Traitor's Sun (17 page)

“Lew mentioned that you were from Renney,
Domna
Katherine. I confess I know nothing about it, except that your ancestor, the composer, came from there. He is a favorite of my wife’s, and she is yearning to interrogate you about him, but that will keep. Please, tell me about your home world.”

Katherine set down her spoon, her bowl empty, looking quite relieved to be asked about so ordinary a subject. “Well, there is not a great deal to tell. It is a small place, at the edge of the Pollux sector. We are farmers and dairymen and seafarers, much as our ancestors were when they were still on Terra. We speak a tongue very similar to your own—it astonished me when Herm demonstrated the like nesses. I lived there until I was sixteen, and then I won a scholarship to the Fine Arts Academy on Coronis. I studied painting with Donaldo dePaul, and then met my first husband, Amaury’s father. He was killed in an accident when Amaury was a baby, and two years later, I met Herm. My life, until the past few days, has been extremely uneventful.”

“I am sorry that you did not come to Darkover under better circumstances,
domna
.”

“When I married Herm, I took a vow to be with him at all times, good and bad, but I confess I never expected that to mean I would be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and end up on the other side of the Federation, far away from everything I know, and with very little chance of ever seeing Renney again.” There was no mistaking the sadness in her voice now, and the undertone of worry as well. “Except for the children, and my cousin Cara, who was in the Chamber of Deputies, my entire family is still there, for we are not a world that produces very many travelers. We have everything we need on Renney, or almost. When I left, my Nana just shook her head and said she hoped I would not rue the day. I can imagine what she would say now.”

“I hope you will not miss it too much, and we must both pray that things do not get completely out of hand.”

She shook her head, and the coil at her nape shifted, so Mikhail got a glimpse of the soft flesh at the back of her neck. “I overheard Lew Alton and Herm talking, and they did not sound very cheerful. I can barely believe that the Premier has disbanded the Legislature. It seems so . . . extreme. And, for all that I am the wife of politician, I have managed to keep myself in relative ignorance, because worrying about political strife interferes with my work.” She looked faintly embarrased at this admission, and glanced at the now empty glass in front of her, as if she wanted something to focus on. A servant started to refill it almost immediately.

Domenic, who was seated beside Katherine, spoke for the first time. “It was a crazy thing to do,
domna
.” A puzzled look came into his face, as if he was surprised by his own outburst. He glanced at his father, and when he found no look of disapproval, he relaxed.

Mikhail looked fondly at his oldest child, the most mysterious of his offspring. He did not know if it was because the child had been conceived in the distant past, or because he had spent several weeks of time suspended in his mother’s womb while both she and Mikhail were in the misty waters of Lake Hali, but he was much more mature than his years suggested, and he was a remote boy. No . . . not remote, but just having a hard time making the transition from childhood to adulthood. Sometimes he was shy and other times he was outspoken, although he was never bold in the way his brother Roderick was.

Istvana Ridenow, who had first tested him, said he had a unique
laran,
one she was unable to define to her own satisfaction. True, he had the Alton Gift of forced rapport, as strongly as his mother, but there was something else as well. Mikhail wondered from time to time if Nico had the living matrix of the Hasturs, but Istvana said it was not that. Whatever it was, it was developing in its own way, slowly and almost painfully. He had a kind of shyness around everyone except his cousin Alanna that made him quiet and reserved.

Katherine looked at Nico with interest. “I agree, but I would like to know your thoughts.”
What am I saying? I can’t know his thoughts, because I am not a telepath, but he can probably know mine, even though Marguerida said that . . . damn Herm for not warning me! And what about Terése? Is my little girl going to be a mindreader or some other sort of witch, like Greatgrandmother Lila was supposed to have been? Nana’s stories about her always gave me the creeps, and here I am on a planet where some of the people have the ability to look into my mind whenever they choose, and I can’t tell who can and who cannot. Even though I have nothing to hide, it is still intolerable! Well, I would not be disappointed to give that Gisela a piece of my mind, except she probably has just enough scruples not to snoop when I very much wish she would! I really must try to be more consistent—one second feeling naked in this room, and the next expecting these odd folks to hear my thoughts. I wonder what that man next to Gisela is saying. Whatever it is, she doesn’t look very happy about it—serves her right, the cat! She deliberately tried to embarrass us!

