it at first." Cyan laid a light hand on his shoulder again and said affectionately, "Everyone does. If you hadn't, I'd be disturbed; it would mean you'd hardened too young. "But now I think I know why Dover heirs have to serve in the ca dets." Dark said. "Not just the discipline. I got plenty of that in Evertin. But learning how to be one of the people, doing the same work they do, sharing their lives and their problems, so we He bit his lip. searching carefully for words. "So we'll know what our people are. Cyan said softly, "That was eloquent, lad. As your cadet-master, I'm content. As your kinsman, too. I wish more boys your age had that kind of understanding. I've been accused of being ruthless. But whatever I've done, I've done it out of allegiance to Dover. Can you understand that, Dark?" Dark said, "I think so." He felt warmed, somehow len lonely, by having someone care how he felt or what he thought. Cyan said, "Do you also understand what I said about how the other cadets would take it ill if you shunned their common amusements? Regis bit his lip. He said, "I know what you mean, I do, really. Just the same, feel very strange about-" He was suddenly embarrassed in "About places like the House of Lanter. Maybe it will wear off as I get older. But I'm a..a telepath- How strange it felt to say it! How strange that Cyan should be the first one he told! "And it feels wrong." he said, stumbling from phrase to phrase. Cyan lifted his glass and drank the last in it before he answered.

"Maybe you're right. Life can be complicated enough for a telepath, without that, too. Some day you'll know what you want, and then will be the time to trust your instincts and your needs." He fell silent, brooding, and Regis found himself wondering what bitter memorits lay behind the pensive look. Finally Cyan said, "You'd probably do well then, to keep clear of such places and wait until, if the Gods are good to you, someone you can love helps you discover that part of your life" He sighed heavily and said, "If you can. You may discover needs even more imperative than those instincts. It's always a difficult balance for a telepath. There are physical needs. And there are needs which can be even stronger. Emotional needs. And that's a balance which can tear any of us to pieces." Dark had the curious feeling that Cyan was not r ally talking to him at all, but to himself. Abruptly, Dyan set down his empty wineglass and rose. He said, "But one pleasure which has no danger attached is to watch young peo ple grow in wisdom, cousin. I hope to see much of that growth in you this winter, and I'll watch with interest. Meanwhile, keep this in mind: I know the city well and it would be a pleasure to show you anything you wish to see." He laughed aloud suddenly and said, "And believe me, cousin, such instruction would at least leave no bruises." He strode quickly away. Dark, collecting his cloak from the seat, felt more puzzled than ever, feeling there was something else Cyan had wanted to say. He had to pass the table crowded with cadets, lounging over cider o beer, he noticed that they were staring at him in no friendly fashion. None of them offered him even the bare civility of a formal greeting. He set his chin and tumed his back on them. He heard one say in a low tone, "Catamitel" Darkovan felt a flood of intense anger washing over him. He wanted to turn on the boy and beat him to a crimson pulp. Then he set his jaw, disciplining himself to walk away and pretend he had not heard. If you listen to dogs barking, you'll go deaf and never learn much. He remembered various insults he had pretended not to hear, mostly to the intent that the Dovern hung together, that he had had special favors because he was a Comyn heir. But this one was new. He recalled the taunt Danilo had flung at him the night before his expulsion, Dani was a cristoforo and to him it was more than an insult. He knew Cyan would have nothing but scom for such gossip. He never made any secret of his tastes. Yet Dark felt oddly protective to ward his kintman, having sensed his bitterness. He felt a strange wish to defend him.

