The Alton Gift (35 page)

"You were part of the ambush party on Old North Road, weren't you?" Francisco said, circling around Jeram.

Around the Chamber, conversation hushed. Men and women leaned forward to hear, their faces intent, some of them angry. Domenic looked stunned, blaming himself for not having found Jeram sooner.

Francisco moved closer. His voice was silky, almost seductive. "That's why you came to Thendara, isn't it? To tell your story before the Council? Here you are, and they are listening. Now's your chance. Go on, tell them."

At his signal, the two guards released Jeram. Jeram stumbled and caught his balance. Francisco took his shoulders and turned him in a slow circle to face every part of the audience. "Tell them."

"This has nothing to do with the charge—" Domenic protested.

"No, let him speak," Rufus DiAsturien said. "We have a right to know."

For a long moment, Jeram struggled visibly to speak. His face flushed with effort; he swallowed convulsively. "It is true," he began, his voice ragged. "I came here—to confess. To turn myself in. I tried—you were there—blasters against swords—I am sorry—following orders not an excuse…"

"Tell them what happened next. Tell them!" Francisco's fingers dug into Jeram's shoulders. Jeram winced but kept on, one dogged phrase after another. It must have taken enormous willpower to resist the drug this much, to say what he willed and not what Francisco ordered him to.

"This is a travesty," Danilo said, rising to his feet. "Can't you see the man is unfit to testify to anything? He's too sick—or drugged—to know what he's saying!"

"Do you dare question my honor?" Francisco retorted.

"Sit down, Danilo," Mikhail said. Lew heard the reluctance in his voice, the stubborn adherence to protocol and tradition. "We must let him continue."

Gasping, trembling, Jeram hung his head. He seemed at the end of his power to resist. Step by step, Francisco forced him to admit how he had been unable to remember how the battle ended until the Keeper of Nevarsin Tower had broken the compulsion spell of forgetting set upon him. With each revelation, shock rippled through the assembly.

"It was then you realized that
laran
—specifically the Alton Gift— had been used on you, against your knowledge or consent," Francisco said. "Isn't that true?
Isn't it
?'

Chest heaving, Jeram shook his head. Even though the telepathic dampers suppressed any psychic contact, the entire Chamber seemed to vibrate with his struggle. The veins of his forehead stood out in stark relief. Droplets of sweat dampened the tangle of his hair.

Jeram glanced at Lew, and Lew read the desperate plea in his friend's eyes.

Throughout the Chamber, a storm was gathering. Lew sensed it in the air, in the awful expectant
listening
, in the surge of adrenaline through his own veins. Lives had been broken in this Chamber before, by heedless words, by deliberate malice.

The pale-haired man seized Jeram's right arm and twisted it behind him, close to dislocating the shoulder joint. Jeram's face went white. Francisco bent over him, "
Isn't it
?"

Jeram glared at Francisco and shook his head. Between clenched teeth, he muttered, "
Go to hell
," in Terran Standard. "
I'll see you there before I go along with any more of your filthy lies
!"

"You will tell us the truth," Francisco hissed. "One way or another, you will tell us…"

Behind Lew, Alanna cried out, "Oh, this is terrible! Why doesn't someone stop it?"

Her voice broke the looming sense of inevitability. Lew could think of only one way to stop Francisco's questions, and that was his own confession. He had not intended to make the matter public, but the in-

terrogation had taken on a life of its own, threatening to sweep away all in its path.

So be it!

No longer caring about the consequences, Lew rose to his feet. "This has gone far enough—"

"Help! Oh, help!"

Lew broke off at the sound of a lady's shriek.

"Look to
Domna
Marilla!"

Kennard-Dyan leaped over the railing of the Ardais enclosure and rushed across the room. One hand raised to her brow, Marilla swayed in her seat. Her waiting-woman let out another shrill wail. Kennard-Dyan reached them just in time to catch Marilla as she toppled over.

"Help, someone help me! My mother is ill!"

Mikhail's voice thundered through the Chamber, calling for order. "Clear the floor! Get that prisoner out of here!"

Francisco's men began to drag Jeram away. Jeram struggled as best he could, but they held him fast. He could barely stand, let alone mount an effective resistance. Marguerida grabbed Mikhail's arm and spoke to him.

"Not you," Mikhail called out to Jeram's captors. "Captain Cisco, you take custody of him!"

Cisco Ridenow gestured to the two Guardsmen at the main doors. The blond man released his hold on Jeram so suddenly that Jeram staggered into the arms of the Guards. Meanwhile, Darius-Mikhail, who had been sitting beside Marilla, took out his starstone, wrapped in a wallet of silk-lined leather and carried in a fold in his belt, and bent over her. He could do nothing in the
laran-blanketing
field.

