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His voice was almost inaudible. "I know. You did your best"

Had I really? I was struck with doubt I felt sick with the force of his misery. I tried to take his handsagain, forcing myself to meet his pain head-on, not flinch from it But he pulled away from me, and I let it

go.

"Regis, listen to me. It doesn't matter. Perhaps in the days of the Keepers, it was a terrible tragedy for a Hastur to be without laran. But the world is changing. The Comyn is changing. YouTl find other strengths,**

I felt the futility of the words even as I spoke them. What must it be like, to live without laranl like beingwithout sight hearing ... but, never having known it, be must not be allowed to suffer its loss.

"Regis, you have so much else to give. To your family, to the Domains, to our world. And your children

will have it-** I took his hands again in mine, trying to comfort him, but he cracked.

"Zandru's hells, stop it," he said, and wrenched his hands roughly away again. He caught up his cloak,

which lay on the stone seat, and ran out of the room.

I stood frozen in the shock of his violence, then, in horror, ran after him. Gods! Drugged, sick,

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desperate, he couldn't be

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allowed to run off that way! He needed to be watched, cared for, comforted-but I wasn't in time. When I reached the stairs, he had already disappeared into the labyrinthine corridors of that wing, and I lost him.

I called and hunted for hours before, reeling with fatigue since I, too, had been riding for days. I gave upfinally and went back to my rooms. I couldn't spend the whole night storming all over Comyn Castle,shouting his name! I couldn't force my way into the Regent's suite and demand to know if he was there! There were limits to what Kennard Alton's bastard son could do. I suspected I'd already exceeded them. I could only hope desperately that the kirian would make him sleepy, or wear off with fatigue, and hewould come back to rest or make his way to the Hastur apartments and sleep there.

I waited for hours and saw the sun rise, blood-red in the mists hanging over the Terran spaceport,before, cramped and cold, I fell asleep on the stone bench by the fireplace.

But Regis did not return.

Chapter THREE

Regis ran down the corridor, dazed and confused, the small points of color still flashing behind his eyes,racked with the interior crawling nausea. One thought was tearing at him:

Failed. Fve failed. Even Lew, tower-trained and with all his skill, couldn't help me. There's nothing there.

When he said what he did about potential, he was humoring me, comforting a child.

He reeled, feeling sick again, clung momentarily to the wall and ran on.

The Comyn castle was a labyrinth, and Regis had not been inside it in years. Before long, in his wild rushto get away from the scene of his humiliation, he was well and truly lost His senses, &irum-blurred,retained vague memories of stone cul-de-sacs, blind corners, archways, endless stairs up which he toiledand down which he blundered and sometimes fell, courtyards filled with rushing wind and blinding rain,hour after hour. To the end of his life he retained an impression of the Comyn Castle which he couldsummon at will to overlay his real memories of it: a vast stone maze, a trap through which he wanderedalone for centuries, with no human form to be seen. Once, around a corner, he heard Lew calling hisname. He flattened himself hi a niche and hid for a few thousand years until, long after, the sound wasgone.

After an indeterminate time of wandering and stumbling and hallucinating, he became aware that it hadbeen a long time since he had fallen down a flight of stairs; that the corridors were long, but not miles andmiles long; and that they were no longer filled with uncanny crawling colors and silent sounds. When hecame out at last on to a high balcony at the uppermost level, he knew where he was.

Dawn was breaking over the city below him. Once before, during the night, he had stood against a highparapet like

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this, thinking that his life was no good to anyone, not to the Hasturs, not to himself, that he should throw himself down and be done with it This time the thought was remote, nightmarish, like one of those terrible real dreams which wakes you shaking and crying out, but a few seconds later is gone hi dissolving fragments.

He drew a long, weary sigh. Now what?

He should go and make himself presentable for his grandfather, who would certainly send for him soon. He should get some food and sleep; kirian, he'd been told, expended so much physical and nervousenergy that it was essential to compensate with extra food and rest He should go back and apologize to Lew Alton, who had only very reluctantly done what Regis himself had begged him to do.... But he wassick to death of hearing what he should do!

He looked across the city that lay spread out below him, Thendara, the old town, the Trade City, the Terran headquarters and the spaceport And the great ships, waiting, ready to take off for someunguessable destination. All he really wanted to do now was go to the spaceport and watch, at closerange, one of those great ships.

Quickly he hardened his resolve. He was not dressed for out-of-doors at all, still wearing felt-soledindoor boots, but in his present mood it mattered less than nothing. He was unarmed. So what? Terranscarried no sidearms. He went down long flights of stairs, losing his way, but knowing, now that he had hiswits about him, that all he had to do was keep going down till he reached ground level. Comyn Castlewas no fortress. Built for ceremony rather than defense, the building had many gates, and it was easy toslip out one of them unobserved.

He found himself hi a dim, dawnlit street leading downhill through closely packed houses. He was keyedup, having had no sleep after his hard ride yesterday, but the energizing effect of the kirian had not wornoff yet, and he felt no drowsiness. Hunger was something else, but there were coins in his pockets, andhe was sure that soon he would pass some kind of eating-house where workmen ate before their day'sbusiness.

The thought excited him with a delicious forbiddenness. He could not remember ever having beencompletely alone in his entire life. There had always been others ready at band to look after him, protecthim, gratify bis every wish: nurses

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and nannies when he was small, servants and carefully selected companions when he was older. Later, there were the brothers of the monastery, though they were more likely to thwart his wishes than carry them out This would be an adventure.

