Traitor's Sun (15 page)

“Incredible, isn’t it? Half of them are illiterate, have never seen a vidram, and they look down on us as if we were . . . barbarians, I suppose.”

“Arrogant bastards! I want to bring them down!” His control left him suddenly, and his fist crashed down on the desk, startling both Belfontaine and his companion. “They don’t know what is good for them!”

“True enough,” Granfell replied mildly, as if he were amused at his superior’s outburst. “But I am not ready to try storming Comyn Castle with the men I have at my disposal—not until I have exhausted all the other possibilities. I am going to make another try to get someone into the place—not that I have much hope of succeeding. The pile appears to be entry-proof. Sometimes I think that old rumor about there being mindreaders on Cottman has more truth in it than we have believed.”

He glared at Granfell for several seconds. Where had he gotten the idea that he had the right to storm the castle? Was his second pursuing his own ambitions, or trying to usurp his authority? No, he must just be speaking generally. Unless he was up to some scheme of his own. That was a disquieting thought, much worse than imaginary telepaths or magicians.

Belfontaine shook his head, suppressing a shudder. “That is impossible. Project Telepath was a complete bust, and a waste of money. Oh, yes, there are a few mutants around, but nothing to worry about. I just think that, for primitives, the Cottman have excellent security.” He smiled grimly, knowing that it infuriated Granfell that he had never been able to penetrate the castle. Still, he could not shake off the way Miles had spoken, as if he were in command of the Marines, not Belfontaine. He would have to keep an eye on Granfell during the coming weeks—the man was too ambitious and too clever.

“We’ll see. Dirck Vancof has been almost useless, but maybe he can get us the information we need. I’ll talk to you later.”

After Granfell left, Lyle sat at the desk, staring at the empty blotter, and feeling a churning in his guts. The idea that had come into his mind returned after a few minutes, and he turned it over. Hermes Aldaran could now be considered an enemy of the Federation. Could he use that as an excuse to force Hastur to do something rash, and then bring in a Task Force?

It was unfortunate that Lew Alton knew Federation law as well as he did, but it would not hurt to demand that Aldaran be turned over, would it? It might upset old Lord Aldaran, but he had already proved himself to be a useless ally. His son Robert, the older one, was no better. A dull fellow without an ounce of imagination. There was the sister, who lived in Comyn Castle, but she hadn’t been nearly as useful as he had hoped at first. Besides, women were not to be trusted. There had to be a way to topple the Hasturs—he just needed to find it!

W
hen Mikhail escorted Marguerida and his children into the smaller dining room the following evening, he was pleasantly surprised to discover that he felt almost human. There was an ache in him that was not physical, which he recognized as grief. He had experienced it long ago, when his nephew Domenic Alar had died, and later again over Emun Elhalyn and Emun’s mother, Priscilla. He had felt it again ten years before when Diotima Ridenow, Lew’s wife, had died. Neither rest nor food would banish it, only time. And Regis would have expected him to go on, to keep things going smoothly. He only wished it were easier.

At the same time, he was looking forward to seeing Hermes Aldaran again, after so many years, and to meeting his wife and children. Lew had been right to send him to bed the previous day, and to insist on keeping him secluded for a time, but he still felt a bit guilty that he had not gone to the old Storn suite and greeted them personally. He had seen no one except his wife and children, and that had been hard enough.

Domenic, his firstborn and heir, seemed deeply affected, and somehow angry. That was puzzling, but he did not have the energy to puzzle it out right now. He knew better than to ask Nico, who had been a very quiet child, and was now an extremely private young man. Rory, his second child, insisted on making really dreadful jokes, as if he could not bear the general gloom that had settled over Comyn Castle. He had managed to annoy everyone, provoking his sister Yllana, his foster-sister Alanna, and Ida Davidson, who was usually impervious to the behavior of adolescents. Even Marguerida, who ordinarily found Rory’s antics amusing, was ready, she said, to send the thirteen-year-old to Nevarsin, where the
cristoforo
monks would teach him some manners. Rory just grinned, completely unafraid of this threat, as he was of almost anything. It was a shame he was not quite old enough for the Cadet Guards yet, because even Mikhail admitted his middle child was sorely lacking in discipline.

Alanna Alar was already present in the dining room, her auburn hair burnished like pure copper, her green eyes taking in everything. She had been a fretful baby, an anxious child, and now had bloomed into a vigilant and restless adolescent. He glanced at her, standing on the far side of the room and gave her a smile. To his pleasure, she returned it. Mikhail was fond of her, but he had to admit he found his niece rather eerie. He was relieved to see her in a good mood. Yllana had been completely disconsolate at Regis’ death, but Alanna behaved with something closer to indifference, which was peculiar, since she had been close to her great-uncle. He suspected that she was numb with shock, and that when this condition finally wore off, she would make up for her present calm with a double helping of the hysteria for which she was well known in Comyn Castle. There seemed, to his mind, little question that she had inherited some of the instability that blighted so many of the Elhalyn line, and he could only be grateful that she seemed merely high-strung, instead of clearly mad, as some of her cousins had been. And time might cure that. Mikhail hoped so, for he was genuinely fond of the girl.

She really was a beautiful young woman, and aware of it as well. She had just completed the first part of her training at Arilinn, where her powerful and remarkable
laran
was being disciplined, he sincerely hoped, into something manageable. She was already both a teleport and a firestarter, a combination that was potentially deadly, and one which was so rare that it was difficult to limit. She had a hot temper, as well, which made her extremely dangerous. He worried more about his niece than he ever did about his own children, for her quicksilver disposition reminded him rather too much of some of the Elhalyn children, Vincent in particular. She had some of the same egotism, but none of the bullying tendencies of that now deceased young man.

