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And Jeff knew Kennard was right. This experiment might have succeeded, and the Pan-Darkovan Syndicate was now bound in honor to be guided by the will of Hastur in accepting Terran ways. Butthere had been a failure, too.

Kennard put it into words.

“The Tower circles can never be brought back as they were in the old days. Life can only go forward, not back. It’s even better to ask help from the Terrans—in our own way and on our own terms—than to let all this weight rest on the shoulders of a few gifted men and women. Better that the people of Darkover should learn to share the effort with one another, Comyn and Commoner, and even with the people of Terra.” He sighed.

“I deserted them,” he said. “If I had fought all the way beside them—things might have gone differently. But this was what they were working for; Cleindori and Cassilde, Jeff and Lewis, Arnad, old Damon —all of us. To make an even exchange; Darkover to share the matrix powers with Terra, for those few things where they could be safely used, and Terra to give such things as she had. But as equals; not the Terran masters and the Darkovan suppliants. A fair exchange between equal worlds; each world with its own pride, and its own power. And I let you be sent to Terra,” he added, looking straight at Jeff, “because I felt you a threat to my own sons. Can you forgive me, Damon Aillard?”

Jeff said, “I’ll never get used to that name. I don’t want it, Kennard. I wasn’t brought up to it. I don’teven believe in your kind of government, or inherited power of that kind. If your sons do, they’rewelcome to it; you’ve brought them up to take those kinds of responsibility. Just—” He grinned. “Usewhat influence you have to see that I’m not deported, day after tomorrow.”

Kennard said gently, “There is no such person as Jeff Kerwin, Junior. They cannot possibly deport the

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grandson of Valdir Alton to Terra. Whatever he chooses to call himself.”

There was a feather-light touch on Jeff’s arm. He looked down into the pale, childish face of thechild-Keeper; and remembered her name, Callina of Neskaya.

She whispered, “Elorie—she is conscious; she wants you.”

Jeff said gravely, “Thank you,
 
vai leronis
 
,” and watched the child blushing. What Elorie had done hadfreed this girl, too; but she did not know it yet.

They had taken Elorie into the nearest room and laid her on a couch there; pale, white, strengthless, shestretched her hands to Jeff. He reached for her, not caring that the rest of the circle had crowded into theroom behind him. He knew, when he touched her, how deep the shock had been, going unguarded,unprepared into the matrix circle; in days to come, Keepers would learn ways to guard themselvesagainst the energy drains of massive work like this; without the tremendous dedication of lifelong ritualchastity, but with strong safeguards nevertheless. Elorie had indeed been injured; she had come closer todeath than any of them would ever want to remember, and many suns would rise and set over Arilinnbefore her old merry laughter would be heard again in the Tower; but her glowing eyes blazed out in loveand triumph.

“We’ve won,” she whispered, “and we’re here!”

And Kerwin, holding her in his arms, knew that they had won indeed. The days that were coming, for Darkover and the Comyn, would change them all; both worlds would struggle with the changes that theyears would bring. But a world that remains always the same can only die. They had fought to keep Darkover as it was; but what they had won was only the victory of determining what changes wouldcome, and how quickly.

He had found what he loved, indeed; and he had destroyed it, for the world he loved would never be thesame, and he had been the instrument of change. But in destroying it, he had saved it from ultimate andfinal destruction.

His brothers and sisters were all around him. Taniquel, so white and worn that he realized how ruthlesslyshe had spent herself to bring Elorie back to herself. Auster, with the mold of his life broken, but with anew strength from which it could be forged anew. Kennard, his kinsman, and all the others…

“Now, now,” said the sensible voice of Mesyr, calm and level. “What’s the sense of standing here like this, when your night’s work is done, and well done? Downstairs, all of you, for some breakfast… yes, you too, Jeff, let Elorie get some rest.” With brisk hands she drew up the covers beneath Elorie’s chin and made shooing gestures at all of them.

Jeff met Elorie’s eyes again, and, weak as she was, she began to laugh; and then they all joined in, sothat the corridors and stairways of the Tower rang with shared mirth. Some things, at least, neverchanged at all.

Life in Arilinn, for now, was back to normal.

They were home again. And this time they would stay.

—«»—«»—«»—

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To Keep The Oath

A Renunciate short story

«^

The red light lingered on the hills; two of the four small moons were in the sky, green Idriel near tosetting, and the tiny crescent of Mormallor, ivory-pale, near the zenith. The night would be dark. Kindran’ha Mhari did not, at first, see anything strange about the little town. She was too grateful to havereached it before sunset—shelter against the rainswept chill of a Darkovan night, a bed to sleep in afterfour days of traveling, a cup of wine before she slept.

But slowly she began to realize that there was something wrong. Normally, at this hour, the womenwould be going back and forth in the streets, gossiping with neighbors, marketing for the evening meal,while their children played and squabbled in the street. But tonight there was not a single woman in thestreet, nor a single child.

What was wrong? Frowning, she rode along the main street toward the inn. She was hungry and weary.

She had left Dalereuth many days before with a companion, bound for Neskaya Guild-house. Butunknown to either of them, her companion had been pregnant; she had fallen sick of a fever, and in Thendara Guild-house she had miscarried and still lay there, very ill. Kindra had gone alone to Neskaya;but she had turned aside three days’ ride to carry a message to the sick woman’s oath-mother. She hadfound her in a village in the hills, working to help a group of women set up a small dairy.

Kindra was not afraid of traveling alone; she had journeyed in these hills at all seasons and in allweathers. But her provisions were beginning to run low. Fortunately, the innkeeper was an oldacquaintance; she had little money with her, because her journey had been so unexpectedly prolonged,but old Jorik would feed her and her horse, give her a bed for the night, and trust her to send money topay for it— knowing that if she did not, or could not, her Guild-house would pay, for the honor of the Guild.

