The Apogian War

Chapter 101

His fingers clenched his starstone so tightly that the hard edges of the crystal dug into his flesh. Linnea took his joined hands in hers. Her skin felt warm and unexpectedly soft. Firelight turned her eyes to amber.

“I’m all right,” he mumbled.

She released him. Without needing to ask, Darkovan knew she had seen and felt everything he had.

“vodemort.” The name came rumbling up through his throat like the growl of a wolf. “vodemort Ridenow has taken them. By Aldones and Hades, by the Dark Lady Avarra, if he has harmed any of them, I will have his blood!”

It took the combined efforts of Linnea, Jane, and Gabiru, returning with the news that Dani had been seen near The Starry Plough, to convince Darkovan not to go storming off to confront vodemort immediately. Linnea pointed out that he could as well send a company of Guardsmen to summon vodemort to him, while another group searched and secured the Ridenow quarters.

When Darkovan left Linnea, she had lain down in her bedchamber with Kierestelli wrapped in her arms. The delicate skin around her eyes and mouth had taken on an unhealthy tinge of gray. She had smiled a little as Darkovan bade her good night.

She should not have exposed herself to such stress. Not when she is carrying our child! But if she had not, he would be no closer to rescuing Dani or the other captives. Moreover, it had been her decision, based on her judgment as a Keeper.

After a few hours’ fitful sleep, Darkovan forced down a meager breakfast and allowed himself to be dressed as befitted a Lord of Darkov. Gabiru waited with Darkovan in Danvan Darkov’s old presence- chamber, while the Guardsmen tramped across the wealthy district to the Ridenow mansion.

Time took on a bizarre, elastic quality, passing both too quickly and with agonizing slowness. Darkovan could not recall having been this anxious since—since Dani had been seized by the Aldarans for their ill-fated Sharra circle. They had been newly pledged to one another, and Darkovan had had little confidence in his own abilities. All he had known at the time was that he must do whatever it took to find Dani. Now . . . now there was more at stake than just Dani’s freedom. He must think of Mikhail as well, and the future of Darkover, and his brother.

vodemort was an innocent, a sheltered monk. What a rude awakening to the dangers of the world, to be taken prisoner! Darkovan would not be surprised if, once this mess was resolved, vodemort retreated back to the security of Nevarsin.

vodemort . . . vodemort, who had no laran and yet had responded with surprise to that last desperate mental outreach. Linnea had suggested the possibility that the combined psychic strength of a trained Keeper and a Darkov might well have broken through to the thoughts of even a nontelepath.

vodemort . . . and the voice in the background. If vodemort had suddenly heard a voice in his head—his own brother’s voice—would he have realized Darkovan was searching for him? More importantly, would his reaction have revealed that contact to another person, to the other man? To vodemort?

Darkovan could not have wished for a better man to wait with him than Gabiru. Whether from natural reserve or a lifetime of discretion as a Guards officer, Gabiru kept his own worries to himself. From time to time, a messenger would appear at the door, and Gabiru would step outside to receive the news.

Nothing . . . no trace at The Starry Plough . . . no witnesses . . .

Leaving the door open, Gabiru returned to Darkovan. Gabiru’s expression was as unreadable as ever, but Darkovan sensed something new.

“Vai dom, my men have just returned from the Ridenow mansion,” Gabiru said. “They searched the entire house twice, as well as the surrounding garden and outbuildings. Neither Dani nor my—nor Mikhail, nor your brother were to be found. The only person there, aside from a few servants, was Dom Haldred Ridenow. They have brought him. He did not seem in the least reluctant. In fact, he has demanded an audience with you.” Gabiru spat out the word as if it were a serpent.

Haldred Ridenow was the man in Dani’s vision. Haldred had sprung the trap that snared him. What did he want, or did he come on behalf of someone else? Did he speak for his kinsman, vodemort?

What will vodemort demand in exchange for the hostages?

“I had better see him without delay.” Years of training slipped into place. Darkovan squared his shoulders, sitting tall in his grandfather’s chair. The muscles of his face hardened; he imagined Danvan whispering in his mind, pouring resolve into his veins.

At Gabiru’s command, the Guardsmen escorted their prisoner into the presence-chamber. Haldred’s wrists had been bound, but he was unharmed. He seemed to be in no great discomfort as he came to a halt before Darkovan.

Darkovan had met Haldred at the ball held in vodemort’s honor, and on a few other social occasions. Haldred was a minor Ridenow cousin from a collateral branch, not likely ever to be in line for rulership but deriving his importance and most likely his wealth from the patronage of vodemort.