"Turn off the dampers!" Istvana ordered, as she hurried to the Ail-lard enclosure. Illona gave a short nod and set about turning off the devices.

The Chamber churned with chaotic emotions. Jeram's anguish struck Lew like a physical blow. Francisco radiated hatred and desperation. Kennard-Dyan's guilt and worry for his mother roiled with Mar-guerida's burgeoning fury and a dozen other powerful reactions from the room.

Searing white lightning burst from Alanna's mind. A vision swept

through Lew's mind. He saw Jeram lying in a pool of blood… then it was another man, although Lew could not tell who, a man with flaxen hair…

"Help me," Alanna whispered. She clutched the bench to keep herself from falling. A wet, gray sheen covered her skin.

Lew placed the palm of his hand against her cheek. She was cold, going into shock.

It's all right. I'm here with you. Do not give in to your fears, child.

Her eyes widened as his mind touched hers, catalyzed through the physical contact.

Do not feed your fears
, Lew sent his thought to her mind.
Let them go, release them. They cannot harm you unless you give yourself to them
.

I
… Her answer was slow and awkward, untrained. I
am so frightened. I cannot face these visions alone
!

You are not alone, dear child. Once you have mastered your laran, you need never be alone.

Into their linked minds, Lew poured his most peaceful memories…

… the soaring joy of being one with the circle at Arilinn… walking through the streets of Caer Donn on a frosty morning, Marjorie's hand in his… sitting in the darkened chapel at St. Valentine's as the last sublime chords of a hymn faded away…

Alanna's visions lost their vividness and flickered into nothingness. Under Lew's calming images, the psychic storm in her mind died down. Color returned to her cheeks, and her eyes grew steady and clear. Lew had never seen her so free of inner strife, so tranquil.

Lew turned his attention back to the unfolding drama. Half the assembly was on its feet by now. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. Kennard-Dyan and Istvana were in a heated discussion about whether to take Marilla to her own quarters or to the Tower. Francisco loudly protested Mikhail's orders, insisting that the witness was under his protection, not the Guards'.

Kennard-Dyan picked up his mother as if she weighed no more than a child. He followed Illona and Darius-Mikhail from the chamber. Istvana remained behind. The clamor began to diminish as Mikhail loudly announced the adjournment of the session for the day.

Cisco approached Francisco, who had remained in the center of the floor. "Come, Father, I'll see you back to your chambers."

Francisco shrugged off his son's advance. Instead, he strode to the Hastur enclosure, assumed a belligerent stance, and confronted Mikhail.

"Mikhail Lanart, pretender and tyrant!" Francisco omitted Mikhail's rightful surname of
Hastur
as a deliberate insult. "The floor is still mine, and I am not yet finished!"

Calm yourself,
Dom
Francisco," Mikhail said, raising both hands in a conciliatory gesture. "There has been enough uproar for one meeting. We will adjourn until the day after tomorrow. You will have your chance then to finish what you have to say."

"By that time," Francisco shot back, his face reddening, "you will have brought my witness over to your side, if you have not silenced him forever. You will not cheat me of my victory, not this time, or bury the evidence of your wife's crimes!"

We should never have let him return
, Lew thought with a sickening jolt.
Marguerida was right
.

"I am not your enemy," Mikhail said.

"And I am no criminal!" Marguerida exclaimed. "If you have anything to say to me, do it in plain language. Put forth your evidence for everyone to hear!"

"The events of this morning have overwrought us all," Mikhail said soothingly. "There is no point in continuing to hurl insults at one another—"

"Then you leave me no choice," Francisco broke in. "Here, in the midst of an assembly of our peers, I declare a formal blood feud. I

charge you, Mikhail-Regis Lanart-Hastur, with theft and dishonor, and I stand ready to prove the truth with my body!"

A collective gasp filled the room. Cisco stared at his father, plainly appalled by this turn of events. Donal took a step forward, one hand going to his sword. Mikhail restrained his paxman with a glance.

"You forget yourself,
Dom
Francisco," Mikhail said, rising to his feet, "and you bring shame upon your house by these rash words. Retract them now, with full forgiveness and no stain on your honor, or suffer the consequence!"

"The only consequence I see is the end of your worthless life!" Francisco retorted. "Will you stand forth like a man, or must I hunt you down?"

Marguerida stood up, taking her place at her husband's side. The air around her shimmered with intensity. "This has gone far enough. The Council is neutral territory, and we will not have it degenerate into a bar-room or a dueling arena. If you cannot behave in a civilized fashion,
Dom
Francisco, you will have to leave. Guards, escort him from the chamber."

At her words, the Guardsmen at the doors glanced at one another, confusion written on their faces. They were accustomed to taking orders from the Regent himself, not from his off-world wife. Moreover, ancient tradition demanded that a challenge, once issued, must be properly answered.

