The Steel of Raithskar (12 page)

“But I’m back now, as you can see!” I laughed, hugging her around her shoulders.

She pushed me away and tried to look stern. But the gentle old mouth still trembled on the edge of a smile. “Your father says to come down to the table as soon as possible. And
behave yourself
,” she added. “We have company.”

“Anybody I know?”

“I should hope to ride a sha’um! That girl Illia is here, and—for all her dizziness—she seems to be properly worried about you. Your father asked her to stay for lunch.” She stopped, hesitated, and finally asked, “Nephew, you know I don’t pry—”
That’s true; she doesn’t, bless her
, I drew out of Markasset’s memory—“but … does that scatter-brained girl have any real reason to worry?”

I told her the truth. “I’m not sure—no, I’m not trying to put you off, darling,” I added, as her face took on a look of hurt, “I really don’t know. Maybe, after we’ve talked at lunch, I’ll be more certain.” I smiled at her again. “I’ll let you know when to start worrying.”

“Oh,
you!
” She said, and gave me another quick hug, then went to the door. “Hurry down now,” she said. The door closed behind her, then reopened and she stuck her head back in. “I’m truly glad you’re home again, Markasset.” Then she was gone.

She was, I knew, my mother’s father’s sister. My great-aunt Milda. Or, rather, Markasset’s great-aunt.
Will I ever get used to these double references?
I thought.
I’ll have to work at keeping my two sets of relatives straight!

But I knew that in Milda’s case it didn’t matter. She was such a dear old lady that Ricardo loved her already as much as Markasset did. In that moment, Milda became
my
Milda.

I went down the front stairs and into the room that opened from the midhall across from the parlor where Thanasset, Ferrathyn, and I had been sitting. This room was very light; the tall, narrow windows filled the wall that was the side of the house. There was a large square table in the center of the room that was set with china dishes finer, if possible, than the cups and pitcher I had seen at Yafnaar. They were worked in an intertwining blue and green pattern, with touches of yellow that seemed to suit the brightness of the room.

Thanasset and Illia were already seated at the table.

“Of course, I don’t know if he really thinks that,” Illia was saying earnestly, “or if he’s only jealous of Markasset.”

“What cause might Zaddorn have to envy Markasset?”

“Why—” she stammered, astonishment clear in her voice, “why,
me
, of course. I have told him that Markasset and I will marry soon, and he might—well, do
anything
to stop us!”

“Oh. I see,” said Thanasset.

I wish I did
, I thought. Then I said out loud, to announce my arrival in the room, “I see you’ve been filling in my father about Zaddorn’s suspicions.”

“Yes,” Thanasset said drily. “And about your wedding plans.”

I looked at the girl uncertainly.
I
hadn’t heard anything about wedding plans, but I couldn’t be sure what Markasset had said to her or agreed to. And I was a little annoyed that she had mentioned Zaddorn to Thanasset. She had seemed to regard his suspicions as a secret; I saw no need to worry the old man with them.
Or maybe
, I conceded,
I’m afraid they’re right and wanted to spare him the truth.

Illia was talking again, in a rush. She seemed to sense my displeasure. “I’m sorry, darl—Markasset. Perhaps I shouldn’t have said anything, but I thought your father should know.”

“About Zaddorn?” I asked her. “Or about our ‘wedding plans’.”

She looked very uncomfortable, and Thanasset was looking from her to me.
He’s wondering the same thing I am
, I realized.
Am I really going to marry this girl?

“Zaddorn, of course, silly,” she said. “The other—well, he had to know sometime. Is it my fault you hadn’t told him yourself before this?”

Now there she had me. If Thanasset were really as surprised—and not altogether pleased, I thought—as he seemed to be, why
hadn’t
Markasset told him?

I sat down at the table and expressed my most fervent wish. “Father … Illia … I’ve had a long ride back, and I’m so hungry I could eat this table. Would you mind if we didn’t talk about Zaddorn, or weddings, or
anything
while we have lunch?”

Illia opened her mouth to say something, but Thanasset interrupted smoothly and enthusiastically. “A fine idea.” He beamed at me. “Milda!”

