Traitor's Sun (7 page)

Strange, he reflected. When he had been a boy, running wild in Aldaran Castle, he had never heard of a stock market, and when the term had first come up, had imagined pens of chervine and sheep. Even his father’s tame Terranan had never mentioned this particular institution. And yet, he discovered, these commercial enterprises were an uncanny bellwether of events, almost as if credits could see into the future before their owners did. He could have made himself very rich by combining his own Gift with the sense he got by watching the fluctuations of the exchanges. Instead, he had refined his understanding over the years, until he could extrapolate a great deal of useful information from something so apparently irrelevant as a sudden shift in gallium futures, or the crop failure on a minor planet.

Watching the feed scroll across the crystalline face of the monitor, he had a sure sense of the disruption in commerce that Nagy’s announcement would create. No one, including her Expansionist advisors, could predict the economic havoc they would wreak. He was sure someone in the know had leaked the word, in hopes of making a quick fortune, and his broker had begun something that would spread shock waves across the Federation. It might be months or even years before the extent of it was realized. That was good, as far as he was concerned, because if the Terrans were in economic crisis, they would not have time to bother with Darkover for a while.

His worst fears had not come to pass—he had not been arrested. But he had hardly slept during their passage, his ears on alert for a chime at the portal of the cabin, signaling disaster. Kate, frightened and furious with him, had been very silent, and the children had imitated her at first. Then boredom had set in, and they had started asking him questions about Darkover. That had helped to pass the dreary time, and even to ease his heightened senses a little. Upon their arrival at Vainwal, both Terése and Amaury had begged some credits to play at the many games of chance that stood everywhere in the port building. Vainwal was famous for its gambling and other leisurely pleasures, and he had handed each of the children enough money to keep them occupied while he sent word of his imminent arrival to Darkover. It had been a great relief to herd his small family onto another ship, and the last leg of their journey.

Herm tensed until his papers were examined. He was still on Federation territory, and subject to its laws, not Darkover’s. He had not made too many enemies during his years of service, but he was acutely aware that until he was actually off Federation soil, he could still be arrested, declared an enemy of the state, and carted off to one of several penal worlds to languish, without trial, forgotten, until he died. It had happened to more than one of his colleagues, enough of them to know that the reach of the Expansionist arm was nothing to be taken lightly.

The wind gusted as he crossed the division between the Federation and Darkover, causing his all-weather cloak to flap wildly around him. He paused to yank the useless garment down, and set Terése on the cobbled stones, experiencing a lessening of the tension which had defined his life for months. No matter what happened now, he had brought his family to the safest place he could think of, and if he died that minute, they would be taken care of. His brother, Robert Aldaran, would see that they were fed and housed, and no one would threaten them with the possibility of imprisonment or death. It was a mistake to relax, he realized belatedly, for the full weight of his exhaustion settled on his broad shoulders immediately. It was all he could manage to remain standing upright.

Herm saw a large carriage which seemed to be awaiting them in the plaza beyond the archway, with four horses stamping their feet, their tails and manes fluttering in the wind. Their Terran luggage porter pulled his cart to a halt, unloaded the baggage efficiently, and scuttled back through the arch, as if being at the edge of the Trade City made him nervous. He did not even wait for a gratuity, which was just as well, since Herm had only a small number of credit chits still in his pocket. Then the door of the carriage swung open, and a man Herm had never seen before stepped out. He was about Herm’s age, stocky and cheerful looking, with brown hair and blue eyes that twinkled.

“Senator? I am Rafael Lanart-Hastur, and Lew Alton asked me to meet you. He could not get away just now.” The twinkle in the eyes faded a little, clearly troubled by something he did not wish to say. He gave the Terran guards, standing about ten feet away, a quick look, and Herm knew that even though he was speaking in Darkovan, he did not want the nearby guards to hear what he was saying.

“Well, we meet at last! Kate, this is my brother-in-law, my sister Gisela’s husband.” His voice sounded overly hearty and utterly false in his ears.

