The Alton Gift (33 page)

"It's a preposterous idea!" Lorrill Vallonde said. "We have never—" He broke off as Istvana Ridenow gestured her desire to speak.
Dom
Lorrill, like many other conservatives, held Keepers in great reverence.

"
Dom
Danilo's proposal has merit," Istvana said. "We can easily combine our searches. We all know how much havoc an untrained telepath can create. If every
nedestro
son or daughter is to be examined for
laran
, it must be done under the supervision of the Towers. We can screen and recruit our own candidates at the same time."

"Where would they sit, these talented nobodies?" Marilla said pettishly. "If we admit them to the Council, for whom would they speak?"

"Let us not take on unnecessary difficulties," Linnea said, rising. "There will be time enough to sort out all these details. For now, let us consider the basic principle involved." With her auburn hair touched with only the slightest hint of silver and her graceful air of authority, she commanded the Council's full attention.

"There are precedents for the collateral inheritance of Domain-right," Linnea pointed out. "Regis himself named the son of his sister as his heir, when he had none of his own. Kennard Alton's marriage to Elaine Montray was never accepted by this Council, and yet his son Lewis was named his Heir and Warden of Alton."

When she finished, a commotion broke out again. Everyone tried to talk at once, and the Crystal Chamber rang with raised voices. Again, Mikhail called for order. This time he recognized Kennard-Dyan.

"It is true that too many of us have not fulfilled our obligations to marry and produce sons and daughters to carry on after us," Kennard-Dyan began. It was only by the most extraordinary circumstances that he himself stood here, for his own father had been a notorious lover of men.

"I admit to you all that I have failed in my duty to the future of my Domain." He paused, drawing a deep breath, and Danilo caught the pallor of his cheeks. "I am now prepared to do what is in my power to rectify my shortcomings."

Throughout the chamber, feminine voices whispered. If the most famous bachelor in the Seven Domains was at last prepared to take a wife, there would be no end of matchmaking and gossip.

"Therefore," Kennard-Dyan went on, "I proclaim all of my
nedestro
children legitimate and will present them here as circumstances permit. Any who are worthy by virtue of their
laran
may sit beside me in Council to strengthen Ardais and all the Domains."

He gestured to the two young men behind him, and they stepped forward. Both had the lean, darkly handsome features of the Ardais, but none of the arrogance that had characterized old Lord Dyan.

This could not be easy, Danilo thought, even if Kennard-Dyan were not hung over. The night of the reception, when Kennard-Dyan had gotten so drunk, Danilo had followed him to the Ardais quarters and sat with him through the small hours of the morning.

"I know what they all want of me," Kennard-Dyan had sobbed, lugubrious in his intoxication. "To tie me down, to chain me to some broodmare who's only after my title and the sons I'll give her. Who cares nothing for… nothing for…"

Regis, too, had once stormed against the ever-increasing pressure to take a wife. To be cared for, truly and without regard for rank or consequence, was that not what Regis and Kennard-Dyan and he himself wanted? Was that not the very thing denied to them by a world desperate for heirs of the blood?

Poor Domenic he will be next
…

Kennard-Dyan had found a way out of that trap, for the moment

anyway. "
Vai domyn
," he said with a short but impeccably formal bow, "I present to you my eldest son, Geremy Esteban. It is my will that the Council accept him as Heir to Ardais. And I also present my second son, Valentine."

"We will be pleased to undertake the
laran
examination of both of these young men," Laurinda said.

"I have another child I would acknowledge," Kennard-Dyan went on, "one whose qualifications are beyond question." He gestured toward the half-empty enclosure of Aillard. "Illona Rider, I hereby declare that you are my true daughter, and I offer you a place in the Domain of Ardais."

Everyone turned to stare at Illona. Only the slight movement of her hands, fingers digging into palms, betrayed any emotion. All her young life had been spent poor and rootless, an orphan taken in by the Travelers, performing in one town after another, perhaps going cold and hungry, all because this powerful lord had given no thought to the consequences of a pleasant dalliance. Only a chance meeting with Domenic had given her a chance for anything better.

"
Vai dorm"
she said, "I am fully aware of the honor you do me. Ardais is a noble lineage, and if it is the will of the Council, I will proudly bear the name of your daughter. However, I have come here as under-Keeper of Nevarsin Tower, the place I have earned for myself, and that is the only title I desire."

Good for you
! Danilo thought. If the Council was strengthened by women of such integrity, it boded well for Darkover.