She came through a hinged door from the back of the house, carrying an enormous tray piled with food. She set it down in the center of the table, and we served ourselves. There was a large bowl of stew very much like the porridge I’d been served at the Refreshment House. We had each been given a utensil like the one I had seen at Yafnaar; we dipped our servings out of the large bowl into the small bowls before us, and filled our plates from an assortment of fruits. There was a fine-textured bread and a sharp butter-like spread. Milda filled three tall glasses with cool water, put the stoppered pitcher on the table, surreptitiously squeezed my shoulder, and disappeared back into the kitchen.

I didn’t worry about manners. I really
was
hungry, and it was a great relief not to think for a while. The food was delicious, and I put away an enormous amount of it. At last I became aware that Thanasset and Illia had both finished eating and were watching me. Illia looked concerned; Thanasset seemed amused.

“It seems like ages since I’ve tasted Milda’s cooking,” I said, by way of explanation.

Thanasset laughed. “Milda will be pleased to hear that you noticed, Markasset. She did prepare the rafel herself in honor of your return. For my part, I’m glad to see that this business with Zaddorn hasn’t dulled your appetite!”

There it was again, as though I hadn’t put it off while we were eating.
I can’t handle this
, I thought.
Not Illia and Thanasset together, with so many unknowns to deal with.

“I feel like stretching my legs a little,” I said. “Illia, will you walk in the garden with me? You will excuse us, won’t you, Father?”

Thanasset caught on. He smiled. “Of course, son. Enjoy your walk.”

We walked in silence. The garden was really a small park, with a stone-laid path leading from the house to the end of the row of outbuildings that formed the back boundary of the estate, along in front of the buildings and then back up to the house along the side wall. The area enclosed by the functional pathway was beautifully landscaped with slender, twisting trees, and flowering bushes which added fragrance to the cool, slightly misty air. Smaller stone pathways were part of the landscaping. It was a place to walk and be at peace.

We followed one of the narrow paths until it curved around a clump of trees and we were screened from the house. Then Illia stopped. Without a word, she put her arms around my neck and kissed me.

I was a full head taller than Illia; I could have resisted that kiss easily. But it was the most natural thing in the world for me to bend down to her and put my arms around her. Her mouth parted lightly under mine. I ran my tongue over her smooth, rounded tusks, expecting them to feel strange. But they seemed delicate in her mouth, perfect and erotic.

“Thank goodness!” she said, when she finally pushed me away. “The way you acted in front of your father, I was afraid … Markasset, I
am
sorry if I made trouble for you by telling Thanasset about … our plans.”

“Plans?” I said stupidly, trying not to show her how shaken I was. She couldn’t know how many years it had been since I had been kissed in just that way—but I hadn’t forgotten what a lover’s kiss felt like.

Along with the new awareness of the relationship between Illia and Markasset, I had to deal with Markasset’s physical response to the girl. Or mine. It was very confused. Under … less uncertain circumstances, I would have been delighted. But as it was, I tried to clear my head and think straight.

“Yes, plans!” she said. We walked over to a stone bench and sat down. “You haven’t forgotten what you said to me—” she lowered her gaze to the ground “—
that night
, have you?”

That’s just the point
, I thought desperately.
I
have
forgotten. What did I say to you?

I couldn’t ask her. I was convinced that she loved Markasset, and that he might have returned her love. Looking at her here in the garden, with shade dappling the smooth golden fur on her head and her dark eyes shining in the fine-boned, alien face, I felt a physical echo of what must have happened on “that night.” When I had accepted
being
Markasset, I had also accepted responsibility for anything he had done before I somehow acquired his body. That meant, I decided, accepting his promise to this girl. But not right away.

“Illia,” I began—then found I didn’t have the words.

She reached out and took my hand. “I know you’re in trouble, darling, and this really isn’t the time. But … I know Thanasset doesn’t like me very much.”

I started to object politely, but stopped myself. I thought she was right. Thanasset
didn’t
like—or at least didn’t approve of—Illia.

“All I want is—some assurance from you, Markasset,” she said with dignity. “I know very well we can’t marry before this nonsense with Worfit and Zaddorn is straightened out.”

