The Apogian War

Chapter 53

In midafternoon, still miles from Thendara, wet mnow and sleet began to fall again, but Regis ignored the suggestions of his escort that should seek shelter and hospitality somewhere. Every moment be een him and Thendara now was a t*****e: he yearned to be there, to be Arve this frightening confrontation over. As the long miles dragged by, and he grew more and more soggy and wretched, he drew his soaked cape around him, huddling inside it like a protective cocoon. He knew his guards were talking about him, but he shut them firmly away from his consciousness, withdrawing further and further into his own misery. As they came over the top of the pass he heard the distant vibration from the spaceport, carried thick and reverberating in the heavy, moist it. He thought with wild longing of the ships taking off, invisible behind the wall of rain and sleet, symbols of the freedom he wished he had now. He let the thickening storm batter him, uncaring. He welcomed the icy wind, the sleet freezing in layers on his heavy riding-cloak, on his eyelashes and hair. It kept him from sliding back into that strange, hypersensitive, hallucinatory awareness. What shall I say to Grandfather? How did you face the Regent of Dover and tell him his most trusted counselor was corrupt, a s******c p*****t using his telepathic powers to meddle with a mind placed in his charge? How do you tell the Commander of the Guard, your own command ing officer, that his most trusted friend, holding the most trusted and responsible of posts, has ill-treated and shamefully misused a boy in his care. How do you accuse your own uncle, the strongest telepath in Dover, of standing by, indifferent, watching the rarest and most sensi tive of telepaths being falsely accused, his mind battered and bruised and dishonored, while he, a tower-trained psi technician, did nothing? The stone walls of the Castle closed about them, cutting off the bit ing wind. Darkovan heard his escort swearing as they led their horses away. He knew he should apologize to them for subjecting them to this cold, wearying ride in such weather. It was a totally irresponsible thing to do to loyal men and the fact that they would never question his motives made it worse. He gave them brief formal thanks and admonished them to go quickly for supper and rest, knowing that if he offered them any reward they would be offended beyond measuring. The long steps to the Darkov apartments seemed to loom over him, shrinking and expanding. His grandfather's aged valet rushed at him, blurred and out of focus, clucking and shaking his head with the privilong service.

"Lord Darkovan, you're soaked through, you'll be ill, let me fetch you some wine, dry clothes "Nothing, thank you." Darkovan blinked away the drops of ice melting on his eyelashes. "Ask the Lord Regent if he-he tensed to keep his teeth from chattering-if he can receive me lege of "He's at supper, Lord Darkov. Go in and join him." A small table had been laid before the fire in his grandfather's private sitting room, and Danvan Darkov looked up, dismayed, almost comi cally echoing the elderly servant's dismay. "My boy! At this hour, so wet and dripping? Marton, take his cloak, dry it at the firel Child, you were to be with Javanne some days, what has happened?"

"Necessary-"

Darkovan discovered his teeth were chattering so hard he could not speak; he clenched them to get control. "To return at once The Regent shook his head skeptically. "Through a blizzard? Sit down there by the fire." He picked up the jug on his table, tilted a thick stream of steaming soup into a stoneware mug and held it out to Darkovan. "Here. Drink this and warm yourself before you say anything." Darkovan started to say he did not want it, but he had to take it to keep it from falling from the old man's hand. The hot fragrant steam was so enticing that he began to sip it, slowly. He felt enraged at his own weakness and angrier at his grandfather for seeing it. His barriers were down and he had a flash of Darkov as a young man, a commander in the field, knowing his men, judging each one's strengths and weaknesses, knowing what each one needed and precisely how and when to get it to him. As the hot soup began to spread warmth through his shivering body he relaxed and began to breathe freely. The heat of the stoneware mug comforted his fingers, which were blue with cold, and even when he had finished the soup he held it between his hands, enjoying the warmth. "Grandfather, I must talk to you." "Well, I'm listening, child. Not even Council would call me out in weather." Darkovan glanced at the servants moving around the room. "Alone, sir. This concerns the honor of the Darkovs." A startled look crossed the old man's face and he waved them from the room. "You're not going to tell me Jane has managed to dis grace herself!" Even the thought of his staid and fastidious sister playing the wanton would have made Darkovan laugh, if he could have laughed. "Indeed not, sir, all at Edelweiss is well and the babies thriving." He was not coldnow, but felt an inner trembling he did not even recognize as fear. He put down the empty mug which had grown chill in his hands, shook his head at the offer of a refill. "Grandfather. Do you remember Dan Syrtis?" "Syrtis. The Syrtis people are old Hastur folk, your father's paxman and bodyguard bore that name, old Dom Felix was my hawk master. Wait, was there not some shameful thing in the Guards this year, a dis graced cadet, a sword-breaking? What has this to do with the honor of Darkov , Darkovan?" Regis knew he must be very calm now, must keep his voice steady. He said, "The Syrtis men are our wards and paxmen, sir. From their years of duty to us, is it not our duty to safeguard them from being at tacked and abused, even by Dover? I have learned... Dan was wrongfully attacked and disgraced, sir, and it's worse than that. Syrtis Danilo is a... a catalyst telepath, and Lord Cyan ill-used him, con trived his disgrace for revenge-" Darkovan voice broke. That searing moment of contact with Dan flooded him again. Hastur looked at him in deep distress. "Darkovan, this cannot possibly be true!" He doesn't believe me! Darkovan heard his voice c***k and break again. "Grandfather, I swear-" "Child, child, I know you are not lying, I know you better than that!"