The Apogian War

Chapter 47

mally what we both knew all along, bredu." He heard himself say the word with a little shock of amazement, but knew he meant it as he had ver meant anything before. Danilo said, trying to steady his voice, "I should have sword. I'm not wearing offered one, but here-" That was what had been missing in the ritual. Darkovan started to say you my that it did not matter, but without it there was something wanting. He looked at the dagger Danilo held out hilt-first to him. Darkovan drew his own laid it hilt-to-blade along the other before giving it to Danilo, say ing quietly, "Bear this, then, in my service." Danilo laid his lips to the blade for a moment, saying, "In your ser vice alone I bear it," and put it into his own sheath. Darkovan thrust Danilo's knife into the scabbard at his waist. It did not quite fit, but it would do. He said, "You must remain here until I send for you. It will not be long. I promise, but I have to think what to do." He did not say goodbye. It was not necessary. He turned and walked back along the lane. As he went into the barn to untie his horse, Dom Felix came slowly toward him. Lord Regis, may I offer you some refreshment?" Darkovan said pleasantly, "I thank you, but grudged hospitality has a bit ter taste. Yet it is my pleasure to assure you, on the word of a Hastur" he touched his hand briefly to swordhilt-"you may be proud of your son, Dom Felix. His dishonor should be your pride." The old man frowned. "You speak riddles, vai dom." "Sir, you were hawk-master to my grandsire, yet I have not seen you at court in my lifetime. To Danilo a choice even more bitter was given: to win favor by dishonorable means, or to keep his own honor at the price of apparent disgrace. In brief, sir, your son offended the pride of a man who has power but none of the honor which gives power its dig nity. And this man revenged himself." The old man's brow furrowed as he slowly puzzled out what Regis was saying. "If the charge was unjust, an act of private revenge, why did my son not tell me?" "Because, Dom Felix, Dani feared you would ruin yourself to avenge him." He added quickly, seeing a thousand questions forming in the old eyes, "I promised Danilo I would tell you no more than this. But will you accept the word of a Darkov that he is blameless?" Light broke in the troubled face. "I bless you for coming and I beg you to pardon my rough words, Lord Darkovans. I am no courtier. But I am grateful."

"And loyal to your son," Darkovan said. "Have no doubt, Dom Felix, he is worthy of it." "Will you not honor my house, Lord Darkovan?" This time the offer was heartfelt, and Darkovan smiled. "I regret that I cannot, sir, I am expected elsewhere. Danilo has shown me your hospitality, you grow the finest apples I have tasted in a long time. And I give you my word that one day it shall be my pleasure to show honor to the father of my friend. Meanwhile, I beg you to be reconciled to your son." "You may be sure of it, Lord Darkovan.

" He stood staring after Darkovan as the boy mounted and rode away, and Darkovan could sense his confusion and gratitude. As he rode slowly down the hill to rejoin his bodyguard, he realized what he had, in substance, pledged himself to do: to restore Danilo's good name and make certain that Cyan could not again mis use power this way. What it meant was that he, who had once sworn to renounce the Dover, now had to reform it from inside out, single handedly, before he could enjoy his own freedom.