“Will it ever be?” I asked. “Oh, I’ll pay Worfit what I owe him, that’s no real problem. But Zaddorn is a powerful man, and rumor lasts a lot longer than the truth.”
What
is
the truth, damn it!
“Are you sure you want to be married to the man who
might
have stolen the Ra’ira?”

“Is that what you’re worried about?” She laughed and looked relieved. “Darling, you know very well that one day you’ll be a Supervisor like your father. Nothing in your past can outweigh
that
honor.” She moved closer and put her head on my shoulder. “And I’ll be the
wife
of a Supervisor.” Suddenly she sat up and looked at me squarely. “Won’t I?”

Markasset had let her think so. Maybe it had been only a good line, and it had obviously worked. But a promise—even an implied one—was a promise.

“Yes,” I answered her.

After a while we walked back into the midhall of the house. Thanasset was standing in front of the sha’um portrait in wood parquetry, staring thoughtfully up at the sword mounted on the wall. He turned when we entered, and smiled.

“Well, there you are, children. Isn’t the garden pleasant today?”

“It’s lovely, sir,” Illia replied. “It must be the most beautiful garden in Raithskar.”

He turned and walked with us to the huge street door. “I’d like to think so, yes,” he said. He opened the door for her. “Thank you for your visit, Illia.”

“Thank you for your hospitality, sir.” She turned to me and smiled radiantly. “Goodbye for now, Markasset.” She started to leave, but turned back to face Thanasset. “Take care of him, sir. He’s—” she looked my way with a slight smile “—not quite himself. I’m afraid that Zaddorn’s suspicions have upset him more than we know.”

“Rest assured I will see to his good health, my dear,” Thanasset said. He closed the door behind her with a sigh. Then he linked his arm through mine and drew me back to where he had been standing.

Again he looked up at the sword and he said, almost offhandedly, “A nice girl, I suppose—but not terribly perceptive, is she?”

“I—I don’t know what you mean, Father,” I said. But I was afraid that I did know.

He moved to face me, and looked at me keenly from under his ridged brow.

“You’re not my son,” he said. “Just who
are
you?”

Surprisingly enough, I did not panic.

For one thing, there was no hostility in his manner or his voice. Wariness, yes. Curiosity. And something else—was it
respect?

And I felt linked to Thanasset, committed to him. I was in his world, and in this world he had become
my
father. Somewhere along the line since I met him, I had realized I would have to confide in him eventually. But this soon? I wasn’t ready.

Don’t kid yourself. You’ll never be ready
, I told myself honestly.

Thanasset was watching me, reading the hesitation that must have shown on my face. “If you don’t wish to tell me, I won’t ask it of you,” he said, with that oddly disturbing note of respect clearer now in his voice. “Any Visitor from the All-Mind is welcome. But …” He let his voice trail off.

“I do wish to tell you,” I said, and knew it was true. It would be a tremendous relief to share even a little of this confusion with someone I could trust. And I
did
trust Thanasset. “I simply don’t know where to start. Uh,” I stalled, “could we sit down?”

“Certainly.” He led the way back into the light, comfortable room where I had met Ferrathyn—was it only earlier that same day?

When we were comfortably seated with glasses of faen, “Who,” I asked carefully, “do you think I am?”

“An Ancestor,” he said, without hesitation. “A Visitor from the All-Mind who has chosen to grace the body of my son, Markasset.”

I thought about that. Hell, for all I knew, I might be just that. Whatever it was.

Balgokh had said something similar—what had it been?
He said I had been touched with wisdom by an Ancestor.
I remembered.
And even he, who had seen Markasset for only a few minutes, had noticed the change.

“Am I so different from your son?” I asked Thanasset.

He smiled at me, a little sadly. “Yes. You are courteous, well-mannered. You have a bearing of … confidence that Markasset lacked. He is a good man at heart, but rash and thoughtless, not given to thinking things through. He sometimes does foolish things.”

Like helping to steal the Ra’ira?
I wondered.
No, he doesn’t even think that. He said “foolish”—not “criminal.”

Thanasset got up and walked over to the window. For a few seconds he stood there, looking out over the garden. At last he turned back to me, and what he said confirmed the brief impression I had received when I met him for the first time.