Traitor's Sun (8 page)

The real problem was in the mind-set of the Expansionists themselves. They imagined enemies everywhere, and much of their energies for the past decade had been devoted to building ships of war, not commerce, and to preparing for combat. Their argument was that just because the Federation had never encountered another space-traveling power, this did not mean that they would not. Herm knew that they were wrong, that the enemies they feared were already at work within the Federation, that it was almost inevitable that some ambitious planetary governor was going to rebel and start the war they expected. He suspected it would be a very unpleasant surprise, and could only hope that it would happen on the other side of the galaxy. The last thing Darkover wanted was to become involved in an internecine conflict.

The carriage rattled across cobbled streets, and the wind shifted the vehicle back and forth. They went down the wider streets, and through the window he could see the open shutters of the shops, adorned with gaily painted signs. They were passing Tanners Way, and the pungent smell of boiling vats of leather filled the crowded interior. Terése made a face, but said nothing. Amaury gazed out the rather misted window, his blue eyes alight with interest and curiosity.

At last Katherine stirred. “I am sure you did the best thing, Hermes,” she said in a voice full of exhaustion. Until that moment, he had not known how much her silence during the journey had cost her.
What about my family? I wish we had gone there, instead of to this godforsaken place—but why couldn’t Herm have warned me somehow? No, I must not blame him. He has always kept his own counsel—I wish it were otherwise. It is not as if I didn’t know that things were going badly, that the Federation was starting to come apart at its seams. I just refused to believe it was as bad as it was. I did not want to know, even though I kept noticing things in the newscasts that disturbed me. Even with the rebellion on Campta, and the riots on Enoch. And I only knew what the Federation wanted me to know! Still, I must make the best of it. At least he has taught me some of the language, and the children have never been able to sort out what words are from Renney and what are from this place. It’s so cold! What will happen to Nana and the rest, if they try to house Federation troops at the Manse? She will probably put a curse on them, or add some of her potions to the food. Nana may be ancient, but I suspect she can take care of herself and my sisters. When are we going to arrive? So cold and so tired. Surely I will feel better when I am warm and really rested.

Herm reached across the carriage and patted Katherine’s hand through the wool of the blanket. She opened her eyes and looked at him for a long minute, then slipped her hand out and grasped his wrist, feeling the warmth of his skin against hers. “It will not be long now,” he said quietly, as if he had heard her disjointed thoughts. And perhaps he had, for often in the past he had seemed to know what she was thinking without her speaking any words. No, it was impossible! He was just very intuitive. Whatever it was, it made him a fine lover. Nana had told her Herm had the Sight, on their single visit to her home planet, and while she dismissed that as the old woman’s superstition, she could not deny that her husband was a very unusual man. When Terése was an infant, he would frequently get out of bed before the child began to cry, rushing to her cot and catching her up against his broad shoulders just as the pink mouth rounded for a wail. And he always seemed to know if she was wet or hungry or just wanted to be rocked.

Ever since the day they had met, when he found her doing a portrait in the offices of Senator Sendai, Katherine had realized that Hermes Aldaran was unlike any man she had ever known or was ever likely to know. His eyes seemed to see everything, down to details she herself had overlooked. She had found him charming and intelligent, but also mysterious in a way she still could not define. That had made him nearly irresistible.

And now, after more than ten years, she still felt that she did not know very much about her husband. She knew he had several siblings, his sister Gisela and his brother Robert, plus others who were
nedestro,
whatever that meant. But that was about all. At first, he hardly spoke of Darkover, and when he did, he talked of great snows, high mountains, and vast wilderness. His childhood was something of a mystery, although he was very interested in hers, and there always remained a certain remoteness in him. It was both frustrating and fascinating, and she had learned not to demand more of him than he was willing to give. Now, looking at his behavior with the ruthlessness of exhaustion, she felt cheated and more than a little lost. Katherine chided herself for being unhappy then and tried to let the nasty emotion go.

Herm had begun to teach her
casta
soon after they were married, and they had discovered that it was akin to the Renney dialect, related to old Breton. The inflections were subtle and different, but much of the vocabulary was similar enough that she had picked it up quickly. She, in turn, had instructed him in Rennian, and the two tongues had mingled into a harmonious stew that the children used in preference to the less colorful Terran one.

But Katherine had never really expected to come to Darkover, and she was still in shock over the sudden journey. A first class cabin on a Big Ship was not a large space, and the carriage was not an improvement. She felt claustrophobic, as if she could not get enough air in her lungs. Every time they hit an unevenness in the street, the motion jolted her aching bones, and although the brazier in the floor afforded some warmth, she felt chilled to the bone. It was all she could do to contain her anger, but she refused to argue with Herm in front of the children, and certainly not with this near stranger listening. But she longed to raise her voice, to proclaim her still pent-up sense of ill-usage, to express her fury and her fear. Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran was going to be fortunate if she let him kiss her for weeks to come.

Herm sighed as he watched his wife and children, realizing that perhaps he should not have been quite so secretive. It was a policy he knew was going to cause him regret, and soon. But for twenty-three years he had portrayed Darkover as a rather primitive place, with few resources worthy of exploitation, in order to keep the curious uninterested. He had no desire to see the Hellers deforested, nor to have Darkovan foodstuffs shipped to other planets to feed the ever enlarging populations. And certainly he did not want to have knowledge of the Towers of Darkover to become general, as it nearly had a generation previous. The Expansionist forces would occupy the planet in a flash, eager to co-opt Darkovan telepaths for their own dreams of dominance.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and the door was opened. A gust of cold wind billowed across them, and the children shivered. Katherine just drew herself further into her shining all-weather cloak and looked grim. There was a servant in the livery of the Castle waiting, and they climbed out one by one.

