Traitor's Sun (78 page)

“I doubt that, Rory,” Mikhail said as sternly as he could, infected by his younger son’s high spirits in spite of himself.

“But didn’t we throw them out?” the boy persisted.

“Not really—there were complex reasons for their leaving; but that does not mean they will stay away forever, son.”

“Father, I think you are being very gloomy. You have been like that ever since you came back. I am sure they are gone for good.”

Mikhail looked at Marguerida over Roderick’s head, quirking his eyebrows a little. She understood the unasked question, and wished she had an answer. She had no sudden vision of the future, nor had she been plagued by any since their return. It did not mean anything—the Federation or some other force might return after she was dead. It was not a comforting thought, that she and Mikhail might have to leave the problem to their children.

Marguerida turned and started back toward the doorway into the warmth of the castle. “I hope you are right, Roderick,” she said.

“Of course I am. Why would they leave if they were only going to turn around and come back?”

“I don’t know—but just remember than the Federation has the ability to return if they choose, and we cannot assume anything.”

“Oh. Well, I hope they don’t, because they are bad people, like that Belfontaine man.”

“Not all of them are bad, Rory,” Mikhail insisted, then shrugged at the impossibility of explaining the complexities of interstellar politics to a thirteen-year-old.

“And if they do, you can just . . .”

“No, Roderick!”

“But, Father! Why not? Or is this one of those things I’ll understand when I am older again? I am so sick of . . .”

“Yes, Rory,” Marguerida interceded. “You are very tired of being told you don’t understand. And I am pretty sick of hearing you complain about it. Now let’s get something to eat.”

She felt Mikhail just behind her, and turned to him, slipping into his arms and feeling the coldness of his cheek against hers. Then, without word or thought, they both looked back, through the open door, at the abandoned buildings on the other side of the city. “What do you really think,
caria
?”

“That this is not the end, that it is not finished.”

“Why?”

“I think that as long as there is the technology to travel between the stars, there will always be the chance of visitors, Mik. And if the little we learned from Grayson is accurate, and the Federation itself is coming to pieces, it will not remain in bits forever.”

“You sound like your father.”

“I know. Someday, someone will come to Darkover from the stars again—it is as inevitable as snow in winter. But that is for another day, another year.” She leaned against his shoulder and rested her head. Marguerida could sense the dark tone of his thoughts, and wished she knew some way to brighten his mood. But only time, she knew, would cure what ailed her husband and herself.

He reached a hand out and shut the door to the roof. They turned and started for the stairs, hand in hand, shoulder to shoulder. At last he said, “And we will meet that day when it comes, and not a second before.”