It occurred to him again, with frustration too new for him to realize it was a commonplace among telepaths, that there were times when in was absolutely no help at all in personal relationships. The season ended. The cadets were dismissed to their homes and Darkovan moved into the Darkov apartments in DoverCastle. He appreci ated the peace and quiet and felt a certain pleasure in being able to sleep as late as he pleased in the morning. And the Darkov cooks were certainly better than those in the Guards mess. The prolonged auster ity, though, first in Nevarsin, then in the barracks, had made him al most guilty about this kind of luxury. He couldn't appreciate it as he wanted to. One morning he was at breakfast with his grandfather when Lord Darkov said abruptly, "You're not looking like yourself. Is something wrong?" Darkovan thought that his grandfather had seen so little of him that he would have no idea what he usually looked like. He was too polite to say it, of course, so answered, "Bored, maybe. Not getting enough exer cise." It disturbed him that he could not help picking up his grandfather's thoughts: It's wrong to keep the boy hanging about here when I've so little time to spend with him. Darkob said aloud, "I'm afraid I've been too busy to notice, my boy. I'm very sorry. Would you like to return to Castle Darkov, or go some where else?" "I wasn't complaining, sir. But I feel I'm no use to you. When you asked me to stay for the winter, I thought there was something I could do to help you." "I wish you could. Unfortunately, you haven't the experience to be a great deal of help yet," Darkov said, but could not conceal a faint flicker of satisfaction. He's beginning to be interested. "Some time this winter you might attend a few sessions of the Cortes and find out about the problems we're facing. I'll get you a pass. Or you could ride to Edel weiss, spend a few days with Jane." Dark shrugged. He found Edelweiss dull. There was no hunting ex cept for rabbits and squirrels, the rain kept them indoors much of the time, and he and Jane were too far apart in age and too unlike in personality to find much pleasure in each other's company, "I know it's not very exciting there either," Darkov said, almost apolo gizing, "but she is your sister, and we do not have so many kinfolk that we can neglect one another. If you want hunting, you know, you are free to go to Armiday at any time. Lno is away and Kennard too ill to travel, but you can go there and take a friend." But the only friend he'd made in the cadets, Dark thought, was sent home in disgrace. "Poseison is ill, sir? What's wrong?" Danvan sighed. "This climate doesn't agree with him. He grows more crippled every year. He'll be better when the rains-" He broke off as a servant came in with a message. "Already? Yes, I have to go and talk with a trade delegation from the Dry Towns," he said with weary resignation, laying down his napkin. He excused himself to Dark, add ing. "Let me know your plans, lad, and I'll arrange for escort." Left alone, Dark poured himself another cup of Persia coffee, one of the few luxuries the austere old man allowed himself, and thought it over. The duty visit to Javanne could not, of course, be avoided. A visit to Armida could await Lno's return; he could hardly be intending to spend the winter at Aldaran. If Kennard was ill, courtesy demanded that Darkovan pay him a visit in his suite, but for some unknown reason he was unwilling to face the Faltron on lord. He did not know why. Kennard had always been kind to him. After a time he focused it down to resentment: he stood by and watched Danilo's disgrace and didn't say a word. Lew wanted to inter fere, but he couldn't. Poseidon didn't care. And Poseidon was one of the most powerful telepaths in the Dover. Darkovan, feeling this much resentment, was reluctant to face him. Ken nard would know immediately how he felt. He knew, rationally, that he should go to Kennard at once, if only to tell him about his newly developing laran. There were training tech niques to help him master and control his new facilities. But in the ca dets it had not seemed to matter, and the proper time to speak to Lno about it had never come till too late. Dyan had seemed to take it for granted that he already had what training he needed. Kennard was the obvious one to tell. He admonished himself sternly that he should go at once, now, today. But he was still reluctant to face him. He decided to go to Javanne for a few days first. By that time perhaps Lew would be back. A few days later he rode north, the weight of it still on his mind. Syrtis lay half a mile from the northward road and, on an impulse, he told his escort to wait in a nearby village. He rode alone toward Syrtis. It lay at the far end of a long valley, leading downward to the lake country around Mariposa. It was a clear autumn day, with ripening fruit trees hanging low under their thick harvest and small animals making scurrying noises in the dry brushwood at the side of the road.

The sounds and smells made Darkoban feel well content as he rode along but as he came down toward the farm his spirits sank. He had been thinking Danilo well off, to be coming home to this pleasant country, but he had not realized how poor the place was. The main house wat mall, one wing falling into such disrepair that it could hardly have been safe for human habitation. The sparse outbuildings showed how few men must live on the place. The old most had been drained, ditched and put to kitchen-gardens with neat rows of vegetables and pot-herbs. An old, bent servant told him, touching his breast in rustic courtesy, that the master was just returning from the hunt. Darkovan sus pected that in a place like this rabbit would be more plentiful on the table than butcher's meat. A tall, aging man in a once-fine threadbare cloak rode slowly toward him. He was moustached and bearded, and sat his horse with the erect competence of an old soldier.