The man who took her horse in the stable had known her for many years, too. He scowled as shealighted. “I don’t know where we shall stable your horse, and that’s certain,
 
mestra
 
, with all thesestrange horses here… will she share a box stall without kicking, do you suppose? Or shall I tie her looseat the end?” Kindra noticed that the stable was crammed with horses, two dozen of them and more. Instead of a lonely village inn, it looked like Neskaya on market-day!

“Did you meet with any riders on the road,
 
mestra
 
?”

“No, none,” Kindra said, frowning a little. “All the horses in the Kilghard Hills seem to be here in your stable—what is it, a royal visit? What is the matter with you? You keep looking over your shoulder as if you expect to find your master there with a stick to beat you—where is old Jorik, why is he not here to greet his guests?”

“Why,
 
mestra
 
, old Jorik’s dead,” the old man said, “and Dame Janella trying to manage the inn alone

with young Annelys and Marga.”

“Dead? Gods preserve us,” Kindra said. “What happened?”

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“It was those bandits,
 
mestra
 
, Scarface’s gang; they came here and cut Jorik down with his apron still on,” said the old groom. “Made havoc in the town, broke all the ale-pots, and when the menfolk drove ‘em off with pitchforks, they swore they’d be back and fire the town! So Dame Janella and the elders put the cap round and raised copper to hire Brydar of Fen Hills and all his men to come and defend us when they come back; and here Brydar’s men have been ever since,
 
mestra
 
, quarreling and drinking and casting eyes on the women until the townfolk are ready to say the remedy’s worse than the sickness! But go in, go in,
 
mestra
 
, Janella’s ready to welcome you.”

Plump Janella looked paler and thinner than Kindra had ever seen her. She greeted Kindra withunaccustomed warmth. Under ordinary conditions, she was cold to Kindra, as befitted a respectable wifein the presence of a member of the Amazon Guild; now, Kindra supposed, she was learning that aninnkeeper could not afford to alienate a customer. Jorik, Kindra knew, had not approved of the Free Amazons either; but he had learned from experience that they were quiet guests who kept to themselves,caused no trouble, did not get drunk and break bar-stools and ale-pots, and paid their reckoningpromptly.
 
A guest’s reputation
 
, Kindar thought wryly,
 
does not tarnish the color of his money
 
.

“You have heard, good
 
mestra
 
? Those wicked men, Scarface’s fellows, they cut my good man down, and for nothing—just because he flung an ale-pot at one of them who laid rough hands on my little girl, and Annelys not fifteen yet! Monsters!”

“And they killed him? Shocking!” Kindra murmured, but her pity was for the girl. All her life, young Annelys must remember that her father had been killed in defending her, because she could not defend herself. Like all the women of the Guild, Kindra was sworn to defend herself, to turn to no man for protection. She had been a member of the Guild for half her lifetime; it seemed shocking to her that a man should die defending a girl from advances she should have known how to ward off herself.

“Ah, you don’t know what it’s like,
 
mestra
 
, being alone without the goodman. Living alone as you do,

you can’t imagine!”

“Well, you have daughters to help you,” Kindra said, and Janella shook her head and mourned. “But

they can’t come out among all those rough men, they are only little girls!”

“It will do them good to learn something of the world and its ways,” Kindra said, but the woman sighed.

“I wouldn’t like them to learn too much of that.”

“Then, I suppose, you must get you another husband,” Kindra said, knowing that there was simply no way she and Janella could communicate. “But indeed I am sorry for your grief. Jorik was a good man.”

“You can’t imagine how good,
 
mestra
 
,” Janella said plaintively. “You women of the Guild, you call yourselves free women, only it seems to me I have always been free, until now, when I must watch myself night and day, lest someone get the wrong idea about a woman alone. Only the other day, one of Brydar’s men said to me—and that’s another thing, these men of Brydar’s. Eating us out of house and home, and just look,
 
mestra
 
, no room in the stable for the horses of our paying customers, with half the village keeping their horses here against bandits, and those hired swords drinking up my good old man’s beer day after day—” Abruptly she recalled her duties as landlord. “But come into the common-room,

mestra
 
, warm yourself, and I’ll bring you some supper; we have a roast haunch of
chervine
 
. Or would you fancy something lighter, rabbithorn stewed with mushrooms, perhaps? We’re crowded, yes, but there’s the little room at the head of the stairs, you can have that to yourself, a room fit for a fine lady, indeed Lady Hastur slept here in that very bed, a few years gone. Lilla! Lilla! Where’s that simpleminded wench gone? When I took her in, her mother told me she was lack-witted, but she has wits enough to hang about talking to that young hired sword, Zandru scratch them all! Lilla! Hurry now, show the good

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woman her room, fetch her wash-water, see to her saddlebags!”

Later, Kindra went down to the common-room. Like all Guild-women, she had learned to be discreetwhen traveling alone; a solitary woman was prey to questions, at least, so they usually journeyed in pairs. This subjected them to raised eyebrows and occasional dirty speculations, but warded off the lesspalatable approaches to which a lone woman traveling on Darkover was subject. Of course, any womanof the Guild could protect herself if it went past rude words, but that could cause trouble for all the Guild. It was better to conduct oneself in a way that minimized the possibility of trouble. So Kindra sat alone ina tiny corner near the fireplace, kept her hood drawn around her face—she was neither young norparticularly pretty—sipped her wine and warmed her feet, and did nothing to attract anyone’s attention. It occurred to her that at this moment she, who called herself a Free Amazon, was considerably lessconstrained than Janella’s young daughters, going back and forth, protected by their family’s roof andtheir mother’s presence.