The Apogian War

Chapter 32

Lno narrative

Father was bedridden during the first several days of Council season, and I was too baty and beset to have much time for the cadets. I had to attend Council meetings, which at this particular time were mostly con comed with some dreary business of trade agreements with the Dry Towns. One thing I did find time for was having that staircase fixed be fore someone else broke his leg, or his neck. This was troublesome too: I had to deal with architects and builders, we had stonemasons under foot for days, the cadets coughed from morning to night with the chok ing dust and the veterans grumbled constantly about having to go the long way round and use the other stairs. A long time before I thought he was well enough, Father insisted on returning to his Council seat, which I was glad to be out of. Far too soon after that, he returned to the Guards, his arm still in a sling, look ing dreadfully pale and worn. I suspected he shared some of my uncas iness about how well the cadets would fare this season, but he said nothing about it to me. It nagged at me ceaselessly; I resented it as much for my father's sake as my own. If my father had chosen to trust Cyan Hardais, I might not have been quite so disturbed. But I felt that he, too, had been compelled, and that Cyan had enjoyed having the power to do so. A few days after that, Gabriel Lanart-Darkov returned from Edelweiss with news that Jane had bome twin girls, whom she named Ariel and Liriel. With Gabriel at hand, my father sent me back into the hills on a mission to set up a new system of fire-watch beacons, to inspect the fire-watch stations which had been established in my grandfather's day and to instruct the Rangers in new fire fighting techniques. This kind of mission demands tact and some Dover authority, to persuade

men separated by family feeds and rivalries, sometimes for generations, to work together peacefully. Fire truce is the oldest tradition on Vandartha bot, in districts which have been lucky enough to escape forest fires for centuries, it's hard to persuade anyone that the fire truce should be extended to the upkeep of the stations and beacons I had my father's full authority, though, and that helped. The law of the Dover transcends, or is s family rivalries. I had a dupposed to transcend, personal feuds and a dozen Guardsmen with me for the physical work, but I had to do the talking the permading and the temper smoothing when old struggles flared out of control. It took a lot of tact and thought; it also demanded knowledge of the various families, their hereditary loyalties, intermarriages and interactions for the last seven or eight generations. It was high summer before I rode back to Vandart, but I felt I'd accomplished a great deal. Every step against the constant menace of forest fire on Vandartha impresses me more than all the politi cal accomplishments of the last hundred years. That's something we've actually gained from the presence of the Person Empire: a great in crease in knowledge of fire-control and an exchange of information with other heavily wooded Empire planets about new methods of surveil lance and protection. And back in the hills the Dover name meant something. Nearer to the Trade Cities, the influence of Persia has eroded the old habit of turning to the Dover for leadership. But back there, the potency of the very name of Dover was immense. The people neither knew nor cared that I was a half-Persian bastard. I was the son of Poseidon Faltron, and that was all that really mattered. For the first time I carried the full authority of a Dover heir. I even settled a blood-feud which had run three generations by suggesting that the eldest son of one house marry the only daughter of another and the disputed land be settled on their children. Only a Comyn lord could have suggested this without becoming himself entan gled in the feud, but they accepted it. When I thought of the lives it would save, I was glad of the chance. I rode into Vandartha one morning in midsummer. I've heard offworlders say our planet has no summer, but there had been no snow for three ays, even in the pre-dawn hours, and that was summer enough for me. The sun was dim and cloud-hidden, but as we rode down from the pass it broke through the layers of fog, throwing deep crimson lights on the city lying below us. Old people and children gathered inside the city gates to watch us, and I found I was grinning to myself. Part of it, of course, was the thought of being able to sleep fortwo nights in the same bed. But part of it was pure pleasure at knowing I'd done a good job. It seemed, for the fint time in my life, that this was my city, that I was coming home. I had not chosen this duty-I had been born into it-but I no longer resented it so much. Riding into the stable court of the Guards, I saw a brace of cadets on watch at the gates and more going out from the mess hall. They seemed a soldiely lot, not the straggle of awkward children they had been that first day. Cyan had done well enough, evidently. Well, it had never been his competence 1 questioned, but even so, I felt better. I turned my horse over to the grooms and went to make my report to my father. He was out of bandages now, with his arm free of the sling, but he still looked pale, his lameness more pronounced than ever. He was in Council regalia, not uniform. He waved away my proffered report. "No time for that now. And I'm sure you did as well as I could have done myself. But there's trouble here. Are you very tired?" "No, not really. What's wrong, Father? More riots?" "Not this time. A meeting of Council with the Persian Legate this morning. In the city, at Persia headquarters." "Why doesn't he wait on you in the Council Chamber?" Dover lords did not come and go at the bidding of the Persians.