Mikhail watched Nico smile at Alanna, brightening as he always did around his difficult cousin and foster-sister. Eight months separated them in age, and she had lived in Comyn Castle since she was five. They were, together, more like twins than otherwise, and had an uncanny ability to either cheer one another up, or send each other into foul moods that no one else could understand. Tonight she seemed to be on her best behavior, despite the general air of sorrow that was everywhere. He thanked the gods for that favor, and turned toward the doorway of the dining room.

Herm and his family came into the room, and Mikhail put everything else out of his mind. Behind him, Donal came to attention, alert in every muscle, examining the newcomers with a very jaundiced eye, much too suspicious for such a young man. Mikhail held back a sigh, for like himself, Donal had never really had a childhood. He knew he had made the right decision for himself, taking his young relative for paxman, but he was not as sure that he had made the best choice for Donal.

Mikhail studied Hermes Aldaran, trying to fit the image of the man before him with his memories of a much younger person he had known briefly over twenty years before. He had much less hair on the top of his head, and a softness above his belt that spoke of little physical activity. There were interesting wrinkles around his eyes, and the mouth almost hidden in his curling beard was generous, made for laughter. But there was no merriment in his face now, just a sort of tension, as if he were uncertain of his welcome.

Beside him stood a very attractive woman, with black hair and, as Lew had mentioned, a square and stubborn jaw. Two children stood next to her. The boy, who looked about thirteen, had gray eyes that went immediately to Alanna with interest and admiration, and the girl, who might be nine or ten, seemed a little bashful in the presence of so many strangers. Lew was right—the girl looked like an Aldaran and could have easily been mistaken for a child of either Marguerida’s or Gisela’s.

They were dressed in Federation garb, which looked outré and exotic to Mikhail. The girl, Terése, wore a brief skirt of some shiny stuff, and her still gawky limbs were covered in stockings of a woven material with a vivid pattern in it. Her mother wore a close-fitting gown of dark red velvet, cut low over the shoulders, and clinging across her bosom. The lower portion of the dress dropped from knee length in the front to floor length at the back, showing off elegant calves and feet clad in shiny shoes. Her obviously long black hair was elaborately braided and coiled behind her head, decently concealing her nape, and long metal earrings dangled beside her graceful throat. Herm and the boy wore jackets that ended abruptly at the waist, over pleated shirts and narrow trousers that looked rather uncomfortable to Mikhail. All in all, it was a bizarre presentation, and he had to school himself not to stare at Katherine’s legs.

Katherine glanced at Marguerida, then at Alanna and Yllana. Her face clouded with dismay for a moment, and when he saw Gisela and his brother Rafael come through the door behind her, he realized that his ever mischievous sister-in-law had been up to one of her tricks. She had probably told Katherine to wear these clothes. Still, as he watched, he saw the woman’s face become composed, her spine stiffening a little in the lovely but unsuitable gown. She had been a Senator’s wife for over a decade now, and could probably handle herself in situations he could not even imagine.

Anyone can see that,
caria.

Herm cleared his throat. “Hello, Mikhail. It has been a long time, hasn’t it? I would like to present my wife, Katherine Korniel Aldaran, and our children, Amaury and Terése.”

“Welcome to Comyn Castle. I only wish your arrival had been a little less hectic, and I apologize for not coming to meet you earlier. I was sent to bed, frankly, although thankfully not without my supper.” Mikhail exerted himself to be friendly, hoping to ease the awkwardness away.

“Korniel? Are you by chance related to the composer of that name?” Marguerida wondered.

“He was my great-uncle,” Katherine answered.

Marguerida repressed her lively interest, her eyes almost sparkling, and stepped forward with both her mitted hands outstretched in greeting. “Where are my manners! How are you, after your long journey?” She paused for a moment, waited for Herm to speak, then when he did not, went on. “
Domna
Katherine, this is my husband, Mikhail Hastur, and my children, Domenic, Rory, and Yllana. Yllana, why don’t you take Terése and get her a glass of berry juice? Or watered wine, if you do not mind, Katherine?”

“I think a little watered wine would not be a bad thing—not too much, Terése,” Katherine answered in a deep alto voice that was heavy with tension.

Over her shoulder, Mikhail could read the faint disappointment in Gisela’s expression. She was plumper now than when she had been a girl, her waist thickened with child-bearing as Marguerida’s had failed to do, and her face had lost some of its earlier winsomeness. He gave her a stern look, and she had the grace to redden a little. Katherine caught his expression, and her eyes widened in surprise, apparently thinking he was glaring at her. Then she looked quickly over her shoulder, saw Gisela’s blush, and turned back toward him with a splendid smile.

Yllana’s pale blue eyes twinkled, and she gave the other girl a quick grin. Terése answered with a relieved smile, as if she were very glad to remove herself from the orbit of her parents, and to be in the company of someone her own age. The two girls slipped across the room as if they had known each other for days instead of moments, and Mikhail sensed that Yllana was pleased to be out of earshot of any adults.

Roderick made a decent bow in front of Katherine, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Come on, Amaury—the grown-ups don’t need us underfoot. Nico and I will be glad to answer your questions, and I’ll wager you have a lot of them.”