“I don’t care if he is the King of Ys, so long as we can get in out of this cold!” She snapped the words in
casta,
which she had learned from him, then favored Rafael Hastur with her brilliant smile, the one Herm always thought could light up the world.

“Of course!” If Rafael was surprised by her command of the language, he showed no sign, but instead offered her his hand gracefully, not waiting for any further introductions. He helped Katherine into the coach, and the children scrambled in after her. The driver was already loading the baggage onto the roof of the vehicle, and Herm stepped in out of the wind. Despite being a large carriage, it was rather crowded with five people.

Herm and Rafael took one bench, with their backs to the driver, and Katherine and the children huddled on the other. Rafael picked up a large woolen blanket from the seat beside him, unfolded it, and handed it across carefully. Amaury took it and spread it across their laps, tucking it around his mother solicitously while the thump of the baggage being piled on the roof seemed to go on and on. When it ceased, it was followed by the sound of the driver mounting the box. The vehicle shifted as the horses began to turn around, and through the window Herm saw a large, derelict building on one side of the plaza, with the words John Reade Orphanage carved above the lintel of the door. Its windows were covered with boards, and it looked sad and empty.

Terése’s eyes were large with wonder as she examined the carriage. She only knew of such vehicles from her ancient history texts, and clearly thought it was delightful. It was made of dark woods, mountain dur and rhowyn, and there was a small brazier set in a fire box in the floor, giving off a smoky smell and a little warmth. He watched her reach out and stroke the smooth wood, then smile her secret grin. At least one of them was enjoying herself.

Katherine took a long breath, pulled her all-weather cloak closer around her, thrust her hands under the blanket, and looked at her husband and brother-in-law. “Don’t you think it is about time you told me what the hell is going on, Hermes?” She had returned to Terran, and her deep voice was calm. Still, he recognized the danger signs. His wife was never more fearsome than when she seemed reasonable. “Surely there are no listening devices in this carriage.”

“Yes, I should. You have been very patient with me.”

“I am not stupid,” she snarled, her cheeks flushing in a very becoming manner. “You wake me up in the middle of the night with a look in your eyes like . . . the demon cats of Ardyn were at your heels.” She sputtered to a halt and shuddered all over. “Then you tell me to pack, that we are leaving because you have been called back to Darkover. How? When?”

Hermes found the children watching him with wide and curious eyes, and sensed the mild amusement of Rafael beside him.
At least he did not marry a faint-hearted woman,
came the wry thought.

“Well, I could hardly tell you the truth in the ship, Katherine.”

“Well, you can now!” She was fighting her fear, concealing it with anger as best she could.

“I had reason to believe that the Premier was about to disband the Senate and the Chamber, Katherine, and it did not seem to me to be a good idea to wait around until it happened.” He used his most reasonable voice, but he could see that it did not satisfy her—she had been stewing for too long.

Rafael cleared his throat. “It has been—We received word just a few hours ago, after we knew you were arriving. All the members of the Senate and the lower house are being detained, I believe, including a few of those who represent Protected Planets. I don’t have any information about what is going to happen to them. Lew only had a few minutes to brief me. It all sounds quite mad to me.”

“What!” Katherine exploded, her gray eyes blazing in the dim light of the carriage. “Are you certain?” Her homeworld, Renney, was a Protected Planet, like Darkover, and a cousin of hers was a Deputy. Herm regretted that there was no way to have warned the woman, Cara, whom he liked.

“As sure as I can be, since I got the word from Lew, and he from Ethan MacDoevid, who is at HQ—which means I only have thirdhand knowledge. I wish Rafe Scott was still at HQ, for he could have been a great help just now.” Rafael Hastur shrugged.
Rafe is a strong telepath, and could have been very useful.

“I am surprised that I was not detained, then, even though Darkover is Protected.” Herm voiced the question he knew was in Katherine’s mind as well.

“We have a few sympathizers yet at HQ, and bribery is still possible,” Rafael answered tersely. There was something guarded about him now, and his pleasant face looked grim and sad.
Regis picked a damned inconvenient time have a stroke! And I don’t know how much longer we can keep it a secret.

