A Flame in Hali (52 page)

“Which makes them even more dangerous,” Harald said tightly, “for they will not live in peace with their neighbors, as the folk of Marenji have learned to their sorrow.”

“They released our kinsman,
Dom
Eiric, before I could interview him,” Varzil said, “and he is under truce oath not to attack them for another half year, so something good may yet come from that quarter.”

“Friends,” Carolin interrupted, “let us not diminish the joy of our reunion with talk of war. There is time and enough for sorrow. Here we have occasion for celebration. We have honored guests, and cherished friends. I don’t believe the four of us have been together since that first Midwinter at Hali.”

“Goodness!” Maura laughed. “Has it been that long? What a wild bunch we were in those day! Orain was with us then, and Jandria, before she pierced her ear and joined the Sisterhood of the Sword, and your other friend from Arilinn—what was his name, Carlo?”

“Oh, do you mean Eduin?” Carolin shook his head slightly. “It has been a long time, hasn’t it? I heard he came to a rather bad end. Was he ever seen after the battle of Hestral Tower?”

Dyannis lowered her eyes and pretended to be absorbed in her soup. They all carefully avoided mention of either Rakhal or Lyondri, the cousins who had usurped Carolin’s throne and then instituted a reign of terror across the land. Why could they not forget about Eduin, too?

“For tonight, however, let all hearts be merry.” Carolin raised his wine goblet. “May that time come speedily when people of good will everywhere will have similar reason to celebrate.”

“We have yet another occasion for gladness,” Maura said. “Dyannis is back among us. The folk at Hali will rejoice at her return.”

Dyannis felt the blood drain from her cheeks, leaving her suddenly cold. She raised her voice above the murmur and clink of goblets and knives against fine porcelain plates. “Your Majesty,” she said formally, “I regret—that is not the case. In fact, the opposite is true. I have come here with my brother to be betrothed to a cousin of the wife of Carolin’s kinsman, Geremy Hastur. All that remains is the permission of my Keeper and Carolin’s blessing, as his overlord.”

There, it was said. She could not turn back now. Even though she knew she had done the only honorable thing, Dyannis felt sick at heart.

Silence dropped like a thick blanket over the table. Varzil sat motionless. Then he broke out into an enormous grin. Beside him, Carolin and Maura barely suppressed their own smiles.

“Hali will indeed have cause to rejoice,” Harald said.

“Please do not mock me!” Dyannis cried.

“You tell her, Harald,” Varzil said.

Harald turned to Dyannis. His eyes glowed as if the sun had risen behind them. “My dear sister, did you really believe I would let you enter into a marriage that was not your wish? When I realized what I had done, I sent word to Varzil the very next day to enlist his help in finding a way out of our quandary.”

“But—but an agreement was made,” Dyannis stammered. “
Dom
Tiavan’s family—the alliance—”

“Which is not nearly as important as having you, a powerful
leronis,
serving all of Darkover,” Varzil said. “As for your intended bridegroom, Maura herself came up with a solution.”

Maura described how, while Dyannis was on the road to Thendara, she had arranged for an equally advantageous match between
Dom
Tiavan Harryl and Rohanne’s youngest sister, who had nothing but her sweet disposition to recommend her. Everyone had assumed that as the last of six daughters of a poor but noble family, with no dowry or connections, the sister would die a spinster. Upon their arrival, Harald had agreed to give her the income from a nice stretch of pastureland for her lifetime, with the land itself to go to any children. He felt sure that with such a dowry, and the blessing of King Carolin, the Harryls would be more than content.

Dyannis listened in amazement. She turned to Harald. “How can this be?”

“Do you not wish to return to Hali Tower? If so, I have most grievously misunderstood you.”

“Oh, yes! But—”

“
Breda,
did you think for a moment that your brothers do not love you?” Varzil broke in. “That we don’t care for your happiness? How could you be content anywhere but a Tower, using your Gifts? When Harald sent word what had happened, how could we not do everything in our power to help you?”

For a long moment, Dyannis could not speak. Her throat closed up with tears. Only the self-control achieved by years of training kept her at her seat, head lifted. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Even so, her voice came out in a whisper. “I have no words to thank you enough, both of you.”

“You can thank me by using your Gifts to the fullest,” Varzil said.
By being in truth what you are, a Keeper.

“We did not act solely for your benefit,
vai leronis,
” said Carolin, “but for the good of all. The Tower needs you. Will you not reconsider Varzil’s proposal that you train as a Keeper?”

“You and the gods have clearly conspired against me!” Dyannis said, recovering a small measure of composure. “I came to Thendara, prepared to uphold the honor of my family and serve a greater purpose than my own personal desires. At the time, I thought that was to be the marriage Harald had arranged for me. Now I see another destiny in service to you, to Hali Tower, perhaps to all of Darkover.” She turned to Varzil, and her voice trembled a little. “If you and Raimon, who are my Keepers, say I am fit, then I will undertake to train as one of you with all my strength and will.”

For a long moment, no one spoke, and she realized their silence represented a profound respect for her choice. Then Carolin raised his goblet to her. “This is a moment we will tell our children about,” he said solemnly, “the day Dyannis of Hali joined the ranks of the very first women Keepers.” Dyannis found herself far more deeply touched by the quiet dignity of the moment than by any expressions of mirth.

After a bit, Carolin turned to Lerrys. “What about you,
chiyu?
I hear you are to pass a season at Hali Tower, and learn what you can from the wise folk there. Will you follow in the footsteps of your brother and sister, and become a
laranzu?
”

The boy ducked his head. “Your pardon,
vai dom,
but my place is back at Sweetwater. I will go to Hali Tower if it is my father’s wish, but I will be counting the days until I return home.”

