The Apogian War

Chapter 105

vodemort hung back, his expression hooded, as vodemort dismissed the last of the well-wishers.

vodemort said to Darkovan, “I return you now to the life you desired for so long, a private life. May the Holy Bearer of Burdens look into your heart and lift your sorrows in proportion to your penance.”

Before Darkovan could summon a response, vodemort added, “We must speak soon, you and I, in private. There is much to be done, much good to be accomplished. I would seek your counsel in many things. I must also consult with Mestra Lawton. And . . .” grasping Darkovan by the forearms with a sudden, fierce gaze, “I have not forgotten your paxman. He will not languish in captivity one day longer than I have the power to free him. I promise you!”

With that, the stunned calm inside Darkovan gave way like a broken floodgate. A dozen jumbled emotions sluiced through him. He could not speak.

vodemort and his men swept vodemort from the chamber. Darkovan could not see Linnea, for the Alton enclosure was empty. The next instant, Gabiru rushed across the room and caught Mikhail in a wordless embrace, pounding the boy’s back.

“Let’s get away from this place,” Jane said to her husband, “before anyone changes his mind.”

Darkovan could not have agreed more.

19

Before Darkovan left the Crystal Chamber, vodemort took him aside and informed him that he might choose to remain in the Castle under guard or to move to another location. Either way, he would not be permitted free movement in the city or private access with those who might plot against the new order. Darkovan listened politely and expressed his desire to retire to a secluded life in his own residence. He asked if he might be allowed to visit his family, but he did not mention Dani. He was afraid that any inquiry might sound too much like begging. vodemort admitted the rationale for coordination with Jane as Castle chatelaine but waved away the subject of vodemort. That meeting would not happen, Darkovan thought as he took his leave, until vodemort had the new Darkov Lord securely under his influence.

The next tenday went by in a blur. Darkovan was glad of an excuse to decline invitations to the usual summer festivities. He had no intention of sitting idly by while vodemort consolidated his position, but he must move carefully while lulling the Ridenow into thinking he had given in.

Darkovan formulated a plan to bring charges against vodemort in the Cortes. The matter should properly have been heard by the council Council, since it involved the k********g of two of its members as well as extortion and possibly treason, but the Council was not yet reinstated. vodemort would most likely refuse to cooperate in a civil suit, but the hearings and resulting scandal would cripple his position as vodemort’s councillor. The Cortes might even order vodemort confined to his city mansion or, if he refused, which was likely, freeze his assets and threaten his guards as co-conspirators with fines or imprisonment. The first step was to find a judge with the courage and integrity to investigate a member of the council.

Darkovan began removing his household to the townhouse. One of Gabiru’s officers, an earnest young man named Brunin Sandoval, contrived to encounter Darkovan during one of his many trips back and forth. Darkovan was able to communicate his plan and the officer agreed to make discreet contact with a judge who had a staunch reputation for upholding justice.

Meanwhile, Gabiru was quietly continuing the search for Dani’s location. None of his attempts had been successful, nor had he been able to escape the surveillance of vodemort’s men long enough to speak with Dan Lawton.

The coridom had kept the town house tidy and in good repair. He had tracked down those servants who had been let go or sent to the estate at Carcosa when Darkovan moved into the Castle. Soon the house was made comfortable, far more than the drafty, gloomy chambers in the Castle.

Set in its walled garden, now jewel- bright with summer blossoms, the townhouse exuded the aura of safety. The dangers, and there were many, would come from without. Here Darkovan felt no fear of betrayal. He breathed more easily and slept more deeply between his own sheets, on which lingered the faint, musky scent of love.

Once, in a spasm of masochistic longing, Darkovan wandered into the room Dani had used. The air was shrouded in ghosts. A trick of light created the appearance of a fine layer of dust on fabric and wood, although the coridom would never have sanctioned such careless housekeeping.

In the corner beyond the narrow, little-used bed, Dani’s cadet chest huddled as if in grief. Darkovan smoothed his fingers over the worn lid and lifted it. He would never have dared even so slight an invasion if Dani had been here. In that moment of half-crazed heartache, his hands moved of their own accord. If this was all he had of Dani, it must suffice. He recognized most of the contents, threadbare handed-down clothing and mementos from sint.

There, wrapped in shimmering spidersilk, was the dagger Darkovan had given Dani when they first swore themselves to one another. Why had Dani left it? It had not been so much buried as thrust into hiding. Holding the slender blade and knowing it would never fall into vodemort’s hands brought a surge of irrational joy.

“In your service alone do I bear this,” Dani had said as he accepted the blade. Then he had pressed his lips against the n***d steel. Darkovan echoed the gesture, tasting the imprint of that long-ago kiss. The instant of pleasure fled, leaving only cold metal and the slow, churning fear in his heart.

