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was wrong.

Quickly he shut off the curiosity. Lew had said that you learned to keep your distance, in order tosurvive. It was a strange, sad thought. He could not spy on his friend's privacy, yet he was still near totears at the awareness of Dani's misery. He had sensed it, earlier that day, when Lew talked to them. Had someone hurt him, ill-treated him?

Or was it simply that Danilo was lonely, homesick, wanting his family? Regis knew so little about him.

He recalled his own early days at Nevarsin. Cold and lonely, heartsick, friendless, hating his family forsending him here, only a fierce remnant of Hastur pride had kept him from crying himself to sleep everynight for a long time.

For some reason that thought filled him again with an almost unendurable sense of anxiety, fear,restlessness. He looked across at Danilo and wished he could talk to him about this. Dani had beenthrough it; he would know. Regis knew he would have to tell someone soon. But who should he tell? Hisgrandfather? The sudden realization of his own laran had left Regis strangely vulnerable, shaken again andagain by waves of emotion; again he was at the edge of tears, this time for his grandfather, reliving thatfierce, searing moment of anguish of his only son's terrible death.

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And, still vulnerable, he swung from grief to rebellion. He was sure his grandfather would force him towalk the path ready-made for a Hastur heir with laran. He would never be free! Again he saw the greatship taking off for the stars, and his whole heart, his body, his mind, strained to follow it outward into theunknown. If he cherished that dream, he could never tell his grandfather at all.

But he could share it with Dani. He literally ached to step across the brief space between their beds, slipinto bed beside him, share with him this incredible dual experience of grief and tremendous joy. But heheld himself back, recalling with an imperative strange sharpness what Lew had said; it was

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like living with your skin off. How could he impose this burden of his own emotions on Dani, who was himself so burdened with unknown sorrow, so troubled and nightmare-driven that his unshed tears penetrated even into Regis' dreams as a sound of weeping? If he was to have the telepathic gift, Regis thought sadly, he had to learn to live by the rules of the telepath. He realized that he was cold and cramped, and crawled under his blankets again. He huddled them around him, feeling lonely and sad. He felt curiously unfocused again, drifting in anxious search, but hi answer to his questioning mind he saw only flimsy pictures in imagination, men and strange nonhumans fighting along a narrow rock-ledge; the faces of two little children fair and delicate and baby-blurred in sleep, then cold in death with a grief almost too terrible to be borne; dancing figures whirling, whirling like wind-blown leaves in a mad ecstasy; a great towering form, blazing with fire ...

Exhausted with emotion, he slept again.

Chapter EIGHT

(Lew Alton9s narrative)

There are two theories about Festival Night, the great midsummer holiday in the Domains. Some say thatit is the birthday of the Blessed Cassilda, foremother of the Comyn. Others say that it commemorates thetime of year when she found Hastur, Son of Aldones, Lord of Light, sleeping on the shores of Hali afterhis journey from the realms of Light Since I don't believe that either of them ever existed, I have noemotional preference about either theory.

My father, who hi his youth traveled widely in the Empire, told me once that every planet he has evervisited, and most of those he hasn't, have both a midsummer and midwinter holiday. We're no exception. In the Domains there are two traditional celebrations for summer Festival; one is a private familycelebration in which the women are given gifts, usually fruit or flowers, in the name of Cassilda.

Early this morning I had taken my foster-sister Linnell Ail-lard some flowers, in honor of the day, andshe had reminded me of the other celebration, the great Festival ball, held every year in the Comyn Castle.

I've never liked these enormous affairs, even when I was too young for the ball and taken to thechildren's party in the afternoon; I've disliked them ever since my first one, at the age of seven, when Lerrys Ridenow hit me over the head with a wooden horse.