Francisco spat on the floor at Marguerida's feet. She turned scarlet. Rory's hand moved to the hilt of his sword, but Domenic touched his brother's shoulder and shook his head, restraining him.

Dani Hastur stepped forward, looking more like his father than Lew would have believed possible. As Regent of Elhalyn, which once claimed kingship over all the Domains, Dani was next in line after Mikhail to lead the Council. Like his father, Regis, he had never wanted power. At this moment, however, he carried himself with such authority that the clamor fell away.

"
Vai domna
," Dani said to Marguerida with impeccable politeness, "that is not possible. This man is Comyn, with full Domain-right that none may deny. He has declared a blood feud before this assembly. No one has given challenge in this manner since before our grandfathers' time, but, nonetheless, it is the law."

"Then it is time the law was changed!" Marguerida insisted. "We cannot allow such a barbaric custom to continue! This is why we have courts and a Council to resolve our differences nonviolently! Or would you," she raked the assembly with her fierce glare, "have us return to the Ages of Chaos, when might alone determined right?"

What had they come to, Lew wondered, when a man as decent as Mikhail must risk his life at the hands of a traitor, all for the sake of tradition?

"I am sorry," Dani said, gently but firmly, to Marguerida. "You must be silent and let matters proceed. If you cannot control yourself, the Guards will escort you from the Chamber."

"By what right do you—" Marguerida cried.

"
Sit down
, child!" Istvana's voice, with all the authority of a Keeper, sliced through the air. "Sit down, before you make matters worse!"

Breathing hard, her face flushed, Marguerida lowered herself to her seat. Domenic reached out and took her hand. She shot him a look of gratitude.

"What are the nature of your charges?" Dani asked Francisco. "Can they not be satisfied in some peaceful way?"

"I will not be bought off with pretty Hastur speeches, not while my enemy continues to enjoy the fruits of his crimes." Francisco's voice coarsened to a cloud-leopard's snarl. "Nor will I listen to the lies of the
Terranan
woman he has taken to wife, for she has conspired with him, to the dishonor of myself, my son, and my Domain."

"Filthy nine-fathered
bre'suin
!" Rory cried. "How dare you!"

"Father, I beg you, please! Make no such claims in my name!" Cisco interrupted, horrified. "If you're doing this for the honor of Ridenow, I hereby disavow all interest in your quarrel!"

Francisco ignored the outburst. "Mikhail Lanart has unlawfully seized a valuable heirloom belonging to the Ridenow clan—the ring of my ancestor, Varzil the Good. I demand that he either return the treasure or answer the challenge!"

Dani turned to Mikhail. "How will you answer?"

Mikhail was silent for a moment. His choices were few, Lew thought, for the psychoactive crystal in Varzil's ring had keyed into his own starstone, and to separate them would surely cause him serious psychic injury, if not death. He could accept the challenge and fight it

out on Francisco's terms, or he could find a reason to refuse. The only legal bases for a refusal were gross disability or difference in rank, which were clearly not the case, or because his death would leave his Domain without an Heir. With two healthy sons and a daughter, Mikhail could hardly claim that hardship.

Marguerida had grasped Mikhail's arm, pleading silently with him. Lew's heart ached for her. He understood how she felt. Once, he too would have done anything to save the life of the one he loved.

Mikhail was no fool; he knew what Francisco had done. If he gave way to the pleas of his wife before the assembled Council, then he would lose all credibility, crippling his ability to govern effectively. Either way, Francisco would have won.

"I accept."

The rush of exultation from Francisco's mind was almost blinding.

NO
! Marguerida's telepathic denial roared through Lew's thoughts. Even though it was not directed at him, her psychic blast sent him reeling. It resounded through the mind of every
laran-Gifted
person in the room.

Father, please
—
help me! Stop them
!

Slowly, the effort clawing at his heart, Lew shook his head. He cursed himself for not having interrupted the proceedings when Francisco first brought Jeram in. But would anything he said have made a difference? Francisco wanted this fight, lusted for it with all his demented obsession. He would not stop until one of them was dead.

While Istvana reset the telepathic dampers so that there could be no unfair use of
laran
, Mikhail and Francisco prepared themselves. Like most of the adult men in the room, they both carried swords. The blades, Lew noticed, were well-balanced weapons, not ornamental toys.

Marguerida was right. The entire situation was unconscionable. The Terrans had good cause to call Darkover barbaric. Two Comyn lords, educated and literate men who had had contact with worlds beyond their own, intended to settle their differences by whacking one another with lengths of sharpened steel.

And what is the alternative
? whispered through Lew's mind.
The unbridled force of
laran?
The Alton Gift
?

