The Apogian War

Chapter 31

. I hated wearing my sister's outgrown

nightgowns, though. Her governess taught her needlework by having her cut them down to sire for me. Whenever she was cross about it, she used to pinch or prick me with her pins while she was trying them on. She's never liked sewing." He thought of his sister as he had last seen her, heavy-footed, swollen in pregnancy. Poor Jane, She was caught too, with nothing ahead of her except bearing children for the house of Darkov. "Darkovan, is something wrong?" Darkovan was startled at Dani's look of concem. "Not really. I was thinking of my sister, wondering if her child had been bom," Dan said gently, "I'm sure they'd have sent word if anything was wrong. The old saying is that good news crawls on its belly; bad news has wings Damon MacAnndra came toward them. "Have you been tested yet by the arms-master?" "No," said Dani, "they didn't get to me yesterday. What happens?" Damon shrugged. "The arms-master hands you a standard Guards men sword and asks you to demonstrate the basic positions for defense. If you don't know which end of it to take hold by, he puts you down for beginners' lessons and you get to practice about three hours a day. In your off duty time, of course. If you know the basics, he or one of his assistants will test you. When I went up last night, Lord Cyan was there watching. I tell you, I sweat blood! I made a damn fool of myself, my foot slipped and he put me down for lessons every other day. Who could do anything with that one staring at you?" "Yes," Julian said from the cot beyond, where he was trying to get a spot of rust off his knife. "My brother told me he likes to sit and watch the cadets training. He seems to enjoy seeing them get rattled and do stupid things. He's a mean one." "I studied swordplay at Evertin," Dan said. "I'm not worried about the arms-master." "Well, you'd better worry about Lord Cyan. You're just young enough and pretty enough-" "Shut your mouth," Dan said. "You shouldn't talk that way about a Dover lord." Damon snickered. "I forgot. You're Lord Alton's protégé, aren't you? Strange, I never heard that he had any special liking for pretty boys." Dan flared, his face buming. "You shut your filthy mouth! You're not fit to wipe Lord Poseidon's boots! If you say anything like that again." "Well, it seems we have a whole cloister of monks back here." Julian

joined in the laughter. "Do you recite the Creed of Chastity when you ride into battle, Dani?" "It wouldn't hurt any of you dirty-months to say something decent," Dan said and turned his back on them, burying himself in the arms manual. Darkovan had also been shocked by the accusation they had made and by their language. But he realized he could not expect ordinary young men to behave and talk like novice monks, and he knew they would quickly make his life unbearable if he showed any sign of his distaste. He held his peace. That sort of thing must be common enough here to be a joke. Yet it had touched off a murder and near-riot in the Terran Zone. Could grown men actually take such things seriously enough to kill? Terrans, perhaps. They must have very strange customs, if they were even stricter than the cristoforos. He suddenly recalled, as something that might have taken place years ago, that only this morning he had stood beside young Lawton in the Persian Zone, watching the starship break free from the planet and make its way to the stars. He wondered if Dan Lawton knew which end of a sword to take hold by, and if he cared. He had a strange sense of shuttling, rapidly and painfully, between worlds. Three years. Three years to study swordplay while the Terran ships came and went less than a bowshot away. Was this the kind of awareness his grandfather carried night and day, a constant reminder of two worlds rubbing shoulders, with violently op posed histories, habits, manners, moralities? How did Darkov live with the contrast? The day wore on. He was sent for, and an orderly measured him for his uniform. When the sun was high, a junior officer came to show them the way to the mess hall, where the cadets ate at separate tables. The food was coarse and plain, but Darkovan had eaten worse at Evertin and he made a good meal, though some of the cadets grumbled loudly about the fare. "It's not so bad," he said in an undertone to Dan, and the younger boy's eyes glinted with mischief. "Maybe they want to make sure we know they're used to something better! Even if we're not." Darkovan, aware of Danilo's patched shirt on his back, remembered how desperately poor the boy's family must be. Yet they had had him well educated at Evertin. "I'd thought you were to be a monk, Dani." "I couldn't be," Dani said. "I'm my father's only son now, and it wouldn't be lawful. My half-brother was killed fifteen years ago, before I was born." As they left the men hall, be added, "Father had m taught to read and write and keep accounts so that someday T4 best to manage his estate. He's growing too old to farm Syrtie slone He didn't want me to go into the Guards, but when Lend Altos made och a kind offer, he couldn't refuse. I hate to hear them gip about him," he said vehemently. "He's not like that! He's good and kind and de centi "I'm sure he doesn't listen," Regis said. "I lived in his house too, you know. And one of his favorite sayings used to be, if you listen to dop barking, you'll go deaf without learning much. Are the Syrtis people under the Alton Domain, Danilo? "No, we have always been under Hastur wardship. My father was hawk-master to yours, and my half-brother his paman And something Regis had always known, an old story which had been part of his childhood but which he had never associated with liv ing people, fell into place in his mind. He said excitedly, "Dani! Your brother-was his name Rafael-Felix Syrtis of Syrtis?" "Yes, that was his name. He was killed before I was born, in the same year Stefan Fourth died "So was my father," said Regis, with a surge of unfamiliar emotion. "All my life I have known the story, known your brother's name. Dani, your brother was my father's personal guard, they were killed at the same instant-he died trying to shield my father with his body. Did you know they are buried side by side, in one grave, on the field of Kilghair lie?" He remembered, but did not say, what an old servant had told him, that they were blown to bits, buried together where they fell, since no living man could tell which bits were his father's, which Dani's brother's. "I didn't know," Dan whispered, his eyes wide. Darkovan, caught in the grip of a strange emotion, said, "It must be horrible to die like that, but not so horrible if your last thought is to shield someone else. Dani's voice was not entirely steady. "They were both named Ra fael and they had sworn to one another, and they fought together and died and were buried in one grave" As if he hardly knew what he was doing, he reached out to Darkovan and clasped his hands. He said, "I'd like to die like that. Wouldn't you?" Darkovan nodded wordlessly. For an instant it seemed to him that some thing had reached deep down inside him, an almost painful awareness and emotion. It was almost a physical touch, although Dani's fingers were only resting lightly in his own. Suddenly, abashed by the intensity