With the exception of the Terran Zone, from which he was strictly banned, Darkovan was still able to come and go. He was always escorted, not by the usual City Guardsmen, but by men assigned to him by vodemort, men whose accents and gold-tinted hair bespoke their Ridenow lineage.

The loss of contact with Dan Lawton and Dr. Jay Allison was bad enough, but it also meant Darkovan could not speak with Lno or send him a message. He had no way of knowing how the transfer of the Darkov Lordship had been portrayed. What possible explanation could vodemort have offered?

More than that, Darkovan missed the counsel and longstanding rapport with his oldest friend. Never before had he been so painfully aware of how few friends he had; his rank and lineage had kept most of his contemporaries at arm’s length. Of those who had found their way through the convoluted politics, too many were dead, off-world . . . or beyond his reach.

Darkovan tried several times to speak with the Legate, only to find the Terran sector barred to him. The Ridenow guards, who had until then resembled silent shadows, closed briskly with him, leaving little doubt that any attempt would be met with instant failure.

Within the Castle, the guards would not allow Darkovan to enter the corridors leading to the Ridenow section or, for that matter, the environs of their mansion in the city. From this, Darkovan deduced that vodemort had moved his quarters to the Castle, but he could not be sure. He received no inkling of where Dani was kept. As for vodemort, Darkovan was told repeatedly that his brother was occupied at the moment and would send word when he desired an interview.

Darkovan often had business in the Castle during this time of shifting residences and preparing the quarters that would now belong to vodemort. When at last he had removed all traces of his own occupancy, he lingered in the study. It had never felt as though it belonged to anyone except his grandfather. Danvan Darkov had served the council for longer than most men now alive could recall, and his presence whispered through every scroll and ledger. Now the man who would sit at this ancient desk and handle these pens might be kin, but he had never known the person behind the legend.

The thought had come to Darkovan that he ought to take the more sensitive items with him for safekeeping, for instance his grandfather’s personal records.

He was vodemort’s grandfather, too, he reminded himself. Moreover, vodemort was a man of learning, a scholar. He would not damage or misplace any documents, no matter how strenuously he disagreed with their contents.

On this occasion, Haldred Ridenow had accompanied Darkovan, remaining at a watchful distance. Darkovan handed him the keys to the desk and the locked cabinets and closed the door behind him. He paused, weighing his next move.

He had seen noth

ing of Linnea since that awful spectacle at the Crystal Chamber. There was nothing he could do to protect her, he knew that. Although he felt sure his laran would have alerted him if anything had happened to her, he wanted to see her with his own eyes.

“Now that I have no further reason to come to the Castle except to visit my sister,” Darkovan began, facing Haldred with an expression of innocence. It rankled to subordinate himself to such an arrogant bootlick. “I would take my leave of an old acquaintance. A lady of the Storns and hence a distant relation of the Altons. Is this permissible?”

Haldred shrugged, bowed, and left Darkovan to the care of his usual escort.

The central hall of the Alton quarters had always struck Darkovan as dreary and sepulchral, even when old Kennard had still been alive. The lights in this part of the Castle were very old, chunks of luminous rock hacked from deep caves; charged with daylight, they gave off a cold radiance for hours into the evening. Darkovan preferred the warmer light of flame or torch or even the yellow incandescence of the Terran buildings.

Linnea had avoided the main chambers for the smaller, more intimate rooms once used by Lno Alton. After the chill of the corridors, the small bright fire filled the parlor with cheer. The furniture was heavy and masculine. Linnea had added little except her own presence. Except for the herbal scent and the honey-tinge of beeswax, she might have been only a passing guest.

After exchanging awkward pleasantries with her, Darkovan put forth his offer. “I cannot guarantee your safety or Kierestelli’s. Here in the Castle, anything can happen. Mikhail was seized in his family’s own quarters. At least, in the townhouse, I know every face.”

Linnea set down her cup of the spiced pear cider she had served. “Darkovan, if I move in with you, I will destroy what is left of my reputation—and hence, my position of respect—and have it cried from every street corner that I am Darkovan Darkov’s barragana.”Darkovan searched for a graceful way to point out that there was an alternative, as his wife di catenas.

Catching his thought, she shook her head and gestured negation. “Let us not discuss that any further. Regardless of recent events, I believe we have each said all we care to on the subject.”

Darkovan looked away. The fire, so merry and comforting only a moment ago, now cast blood-lit shadows across his thoughts. He thought of the people he loved and who were now kept from him—Lno. Mikhail. Even Dan Lawton.

Dani . . .

“I have tried to reach Dani,” she said softly. “We will not abandon him.”

At least, Mikhail is no longer in vodemort’s clutches.

“Since you have given thought to such matters, perhaps you would advise me concerning Mikhail.” To his own ears, Darkovan sounded clumsy, Would he ever be able to speak with her without making a fool of himself ? “I cannot take the risk that, should I do something to displease him, vodemort will imprison Mikhail again. This time, vodemort might not be as concerned for his welfare.”