Mikhail was speaking again, a gracious acknowledgment of Kennard-Dyan's actions and a formal welcome to Illona as a member of the Keepers Council. Rufus DiAsturien talked forcefully about the lack of heirs to Aillard. The line of Aillard was all but extinct; Marilla held the position only because there was no daughter in direct descent, and her only child was Kennard-Dyan, who ruled Ardais.

As he listened to the discussion, something niggled at Danilo's memory, some footnote to a history text, regarding the name of
Aillard
. Two generations ago, Cleindori Aillard had single-handedly broken the old cloistered tradition that insisted on Keepers retaining their virginity. Her son, Jeff Kerwin, had become a Keeper in his own right. But there had been a woman Aillard cousin as well…

"Now that young Domenic has come of age as heir to the Regency

and his Domain,"
Dom
Rufus said, "he must make plans to marry. I speak on behalf of the entire Council in affirming that we must ensure the proper succession of Hastur."

A wave of renewed excitement swept through the female contingent of the Council at the renewed prospect of a Comyn wedding. Already, they were planning the balls and parties, the receptions, the gifts to be exchanged, the new gowns to be ordered and songs to be composed, the decorations, the guest lists. Danilo wished Domenic a strong constitution and steady nerves.

The guardians of tradition would not rest until they had witnessed the copper
catenas
locked forever upon the wrists of Domenic and his bride. Perhaps Domenic himself had already decided to reveal his choice. Alanna leaned forward, coming more into the pearly light. She was beautiful, Gifted, and of impeccable lineage. At the moment, she was also exultant, glowing with anticipation.

Mikhail had listened with solemn attention to what Rufus said. He turned to Domenic, they exchanged a few words, and then Domenic stepped forward, speaking to the assembly.

"I will in all seriousness consider the matter," Domenic said, raising his voice so that everyone could hear him clearly "I agree that the future of Hastur must be secured. I thank you for your thoughtful discussion, but I have no intention to marry at this time."

Alanna gave a little cry, quickly smothered, and Mikhail continued with the session. Francisco briefly addressed the Council, requesting permission to add an item to the agenda for the following day. Danilo caught the minute tensing of Mikhail's shoulders as permission was granted.

The session was soon concluded, and within the hour, news of the astonishing developments would spread throughout the higher echelons of Thendaran society. As Danilo lingered to speak to Kennard-Dyan, he could not miss the scrupulous politeness with which Domenic escorted his mother and Alanna from the Chamber, or the way Domenic glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the beautiful young under-Keeper from Nevarsin.

he heart has its own reasons
, Regis had once told Domenic,
and reason is not among them
.

Why else, Domenic wondered, would he be standing at the doors of Comyn Tower when he should be in his own bed? He had tried to sleep, reiterating the thousand arguments why he should
not come
, until he could recite them backwards. His feet, answering their own desires, had led him here.

Madness
, Domenic told himself again, even as his hand lifted the latch. Freshly oiled, it opened silently.

The door swung open. A single
laran-charged
globe filled the space with blue-tinted light. Beyond lay a little entrance hall with a small arched doorway to one side. Stairs led upward into darkness and the common room. Perhaps the Keepers had gathered there, talking or communing mentally. Illona might be among them. Or they might have retired at this late hour. He could not search every sleeping chamber.

Domenic's foot was already upon the bottom stair. The lantern trembled in his grasp. How would he explain his presence to someone like Laurinda MacBard? It was folly to have come.

Wrapped in a shawl so white it glimmered in the shadows, Illona ap-

peared in the arched doorway. Her voice echoed in the stairwell. "Domenic? Is something wrong?"

"I must speak with you."
Please, do not turn me away. I need you now, more than ever
.

"We'll wake the others if we talk out here," Illona whispered. "This place magnifies every sound." She took his free hand and drew him through the doorway, into a corridor and then a small, tidy kitchen. In the center was a simple table, flanked by stools. "Everyone else is in bed like sensible people. I snuck downstairs for something to eat."

"Yes, I remember you did that at Neskaya."

"Old habits, I suppose. I spent too much of my childhood hungry." Smiling, she lifted a cloth from a half-loaf of bread, sliced off two pieces, spread them with butter from a little pot, and handed one to Domenic. "Just like old times. Now, what brings you here in the middle of the night?"

He reached for their deep mental bond and sensed only an impenetrable barrier.
Will you not speak to me as we once did, will you not come into my mind, as you are in my heart
?

"Domenic, you said—we
agreed
—"

"Please."

Leaning across the table, she studied him. Her eyes reflected the light of the lantern. He could read nothing in them, only his own desperate hope. Without speaking, she got up, walked around the table, and sat down beside him. She picked up his hand and held it against her cheek. Her skin felt like sun-warmed velvet.