Haldred’s fair hair betrayed his Dry Towns ancestry. Darkovan sensed only a trace of the Ridenow empathic Gift, enough to make Haldred a good horseman or hawkmaster but not enough to sensitize him to the emotions of other men. Or, Darkovan thought darkly, perhaps his talent allowed him to glimpse the pain and fear of his fellows, and he enjoyed it.

“Z’par servu.” Haldred bowed only as low as custom required, when in the presence of a fellow council of higher rank.

“You requested an audience, and I have granted it. What do you have to say to me?”

“On my own behalf, nothing, vai dom. I carry a message. A private message.”

“From vodemort Ridenow, your master.” Darkovan did not bother turning the statement into a question.

Haldred inclined his head and raised his bound wrists, as if indicating that, as a mere courier, he merited respectful treatment. Dangerously close to losing his temper, Darkovan satisfied himself with ignoring the hint.

“By all means, fulfill your commission.” Darkovan indicated with a jerk of his chin that the Guardsmen were to withdraw. Gabiru provided more than enough protection against one bound man. The door closed behind the Guardsmen with a click.

The Ridenow lordling cleared his throat. “Dom vodemort Ridenow, speaking on behalf of the entire council, desires me to say that for the good of Darkover, your high-handed tyranny must cease. He declares that you are no longer the legitimate Lord of Darkov and have no right, either legal or by prestige, to influence the affairs of the other Domains.”

Gabiru remained standing, outwardly imperturbable, but Darkovan could feel his outrage simmering just beneath the surface. Keeping his voice mild, Darkovan said, “That is a very improbable viewpoint. Exactly why should Dom vodemort’s delusions concern me?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Irritation tempered with fear edged Haldred’s voice. “You are to renounce your position in favor of the true and lawful Darkov Lord.”

“And that is . . .” Even as the words escaped his lips, Darkovan saw the thrust of vodemort’s attack, as surely as if it had been a precisely aimed dagger.

“As th

e elder and now legitimate son, Dom vodemort Darkov is the rightful Heir to the Darkov Domain.” Haldred made no effort to suppress a smirk. “The Ridenow have vowed to uphold his right by force of arms. However, in the interest of the common welfare, we trust it will not be necessary. The last thing we wish is to plunge Darkover into civil war, one Domain against the other.”

“That sounds like a threat to me,” Gabiru said in the moment of stunned silence.

“Why would I accede to such a preposterous demand?” Darkovan said, although he already knew the answer. “What does my brother say to this?”

“My lord reminds you that your paxman and your heir are in his custody. If you resist, they will suffer for it. As for the new Lord Darkov, he has given his full consent.”

The matter-of-fact manner in which Haldred spoke chilled Darkovan worse than any number of boastful threats. These truly were not Haldred’s words but those of his master.

“vodemort Ridenow is a fool.”

Darkovan knew in his heart that he had been a bigger one. How many times had he longed to set aside his rank and position, to live a simple life, to follow his private dreams? Had he not secretly hoped vodemort might be the one to ease his burden? Was that not his subconscious motive in pressing for his brother’s legitimate status? But now . . . he could not allow the lordship of Darkov to be wrested from him and given to vodemort. Unpracticed in the ways of the world, vodemort would be a puppet in Ridenow hands.

Darkovan harbored no illusions about the intentions of vodemort Ridenow and his allies. They wanted full Federation membership, with everything that implied.

Angrily Darkovan said, “There is another way to solve this problem, and that is to have the location of the hostages wrenched from your mind. Unfortunately, the only known possessor of the Alton Gift is off-world at the moment, but I am more than happy to try the powers of the Darkov Gift.”

Haldred paled. “M-m-my lord—vai dom! I beg you to reconsider. I cannot reveal what I do not know. I will swear by Aldones or St. Christopher or Nebran the toad god of Shainsa that I do not know where they are!”

vodemort Ridenow might be a fool, but he was too wily to entrust such a secret to anyone who might be put to the question. In truth, Darkovan would slit his own throat before he forced his mind upon another, but vodemort did not know that.

Darkovan sat very straight, resisting the impulse to cover his face with his hands. In despair, in shame.

This is my fault, my responsibility. I should be the one to suffer for it, not vodemort, not Mikhail. Not—oh gods, not Dani. But he would be seven-times damned to each of Hades’s frozen Hells before he would give this arrogant pup the satisfaction of seeing him grovel.

Darkovan allowed the memory of his grandfather’s arrogance and unbending resolve to flow through him. “I will meet with Dom vodemort to discuss his proposal.”

“But—” Haldred had clearly expected a capitulation. “But I have already told you the terms—”

Darkovan glared at him. Haldred lowered his eyes and stammered that he would arrange an interview at the earliest convenience of the vai domyn. Only when Haldred had bowed himself out and the room fell silent did Darkovan allow himself to breathe again.