“Well enough said,” Carolin said, “for without men to till the land and raise fine sons, there would be no one for the Towers to serve.”

He then called for another toast, and this one Dyannis joined in with a whole heart.

T
he dinner concluded with good spirits and expressions of fellowship. Dyannis said little, for she was emotionally drained from the sudden reversal of her fortune. As they headed back to their quarters, however, she gathered her strength and asked Harald if they might talk a little. She still did not understand why he had changed his mind, and gone to such great lengths to preserve her freedom. Although the hour was late, he dismissed their servants, leaving them alone in the sitting chamber. A small fire had been lit, and Dyannis went over to it, although she did not feel cold.

“I saw that no matter how advantageous the match might be, the cost was even higher,” he said. “At first, I assumed you had given up your place in a Tower, that no matter what else you did, it would not be to use your
laran
. But then, when I truly understood . . .”

He went to her and took her hands in his. Dyannis sensed the deliberation in his touch. He wanted her to read his mind. Caught between the light of the fire and the row of candles on the mantle, his features bore a striking resemblance to their father’s. But
Dom
Felix Ridenow would never have spoken as Harald did now.

“I of all men know how important—how rare and precious—
laran
is to our world and its people.” His voice was low and husky. In his mind, she saw images, layered one over the other—

—moonlight on flashing swords, the musty reek of catmen, furred bodies twisting and slashing, fire piercing his side, the spurt of hot blood—

—the desperate flight through the hills, running headlong into a cave—down a series of tunnels—the torch sputtering—fever chills shuddering through his body, lights flickering in his mind, the sweetish rankness of a wound gone bad—

—HARALD!
Varzil’s sure mental voice, calling him back from delirium, torches in the distance, more catmen, a sword at his throat—

—Varzil stepping forward from the rescuers, his eyes glowing as if lit from within, glaring at the catmen’s leader, speaking without words, reaching out to that terrified, inhuman mind—

—the sword falling away, the catmen melting into the darkness—

What happened next was part of family history. Harald had persuaded
Dom
Felix to allow Varzil to return to Arilinn to train his remarkable
laran
talent.

“He has done what none of us thought possible,” Harald had argued, “he has made a bargain with the catmen. Surely such a Gift must be developed to its fullest. To do anything less would be to throw it back into the teeth of the gods who bestowed it.”

Now Harald gazed at Dyannis with an expression of awe and determination.
What if Varzil had accepted Father’s verdict, that he had no talent worth training? What if he had given up, gone along with what was expected of him? How can I ask the same of Dyannis?

A hush fell on the room, broken only by the soft fall of embers deep within the fire.

“I could never ask that of you,” he repeated aloud.

She bent her head, moved beyond words.

“I cannot say that I have much faith in women joining the ranks of Keepers, even as one of Varzil’s experiments. But this much I do know: you must return to Hali and whatever destiny awaits you there. To force you into a marriage, no matter how advantageous to the family, would be as ill done—and, I suspect, as dangerous—as chaining a dragon to roast my meat.”

Harald set out again in two days, for even his paxman, Black Eiric, could not long run Sweetwater without him, not with autumn rapidly approaching. Lerrys went directly to Hali. By the time Dyannis was ready to follow her nephew, she had had her fill of court life at Thendara. The castle here had been the seat of many generations of Hastur Kings, and the weight of centuries of elegance and ostentatious wealth bore down upon her. Everywhere she looked, velvets and jewelstudded satins vied with silver lace or ornaments of copper for brilliance. Perfume hung like a miasma in the air. Within an hour of her arrival, it seemed, everyone had known who she was, whose sister she was, and had rushed to curry her favor. Within a day of their arrival, moreover, Thendara buzzed with news of Varzil’s presence.

“How can Carolin bear living in the midst of such decadence?” she asked Varzil as they rode along the road to Hali.

They had made an early start that morning. Bridle rings jingled in the dew-moist air as the horses pranced in eagerness.

“Perhaps, if he were not who he is, it would be difficult to remain unaffected,” Varzil said. “These lordling courtiers may seem like the worst of sycophants, but they wield influence beyond their personal sphere. It is from their lands and tenants that armies are raised and fed, that grain and meat flow to the cities, and taxes to the treasury. Carolin grants them the prestige of the court, but he is careful to be even-handed in his favors. Thus, he keeps them striving against one another, each eager to gain some small advantage.”

Dyannis remembered coming to the court at Hali that first Midwinter Festival, and how awed she had been by the ladies and courtiers in their holiday garb. Compared to the simple comfort of Sweetwater and the austerity of the Tower, the palace seemed like a gorgeous dream. She wondered if the place itself had not imbued Eduin with a romantic glamour. Certainly, she had thrown herself headlong into his arms against all the rules of proper decorum.

As they rode along, Dyannis and Varzil enjoyed a measure of privacy, for the two guards Carolin had sent along stayed some distance in front, and the pack animals and attendants trailed behind. Even though she knew she ought to seize the opportunity, she hesitated.

“What is it,
chiya?
” he asked gently.

She took a deep breath. “I felt so strongly you must be mistaken about Eduin playing a role in Felicia’s death and the attacks upon Carolin. I tried to remember every scrap of conversation, every nuance, just to prove you wrong.”

Varzil turned slightly in the saddle. His slender body moved easily with the horse’s stride. Eyes shadowed, face impassive, he waited for her to go on.

As she switched to mental speech, the story tumbled out, how she had revealed Felicia’s identity to Eduin.

I don’t know what I was thinking,
she concluded.
If you had wanted me to know who she was, surely you would have said something. It was wrong for me to eavesdrop on your thoughts—you were so much in love with her—but even more wrong for me to pass it on.