Nico considered her question without speaking, as if trying to find the best approach. These days he often appeared very sullen, alternating without reason toward sudden bursts of pungent observation that surprised his elders. Remembering his own adolescence, Mikhail knew it was normal for his age. At least he thought about his words first, unlike Rory who said the first thing that came into his head, without any thought of the consequences. Mikhail loved them both, but he knew he favored Roderick, just a little, because Domenic was so very opaque and distant.

“I have been listening to Grandfather Lew. And thinking. It seems to me that the Terranan have leaped before they looked.” Nico frowned and hesitated. Then he continued. “Granddad says that most of his mistakes came from acting before he considered what might happen, and that the Federation has done that now.” He glanced across the table at Lew, to see if he had said anything untoward, but Lew just continued consuming his soup in pleasant silence.

“Aren’t you a little young to be thinking about political ramifications?” Katherine sounded both amused and genuinely interested. It was clear she was at ease with the boy. Mikhail could tell that Domenic was starting to respond to her friendliness, to abandon his normal reserve and actually enjoy himself.

“I am fifteen, and I have been thinking of politics all my life, or so it seems to me.” He gave Katherine one of his rare and charming smiles, then ran his fingers through his hair, unconsciously imitating Mikhail. His hair was a little long, touching the collar of his green tunic, because Nico loathed the barber. “You see, with our long winters, with the snow up to the window sills for months, we are all devoted to intrigue here. Just ask Aunt Giz sometime, and you will get an earful.” He cast a look across the table at Gisela, and to Mikhail’s surprise, there was something like real malice in his son’s gaze.

“Aunt?” She looked slightly confused for a moment. “Of course. Do you know, I believe that makes me your in-law as well. I had not thought of that before. I have lots of sisters, and nieces and nephews by the bushel, but it hadn’t really penetrated my brain that I would have instant relations on Darkover.” She turned her head gracefully and looked Gisela up and down, managing to convey without a word that her new sister-in-law was a mere country girl, and something of a dowd into the bargain. Mikhail dabbed his napkin to his mouth to conceal the broad grin on his lips, while Gisela simmered with fury. Then Katherine turned back to Mikhail, her dark eyes flashing in a very attractive way, as if she had paid off a score and was quite pleased with herself. “Indeed, I believe Amaury and I are the only people at the table who are not some sort of relation to you by blood. Is that right?”

Mikhail nodded. She was as intelligent as Lew had suggested. “Almost correct. The elderly woman seated next to Hermes is not a native of Darkover, but the widow of Marguerida’s musical mentor. But everyone else is a relative, yes. Young Donal here,” he said, gesturing over his shoulder, “is both my nephew and my paxman, and Alanna is his sister. You could say that most gatherings of the Domain families are family gatherings, and not be too far off the mark.” It seemed like a safe topic, and he decided to pursue it further, just to keep Katherine from dwelling on her fears. “And since the arrival of the Terranan over a century ago, we have intermarried with them as well. For instance, Lew’s mother, Elaine, was a daughter of Mariel Aldaran and a Terran man, Wade Montray. Lew’s first wife, Marjorie, was also an Aldaran, on her mother’s side, and her father was Zeb Scott, a Terran. So, my Marguerida is a cousin of your husband through her grandmother.”

Katherine frowned over this. “But not an Aldaran through her father’s first wife, I take it.”

She was quick! “No—Marguerida’s mother was Marjorie’s half sister, Thyra.”

“Mother does not like to talk about her,” Nico said very quietly, the remnants of his usual shyness vanishing in the warmth of Katherine’s attention. “She was a very strange person, and wicked, too.”

“Thank you for telling me—I can see that it would be easy to make a mistake and mention something that would offend her. Now I finally understand why she and Gisela look so similar—they are cousins as well as sisters-in-law. I thought that Renney kinships were convoluted, but I think that Darkover might just have us beaten, fair and square.”