It would be unthinkable to absent myself, however. My father had made it clear that attending was justone of the unavoidable duties of an heir to Comyn. When I told Linnell that I was thinking of developing

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some illness just severe enough to keep me away, or changing duty with one of the

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Guard officers, she pouted. "If you're not there, who'll dance with me?" Linnell is too young to dance atthese affairs except with kinsmen so, ever since she's been allowed to attend at all, I've been remindedthat unless I'm there to dance with her she will find herself watching from the balcony. My father, ofcourse, has the excellent excuse of his lameness.

I resolved to put in an appearance, dance a few dances with Linnetl, be polite to a few old ladies andmake an unobtrusive exit as early as politeness allowed.

I came late, having been on duty in the Guard hall where I'd heard the cadets gossiping about the affair. Ididn't blame them. All Guardsmen, whatever their rank, and all cadets not actually on duty, have theprivilege of attending. To youngsters brought up in the outlands, I suppose it's an exciting spectacle. I wasmore disinclined to go than ever because Marius had come in while I was dressing. He'd been taken tothe children's party, had made himself sick with sweets and had skinned knuckles and a black eye from afight with some supercilious little boy, distantly kin to the Elhalyns, who had called him a Terran bastard. Well, I'd been called worse in my day and told him so, but I really had no comfort for him. I was readyto kick them all in the shins by the time I went down. It was, I reflected, a hell of a good start to theevening.

As was customary, the beginning dances were exhibitions by professionals or gifted amateurs. A troupeof dancers in the costume of the far mountains was dcfing a traditional dance, with a good deal ofskirt-swirling and boot-stamping. I'd seen it danced better, a while since, on my trip into the foothills. Perhaps no professionals can ever give the mountain dances the true gaiety and excitement of the peoplewho dance them for pure pleasure.

I moved slowly around the edges of the room. My father was being polite to elderly dowagers on thesidelines. Old Hastur was doing the same thing with a group of Terrans who had probably been invitedfor political or ceremonial reasons. The Guardsmen, especially the young cadets, had already discoveredthe elegant buffet spread out along one wall and kept replenished by a whole troop of servants. So earlyin the evening, they were almost the only ones there. I grinned reminiscently. I am no longer required toshare the men's mess, but I remembered my cadet years vividly enough to

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know how good the plentiful delicacies would look after what passes for supper in the barracks.

Danilo was there, in dress uniform. A little self-consciously, he wished me a joyous Festival. I returnedthe greeting. "Where is Regis? I don't see him anywhere."

"He was on duty tonight, sir. 1 offered to change with him-all his kinsmen are here-but he said he would

have years of it, and I should go and enjoy myself."

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I wondered which officer, in malice or by way of emphasizing that a Hastur could expect no favors in thecadets, had made certain that Regis Hastur would draw a tour of duty on Festival Night. I only wished Ihad so good an excuse.

"Well, enjoy yourself by all means, Dani," I told him.

The hidden musicians had struck up a sword dance and Danilo turned eagerly to watch as two Guardsmen came with torches to place the swords. The hall lights were lowered to emphasize the ancientand barbaric quality of this oldest of traditional mountain dances. It is usually danced by one of thegreatest dancers in Thendara; to my surprise, it was Dyan Ardais who strode forward, wearing thebrilliantly barbaric costume whose history was lost before the Ages of Chaos.

There are not many amateurs, even in the Hellers, who still know all the traditional steps and patterns. I'dseen Dyan dance it when I was a child at Armida, in my father's hall. I thought that it went better there, tothe music of a single drone-pipe, by the glare of firelight and a torch or two, than here in the elaborateballroom, surrounded by ladies in fancy party costumes and bored noblemen and city folk.

Yet even the elaborately garbed ladies and noblemen fell silent, impressed by the strange solemnity ofthe old dance. And yes-I give him his due-by Dyan's performance. For once he looked grave, stern, freeof the flippant cynicism I detested so, wholly caught up in the tense, treading-on-eggs quality of theweaving steps. The dance displays a fierce, almost tigerish masculinity, and Dyan brought a sort ofleashed violence to it. As he snatched up the swords in the final figure and held them poised over hishead, there was not a sound anywhere hi the ballroom. Because I had been impressed against my will, Itried deliberately to break the spell.

