The Apogian War

Chapter 21

He's very young for such a journey. You member Marius, don't you?" Darkovan realized with relief that Marie, called Mont-Lant instead of Faltron because he had not yet been accepted as a legitimate son, was my twelve years old-too young in any case for a formal greeting. "The council could be sidestepped by treating him as a child. He said, You've grown since I last saw you, Marie. I don't suppose you remember me at all. You're old enough now to ride a hone, at least. Do you still have the little gray pony you used to ride at Armiday?" Marie answered politely, "Yes, but he's out at pasture, he's old and lane, too old for such a trip." Poseidon looked annoyed. Diplomacy indeed! His grandfather would be proud of him, Darkovan considered, even if he was not proud of himself for the art of double tongues. Fortunately, Marie was not old enough to know he'd been snubbed. It occurred to Darkovan how ridiculous it was for boys their own age to address one another so formally anyway. When the years at Armiday, before Darkovan had his title as a Darkov,

to the monastery, they were as close as brothers. And now lewcalling him Lord Darkovan! It was stupid! Poseidon looked at the sky. "Shall we ride on? It's near sunset and sure to rain. It would be a nuisance to have to stop and pack away the hanners. And your grandfather will be eager to see you, Darkovan." was "My grandfather has been spared my presence for three years," Dakovan said dryly. "I am sure he can endure another hour or so. But it would be better not to ride in the dark." Protocol said that Darkovan should ride beside Poseidon and Lord Cyan, but instead he dropped back to ride beside Lno Faltron. Marie was riding with a boy about Darkovan' own age, who looked so familiar that Darkovan frowned, trying to recall where they'd met. While the entourage was getting into line, Darkovan sent his banner bearer to ride at the head of the column with those of Hardais and Faltron. He watched the man ride ahead with the silver-and-blue fir-tree emblem of Darkov and the casta slogan, " peri" I shall remain, he translated wearily, yes, I shall stay here and be a Darkov whether I like it or not.

It's all planned out for us, isn't it, Lno? Ten years old, fire-watch duty. Thirteen or fourteen, the cadet corps. Take my turn as an officer. Take a seat in Council at the proper time. Marry the right woman, if they can find one from a family that's old enough and important enough and, above all, with "Chosen". Father a lot of sons, and a lot of daughters to marry other Dover sons. They've got our lives all planned, and all we have to do is go through the motions, ride their road whether we want to or not." Lno looked uneasy, but he didn't answer. Obediently, like a proper prince, Darkovan drew a little ahead, to ride through the city gates in his proper place beside Poseidon and Lord Cyan. His head was getting wet but, he thought sourly, it was his duty to be seen, to be put on display. A little thing like a soaking wasn't supposed to bother a Darkov.

He forced himself to smile and wave graciously at the crowds lining the streets. But far away, through the very ground, he could hear again the dull vibration, like a waterfall. The starships were still there, he told himself, and the stars beyond them. No matter how deep they cut the track, I'll find a way to break loose somehow, Someday.

Just the same, you'll have a seat in Council, cousin. There is no other "I'm all too well aware of that. I've heard nothing else since the day Darkov heir I was born," Darkovan said. "Although, since Jane married Gabiru, she's having sons like kittens.

One of them may very well displace me someday "Still, you are in the direct line of male descent. A "Chosen" gift does skip a generation now and then. All your sons could inherit it." Darkovan said with impulsive bitterness, "Do you think that helps-to know that I'm of no value for myself, but only for the sons I may have?"

A thin, fine drizzle of rain was beginning to fall. Lno drew his hood up over his shoulders and the insignia of the City Guard showed on his cloak. So he's taking the regular duties of a Dover heir, Regis thought. He may be a bastard, but he's more useful than I am. Lno said aloud, as if picking up his thoughts, "I expect you'll be going into the cadet corps of the Guard this season, won't you? Or are the Dover's exempt?"

Then rebellion gripped him again. Poseidon hadn't stayed. He was educated on persia itself, and by the will of the Council. Maybe there was hope for Darkovan too, Darkov or not. He felt queerly lonely. Poseidon's maneuvering for proper respect for his sons had irritated him, but it had touched him too. If his own father had lived, he wondered, would he have been so solicitous? Would he have schemed and intrigued to keep his son from feeling inferior? Lno's face was grim, lonely and sullen. Darkovan couldn't tell if he felt slighted, ill-treated or just lonely, knowing himself different.

Lno said, "Are you coming to take a seat in Council, Lord Darkovan?" The formality irritated Darkovan again. Was it a snub in return for the one he had given Marie? Suddenly he was tired of this. "You used to call me cousin, Lno. Are we too old to be friends?" A quick smile lighted Lno's face. He was handsome without the sullen, withdrawn look.

"Of course not, cousin. But I've had it rubbed into me, in the cadets and elsewhere, that you are Darkovan, Lord Darkov, and I'm... well, I'm outcast heir to Faltron. They only accepted me because my father has no proper legitimate sons. I decided that it was up to you whether or not you cared to claim kin." Darkovan's mouth stretched in a grimace. He shrugged. "Well, they may I have to accept me, but I might as well be a bastard. I haven't "chosen" ." Lew looked shocked. "But certainly, you-I was sure-" He broke off.