“Father was almost forced to marry Gisela, but he went away instead,” Nico answered, his tongue loosened with wine and his dark eyes glittering with something like his brother’s devilment. He knew that the subject still made Mikhail squirm. Then he glanced at Katherine’s face and grinned. “Father and Mother ran away together in the middle of the night and got married by . . .”

“Domenic!”

“Oh, Father, she is sure to hear the tale from someone, and you would not want the servants telling her, would you?”

“I am sure
Domna
Katherine does not wish to be bored with events in the past.”

Domenic laughed aloud, and everyone stared at him for a moment. “The past! That is a good one, Father.”

For a moment, Mikhail had the wish to strangle his firstborn. Katherine was not yet easy in their company, and he was sure that hearing a tale about a trip into the Ages of Chaos, in Darkover’s distant past, would only increase her discomfort. Accepting telepaths was surely enough for the present. At the same time, he realized, Nico was right. If she did not hear the story from him, she would find out from another source, likely embellished with details that were more fancy than truth. He could just imagine Gisela’s version of their adventures.

Katherine looked from son to father and raised her eyebrows. She really was a handsome woman. “Now I am very intrigued. My Nana always said that I was as curious as a bag of cats. And, in truth, I would rather hear about anything except the follies of the Federation. I am throughly sick of that subject.”

A servant removed her soup bowl and replaced it with a plate of fritters and broiled fish. Mikhail had already been served his portion, and picked up his fork with his gloved hand. He cut off a bite of fritter, lightly flavored with herbs, and speared a piece of fish.

When he had swallowed and sipped some wine, Mikhail spoke. “Domenic means that Marguerida and I were drawn into the past—about seven hundred years—and were married by an ancient
laranzu
called Varzil the Good, who was of the Ridenow Domain. It all seems quite fantastic to me, and I was there!” Then he cursed himself for the clumsiness of his choice of words, and knew how very weary he still was.

Katherine choked, and Domenic gave her a few firm pats between her bare shoulders. She gasped for air and her eyes bulged. Then she recovered her breath, emptied her refilled glass in a few gulps, and stared at Mikhail. “You are serious, aren’t you?”

“Very. But I do not expect you to believe me, when my own mother very much doubts the truth of it. I can only say that I was there, and I know what happened. You do not have to believe me.” He glanced at the heavy
di catenas
bracelet that encircled his wrist, made for another man whose name was a variant of Mikhail, then looked down the long table toward his wife, remembering that strange, magical time.

“You traveled in time?” She was both amazed and disbelieving, but her curiosity got the better of her.

“Yes.”

“What was it like?”

Mikhail was rather taken aback by her question, for it was not the reaction he had anticipated. “It was very uncomfortable.”

Katherine began to laugh, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. After a few moments, they began to trickle down her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with the corner of her napkin. Finally she regained control of herself and turned to Domenic. “Is he always this terse?”

“Almost, unless he is lecturing Rory.” Domenic gave his father a fond look, which took most of the sting out of the words. But not all. Mikhail could remember vividly the day Dani Hastur had told him that his father never seemed to have time to talk to him. Was this how Nico felt? Mikhail had promised himself he would be a great parent, that he would not neglect his children that way. Now he felt that he had failed.

Very well.
Mikhail returned to eating glumly. Then he remembered himself at fifteen, and how prickly he had been. He forced himself to relax and let the matter go, for it was likely just the normal problem of being an adolescent, and would take care of itself in time. Was any teenager happy? Probably not.

Mikhail looked up from his plate and found Marguerida looking at him from the other end of the table. She gave him one of her wonderful smiles, a look that never failed to reassure him and comfort him, then turned her attention back to Herm Aldaran. The deep pain of his uncle’s sudden death, and the actuality that he was now the real ruler of Darkover seemed to lessen a little with her look. With Marguerida beside him, he knew he could face anything, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment. He turned his attention to the food on his plate, while his son and Katherine talked, and let himself think of nothing in particular.