knife on a fellow Cardsman will break yon. So keep your temper, whatever happens. You've not married, I oppone, Handfastot Not that I've heard, sir Cyan made an odd devisive sound. "Well, make the best of it, your grandfather will probably have you married oll before the year's out Let me see. What you do in off-duty time is your own allait, but don't get yourself talked about. There's a rule about coming scandalon talk by scandalous behavior. I don't have to tell you that the heir to a Do main is expected to set an example, do Ir No, Captain, you don't have to tell me that." Darkovan had had his rubbod in that all his life and he supposed Cyan had too Cyan's eyes met his again, amused, sympathetic "It's unfair, ins't it kinsman? Not allowed to claim any Dover privileges, but still expected to set an example because of what we are." With another swift change of mood, he was back to the remote officer. "In general, keep out of the Persian Spaceforce Zone for your... amusements."

Darkovan was thinking of the young Persians officer who, before they parted, had again offered to show him more of the spaceport whenever he wished. "Is it f*******n to go into the Person Zone at all?" "By no means. The prohibition doesn't apply to sightseeing, shop ping or eating there if you have a taste for exotic foods. But Person cus toms differ enough from ours that getting entangled with Persian prosti tutes, or making any s****l advances to them, is likely to be a risky business. So keep out of trouble. To put it bluntly-you're supposed to be grown up now-if you have a taste for such adventures, find them on the Darkovan side of the line. Zandru's hells, my boy, aren't you too old to blush? Or hasn't the monastery wom off you yet?" He laughed. "I suppose, brought up at Evertin, you don't know a damn thing about arms, either?" Darkovan welcomed the change of subject this time. He said he had had lessons, and Cyan's nostrils flared in contempt. "Some broken-down old soldier earning a few coins teaching the basic positions?" "Poseidon Faltron taught me when I was a child, sir." "Well, we'll see." He motioned to one of the junior officers. "Hjal mar, give him a practice sword." Hjalmar handed Darkovan one of the wood and leather swords used for training. Darkovan balanced it in his hand. "Sir, I'm very badly out of prac tice." "Never mind," Hjalmar said, bored. "We'll see what kind of training you've had." Darkovan raised his sword in salute. He saw Hjalmar lift an eyebrow as he dropped into the defensive stance Poseidon had taught him years ago. The moment Hjalmar lowered his weapon Darkovan noted the weak point in his defense; he feinted, sidestepped and touched Healmar al most instantly on the thigh. They reengaged. For a moment there was no sound but the scuffle of feet as they circled one another, then Hal mar made a swift pass which Darkovan parried. He disengaged and touched him on the shoulder. "Enough." Cyan threw off his vest, standing in shirtsleeves. "Give me the sword, Hjalmar. Darkovan knew, no amateur. Hialmar, evidently, was used for testing cadets who were soon as Cyan raised the wooden blade, that this was shy or completely unskilled, perhaps handling weapons for the first Cyan was another matter. Darkovan felt a tightness in his throat, recalling the gossip of the and do something stupid. dets: Cyan liked to see people get rattled He managed to counter the first stroke and the second, but on the third his parry slid awkwardly along Cyan's casually turned blade and he felt the wooden tip thump his ribs hard. Cyan nodded to him to go on, then beat him back step by step, finally touched him again, again, three times in rapid succession. Darkovan flushed and lowered his sword. Then he felt the older man's hand gripping his shoulder hard. "So you're out of practice?" "Very badly, Captain." "Stop bragging, chiyu. You made me sweat, and not even the arms master can always do that. Poseidon taught you well. I'd halfway ex pected, with that pretty face of yours, you'd have learned nothing but courtly dances. Well, lad, you can be excused from regular lessons, but you'd better turn out for practice every day. If, that is, we can find any one to match you. If not, I'll have to work out with you myself." "I would be honored, Captain," Darkovan said, but hoped Cyan would not hold him to this. Something about the older man's intense stare and teasing compliments made him feel awkward and very young. Cyan's hand on his shoulder was hard, almost a painful grip. He turned Darkovan gently around to look at him. He said, "Since you already have some skill at swordplay, kinsman, perhaps, if you like the idea, I could ask to have you assigned as my aide. Among other things, it would mean you need not sleep in the barracks." Darkovan said quickly, "I'd rather not, sir." He fumbled for an acceptable excuse. "Sir, that is a post for an-an experienced cadet. If I am as signed at once to a post of honor, it will look as if I am taking advan tage of my rank, to be excused from what the other cadets have to do.

Thank you for the honor, Captain, but I don't think I-I ought to ac cept." Cyan threw back his head and laughed, and it seemed to Darkovan that the raucous laughter sounded a little like the feral cry of a hawk, that there was something nightmarish about it. Darkovan was caught in the grip of a strange déjà vu, feeling that this had happened before. It vanished as swiftly as it had come. Cyan released his grip on Darkovan's shoulder. "I honor you for that decision, kinsman, and I dare say you are right. And in training already to be a statesman, I see. I can find no fault with your answer." Again the wild, hawklike laugh. "You can go, cadet. Tell young MacAran I want to see him."