Herm heard his thought and winced.
Something
has
happened to Regis!
The remembered words rang in his mind. So, his clairvoyance had been correct. Whose voice had he heard, across the light-years between Darkover and Terra? Odd. He was gripped with profound sadness for a man he had never actually met. A stroke—so at least he was not dead. That was good. But from the turmoil in his brother-in-law’s mind, it was also clear that he was not expected to recover. It did not seem possible. He could not imagine Darkover without its white-haired monarch. And clearly Rafael did not want to discuss it.

Rafael cleared his throat and continued speaking. “I am not privy to all the details—Uncle Lew has been quite close-mouthed.” His face twisted in an odd grimace.
I will never be completely trusted because of Gisela. The only reason I was sent on this errand is because Herm is my brother-in-law, and my presence would rouse no comment. Damn all the Aldarans!
Then he flinched, as if aware that he was, for all intents and purposes, shouting his thoughts to those who could hear them, and gave Herm a helpless look. “All he told me was to meet you, and to distribute enough substantial bribes to make sure you were not detained.”

Visibly shaken, Katherine huddled against the wall of the vehicle. “This is insane. Why didn’t you find some way to tell me! And how did you know, when no one else did?”
I know that he couldn’t have told me. Why am I being so unreasonable? Wasn’t there some way he could have suggested . . . no. Did he even try?

Herm shifted uneasily on the bench. All his hens and chickens were going to come home to roost, much sooner than he wished, it seemed. He should have told Kate the truth years before, but there had never been just the right moment for the revelation. Or so he had convinced himself. He would have to lie—again. And he was so tired that it seemed impossible. “I was warned by a clerk of the Premier’s I have been cultivating,” he answered, surprised his voice did not quiver at all. There was a clerk whom he had gotten information from in the past, a pretty woman who liked to flirt with him. He had never been unfaithful to Katherine, but he had skirted the edges of it more than once for political reasons.

“And you could not tell me?”

“No. I could not put you and the children at risk—there are too many listening devices in too many places, dearest.” She knew that personal privacy had nearly vanished in recent years, and was aware that their apartments were not safe, but she was not in a mood to be mollified. It was not just the Security Forces either, although they were the most obvious spies. There were other groups, covert bunches of shadowy people, nameless and faceless, who nurtured their own suspicions of the Senator from Darkover and anyone else whom they did not own. He had found hints of them in the unguarded thoughts of clerks who were nothing of the sort, as well as in those of his fellow legislators. Herm wondered if the Expansionist Party knew that there were traitors in their midst, plotting for power over the decadent Federation. It did not matter any longer, did it? They could all plot themselves to perdition, for all he cared. By Aldones, he was tired!

As a Senator, Herm had taken a different tack than that of his predecessor, Lew Alton, and cunningly played at being a
bon vivant,
a pleasant fellow who could be bought occasionally. For Herm did not possess Lew’s gift of forced rapport—could not bend minds to his bidding—which he knew that Lew had done more than once, with great subtlety and not a little remorse. But Lew had used what he had, and paid the price. Lew’s powers had cost him a great deal, and he had been a heavy drinker during the years Herm had known him. He wondered if he still was.

Instead of force, Herm used deviousness. For the most part he had managed to keep Darkover from becoming a planet that demanded attention, that appeared as a threat in any way. It had not been easy, for the paranoia of the Expansionists now bordered on obsession. They saw enemies everywhere, and many of them sincerely believed that Protected Planets were getting away with something. They were never able to define exactly what that “something” was, but that did not keep them from thinking that they were being cheated somehow.

Herm had fought with his own peculiar talents, pretending that Darkover was just a backward planet, poor in the metals that might be useful for building ships or armaments, barely able to provide enough food to feed its inhabitants. He painted a portrait of an impoverished world, and Darkover was far away and still obscure enough that few had inquired too closely. During Lew’s term as Senator, he had cleverly managed to get a great deal of information about Darkover either suppressed or classified in some fashion, so that access to it was limited. And thankfully, Darkover did not have any particular strategic value, although that might change soon. If the Federation fell apart, or split into factions, who knows what the future might hold?