Traitor's Sun (16 page)

Amaury glanced at his parents, then started to follow Rory toward the fireplace. “I have one—who is that girl watching us from over there?” Mikhail heard him ask.

“Oh, that’s just Alanna,” Roderick replied. “She is our cousin and our foster-sister.” Then he passed out of earshot, and Mikhail glanced over his shoulder at his foster-daughter. She should have been beside them, to be introduced. Oh, well, the children would make their own way. Then Mikhail turned back to Herm and Katherine. There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Have you begun to recover from your journey?” Mikhail asked.

“We have caught up on our sleep, and enjoyed eating real food.” Katherine spoke in
casta
easily, but her accent was unfamiliar. She rounded the vowel sounds more than was normal, and in her mouth, the language sounded unusually musical. “We offer our condolences,
Dom
Mikhail, on the death of your uncle.”

“Thank you,
domna
. It has been a great shock and a terrible loss for all of us.” He paused, feeling this formal response was a bit cold. “I cannot really believe it, yet. It all seems like a nightmare from which I cannot manage to awaken.”

“Of course it is! If I understand what Gisela told me, there was no warning, no signs of illness or anything.”

“Nothing whatever,” he answered, moved by her immediate understanding.

“That makes it all the harder to bear.”

A silence fell heavily among the four of them then, as if no one could think of what to say. Finally Marguerida stepped into the breach. “I am sorry that that I could not greet you upon your arrival, but things are in such a state. And I am sincerely happy that you are here, and hope that you find Darkover to your liking.” She paused and the shadow of a smile graced her lips. “It might take some getting used to for you,” she continued, as a servant appeared with a tray of wineglasses. She took one and offered it to Katherine, who gave her a speculative look, as if she suspected there might be some hidden meaning in the last words. Donal picked one up and handed it to Mikhail. Herm helped himself, looking more at ease now. “I can remember my own difficulties, when I came back sixteen years ago,” she added, smiling and shaking her head at the vivid memories at the same time.

Gisela and Rafael moved forward, and from the petulant expression on her face, Mikhail suspected that his brother was giving her a telepathic lecture that she was not enjoying. He had a stab of guilt, that Rafael had ended up with this difficult woman, but he knew that his steady, older sibling genuinely cared for her. At the same time, he was sincerely glad he had not been shackled to Gisela, because he was certain he would have strangled her long since. He could only admire his brother’s patience in silence, resisting any impulse to eavesdrop even a little.

“Herm tried to explain things to me,” Katherine was saying to Marguerida, “and so did Gisela, but I still feel quite disoriented.” She gave Herm a stern look, then favored Gisela with one that was openly hostile. Mikhail could just imagine what sort of nonsense Giz had offered, and admired Katherine’s firm control on her temper. “My husband has been keeping secrets from me for years, and I am only now discovering them.” She moved restlessly and brushed her free hand across her brow, as if she was afraid of something.

“I have tried to reassure her that her thoughts are safe, but Katherine is a very stubborn woman,” Herm commented dryly. “She will probably forgive me in a few decades.”

Marguerida nodded and gave a soft laugh. “If you are fortunate,
Dom
Hermes.
Domna,
trust me. No one is going to invade your privacy.”
She’s very frightened, Mik, but I must say she is concealing it very well.

“Would I know if they did?” Katherine asked with candor. Mikhail could sense her heart beating a little faster, and felt his liking for the woman increase further.

“No, you would not,” Marguerida admitted calmly. “And your uppermost thoughts are audible to me, if I focus my attention on you. Still, you are worrying yourself for no good reason. Darkovans are most scrupulous in these matters.”

“I suppose they must be, or else everyone would be quite mad.” Katherine sighed and drank off half her glass with a nervous gesture. “I will be all right as soon as I can get back to work.”

“Work?” Mikhail looked at her, watching the wine begin to ease her discomfort.

“Katherine is a very fine painter, and she left much of her clothing behind so she could bring along her paints and brushes.” Herm smiled fondly at his wife. “I met her when she was doing a portrait.”
Damn Gisela for setting us wrong—I should have known she was up to something. I don’t care about my clothing, but I think my Kate will take my sister’s eyes out the first chance she gets. I had almost forgotten how spiteful she could be, for no good reason.

“An artist. How wonderful. Then we must give you a room in which to work,” Marguerida insisted. “Let me think. Ah, yes. There is a pleasant chamber on the second floor, with decent north light. It is very quiet, so you will not be disturbed. Will you need an easel? I don’t suppose you brought one, what with the restrictions on baggage.”

“You are right—I didn’t.” Katherine looked at Marguerida with relief. “Herm did not tell me what was going on—he could not have risked it, really—just told me to pack, and we were at the spaceport before I knew what was happening. It is a very good thing I trust my husband, for if I had not, we would probably not be here now. But it was very . . . unsettling.”

“I am sure it was,” Marguerida said with sympathy. Better than anyone in the room, she knew what it meant to be uprooted, to be dragged out of bed in the middle of the night without explanation. Her memories of the Sharra Rebellion were vague, for she had only been a child at the time, but they remained disturbing, even after so many years.

She set aside these thoughts firmly and concentrated on making Katherine feel more comfortable. “We must have an easel built for you immediately. The Castle carpenters can probably manage that in a day, although they will complain that they have been rushed and that it is not a good job, that the wood is not of the proper sort, then stand around and mutter darkly. They will tell you that it would have been better if they had had oak, but that only pine was available, most likely.”

