Traitor's Sun (39 page)

Nico scrubbed his arms with a rough cloth and considered this information. He had never longed to visit other worlds, unlike his brother who was a bit space mad. And since he had begun to think he heard Darkover in his mind, he had had no desire to leave at all. There was a part of him that felt if he ever left the soil of Darkover entirely, he would die or go insane, as if he were bound to the world itself. Although the noises that echoed in his mind made him uneasy and often fearful, there was at the same time a sense of rightness in them. True, he could not imagine why he, of all people, seemed to have this particular ability, but the longer it continued, the more accustomed to it he became. He had not entirely accepted the idea, but as Herm had told him that morning, there did not appear to be any harm in it. And Herm was the first person he had told of his strange condition—he had not even confided it to Alanna, who had shared so many of his secrets when they were younger.

But he had always imagined the planets of the Federation as being places where everyone flew about in aircars, and lived in light-filled palaces with lots of devices which provided every conceivable comfort. Somehow he had never thought that anyone was poor or lacked enjoyment, which he realized now was pretty stupid. What did those people do with their time, if they did not have jobs?

What’s a marginal world?
Domenic felt overwhelmed with the information he was learning, as well as the strange words that Herm used so casually, but he was fascinated and determined not to miss this opportunity.

And now?
Ocean was a difficult concept for him, despite having gotten glimpses of such a thing from a few of his mother’s memories, and the occasional moments when he was sure he could see the Sea of Dalerueth rolling against the shore. He had taken a ride, while he was at Arilinn, along the banks of the Valeron, and knew that if he been allowed to ride west along it, it would have ended at the sea. There had been a moment when he had wished he could do just that, ride toward the setting sun until he reached the river’s terminus. Foolish, of course.

It made him rather angry that he had spent so much of his life cooped up in Comyn Castle, and was so very ignorant, but after a moment he shook the feeling off. It was not worth bothering about. He was free now, and since he might never again have the opportunity to sleep in an inn, or ride along the North Road with a band of Renunciates in search of Terranan spies, he might as well enjoy it while he could. He turned his attention back to his uncle.

Nico was puzzled over several of the terms his uncle used, but he fastened on just one.
What’s plankton? Mother never mentioned that.

Nico sensed Herm’s gentle amusement at this question, but did not feel stupid. He felt safe with his newest uncle, and found his mild teasing to be very pleasant. He only wished he could be as comfortable with everyone as he was with Hermes Aldaran.

“My fingers are starting to turn into prunes,” Herm said aloud. “Are you clean enough now?”

“Yes, I am. I just wish I had some cleaner clothes.”

“Then why don’t we go out and see if there is a stall in the market and get you some new ones.”
We can do a bit of snooping at the same time.

“Good. I like that idea.” Nico scrambled out of the tub, dripping, and stood on the planked floor, watching the droplets slip off his skin. Then he wrapped himself in a large towel and dried off. He redressed, trying not to feel too disgusted by the state of his garments. If he had known when he left that he was going to be away overnight, he would have brought a fresh shirt, at least.

“How’s your back feeling, Uncle Ian?”

“Much better, thank you. I believe I will forgo Danila’s ministrations for the present. She looks strong enough to snap me in half.”

Nico chuckled, for indeed the large Renunciate was rather intimidating. She did not look like any healer Domenic had ever met before. Herm got his clothes back on, and they went downstairs again. It was much quieter now that the muleteers had left to continue their journey.

They stepped out into the courtyard of the inn into watery sunlight. There were thin clouds overhead, and heavier ones mounded toward the western horizon. It would rain before the next morning, but he was not weatherwise enough to guess how soon. Nico just hoped it would not prevent the Travelers from performing. He hadn’t gotten to see much the previous evening, and he was looking forward to more.

Herm asked a groom about the local marketplace, and got directions. They walked away from the Crowing Cock in companionable silence, both of them relaxed from their baths and full bellies. After getting slightly lost in one of the winding streets of the town, they finally found their way to an open square, bustling with commerce. There was a glass blower near the entrance, and Nico stopped for a few minutes to watch the work. The heat from the open air oven was tremendous, and it felt good against the growing chill of the day.

They found a clothing stall, and purchased undergarments, a cheap shirt, two woolen tunics, a pair of trews for Domenic, and some things for Herm as well. It was rather exciting to him, since he had never been allowed to explore the marketplaces in Thendara, and he was disappointed when Herm said it was time to go back to the inn.

But when they arrived at the inn, the yard was blocked by the colorful wains of the Travelers, and he forgot his disappointment in having to leave the market. He saw the man called Vancof get down from the seat of the puppet wagon, and stepped quickly into Herm’s shadow, to avoid being seen. Then the red-haired girl climbed down from the back of the wagon and stretched luxuriously. He hoped she would not notice him, or ask any questions if she did, for the few glimpses he had gotten of her mind told him she was quick and a bit headstrong.

The driver looked pale and pinched, and he shuffled away from the wagon, heading toward the inn. He probably wanted some beer, Nico thought, although after all the drinking he had done the previous night, the boy felt he oughtn’t. The plump woman who had been arguing with him during the morning came out of the wagon and shouted at him. “You lazy good-for-nothing! Damn you for a sot!” She made a fist and shook it at him.

Vancof ignored her and vanished into the doorway of the inn. The woman looked unhappy. “Now, how am I going to manage those animals without him?” She looked around rather helplessly, since all the rest of the Travelers were busy with their own wagons and teams.

Herm took this in with a swift glance, and walked over to the angry woman. “I’m not unhandy with a mule,
mestra.
Perhaps I could be of assistance.”

To Nico’s surprise, she laughed, making her face transform from miserable and angry to quite pleasant. She must have been very pretty when she was younger, he decided. “You don’t know what you are thinking of,” she told Herm. “Those mules are the meanest animals on Darkover, not counting a hungry catamount. Only my driver can manage them, and he gets bitten six times out of seven.”
He’s been nothing but trouble since he joined us, that Dirck, and I wish we had someone else. Even if he did come from Istvan’s troup—they were probably glad to be rid of him.

“Well, let me give it a try. If I get bitten, then it is my own fault for not listening to you.”

“No one listens to me,” the woman moaned, shaking her head and setting her grizzled braids in motion. “Not my flighty niece, or anyone. I am only a woman, and almost alone in the world, except for the girl, who is more trouble than she is worth, even though she is a very good puppeteer. If only she were as good a girl as she is a string twiddler.”

“She’s very young,” Herm said sympathetically. Nico watched the man, and would have sworn that charm was oozing out of his freshly-bathed pores. “She will grow out of it.”

“Not soon enough for me. Well, I am Loret, and I will take you up on your offer, even if I think you are crazy to make it.” She was clearly persuaded by Herm’s pleasantries, and Nico wondered if she was flirting with his uncle.

“Ian MacAnndra at your service,
Mestra
Loret.” He walked away toward the animals, who were indeed an evil-looking pair of underfed mules. They snorted and brayed, and one snapped its large teeth when Herm’s hand reached for the traces. The man deftly avoided the attack, and said something in a low voice. The mules pricked their ears, stamped their hooves, and shifted from side to side uneasily. Their eyes rolled mistrustfully, but they offered no further resistence, and in a few minutes Herm had successfully removed them from the long bars of wood on each side, and led them away toward the stables.