A Flame in Hali (41 page)

“Dyannis.” He turned to face her squarely, taking her hands in his, a gesture that was practically a confrontation among telepaths, shocking in its directness. “There is a link between the Hali Lake riot and Felicia’s death. I don’t know what it is, I don’t even know how to proceed in finding out. I just know it is there.”

Dyannis found her voice. “You say this only because you dislike Eduin, as you have from the very beginning!”

“I tried not to hate him when we were boys at Arilinn,” Varzil said in a low voice. “I tried hard. Carolin always took his part, because Eduin was poor and talented and had no other friends. I could always see the better part of other people, but not Eduin. I never understood why. I suspected him, rightly or wrongly I will never know, of intending harm to Carolin.”

“Harm Carolin?” Dyannis asked, startled. “How?”

Varzil swept his hair back from his face with one hand. “There were a number of . . . accidents during those years, before Carolin came to the throne. He refused to take them seriously, saying he couldn’t live in a silken cage. One incident, though, was an outright attempt at assassination. We were on our way to Blue Lake for a holiday.” He paused as images flashed across his mind.

Dyannis, in light rapport with her brother, watched two youths ride carefree through a sunlit forest—

—a sliver of deadly metal burst from the underbrush to streak through the air—

—Varzil twisting it within the muffling folds of his cloak—

—Carolin struggling with a bearded man on the muddy banks of a river—

—a voice ringing through her mind, raw with urgency—
“Death to Hastur! We will be avenged!”

“What does it mean?” she wondered aloud. “Who will be avenged? Surely this proves there is some other agent at work, some festering resentment responsible for your conspiracy, if in fact that exists. Even a king who is loved must make enemies. None of this proves anything against Eduin.”

“The whole story makes no sense unless you know who Felicia is—was,” Varzil said. “Although she did her best to keep it secret, she was the
nedestra
daughter of Taniquel Hastur-Acosta and therefore, kin to Carolin.”

“How would Eduin have known that?” she snapped.

How, indeed? She was shaking inside, remembering how Eduin had searched the archives at Hali Tower, especially the genealogy records, how he had startled as if guilty when she found him there . . . She’d assumed he pursued some task for the Keepers. Was he using legitimate work to mask a personal search of the Hastur bloodlines?

Something hovered at the edge of her memory, dark as
kyorebni
wings.

Irritably, she said, “You’re just looking for an excuse to blame Eduin for things that have nothing to do with him.”

“You’re not thinking clearly,” Varzil said with exasperating patience. “Felicia was Hastur; Eduin tried to kill her—did kill her. Eduin tried to kill Carolin, another Hastur, and failed, for which he probably hates me even more. What the Blue Lake assassin has to do with Eduin, I don’t know. But when Eduin shows up with an armed mob in Hali, in the heart of Hastur territory, I am suspicious. I am very suspicious.”

“You are very
wrong!
” Dyannis cried. “You have some boyhood grudge against Eduin and you’ve concocted a pack of wild guesses to convince yourself he’s guilty! Isn’t the world difficult enough without creating imaginary conspiracies and blaming those less fortunate?”

With an effort, she reined her tongue under control. They were both exhausted, mentally as well as physically. He had been working for days without a rest, giving unstintingly of himself. Any other man would have stayed at Neskaya, safe and comfortable behind its rebuilt walls. If old insecurities preyed upon him, he might be forgiven.

“I am sorry I said those things,” she said. “I always did have a temper. This won’t be the first time I’ve rattled off without thinking things through. But I do believe you speak without any proof in the matter. Eduin’s life was broken at Hestral. I don’t know where he is now or how he fares, but it cannot be well. He deserves your compassion, not your censure.”

“That is true enough,” Varzil said after a pause. “Some things we will never know, and that is as it should be. For now, a path lies clear before me, the quest to which I have already sworn myself. I thank you for your help, and I wish each of us—even your poor Eduin—peace in our souls when all is done.”

With that, he rose and left her, striding back toward the Tower, preparing the way for the night’s work. Dyannis watched him go, feeling regret and admiration. He had suffered far more in his life than she had, and yet he took on the mantle of his duty with a quiet clarity of mind she could not help but envy.

A shiver ran through her.
I am a better person when I am with him.

She would simply have to take what he had taught her and urge herself to improvement, just as if she were her own Keeper. The thought frightened her.

Winter came and left, with only the briefest interruption of the work. The Isoldir Lord sent the promised masons and carpenters, along with wagons of supplies to help the Tower and its townspeople through the long dark months.

By Midwinter Festival, it was clear that Francisco would never recover sufficiently to resume full duties as Keeper. He could manage small circles of two or three, enough for simple tasks. Several of the workers had died of their lingering injuries. Dyannis knew she had not the training to take over the entire circle of five on a permanent basis, and Francisco did not ask it of her.

With the spring thaw, travel became possible once again. With some trepidation, Dyannis made plans to return to Hali. The contingent of soldiers who had accompanied her and Varzil had departed when he did, providing for Carolin’s emissary. It was unthinkable for Dyannis to travel unescorted, even with Lady Helaina as chaperone. The Lord of Isoldir offered to take her to Arilinn for the meeting of the
Comyn
Council, and from there she could travel to Hali along with Carolin Hastur’s contingent. The meeting, she noticed, would not be held until that autumn. She suspected Isoldir’s generosity was tempered by his desire to retain her services for as long as possible.