He caught the thought and shook his head. "It was Darkov himself who requested this meeting. It's more important than you can possibly imagine. That's why I want you to handle this for me. We need an honor guard, and I want you to choose the members very carefully. It would be disastrous if this became a subject of gossip in the Guards-or elsewhere." "Surely, Father, any Guardsman would be honor-bound-" "In theory, yes," he said dryly, "but in practice, some of them are more trustworthy than others. You know the younger men better than I do." It was the first time he had ever admitted so much. He had missed me, needed me. I felt warmed and welcomed, even though all he said was, "Choose Guardsmen or cadets who are blood-kin to Dover if you can, or the trustiest. You know best which of them have tongues that rattle at both ends." Gabriel Lanart, I thought, as I went down to the Guard hall, an Faltronson kinsman, married into the Darkov's. Lerrys Ridenow, the younger brother of the lord of his Domain. Old di Asturien, whose loyalty was as firm as the foundations of Dover Castle itself. I left him to choose the veterans who would escort us through the streets-they would not

go into the meeting rooms, so their choice was not so critical and went off to cadet barracks. It was the slack time between breakfast and moming drill. The fint year cadets were making their beds, two of them sweeping the floor and cleaning out the fireplaces. Darkovan was sitting on the comer cot, mending a broken bootlace. Was it meekness or good nature which had let them crowd him into the drafty spot under the window? He sprang up and came to attention as I stopped at the foot of his bed. I motioned him to relax. "The Commander has sent me to choose an honor guard detail," I said. "This is Dover business; it goes without saying that no word of what you may hear is to go outside Council rooms. Do you understand me, Darkovan?" "Yes, Captain." He was formal, but I caught curiosity and excite ment in his lifted face. He looked older, not quite so childish, not nearly so shy. Well, as I knew from my own first tormented cadet sea son, one of two things happened in the first few days. You grew up fast ... or you crawled back home, beaten, to your family. I've often thought that was why cadets were required to serve a few terms in the Guard. No one could ever tell in advance which ones would survive. I asked, "How are you getting along?" He smiled. "Well enough." He started to say something else, but at that moment Dan Syrtis, covered in dust, crawled out from under his bed. "Got it!" he said. "It evidently slipped down this morning when I-" He saw me, broke off and came to attention. "Captain." "Relax, cadet," I said, "but you'd better get that dirt off your knees before you go out to inspection." He was Father's protégé, and his fam ily had been Darkov men for generations. "You join the honor guard too, cadet. Did you hear what I said to Darkovan, Dani?" He nodded, coloring, and his eyes brightened. He said, with such for mality that it sounded stiff, "I am deeply honored, Captain." But through the formal words, I caught the touch of excitement, appre hension, curiosity, unmistakable pleasure at the honor. Unmistakable. This was not the random sensing of emotions which I pick up in any group, but a definite touch. 'Chosen'. The boy had 'Chosen' was certainly a telepath, probably had one of the other gifts. Well, it was not much of a surprise. Father had told me they had Dover blood a few generations back. Darkovan was kneeling before his chest, searching for the leather tabard of his dress uniform. As Dan was about to follow suit, I stepped to his side and said, "A word, kinsman. Not now-there is no urgency-but some time, when