He found a place next to a blacksmith's shop and went in. It was dimly lit with resin-candles, but therewas a good smell of food. He was briefly afraid of being recognized, but after all, what could they do tohim? He was old enough to be out alone. Besides, if anyone noticed the blue-and-silver cloak with the

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Hastur badge, they would only think he was a Hastur servant.

The men seated at the table were blacksmiths and stable hands, drinking hot ale or jaco or boiled milk,eating foods Regis had never seen or smelled. A woman came to take Regis' order. She did not look athim. He ordered fried nut porridge and hot milk with spices in it. His grandfather, he thought with definitesatisfaction, would have a fit.

He paid for the food and ate it slowly, at first feeling the residual queasiness of the drug which wore offas he ate. When he went out, feeling better, the light was spreading, although the sun had not risen. As hewent downhill he found himself among unfamiliar houses, built in strange shapes of strange materials. Hehad obviously crossed the line into the Trade City. He could hear, in the distance, that strange waterfallsound which had excited him so intensely. He must be near the spaceport

He had been told a little about the spaceport on Darkover. Darkover, which did almost no trading withthe Empire, was in a unique location, between the upper and lower spiral arms of the galaxy, unusuallywell suited as a crossroads stop for much of the interstellar traffic. In spite of the self-chosen isolation of Darkover, therefore, enormous numbers of ships came for rerouting, bearing passengers, personnel andfreight bound elsewhere. They also came for repairs and reprovision-ing and for rest leaves in the Trade City. Most of the Terrans scrupulously kept the agreement limiting them to their own areas. There hadbeen a few intermarriages, a little trade, some small-very small-importation of Terran machinery andtechnology. This was strictly limited by the Darkovans, each item studied by Council before permissionwas given. A few licensed matrix technicians were set up in the cities; a few had even gone out into the Empire. The Terrans, he had

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heard, were intrigued by Darkovan matrix technology and in the old days had laid intricate plots to

uncover some of its secrets. He didn't know details, but Kennard had told him some stories.

He started, realizing that the street directly before him was blocked by two very large men in unfamiliarblack leather uniforms. At their belts hung strangely shaped weapons which, Regis realized with a prickleof horror, must be blasters or nerve guns. Such weapons fcad been outlawed on Darkover since the Ages of Chaos, and Regis had literally never seen one before, except for antiques in a museum. Thesewere no museum pieces. They looked deadly.

One of the men said, "You're violating curfew, sonny. Until the trouble's over, all women and childrenare supposed to be off the streets from an hour before sunset until an hour after sunrise."

Women and children! Regis' hand strayed to his knife-hilt "I am no child. Shall I call challenge and proveit?"

"You're in the Terran Zone, son. Save yourself trouble." "I demand-"

"Oh hell, one of those" said the second man in disgust "Look here, kiddie, we're not allowed to fight

duels, on duty anyhow. You come along and talk to the officer."

Regis was about to make an angry protest-ask a Comyn heir to give an account of himself in Councilseason?-when it occurred to him that the headquarters building was right on the spaceport, where he wasgoing anyway. With a secret grin he went along.

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After they had passed through the spaceport gates, he realized that he had actually had a better viewyesterday from the mountainside. Here the ships were invisible behind fences and barricades. Thespaceforce patrolmen led him inside a building where a young officer, not in black leather but in ordinary Terran clothing, was dealing with assorted curfew violators. As they came in he was saying, "This man'sall right; he was looking for a midwife and took the wrong turn. Send someone to show him back to thetown." He looked up at Regis, standing between the officers. "Another one? I'd hoped we'd be throughfor the night Well, kid, what's your story?"

Regis threw bis head back arrogantly. "Who are you? By what right did you have me brought here?"

"My name's Dan Lawton," the man said. He spoke the same language in which Regis had addressed

him, and spoke

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it well. That wasn't common. He said, "I am an assistant to the Legate and just now I'm handling curfew

duty. Which you were violating, young man."

One of the spaceforce men said, "We brought him straight to you, Dan. He wanted to fight a duel withus, for God's sake! Can you handle this one?"

"We don't fight duels in the Terran Zone," Lawton said. "Are you new to Thendara? The curfew

regulations are posted everywhere. If you can't read, I suggest you ask someone to read them to you."

Regis retorted, "I recognize no laws but those of the Children of Hastur!"

A strange look passed over Lawton's face. Regis thought for a moment that the young Terran waslaughing at him, but face and voice were alike noncommittal. "A praiseworthy objective, sir, but notparticularly suitable here. The Hasturs themselves made and recognized those boundaries and agreed toassist us in enforcing our laws within them. Do you refuse to recognize the authority of Comyn Council? Who are you to refuse?"

Regis drew himself to his full height. He knew that between the giant spaceforce men he still lookedchildishly small.

"I am Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn," he stated proudly.

Lawton's eyes reflected amazement. "Then what, in the name of all your own gods, are you doingroaming around alone at this hour. Where is your escort? Yes, you look like a Hastur," he said as hepulled an intercom toward him, speaking urgently in Terran Standard. Regis had learned it at Nevarsin. "Have the Comyn Elders left yet?" He listened a moment, then turned back to Regis. "A dozen of yourkin-folk left here about half an hour ago. Were you sent with a message for them? If so, you came toolate."

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"No," Regis confessed, "I came on my own. I simply had a fancy to see the starships take off." It

sounded, here in this office, like a childish whim. Lawton looked startled.

"That's easily enough arranged. If you'd sent in a formal request a few days ago, we'd gladly have arranged a tour for any of your kinsmen. At short notice like this, there's nothing spectacular going on, but there's a cargo transport about to take off for Vega in a few minutes, and 111 take you up to one of the viewing platforms. Meanwhile, could I offer you