Did she want to stay that long? Francisco had recovered as much as he was going to; already he was increasing the pressure upon her to function as a Keeper. With her strong telepathic abilities, she had no problem linking with another
leronis
and attuning their joined minds to the particular task. Gradually, one became two and two extended into three. She learned to submerge her personal antipathies, finding ways to appreciate and make the most of the particular strengths of each worker.

Varzil had been right. She had both the strength and the aptitude to do a Keeper’s work. But whether she
ought
to assume that responsibility was another matter. Her thoughts again bent toward the incident at Hali Lake, the monstrous dragon she had inflicted upon the unprotected minds of the mob, the deaths that had resulted. Varzil had insisted her debt was discharged, her restitution for that rash act complete. Even her own Keeper, Raimon of Hali, said so. As Varzil had pointed out, she had restrained herself from a similar spell when they encountered the Cedestri aircars.

What, then? What? Night after night, after her work in the circle was done, she paced the confines of the Tower room that had been given over, newly refurbished, to her use. Instinct told her that once she proved biddable, the Isoldir Lords would find an excuse to hold her here. Until she was clear in her own mind whether she could fulfill a Keeper’s responsibilities, it was dangerous to remain under such conditions.

If Isoldir would not provide a timely escort, then she must apply to Hali. Surely Carolin would, at Raimon’s request, spare a handful of men to bring her home. Though it was near dawn and the night’s chill lay thick and heavy upon the stone walls, she threw a shawl over her working robes and made her way to the relay chamber.

Dyannis seated herself on the bench in front of the screen and composed herself. She herself had repaired much of the damage to the matrix device. The lattice of starstones brightened, humming in resonance. She closed her eyes and the familiar, floating sensation engulfed her. Every Gifted worker experienced relay communication in a different way; since she preferred visual imagery, she saw the psychic firmament as a vast, misty void, like the sky before dawn.

Hali . . .
she thought, and watched as the pale light shifted and condensed into a pinpoint of light.

Hali is here—Dyannis, is it you?
Rorie’s mental voice sounded strong and clear.

Dyannis felt an absurd rush of gladness.

Quickly, he shifted.
Is something amiss? Some new trouble at Cedestri? Are you well?

Yes, I am quite well,
she answered quickly.
Cedestri continues with its recovery and there have been no new signs of war. In fact, things are going so well here that I fear they do not want to let me go.

She felt his grin.
That’s because you’re still on your best behavior, imp.

Why, is there some new trouble?
Dyannis asked.

Dyannis felt her heart give a little flutter. The small kingdom of Asturias had long threatened Ridenow lands and she had heard of their ruthless new general, the Kilghard Wolf.

Carolin wishes an end to hostilities,
Rorie said,
so I do not think he will be easily drawn in as a combatant.

They talked for a while longer of other, less important news such as the comings and goings of Tower workers. Ellimara Aillard had gone to Neskaya to be trained as under-Keeper.

I wish her joy,
Dyannis replied, with an odd shiver. She did not know if it came from regret or jealousy or relief that Varzil had found some other woman willing to take on the responsibility. Ellimara was younger, more flexible. It was better this way.

A tenday later, word came from Hali that an escort had been arranged, and within a month, a company of soldiers, clad in Hastur blue and silver, arrived to take Dyannis home. If Francisco and the Isoldir Lord were sorry to see her go, they gave no sign, but heaped her with expressions of gratitude and what small gifts could be spared. She returned the copper coins and jewelry, saying that as a
leronis,
she had little use for riches. As for herself, she did not take a truly free breath until she could no longer see the Isoldir promontory on the horizon behind her.

R
eturning to Hali, Dyannis felt like a stranger, though she had lived there for most of her adult life. When she had first come to the Tower, she had been fourteen, barely a woman. She had but lately recovered from a bout of the threshold sickness that had claimed the lives of her older brother and sister. She had seen the fear in her father’s eyes that she, too, would die in convulsive madness. To this day, she did not know what would have happened had Varzil not gained admittance to Arilinn Tower, and thereby opened her father’s mind to the possibility. As soon as it was safe for her to travel, she had been bundled on her way.

Hali Tower had been a world like none other. The
leronyn
had welcomed her for her Gifts, even undeveloped, but more than that, they had treated her like an adult woman, capable of managing her own life and taking responsibility for her own actions. How proud she had been of her psychic strength, how eager to practice her new skills. Everywhere she looked, some wondrous new vista opened before her—life as a
leronis
of one of the most prestigious Towers on Darkover, the
rhu fead
with its mysteries and ancient holy things, the lake with its cloud-water, the city, the glittering court . . . the knowledge that she belonged here and had a part in it all.

Varzil had come to the Hastur court for that first Midwinter Festival, along with Carolin, who was returning from his own season of training at Arilinn . . . and Eduin.

Dyannis turned her vision inward, toward memory. Her body moved to the easy gait of her mount as she rode, surrounded by King Carolin’s escort, along the length of Hali Lake to the Tower.

When they had danced, he had held her in his arms as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She had no previous experience with the feelings that arose in her, each wave more tender and tempestuous than the one before. Something in him touched her heart of hearts, perhaps the vulnerability she sensed beneath his borrowed finery. It was not until Varzil had forbidden her to have anything more to do with Eduin that she fell in love.