you are free of other dutin, go to my father, or to Lord Cyan if you preter, and ask to be tested by a leronie. They will know what you mean. Say that it was I who told you this. I tornel away "Both of you join the detail at the gate as soon as you can The Dover lords were waiting in the court as the detail of Guards badge. My father, giving low volond directions to old di Astution. Prince Dark was not present. Darkov would have had to speak for him as Re gent in any case, but Dark at sisteen should certainly have been old enough, and interested enough, to attend such an important meeting Edric Ridenow was there, the thickset, red bearded lord of Serrais, There was also a woman, pale and slender, folded in a thin gray hooded cloak which shielded her from curious eyes. I did not recognize her, but she was evidently comymama, she must be an Coltus or an Golden, since only those two Domains give independent Council right to their women. Cyan Hardais, in the crimson and gray of his Domain, strode to his place; he gave a brief glance to the honor guard, stopped briefly be side Dan and spoke in a low voice. The boy blushed and looked straight ahead. I'd already noticed that he still colored like a child if you spoke to him. I wondered what small fault the cadet-master had found in his appearance and bearing. I had found none, but it's a cadet. master's business to take note of trivialities. As we moved through the streets of Varndart, we drew surprised glances. Damn the Persians anyway! It lessened Dover dignity, that they beckoned and we came at a run! The Regent seemed conscious of no loss of dignity. He moved be tween his escort with the energy of a man half his years, his face stemn and composed. Just the same I was glad when we reached the spaceport gates. Leaving the escort outside, we were conducted, Dover lords and honor guard, into the building to a large room on the first floor, As custom decreed, I stepped inside first, drawn sword in hand. It was small for a council chamber, but contained a large, round table and many seats. A number of Terrans were seated on the far side of the table, mostly in some sort of uniform. Some of them wore a great num ber of medals, and I surmised they intended to do the Dover honor Some of them showed considerable unease when I stepped inside with my drawn sword, but the gray-haired man at their center-the on with the most medals-said quickly, "It is customary, their ho guard. You come for the Regent of Dover, officer?" He had spoken cahuenga, the mountain dialect which has become common tongue all over Darkover, from the Hellers to the Dry Persian

Brought my sword up to salute and replied, "Captain Motras Alon your it. Since I saw so weapons viable anywhere in the I lovebore any further search and sheathed the word. I hem the rest of the honor cuard, placing them to the room, motob Rops to take a position directly behind the Regent, stationing Cabeet at the doorway, then ushering in the members of the Com announcing their names one by one. Thavan Valentine, Lord Darkov, Warden of Golden', Regent of the Cet the Seven Domains. The gray haired man-1 turmised that he was the Persian Legate e to his feet and bowed. Not deeply enough, but more than I'd of a Person. "We are honored, Lord Regent" pected Poseidon Faltron, Lord Faltron, Commander of the City Guard." He limped heavily to his place. Lend Cyan-Gabriel, Regent of Hardais." Whatever my personal feel ings about him, I had to admit he looked impressive. "Edric, Lond Ser ni And- I hesitated a moment as the gray-cloaked woman entered, realized I did not know her name. She smiled almost imperceptibly and murmured under her breath, "For shame, kinsman! Don't you recog nise me? I am Callina Coltus." I felt like an utter fool. Of course I knew her. "Callina, Lady Coltus" I hesitated again momentarily, I could not member in which of the towers she was serving as Keeper. Well, the Persians would never know the difference. She supplied it telepathically, with an amused smile behind her hood, and I concluded, "laronis of Neskaya, She walked with quiet composure to the remaining seat. She kept the hood of her cloak about her face, as was proper for an unwedded woman among strangers. I saw with some relief that the Legate, at lcast, had been informed of the polite custom among valley Vandartha and had briefed his men not to look directly at her. I too kept my eyes politely averted; she was my kinswoman, but we were among strangers. I had seen only that she was very slight, with pale solemn features. When everyone was in his appointed place, I drew my sword again, saluted Darkov and then the Legate and took my place behind my fa ther. One of the Persians said, "Now that all that's over, can we come to business?" "Just a moment, Meredith," the Legate said, checking his unseemly impatience. "Noble lords, my lady, you lend us grace. Allow me to pre sent myself. My name is Donnell Ramsay; I am privileged to serve the Empire as Legate for Persia. It is my pleasure to welcome you.