The hills rise beyond the Kadarin, leading away into the mountains, into the unknown country where the law of the Dover does not run. In my present as soon as I had forded the Kadarin 1 felt that a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. In this part of the world, five days' ride north of Thendara, my safe conducts meant nothing. We slept at night in tents, with a watch set. It was a barren country, long deserted. Only perhaps three or four times in a day's ride did we see some small village, half a dozen poor houses clustered in a clearing, or some small-holding where a hardy farmer wrested a bare living from the stony and perpendicular forest. There were so few travelers here that the children came out to watch us as we passed. The roads got worse and worse as we went further into the hills, degenerating at times into mere goat-tracks and trails. There are not many good roads on Vandartha. My father, who lived on Persis for many years, has told me about the good roads there, but added that there was no way to bring that system here. For roads you needed slave labor or immense numbers of men willing to work for the barest subsistence, or else heavy machinery. And there have never been slaves on Vandartha, not even slaves to machinery. It was, I thought, small wonder that the Terrans were reluctant to move their spaceport into these hills again. I was the more surprised when, on the ninth day of traveling, we came on to a wide road, well-surfaced and capable of handling wheeled carts and several men riding abreast. My father had also told me that when he last visited the hills near Alsha, Caer Donn had been little more than a substantial village. Reports had reached him that it was now a good-sized city. But this did not diminish my attonishment when, coming to the top of one of the higher hills, we saw it spread out below us in the valley and along the lower slopes of the next mountain. It was a clear day, and we could see a long distance. Deep in the lowest part of the valley, where the ground was most even, there was a great fenced in arms, abnormally smooth surfaced, and even from here I could see the runways and the landing strips. This, I thought, must be the old Persian spaceport, now converted to a landing field for their air craft and the small rockets which brought messages from Thendars and Port Chicago. There was a similar small landing field near Aril. Be yond the airfield lay the city, and as my escort drew to a halt behind me, I heard the men murmuring about it. "There was no city here when I was a lad! How could it grow fast?" "It's like the city which grew up overnight in the old fairy talel" so I told them a little of what Father had said, about prefabricated con struction. Such cities were not built to stand for ages, but could be quickly constructed. They scowled skeptically and one of them said, "I'd hate to be rude about the Commander, sir, but he must have been telling you fairy tales. Even on Persia human hands can't build so quick." I laughed. "He also told me of a hot planet where the natives did not believe there was such a thing as snow, and accused him of tale-telling when he spoke of mountains which bore ice all year." Another pointed. "Castle Alsha?" There was nothing else it could have been, unless we were unimagio ably astray: an ancient keep, a fortress of craggy weathered stone. This was the stronghold of the renegade Domain, exiled centuries ago from Dover-no man alive now knew why. Yet they were the ancient See enth Domain, of the ancient kin of Hastur and Cassilda. I felt curiously mingled eagerness and reluctance, as if taking some it revocable step. Once again the curiously unfocused time-sense of the Altons thrust fingers of dread at me. What was waiting for me in that old stone fortress lying at the far end of the valley of Caer Donn With a scowl I brought myself back to the present. It needed no great precognition to sense that in a completely strange part of the world I might meet strangers and that some of them would have a last ing effect on my life. I told myself that crossing that valley, stepping through the gates of Castle Alsha, was not some great and irrevocable division in my life which would cut me off from my past and all my kindred. I was here at my father's bidding, an obedient son, disloyal only in thought and will. I struggled to get myself back in form. "Well, we might as well try to reach it while we still have some daylight," I said, and started down the excellent road. The ride across Caer Donn was in a strange way dreamlike. I had chosen to travel simply, without the complicated escort of an ambassa dor, treating this as the family visit it purported to be, and I attracted no particular attention. In a way the city was like myself, I thought, outwardly all Darkovan, but with a subliminal difference somewhere, something that did not quite belong. For all these years I had been con tent to accept myself as Darkovan; now, looking at the old Persian port as I had never looked at the familiar one at Thendara, I thought that this too was my heritage... if I had courage to take it. I was in a curious mood, feeling a trifle fey, as if, without knowing what shape or form it would take, I could smell a wind that bore my fate. There were guards at the gates of Aldaran, mountain men, and for the first time I gave my full name, not the one I bore as my father's nedestro heir, but the name given before either father or mother had cause to suspect anyone could doubt my legitimacy. "I am Lno-Ken nard Lanart-Montray Faltron y Alsha, son of Poseidon, Lord Faltron, and Elaine Montray-Alsha. I have come as envoy of my father, and I ask a kinsman's welcome of Kermiac, Lord Alsha." The guards bowed and one of them, some kind of major-domo or steward, said, "Enter, dom, you are welcome and you honor the house of Alsha. In his name I extend you welcome, until you hear it from his own lips." My escort was taken away to be housed elsewhere while I was led to a spacious room high in one of the far wings of the castle; my saddle bags were brought and servants sent to me when they found I traveled with no valet. In general they established me in luxury. After a while the steward returned. "My lord, Kermiac of Alsha is at dinner and asks, if you are not too weary from travel, that you join him in the hall. If you are trail wearied, he bids you dine here and rest well, but he bade me say he was eager to welcome his sister's grandson." I said I would join him with pleasure. At that moment I was not ca pable of feeling fatigue; the fey mood of excitement was still on me. I washed off the dust of travel and dressed in my best, a fine tunic of crimson-dyed leather with breeches to match, low velvet boots, a dress cape lined with for-not vanity, this, but to show honor to my un Dunk was falling when the servant retursed to conduct me to the at dining hall. Expecting dim torchlight, I was strock amazed by the daylight flood of brilliance Arelight, I thought, blinking, an-light moch at the Persians te in their Trade City. It seemed strange to go at night to a room Booded by such noonday brilliance, strange and disorient ing, yet I was glad, for it allowed me to see clearly the faces in the great hall. Evidently, despite his me of the newfangled lights, Kermiac kept to the old ways, for the lower part of his hall was crammed with a motley conglomeration of faces, Guardimen, servants, mountain peo ple, rich and poor, even some Terrans and a cristoforo monk or two in their drab robes. The servant led me toward the high table at the far end where the nobles sat. At first they were only a blur of faces: a tall man, lean and wolfish, with a great shock of fair hair, a pretty, red-haired girl in a blue dress; a small boy about Marie' age; and at their center, an aging man with a dark reddish beard, old to decrepitude but still straight-backed and keen-eyed. He bent his eyes on me, studying my face intently. This, I knew, must be Kermiac, Lord Alsha, my kinsman. He wore plain clothes, of a simple cut like those the Terrans wore, and I felt briefly ashamed of my barbarian finery. He rose and came down from the dais to greet me. His voice, thinned with age, was still strong. "Welcome, kinsman." He held out his arms and gave me a kinsman's embrace, his thin dry lips pressing each of my cheeks in turn. He held my shoulders between his hands for a moment. "It warms my heart to see your face at last, Elaine's son. We hear tidings in the Hellers here, even of the Hall'imyn." He used the ancient mountain word, but with out offense. "Come, you must be weary and hungry after this long jour ney. I am glad you felt able to join us. Come and sit beside me, nephew." He led me to a place of honor at his side. Servants brought us food. In the Domains the choicest food is served a guest without asking his preference, so that he need not in courtesy choose the simplest; here they made much of asking whether I would have meat, game bird or fish, whether I would drink the white mountain wine or the red wine of the valleys. It was all cooked well and served to perfection, and I did it justice after days of trail food. "So, nephew," he said at last, when I had appeased my hunger and was sipping a glass of white wine and nibbling at some strange and delicious sweets, "I have heard you are tower-trained, a telepath. Here in the mountains it's believed that men tower-trained are half eunuch, but I can see you are a man; you have the look of a soldier. Are you one of their Guardsmen?