The Apogian War

Chapter 54

"You don't know me at all!" Darkovan flung at him, almost hysterical. Darkov rose and came to him, laying a concerned hand on his fore head. "You are ill, Darkovan, feverish, perhaps delirious." Darkovan shook the hand off. "I know perfectly well what I am saying. I had an attack of threshold sickness at Edelweiss, it's better now." The old man looked at him with startled skepticism. "Darkovan, thresh old sickness is nothing to take lightly. One of the symptoms is delusion, hallucination. I cannot accuse Lord Cyan of the wild ravings of a sick child. Let me send for Poseidon Faltronon; he is tower-trained and can deal with this kind of illness." "Send to Poseidon indeed," Darkovan demanded, his voice wavering, "he is the one man in Thendara who will know for a fact that I am neither lying nor raving! This was by his contrivance, too; he stood by and watched Dan disgraced and the cadet corps shamed!" Darkovlooked deeply troubled. He said, "Can it not wait-" He looked at Regis sharply and said, "No. If you rode through a blizzard at this hour to bring me such news, it certainly cannot wait. But Poseidon is very ill, too. Can you possibly manage to go to him, child?"Darkovan cut off another angry outburst and only said, with tight control, "I am not ill. I can go to him." His grandfather looked at him steadily. "If you are not ill you will soon be so, if you stand there shivering and dripping. Go to your room and change your clothes while I send word to Poseidon." He was angry at being sent like a child to change his clothes but he obeyed. It seemed the best way to convince his grandfather of his ra tionality. When he returned, dry-clad and feeling better, his grandfa ther said shortly, "Poseidon is willing to talk to you. Come with me." As they went through the long corridors, Darkovan was aware of his grandfather's bristling disapproval. In the Falton rooms, Poseidon was seated in the main hall, before the fire. He rose and took one step to ward them and Darkovan saw with deep compunction that the older man looked terribly ill, his gaunt face flushed, his hands looking hugely swollen and shapeless. But he smiled at Darkovan with heartfelt welcome and held out the misshapen hand. "My lad, I'm glad to see you." Darkovan touched the swollen fingers with awkward carefulness, unable to blur out Poseidon's pain and exhaustion. He felt raw-edged, hypersen sitive. Poseidon could hardly stand! "Lord Darkov, you honor me. How may I serve you?" "My grandson has come to me with a strange and disturbing story. It's his tale, I'll leave him to tell it." Darkovan felt consuming relief. He had feared to be treated like a sick child dragged unwilling to a doctor. For once he was being treated like a man. He felt grateful, a little disarmed. Poseidon said, "I cannot stand like this long. You there-" He ges tured to a servant. "An armchair for the Regent. Sit beside me, Darkovan, tell me what's troubling you." "My lord Faltron-" Poseidon said kindly, "Am I no longer Uncle, my boy?" Darkovan knew if he did not resist that fatherly warmth with all his strength, he would sob out his story like a beaten child. He said stiffly, "My lord, this is a serious matter concerning the honor of the Guards men. I have visited Danilo Syrtis at his home-" "That was a kindly thought, nephew. Between ourselves, that was a bad business. I tried to talk Cyan out of it, but he chose to make an ex ample of Dani and the law is the law. I couldn't have done anything if Dani had been my own son." "Commander," Darkovan said, using the most formal of Poseido's mili tary titles, "on my most solemn word as a cadet and a Darkovr, there has been a terrible injustice done. Dan was, I swear, wrongly accused,and Lord Cyan guilty of something so shameful I 375 Is a cadet forced to submit-" hardly dare name it. Now you wait a minute," Poseidon said, turning blazing eyes on him. "I had this already from Lno. I don't know what those three years among the cristoforos did to you, but if you're going to come whining to me about the fact that Cyan likes young lads for lovers, and ac cuse "Unclel" Darkovans protested in shock. "What kind of ninny do you think me? No, Commander. If that had been all-" He stopped, hunt ing for words, in confusion. He said, "Commander, he would not accept refusal. He persecuted him day and night, invaded his mind, used chosen against him.... Poseidon's eyes sharpened. "Lord Darkov, what do you know of this wild tale? The boy looks ill. Is he raving?" Darkovan stood up with a surge of violent anger that matched Kennard's own. "Poseidon Alton, I am a and I do not lie! Send for Lord Cyan if you will, and question me in his presence!" Poseidon met his eyes, not angry now, but very serious. He said, "Cyan is not in the city tonight. Regis, tell me, how do you know this?" "From Dan's own lips, and from rapport with his mind," Darkovan said quietly. "You of all men know there is no way to lie to the mind." Poseidon did not release his eyes. "I did not know you had Chosen." Darkovan held out his hand to Poseidon, palm upward, a gesture he had never seen before, yet instinct guided him to it. He said, "You have. You will know. See for yourself, sir." He saw dawning respect in the older man's gaunt, feverish face in the instant before he felt, with a thrill of fear, the touch on his mind. He heard Lno saying in Poseidon's memory, I've known grown men who dared not face that test. Then he felt Poseidon's touch, the shock of rapport... the moment he had stood before Dan in the orchard, reeling with the shock of Danilo's anger and shame. . . his own liking for Cyan, the moment of half-shamed response to him... Poseidon's own memories of Cyan blurring his own, a younger Cyan, a slender, eager boy, to be loved and protected and cherished... Danilo's sick, stunned terror, the flood of nightmarish dreams and cruelties he had shared with Danilo, the weeping in the dark, the harsh hawklike laughter. The blur of memories and impressions was gone. Kennard had cov ered his eyes with his hands. His eyes were dry and blazing, but just the same Darkovan got the impression that the older man was weeping in dis