Katherine laughed at last. “I know. Craftsmen are such perfectionists. I don’t suppose I can get any canvases?”

“We have canvas, but it is not of a quality for painting, only for making awnings and tents. Can you manage with board? Wood we have in plenty, and our painters here use panels of it.”

“Perhaps Master Gilhooly can provide some,” Mikhail offered. “He is head of the Painters Guild, which I confess is a very small company. They can probably supply you with panels and anything else you need, including pigments.”

“That would be wonderful, since my supplies are limited, and it does not seem that I am going to be able to get more when these are exhausted. I confess that I am very spoiled, since all I needed to do was sit down at the console of my computer and order what I needed, and it would be delivered in a few hours.”
I cannot believe I am standing here discussing paints with these complete strangers, as if nothing were more important. Why is Mikhail wearing a glove indoors—maybe his hand is scarred or something? And Marguerida has mitts, but Gisela does not. It is not cold in here, but perhaps she has poor circulation. Will I ever understand these people? It is all too confusing. I wish I were somewhere else!

“There are no computers here since that is a restricted technology, forbidden except to the people at HQ,” said Mikhail. “And we have nothing resembling a depot of art supplies on Darkover. The Painters Guild grinds and mixes their own colors, and the Brushmakers supply the tools. I believe the Woodworkers Guild is charged with creating the panels. And that entirely exhausts my store of knowledge on the matter.”

Then you have never visited the Painters Guild yourself?” Katherine seemed surprised by his knowledge and then by his ignorance.

“No, I have not.” Mikhail shrugged his shoulders. Like Regis before him, he had been a virtual prisoner in Comyn Castle for years, except for a few trips to Arilinn, and one to Armida, ten years before. Now he would be even more restricted, he knew, and the prospect did not delight him. “I would know nothing at all, except that I was a very curious boy, and I absorbed tidbits whenever I could. I know who is head of the Guild, because it is part of my duty to know, but I have never actually met Master Gilhooly. I met his predecessor long ago, when he came to arrange for a portrait of Lady Linnea, and I asked him a great many questions, the answers to which have long since faded from memory.” Mikhail shook his head and laughed softly.

“I think we are about to sit down, Mikhail. Will you show
Domna
Katherine to her place.”
And keep charming her,
cario.
It’s working. She is starting to relax a little, which should improve her digestion.

Mikhail offered Katherine his arm, and she took it cautiously, acutely aware of the young man just behind him, watching her suspiciously. Who was he, and why had no one introduced him? Katherine let herself be guided toward the table as her husband fell in beside Marguerida with conscious grace, as if this were no more than a state dinner of the sort they had attended hundreds of times before.

There was a quiet scraping of chairs, as everyone got settled. Mikhail saw Nico get Alanna seated, while Roderick helped Terése. Amaury, taking a cue from the boys, helped Yllana, and then sat between her and Alanna, casting an admiring glance at the Alar girl. Mikhail seated Katherine to his right, in the place of honor, while Marguerida did the same with Hermes.

Gisela started to take the place at Mikhail’s left, but just then Lew Alton appeared with Ida Davidson, the widow of Marguerida’s mentor, on his arm. He seated Ida next to Herm, then subtly shifted Gisela one place down, getting a very dirty look for his pains. Danilo Syrtis-Ardais trailed behind them, and took the empty place on Gisela’s other side. She did not look as if being buttressed by the two men pleased her, but she shrugged and seemed to choose to make the best of it. Mikhail observed her green eyes as they flashed toward the other side of the table, where Rafael was taking his place on Marguerida’s left, with the children ranged beside him.

The servants went around, filling glasses, and the soup course was brought. Except for the children, there was very little conversation around the table. Roderick was telling Herm’s daughter about his horse, and she was round-eyed. Horses were almost extinct in much of the Federation, and it was clear the girl had only seen one in the Menagerie.

Lew gave Mikhail a quick look, his eyes troubled.
What is it, Lew?

It is not beyond imagination that they might kidnap him and try to have him put into power. They have done such things on other worlds. I believe that the situation in the Federation is too chaotic at present for anyone to attempt such a coup, but the sooner
Domna
Miralys and her daughter get here, the happier I will be. Gareth is with his father and Lady Linnea for the evening. I am probably jumping at shadows, and giving Belfontaine more credit for imagination than he deserves.

Hardly. That I learned in a note from Ethan MacDoevid just ten minutes ago—our intelligence is still better than Belfontaine’s! He seems to have charmed the information out of Belfontaine’s personal clerk, immediately before he was ordered out of Headquarters for good. He said he will come around tomorrow, and tell me everything he has managed to pick up. I praise the day Marguerida decided to send him to Rafe Scott, for he has been invaluable since Rafe was forced to retire, even though he has no
laran
and cannot eavesdrop that way. But it does mean we now have no one actually in HQ, and any information we get will have to be acquired unscrupulously.
There was a kind of merriment in this last remark, and Mikhail knew what his father-in-law meant.

Mikhail realized that Katherine was watching him intently, and that she must suspect something was being said that she could not hear. Her earlier discomfort had returned, and he cursed himself silently for letting his attention wander. She was an intelligent woman, and for all he knew, might be a Federation spy. No, he was being overcautious. She was just a woman in an unfamiliar setting, yanked out of her familiar world without warning and dropped down in the middle of a political crisis.