You are not alone, dearest one. You will never be alone, as long as I have thought and breath.

Domenic turned his head so that his lips pressed against the palm of her hand. Tenderness rose up in him, consumed him, flooded out into the kiss he placed there. Illona trembled in response. Reluctantly, he lowered her hand. They might have only a short time together.

I
cannot see my way through this darkness
, he thought, and then realized that Alanna had said almost the same thing.

He laid his face against Illona's shoulder, and she stroked his hair. "I do not know how, but we will find a way," she murmured.

A faint rustle of cloth and softly indrawn breath jerked Domenic

upright. Together, he and Illona turned in the direction of the sound, toward the doorway.

Alanna stood there, her face twisted with unreadable emotion.

Domenic scrambled to his feet, knocking over his stool. Wood clattered against the bare stone floor. His worst nightmare—to have the two women in his life confront each other—had come true. He wished the earth would swallow him up. He tried to speak, but the words froze in his throat.

With a sob, Alanna whirled and fled.

Domenic took a step after her, but Illona said, "Let her go. She will not believe anything you say now. What she suspects is, after all, the truth."

Reluctantly, he nodded agreement. "I will go to her in the morning, when the heat of the moment has passed. I intend to keep my promise to her, if she will still have me."

"Yes, I think you must. Now she knows what she has only suspected before. When she has had time to think, she will realize that soon I will be gone, but the two of you will remain. Perhaps she will be satisfied with what you can give her, your honor if not your heart."

Domenic turned to look at her with amazement. Only a few years ago, it seemed, Illona had been a scrawny, uneducated Traveler girl. W?here had she acquired such detachment?

"It is not so hard, so long as it is not my own soul I must examine," Illona said with a faint smile. "I am not so wise as all that. Most of the time, I am only passing on what those who are older and far more experienced have told me. You forget,
carlo mio
, that I had already seen a good deal of the coarser side of life when we met, and life in a Tower demands honesty and self-examination. It is rather intoxicating, once you get used to it, revealing both the worst and the best of human nature."

She stood up and settled her white shawl around her shoulders. "Do not lose hope or let your fears cloud your vision. Many things can happen, things we cannot even imagine. In this strange and wonderful world of ours, where a Comyn lord can offer a penniless orphan a place at Ardais, where men fly to the stars and
chieri
come down from their forests, who is to say that five years from now, all our present sorrows will not seem like yesteryear's snows?"

There was a saying among the folk of the Armida hills that the old sleep so little in order to make up for all the hours they spent napping as babies.

Unable to fall asleep, Lew got out of bed and sat in his favorite chair by the fireplace, staring into the embers. He hoped the gently flickering glow would make him drowsy, but he remained wide awake. His body did not want to stay in bed; his muscles ached for activity. He thought about Jeram, out there in the city—hurt, lost, in hiding? Dead? And Domenic, still searching when he could, unable to rest.

Lew heard a creaking noise, like old hinges protesting, and then the grating of stone over stone. The tapestry on the far wall, the one depicting Lady Bruna Leynier, bulged outward. From behind it came a distinctly feminine shriek. The tapestry rod rocked off its mounting hooks, and then the whole mass of canvas-backed wool cascaded off the wall, trapping the intruder in its heavy folds. Behind it lay a dark, cobweb-laden tunnel, undoubtedly one of the secret passages rumored to run throughout Comyn Castle. Any ancient place used for clandestine purposes over the centuries must have some means for getting from one corner to another without notice.

Lew watched the figure struggle free from the thick, heavy fabric. He doubted whether even the most inept assassin would present herself in this way. After a short burst of pushing and yanking, the tapestry fell away into a great heap at the feet of a red-faced, dusty, and extremely agitated young woman.

As she stepped into the stronger light, Lew recognized Alanna Alar, Marguerida's fosterling. He had always thought her pretty but unsubstantial, although he had never exchanged more than a few polite words with her. Her hair was disheveled, laced with cobwebs, and several grimy streaks marked her face.

"Oh, this is terrible!" she cried. "How could I have made such a mistake? You are Lew Alton!"

"I am indeed, and it has been a long time since a young woman burst into my chambers," he said, trying not to show his amusement. "Indeed, I cannot recall when one has ever done so before in such an unconventional manner."

"I didn't mean—" she stammered. "Blessed Cassilda, what a mess I've made!" With a visible effort, she drew herself up. "I am sorry to intrude upon your privacy,
vat dom
. I had no intention of emerging in
anyone's
bedchamber, let alone yours."