I said aloud to Danilo, **I wonder who he's showing off to this time? It's a pity Dyan's indifferent towomen; after this he'd have to beat them off with a pitchfork!"

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I found myself pitying any woman-or any man, for that matter-who allowed himself to be charmed by Dyan. I hoped for his own sake that Danilo was not one of them. It's natural enough for boys that age tobe strongly attracted to any strong character, and a cadet-master is a natural object for such romanticidentification. If the older man is an honorable and kindly one, it does no harm and wears off in a shorttime. I long since grew out of any such childish attachments and, although I've been on the receiving end atime or two, I made sure it went no further than a few exchanged smiles.

Well, I wasn't Dani's guardian, and it had been made clear that Dyan was beyond my reach. Besides, Ihad enough worries of my own.

Dyan was moving toward the buffet; I saw him stop for a glass of wine, speaking to the Guardsmenthere with a show of affability. We came briefly face to face. Resolving that if there was any discourtesyamong Comyn I would not be the one to show it, I made some brief polite comment on the dance. Hereplied with equally meaningless courtesy, his eyes straying past me. I wondered who he was looking forand received in return-my barriers must have been lowered for a moment-a surge of violent anger.

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Perhaps after tonight this meddlesome bastard will be busy with his own affairs and have less time forinterfering in mine!

I made the briefest possible polite bow and moved away for my promised dance with Linnell. The floorwas filling quickly with dancers; I took Linnell's fingertips and led her to the floor.

Linnell is a pretty child, with soft bronze-brown hair and blue eyes framed in lashes so long and darkthey looked unreal. She was, I thought, considerably prettier than her kinswoman Callina, who hadlooked so severe and stern at Council yesterday.

The Aillard Domain is the only one in which laran and Council-right pass not in the male line, but in thefemale; males are not allowed to hold full Domain rights in Council. The last comynara in the direct linehad been Cleindori, the last of the Keepers trained completely in the old, cloistered virginal tradition. While still quite young, she had left the tower, rebelled against the old superstitions surrounding the matrixcircles and especially the Keepers and had, in defiance of tradition and belief, taken a consort and bornehim a child

while continuing to use the powers she had been taught. She had been horribly murdered by fanatics who thought a Keeper's virginity was more important than her competence or her powers. But she had broken the ancient mold, defied the superstitions and created a new scientific approach to what is now called matrix mechanics. For years her very name had been abhorred as a renegade. Now her memory was revered by every psi technician on Darkover.

But she had left no daughters. The old Aillard line had finally died out and Callina Lindir-Aillard, a distantkinswoman of my father's and of the male bead of the Aillard Domain, had been chosen comynara, asnearest female successor. Linnell had come to Armida for my father to foster and had been brought up asmy sister.

Linnell was an expert dancer, and I enjoyed dancing with her. I have little interest in feminine fripperies,but Linnell had taught me the courtesies of such things, so I took polite notice of her gown andornaments. When the dance came to an end, I led Linnell to the sidelines and asked her if she thought Ishould ask Callina to dance; Callina, too, by Comyn custom for unwed women, was restricted to dancingwith kinsmen except at masked balls.

"I don't know if Callina cares to dance," Linnell said, "she's very shy. But you should ask her. I'm sure she'll tell you if she'd rather not. Oh, there is Javanne Hastur! Every time I've seen her in the last nine years, it seems, she's been pregnant. But she's actually pretty, isn't she?"

Javanne was dancing with Gabriel. She had a high color in her cheeks and looked as if she wereenjoying herself. I suppose that any young matron would be happy, after four closely spacedpregnancies, to be in society again. Javanne was very tall and excessively thin, a dark girl in an elaborategreen-and-golden gown. I did not think her pretty, but she was undeniably handsome.