Maybe it was better to settle differences with swords, rather than

blasters or bombs or mental weapons capable of leveling an entire city, even as Caer Donn had burned in the fires of Sharra.

Mikhail stepped into the central area and stood, weapon raised, facing his opponent. The rainbow light glinted on his flaxen hair. He moved with the assurance of a man who has kept up his sword practice. In the Hastur enclosure, Domenic and Rory settle down to watch.

The two men circled one another, feinting. Lew watched them with the experience of his early years as a Guards officer. Mikhail was the better swordsman, Lew thought, but he would not try to kill Francisco, at least not right away. That hesitation would leave him vulnerable.

Francisco stepped in, hard on the offense, blade slashing. Mikhail parried, clearly surprised by the ferocity of the attack. He recovered, disengaged, circled. Again came that quick, almost feline onslaught. Again, the delayed defense.

They drew apart. Francisco stepped to the side, knees bent, shoulders loose. Lew caught the subtle movement as a dagger slipped from his sleeve into his left hand.

Silence filled the Crystal Chamber, broken only by the whisper of boot leather on stone, the harsh breathing of the combatants, and Alanna's muted sobbing.

Mikhail shifted to the offensive, battering away at his opponent. The air shuddered with the power of his strokes. Francisco seemed to crumple under Mikhail's greater weight and power, only to spiral free each time. Mikhail followed up, faster and more aggressively each time, pressing his advantage. He pushed Francisco until they were almost against the railing of the Aldaran section.

Katherine Aldaran let out a little shriek; she had lived on Darkover only a few years and still found swords barbaric and terrifying. Drawing her back, Hermes folded her protectively in his arms.

With a crash and the snapping of wooden rails, Mikhail bore down on Francisco, trapping his opponent's sword. Breast to breast, Mikhail had the advantage of weight and greater muscular strength.

Suddenly, Francisco gave way, collapsing beneath Mikhail. Across the room, Marguerida cried out. Lithe as a catman, the Ridenow lord rolled free and to his feet. Mikhail pivoted to face him.

Francisco sidled in, moving sword and dagger in a circular pattern. Lew's gut clenched as he recognized the distinctive fighting style of the

Dry Towns. The men of that land were said to smear their blades with poison. The Ridenow Domain lay on their borders.

Would Francisco dare—would he stoop to poison? Or was he already too lost in madness, too consumed by ambition and revenge, to care about honor?

End it quickly
, Lew thought, although Mikhail could not hear him through the telepathic dampers.

By this time, Mikhail dripped blood from half a dozen small cuts. Francisco was wounded too. He placed barely any weight on one leg; the supple black leather over that thigh gleamed, slick and red.

The two fighters closed again, blades clashing, slipping over one another, bodies colliding. They went down, rolling, a tangle of arms and legs. One sword—Lew thought it was Francisco's—clattered free, sliding across the floor. Suddenly, the two men stopped struggling.

Adrenaline surging through his veins, Lew leaped to his feet, slammed open the railing door, and raced across the room.

Mikhail was sprawled on top, his ribs heaving in great tremulous breaths. Lew grabbed Mikhail's shoulder with his one hand and rolled him free.

Francisco lay on his back, eyes open to the prismed ceiling. The rainbow light washed his face, heightening his expression of surprise. Lew touched him and felt a dim flicker, a fading spark… and then stillness.

The hilt of Francisco's own dagger protruded from just beneath the arch of his ribs. From the angle, it had gone straight through his diaphragm and into his heart.

Marguerida raced across the room and threw herself down beside her husband. "Mikhail! Speak to me, love!"

Mikhail remained as Lew had placed him, on his back, one arm over his chest. Blood poured from the slash that ran from one hip bone diagonally upward. It drenched the front of Marguerida's gown as she gathered him into her arms. Domenic was only a step behind her, his face ashen, followed by a dazed-looking Rory.

"Oh, no!" Marguerida sobbed. "No!"

"Cut the dampers!" someone shouted.

A moment later, the room roiled with emotion—
-pain, shock, terror
.

In a single, decisive movement, Marguerida stripped off the glove from her left hand, revealing the shadow matrix on her palm.

Father
… She reached out to Lew telepathically. He dropped into rapport with her, as if their minds clasped hands. Her moment of panic receded, held at bay by the need for swift action. After the Battle of Old North Road, she had used her shadow matrix to heal Hermes Aldaran's injuries. Now Mikhail needed her…

Lew closed his eyes and steadied his daughter's mind, adding his strength to hers. Power flowed from their joined
laran
. The shadow matrix vibrated with energy. Mentally, Lew followed Marguerida as she plunged deep into her husband's wound. She sensed each severed blood vessel, each layer of torn, damaged tissue. Beneath these images, she touched the rhythms of heartbeat and respiration, the unique cell-deep texture of his life force.