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COPYRIGHT © 1975, BY MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY

All Rights Reserved. Cover art by Jack Gaughaa

Marion Zimmer Bradley in DAW Books:

DARKOVER LANDFALL  (#UY1256-$1.25) HUNTERS OF THE RED MOON

(#UY1230-$1.25) THE SPELL SWORD   (#UY1284-$1.25)

DEDICATION for

Jacqueline Lichtenberg

Who convinced me that

this book could and

should be written, and

kept after me until

(and while)

I wrote it

FIRST  PRINTING,  AUGUST  1975

3456789 10 11

PRINTED   IN  U.S.A.

THE

HERITAGE

OF HASTUR

Chapter ONE

As the riders came up over the pass which led down into Thendara, they could see beyond the old cityto the Terran spaceport Huge and sprawling, ugly and unfamiliar to their eyes, it spread like some strangegrowth below them. And all around it, ringing it like a scab, were the tightly clustered buildings oftheTradeCity which had grown between old Thendara and the spaceport.

Regis Hastur, riding slowly between his escorts, thought that it was not as ugly as they had told him in Nevarsin. It had its own beauty, an austere beauty of steel towers and stark white buildings, each for

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some alien and unknown purpose. It was not a cancer on the face of Darkover, but a strange and not

unbeautiful garment.

The central tower of the new headquarters building faced theComynCastle , which stood across thevalley, with an unfortunate aspect. It appeared to Regis that the tall skyscraper and the old stone castlewere squared off and facing one another like two giants armed for combat

But he knew that was ridiculous. There had been peace between the Terran Empire and the Domains allof his lifetime. The Hasturs made sure of it

But the thought brought him no comfort He was not much of a Hastur, he considered, but be was thelast. They would make the best of him even though he was a damned poor substitute for his father, andeveryone knew it They'd never let him forget it for a minute.

His father had died fifteen years ago, just a month before Regis had been born. Rafael Hastur had atthirty-five already shown signs of being a strong statesman and leader, deeply loved by his people,respected even by the Terrans. And he had been blown to bits in the Kilghard Hills, killed by contrabandweapons smuggled from the Terran Empire. Cut off in the full strength of his youth and promise, he hadleft only an

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Marion Zimmer Bradley

THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR

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eleven-year-old daughter and a fragile, pregnant wife. Alanna Elhalyn-Hastur had nearly died of the shock of his death. She had clung fitfully to life only because she knew she was carrying the last of the Hasturs, the longed-for son of Rafael. She had lived, racked with grief, just long enough for Regis to be born alive; then, almost with relief, she had laid her life down.

And after losing his father, after all his mother went through, Regis thought, all they got was him, not theson they would have chosen. He was strong enough physically, even good-looking, but curiouslyhandicapped for a son of the telepathic caste of the Domains, the Comyn. A nontele-path. At fifteen, if hehad inherited laran power, he would have shown signs of it.

Behind him, he heard bis bodyguards talking in low tones.

"I see they've finished their headquarters building. Hell of a place to put it, within a stone's throw

ofComynCastle ."

"Well, they started to build it back in the Hellers, at Caer Donn. It was old Istvan Hastur, in my

grandsire's time, who made them move the spaceport to Thendara. He must have had his reasons."

"Should have left it there, away from decent folk!"

"Oh, the Terrans aren't all bad. My brother keeps a shop in theTradeCity . Anyway, would you want the

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Terranan back in the hills, where those mountain bandits and the damned Aldarans could deal with thembehind our backs?"

"Damned savages," the second man said. "They don't even observe the Compact back there. You see

them in the Hellers, wearing their filthy cowards' weapons."

"What would you expect of the Aldarans?" They lowered their voices, and Regis sighed. He was used to it. He put constraint on everyone, just by being what be was: Comyn and Hastur. They probably thought he could read their minds. . Most Comyn could.

"Lord Regis," said one of his guards, "there's a party of riders coming down the northward road carrying banners. They must be the party from Armida, with Lord Alton. Shall we wait for them and ride together?"

Regis had no particular desire to join another party of Comyn lords, but it would have been anunthinkable breach of manners to say so. At Council season all the Domains met together at Thendara; Regis was bound by the custom of

generations to treat them all as kinsmen and brothers. And die Altons were bis kinsmen.

They slackened pace and waited for the other riders.

They were still high on the slopes, and he could see past Thendara to the spread-out spaceport itself. Agreat distant sound, like a faraway waterfall, made the ground vibrate like thunder, even where he stood. A tiny toylike form began to rise far out on the spaceport, slowly at first, then faster and faster. Thesound peaked to a faint scream; the shape was a faraway streak, a dot, was gone.

Regis let his breath go. A starship of the Empire, outward bound for distant worlds, distant suns.... Regisrealized his fists had clenched so tightly on the reins that his horse tossed its head, protesting. Heslackened them and gave the horse an absentminded, apologetic pat on the neck. His eyes were stillriveted on the spot in the sky where the starship had vanished.

Outward bound, free for the immeasurable immensities of space, the ship was beaded to worlds whosewonders he, chained down here, could never guess. His throat felt tight He wished he were not too old tocry, but the heir to Hastur could not make any display of unmanly emotion in public. He wondered whyhe was getting so worked up about this, but he knew the answer: that ship was going where he couldnever go.

The riders from the pass were nearer now, Regis could identify some of them. Next to his bannermanrode Ken-Bard, Lord Alton, a stooped, heavy-set man with red hair going gray. Except for Danvan Hastur, Regent of the Comyn, Kennard was probably the most powerful man in the Seven Domains. Regis had known Kennard all his He; as a child, he had called him uncle. Behind him, among a wholeassembly of kinsmen, servants, bodyguards and poor relations, he saw the banner of the Ardais Domain,so Lord Dyan must be with them.