Lew wondered if her true destination had been the bedchamber of a much younger man. "Now that you are here," he said aloud, "you might as well come in, and see if you can find a way to close that doorway."

The girl turned back to the opening, retrieved a bundled-up cloak and an unlit lantern that smoked as if it had just been extinguished, set them down inside the room, and ran her hands over the wall where the tapestry had hung. It took her only a few moments of pushing and twisting the irregular stones before the door swung closed. Only the faint line of dirt where the tapestry had hung suggested the wall was anything beyond an ordinary wall.

"Would you care for a little late supper?" Lew asked. "There is still some soup, as well as bread and dried fruit, on the table. You must keep your strength up."

"Oh! Actually, I
am
hungry." After helping herself, the girl sat down on the stool opposite Lew. She ate quickly, with a natural neatness.

"Would you like to pack up the leftovers to take with you?" Lew asked. "In my experience, one should always have a generous supply of food for the road."

"If I had known I was going to run away, I would have planned better," she said, giving him a rueful smile. "I apologize for bursting into your rooms like this. Things just—I didn't know what else to do."

"Would you like to tell me about it?"

Alanna shook her head. "It's no use. I suppose I've know for some time now, ever since I first saw them together in my mind. I think I must be going mad, for some of my visions have come true, but they cannot
all
be real. I had thought, for all the time he was gone,
As soon as he comes back, it will be all right. He will love me, and I will never again have to face these things by myself
. And now I cannot even have that. He loves
her
, and I am alone!"

What was the girl talking about?
He
might well be Domenic, for Marguerida had mentioned her concern about a possible attachment between them, and the interloper could only be Illona. No one with

a scrap of
laran
could mistake the depth of the attachment between Illona and Domenic, or the incandescent passion whenever their eyes met.

Delicately, gently, Lew reached out with his
laran
, listening, rather than making a direct attempt at rapport. Alanna's thoughts were only partly shielded, a jumble of confusion and immense natural talent. Pictures burst across the back of his mind, streams of energy, flashing scenes of people, dark towers, fire in the night, a city of corpses. Then the fractured images swept away, dry leaves in a bitter-edged wind.

Fear
…
a wild impetuous temper
…
confusion
…
aching loneliness
…

Someone
, Lew thought darkly,
has been tampering with her
laran.

"Will you tell me about these visions?" he asked. "I know something of
laran
matters."

"How can I? You're his
grandfather"

"Domenic's, you mean."

Alanna flinched. "I suppose that banshee's out of the egg now. Curse this tongue of mine! I couldn't keep a secret if my life depended on it!"

Lew gestured for Alanna to bring her stool and sit beside him. "Rest assured, child, that when the time comes, you will surprise yourself with your own abilities. There is no dishonor in falling in love with Domenic. After all, the two of you have known one another since you came here as a little girl."

"Yes, he was my one constant friend for all those years," she said. "Everyone else thought I was too much trouble to bother with. Domenic was the one person who took me seriously."

For an instant, Alanna's voice choked, but she lifted her chin and went on. "It was like a gift from Evanda herself when he said he loved me, but you know, Grandfather Lew—I may call you that, yes?—I was never sure if I imagined the whole thing. I loved him so much, I was sure I could make him love me back. I used to dream that he'd carry me away from Thendara to some wonderful place—Armida, but without Auntie Marguerida hovering about. Oh, I suppose that's a terrible thing to say to her own father!"

"I take no offense," he told her. "In fact, it is only natural that every young person must find his—or her—own place in the world. We cannot always dwell in the shadows of those who have gone before us, no

matter how much we loved and respected them. Nor is it some moral failing on your part to feel pain when the one you love has chosen another."

"Yes, and I want to claw her eyes out!" she cried. "Curse them both! No, I don't mean that! I would never wish him any harm. I've always thought it hideous when the heroine of the story says, If I can't have him, no one else will."

"Yes, even though it costs us everything, we want those we love to be happy."

Alanna nodded, blinking back tears. "I'm afraid that if I let him go, there will be nothing left for me. No one will ever love me again."

Lew sat quietly, remembering his despair when his beloved Marjorie died in an attempt to control the Sharra matrix. He had never before loved anyone with that exhilarating, soul-deep bond. For a time, he could not imagine living without her. But he
had
lived, and he had healed. He had loved again. Dio had been a very different wife but every bit as dear to him. Now, he looked into his heart and saw a treasure chest of cherished friends, family, lovers. No one of them could ever replace another. All had enriched him immeasurably.