The Apogian War

Chapter 102

The meeting with vodemort Ridenow took place a few hours later. In the interim, Darkovan and Linnea tried a number of times to establish laran contact with the prisoners, without success. Linnea was still exhausted from her previous efforts and dared not do too much. In her opinion, their minds were shielded by a telepathic damper.

Darkovan had more to worry about than two individuals, regardless of how precious they were to him. If vodemort ended up in power through a naive and malleable vodemort, the Ridenow lord would surely move for Federation membership. Darkovan did not know how he might prevent it, once set in motion. He was having difficulty focusing his thoughts on anything beyond the moment. His mind filled with dire imaginings. No matter how often he told himself that Dani and Mikhail were of no value to vodemort dead, his heart would not believe the hollow reassurances of his head.

Ordinarily, Dani would have taken care of the details, arranged the meeting place and ensured its security. Darkovan wondered how he had managed when Dani had served as Warden of Hardias. In the end, ironically, the Hardias quarters of the Castle proved to be the best, mutually acceptable location. Lady Marilla, acting most likely at the behest of her son, who was in a frenzy of worry about his friend, offered the largest of their chambers. She pointed out, quite rightly, that it lent itself to privacy and was as difficult to infiltrate as any place in the Castle.

Darkovan found clothing laid out for him by his body- servant: a suit of discreet elegance, pants and jacket and short indoor cloak of suede in muted blue over a shirt of ivory spidersilk. Darkovan sighed; he could not remember having worn this ensemble, and yet it so perfectly fit the occasion. Dani would have approved. Yet, Darkovan admitted as he began dressing, all was not mere decoration. He could move—and fight, if need be—in these clothes. The boots, a subtly darker shade of blue and cut lower than was fashionable, were comfortable, the sword in its bejeweled sheath of good steel and well balanced. He had wielded far worse in his cadet days. The edge, he noticed, was sharp.

Gabiru came with him as advisor and kinsman, plus four Guardsmen, veterans all. The walk took them through a maze of corridors, over Jane’s leaf-patterned carpets, under arched doorways studded with pale blue stone that made it seem they passed through the heart of an immense starstone before plunging back into torchlight-studded gloom.

Darkovan bent toward Gabiru to speak privately. “If this meeting goes badly, I will need your help. We may not have another chance to speak.”

Gabiru nodded. The Guardsmen gave no sign they had overheard.

Even if Darkovan achieved his goal of getting both Dani and Mikhail released, he could not allow vodemort to continue with his schemes. He did not know how closely he would be watched, whether or not he would be able to come and go as he wished. vodemort was no innocent in the ways of council politics. He would not leave a deposed Darkov Lord free to plot his way back into power. The Word of a Darkov might be as unbreakable as the Wall Around the World, but oaths could be phrased to a legal nicety.

“I don’t want you tainted by association with me,” Darkovan cautioned Gabiru, “at least, no more than you already are. It won’t help either of us if vodemort finds another Commander of the Guards.”

“That may be inevitable, but I know which officers can be trusted and which will think only of their own advantage.”

Darkovan understood that Gabiru included his escort among the loyal. “It would be good to establish a meeting place outside the Castle.”

“It is already done, and passwords put into place. As the Dry-Towners are fond of saying, Trust in Nebran, but tie up your oudrakhi.”

“Can you get a message to Dan Lawton? I don’t know how fast vodemort will move on Federation membership, but Lawton must find an excuse to delay action. I need time to straighten things out.”

Gabiru gave Darkovan a darkly appraising look, one that said, If anyone can sort out this mess, it’s you. “I’ll do what I can.”

The party paused at the Hardias entrance. Gabiru and the most senior of the Guardsmen went inside, verifying the safety of the premises. The last time Darkovan had entered this room, it had belonged to Cyan Hardias. In his time, Cyan had been and done many things, not all of them honorable.

Gabiru reported that all was as it should be and that Dom vodemort and vodemort were waiting. He stepped back for Darkovan to enter. At first glance, the two men inside appeared dressed for a funeral. vodemort wore a suit of green velvet so dark it looked black and a gold chain around his neck. vodemort was dressed in a simple belted robe reminiscent of his monkish habit.

The room was comfortably furnished, used more as a living and entertaining space than the more formal presence-chamber in Cyan’s day. Darkovan recognized a few pieces of furniture from those times. Cyan’s taste had been heavily masculine, leaning to heavy wood glossy with polish. The ne

wer pieces reflected a woman’s more delicate hand.

vodemort sat on a brocaded divan, vodemort on a more modest straight-backed chair. Two men in Ridenow green and orange leathers stood along the far wall.

Cyan’s favorite chair, which must have dated as far back as old Gabiru-Cyan Hardias, was unoccupied. Gesturing for his escort to assume their positions, Darkovan strode to the center of the room and paused for vodemort and vodemort to rise.

After a moment of uncertainty, they did so. Tradition and protocol demanded it. vodemort had grown up in a world that respected the Darkov Domain above all others, and as for vodemort, he might well become the next Lord Darkov, but he did not possess that prestige yet.