One of Regis' guards said in an undertone, "I see the old buzzard has both his bastards with him.

Wonder how he has the face?"

"Old Kennard can face anything, and make Hastur like it," returned the other man in a prison-yard mutter. "Anyway, young Lew's not a bastard; Kennard got him legitimated so he could work in theArilinnTower . The younger one-**

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The guard saw Regis glance his way and he stiffened; the expression slid off his face as if a sponge hadwiped it blank.

Damn it, Regis thought irritably, I can't read your mind, man, IVe just got good, normal ears. But in anycase, he realized, he had overheard an insolent remark about a Comyn lord, and the guard would havebeen embarrassed about that. There was an old proverb: The mouse in the walls may look at a eta, buthe is wise not to squeak about it.

Regis, of course, knew the old story, Kennard had done a shocking, even a shameful thing: he hadtaken, in honorable marriage, a half-Terran woman, kin to the renegade Domain of Aldaran. Comyn Council had never accepted the marriage or the sons. Not even for Kennard's sake.

Kennard rode toward Regis. "Greetings, Lord Regis. Are you riding to Council?"

Regis felt exasperated at the obviousness of the question-where else would he be going, on this road, atthis season?-until he realized that the formal words implied recognition as an adult. He replied, withequally formal courtesy, "Yes, kinsman, my grandsire has requested that I attend Council this year."

"Have you been all these years hi the monastery at Nevarsin, kinsman?"

Kennard knew perfectly well where he had been, Regis reflected; when his grandfather couldn't think ofany other way to get Regis off his hands, he packed him away to Saint-Val-entine-of-the-Snows, But itwould have been a fearful breach of manners to mention this before the assembly so he merely said, "*Yes, he entrusted my education to the cristoforos; I have been there three years."

"Well, that was a hell of a way to treat the heir to Has-tur," said a harsh, musical voice. Regis looked up and recognized Lord Dyan Ardais, a pale, tall, hawk-faced man he had seen making brief visits to the monastery. Regis bowed and greeted him. "Lord Dyan."

Dyan's eyes, keen and almost colorless-there was said to be chieri blood in the Ardais-rested on Regis. "I told Hastur that only a fool would send a boy to be brought up in that place. But I gathered that he wasmuch occupied with affairs of state, such as settling all the troubles the Terranan have brought to ourworld. I offered to have you fostered at Ardais; my sister Elorie bore no living child and would havewelcomed a kinsman to rear. But your grandsire, I gather,

thought me no fit guardian for a boy your age." He gave a faint, sarcastic smile. "Well, you seem to have

survived three years at the hands of the cristoforos. How was it in Nevarsin, Regis?"

"Cold." Regis hoped that settled that.

"How well I remember," Dyan said, laughing. "I was brought up by the brothers, too, you know. My

father still had his wits then-or enough of them to keep me well out of sight of his various excesses. I

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spent the whole five years shivering."

Kennard lifted a gray eyebrow. "I don't remember that it was so cold."

"But you were warm in the guesthouse," Dyan said with a smile. "They keep fires there all year, and you could have had someone to warm your bed if you chose. The students' dormitory at Nevarsin-I give you my solemn word-is the coldest place on Darkover. Haven't you watched those poor brats shivering their way through the offices? Have they made a cristoforo of you, Regis?"

Regis said briefly, "No, I serve the Lord of Light, as is proper for a son of Hastur."

Kennard gestured to two lads in the Alton colors, and they rode forward a little way. "Lord Regis," hesaid formally, "I ask leave to present my sous: Lewis-Kennard Montray-Alton; Marius Montray-Lanart."

Regis felt briefly at a loss. Kennard's sons were not accepted by Council, but if Regis greeted them askinsman and equals, he would give them Hastur recognition. If not, he would affront his kinsman. He wasangry at Kennard for making this choice necessary, especially when there was nothing about Comynetiquette or diplomacy that Kennard did not know.

Lew Alton was a tall, sturdy young man, five or six years older than Regis. He said with a wry smile, "It'sall right, Lord Regis, I was legitimated and formally designated heir a couple of years ago. It's quitepermissible for you to be polite to me."

Regis felt his face flaming with embarrassment. He said, "Grandfather wrote me the news; I hadforgotten. Greetings, cousin, have you been long on the road?"

"A few days," Lew said. "The road is peaceful, although my brother, I think, found it a long ride. He's

very young for such a journey. You remember Marius, don't you?"

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Regis realized with relief that Marius, called Montray-Lan-art instead of Alton because he had not yetbeen accepted as a legitimate son, was only twelve years old-too young in any case for a formal greeting. The question could be sidestepped by treating him as a child. He said, "You've grown since I last sawyou, Marius. I don't suppose you remember me at all. You're old enough now to ride a horse, at least. Do you still have the little gray pony you used to ride at Armida?"

Marius answered politely, "Yes, but he's out at pasture; he's old and lame, too old for such a trip."

Kennard looked annoyed. Diplomacy indeed! His grandfather would be proud of him, Regisconsidered, even if he was not proud of himself for the art of double tongues. Fortunately, Marius wasnot old enough to know he'd been snubbed. It occurred to Regis how ridiculous it was for boys theirown age to address one another so formally anyway. Lew and he used to be close friends. The years at Armida, before Regis went to the monastery, they were as close as brothers. And now Lew was callinghim Lord Regis! It was

stupid!

Kennard looked at the sky. "Shall we ride on? It's near sunset and sure to ram. It would be a nuisanceto have to stop and pack away the banners. And your grandfather will be eager to see you, Regis."

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"My grandfather has been spared my presence for three years," Regis said dryly. "I am sure he can