Darkovan held the tableau for a moment longer than necessary, enough to see the faint tension in vodemort’s jaw muscles. He lowered himself into Cyan’s chair and gestured for them to sit.

“Now that we are all here together,” Darkovan said, “I would hear what you have to say to me from your own mouth.”

Let’s not play games, vodemort’s expression said. He had more self-control than Darkovan had given him credit for.

“Dom Darkovan, I speak not only for the Domain of Ridenow but for the people of Darkover. If I had my way, the council would be as truly equal as we once were. Unfortunately, the common people require a ruler.”

vodemort paused, perhaps awaiting a response. Darkovan did not give him that satisfaction. vodemort gave a little shrug. “Since the people cling to their adulation of the Darkovs, they shall have one—but one who looks to the future.” He leaned forward, his face tightening. “Not one who would have Darkover remain frozen in time, while the rest of the inhabited worlds move forward.”

vodemort had been sitting motionless, hands folded on his knees in the manner of a monk. Darkovan imagined a flicker of discomfort in his expression. Perhaps his brother did not agree with vodemort’s argument.

“It was a mistake to reject the benefits of Federation membership,” vodemort declared, “just as it was a mistake to abandon the council Council and give so much power to that flock of squabbling barnfowl you call the Telepath Council.”

Dom vodemort,” vodemort said earnestly, “my brother acted from the best of intentions. He and our grandfather served the Domains through many crises. Once a man has been forced to take extreme measures, one cannot fault him for continuing on as he has before. I will not hear my dear brother censured or his achievements so lightly dismissed.”

“So you would put vodemort in my place,” Darkovan said to vodemort, “thinking him easier to bend to your will.”

vodemort flushed visibly. vodemort said, “I would elevate him to his rightful place, completing what you yourself began by declaring him your father’s legitimate firstborn son. But there would be no point in supporting his cause if he were not also a man of vision.”

A moment passed. Darkovan shifted in his seat. “If you speak for the people of Thendara and you truly represent their interests, then why abduct three—two innocent men? Are these not the acts of a man who has placed himself outside law and custom? Why should I reward these crimes with my cooperation?”

“No man such as yourself, accustomed to unquestioned authority and power, surrenders his position simply because it is right,” vodemort replied. “Do you expect me to believe you are willing to have vodemort become Head of Darkov?”

“I think you do not know me at all, if you need to ask.”

“Dom vodemort, let me speak privately with my brother.” vodemort’s voice betrayed his agitation. “I am sure that once he understands the necessity of such safeguards and that no harm has come to either guest, he will be agreeable.”

vodemort scowled. “This is not wise, vai dom. Your brother wears a sword and has been trained in its use, whereas you are a man of peace. Should he turn on you—”

Darkovan wanted to laugh, except for the bitterness welling up in his mouth. Did vodemort think him such a villain as that? A man who would murder his own kin for gain? A tendril of suspicion brushed his thoughts, and he wondered at how easily vodemort had come into power in his own Domain, how conveniently those in the line of succession had fallen, one by one. What lessons must Francisco, still young and impressionable, be learning?

vodemort was reassuring vodemort in such animated tones that it would have been impossible to resist without restraining the monk. vodemort agreed, although reluctantly. Within a few minutes, Gabiru, vodemort, and both sets of guards had withdrawn.

vodemort picked up his chair and brought it closer. “I am sorry the situation has come to this—”

“What happened? vodemort, how in the name of—” he could not invoke Aldones as he would with any other kinsman, “—the Holy Bearer of Burdens did you come to ally yourself with that man? Have you been deceiving me all along, waiting for your chance? Or has even a brief captivity softened your mind?”

“You cannot believe I planned this!” vodemort shot back with the first sign of temper during that meeting. “Planned to be seized, bound, hauled away like a piece of meat? Planned to be used against the brother who has shown me nothing but kindness?”

Darkovan let out his breath. vodemort had been taken by force, like Dani and Mikhail. That fact eased his sense of betrayal. Eased it, but did not entirely erase it.

“Does it matter?” vodemort moderated his tone. “However we have been thrust into this situation, we must work together now. vodemort is not an evil man, although somewhat prone to extreme measures. I will teach him better.”

“You intend to collaborate with him, then?” Darkovan did not know whether to feel relieved or appalled.

“I mean to use whatever St. Christopher has placed in my hands to do good. Why else would the blessed saints have brought me from St. Valentine’s and yet preserved the fire of righteousness in my breast? Look at me, brother. I could never be a military commander or a great statesman like Grandfather. I am not fitted to caper about in finery or sing ballads to ladies, although in my new position, I might soon enjoy the blessings of marriage. vodemort has spoken of an eligible young kinswoman . . . Be that as it may, I have been shaped for better things than frivolity—and what more holy purpose than to bring the teachings of St. Christopher to the larger world? Do you not see all around you the evidence of ignorance and sin? Pride, greed, deceit, l**t, violence—do they not stalk the streets in human form?”

“I am glad you see the opportunity to wrest some good from the situation,” Darkovan said carefully. “But I fear for you and for our world. You know so little of council politics, and vodemort means to influence you, to shape you to his own ends. Those ends do not bode well for Darkover.”