Two flights of broad steps led up from the cobbled court, and Herm herded his family swiftly up them. Behind him, servants were unloading the luggage. Rafael led them through a door and into a modest entryway. There were tapestries hung along the stone walls, and a checkerboard pattern of tiles under their feet. It smelled of woodsmoke and damp wool, and there were a number of heavy woolen capes hung on pegs beside the door. But after the chill outside, it was deliciously warm and cozy.

They followed Rafael up a long flight of stairs to the next floor, then down a corridor, and up another set of stairs. He sensed the bewilderment of the children at the flight of steps, since even the meanest hives, where the poor huddled in misery, all had lifts. Herm had never been in Comyn Castle before, but he had heard that the place was a regular warren of halls and stairs. The children shucked off their cloaks and observed their surroundings with interest, but Katherine just walked with her eyes straight ahead, her back rigid, and her face empty, like the survivor of some unnatural disaster.

“We did not have much warning of your arrival, Herm, so your quarters are probably a bit chaotic. The bed linens will be clean though, even if the hangings are a little moth-eaten.”

“After days in the berths of a cabin, it will seem quite luxurious, Rafael. Where have you put us?” He wanted to make conversation, meaningless noises to ease the tension in himself.

“The second Storn apartments, which have not been used except during Midwinter, for ages. The ones that were done up for Lauretta Lanart-Storn years ago. Giz and I use the Aldaran Suite, and it really is not large enough for another family.” He sounded faintly ashamed of this, and Herm just grinned at him.

“Who is that, Lauretta Lanart-Storn?” Amaury asked.

“She was the wife of my grandfather, although she is not a blood relation of mine,” Herm replied.

“How can that be?”

“My father was not her son, Amaury.”

“Sounds confusing.”

Herm chuckled, happy to find anything to be amused at. “It is. Darkovan geneologies are rather difficult, and often bewildering, even to those of us who know them from the cradle.”

“Why is that, Father?” Amaury appeared genuinely interested as they continued down the long hall, past burning lampions and rather faded tapestries.

Herm looked at his stepson, and for the first time, wondered if he had done the right thing, bringing the boy to Darkover. He was a rather sensitive child, with his mother’s quick mind and deep intuition, and who knew what from his father. The tension between his parents had left him anxious and concerned, although he was hiding it rather well. He was trying to ease things, as Herm himself had done with his own father, long before. What kind of place could be found for him here? He was just too tired to think about it. “We are a small population, and the families of the Domains, like the Aldarans or Altons, and the lesser families, like the Lanarts and the Storns, have been intermarrying for centuries. Everyone is related to everyone else, if you go back far enough. For instance, Rafael here is a Lanart on his father’s side, but I cannot guess just how he might be connected to Lauretta.”

“Neither can I,” Rafael put in, grinning easily, “but Gisela would know. She is very good at that sort of thing.”

“You amaze me, for the last thing I would have suspected my sister of is an interest in geneology,” Herm answered. “When I left Darkover, she was still a girl, and her only pursuits seemed to have been hunting, reading Terranan novels, and getting new clothes as often as she could cajole our father to allow her.”

“That has not changed,” Rafael admitted, “but she is too intelligent to limit herself. She has been working on a book on chess for several years, and what I have read of it is very good. And she has read just about every book in the Castle Archive, I think.”

“My sister an author? Amazing!”

“She tells me it keeps her from getting bored, for she does not find minding the children at all to her taste.”

“How many are there now—I have lost count.”

“There are Caleb and Rakhal, her children by her first husband, and our daughter Casilde, and our sons Gabriel and Damon. Rakhal is at Arilinn and intends to remain, and Casilde will go there soon.”
I hope she gives up this mad idea of becoming a Renunciate. A pity that Marguerida’s friend Rafaella is so attractive, and makes the Renunciates seem so romantic. She will outgrow it, for it cannot be a pleasant life. Fatherhood is much more difficult than I ever imagined.
“And the boys are just being boys, and it is all I can do to keep them out of too much mischief.”

“And Caleb?”

Rafael frowned. “He is at Nevarsin,” he said somewhat abruptly. Herm understood his unwillingness to go on, for Caleb must be above twenty by now, and if he was at Nevarsin, then likely he intended to become a
cristoforo
monk. Although the sons of the Domains had been educated by the
cristoforos
for generations, it was rare these days for them to join the odd community in the far north, in the City of Snows as it was sometimes called.

“Here we are at last.” Rafael stepped forward and opened a pair of doors, pushing them aside and gesturing them into a large sitting room. There was a fire burning in the grate, and the smell of recently applied beeswax rose from the heavy wooden chairs set around it, belying Rafael’s suggestion as to the state of the accommodations. The carpet beneath their feet was thick and free of dust, and the curtains across the window looked relatively new.

It was a pretty room, furnished with a woman in mind. The walls were painted a pale golden color, and the tapestry that hung along the wall portrayed a group of ladies bent over an enormous embroidery frame. There were small footstools, upholstered in thick velvets, and several little tables as well as a longer one that would seat half a dozen people in comfort. A small arrangement of flowers sat in a vase in the center of it, and the faint smell of them mingled with the odor of the fire.

Katherine looked around, her artist’s eye refreshed after the barrenness of the ship’s cabin. She turned and relaxed in the warmth of the room, then favored Rafael with a bright if tired smile. “This is very nice. Thank you. You cannot know how . . . this room is nearly as large as our entire quarters on Terra. And wood, real wooden furniture. We have that on Renney, and I think I must have been missing it without knowing. I hope it was not too much trouble.”

Rafael shrugged easily. “The servants did everything. Now, the main bedroom is through that door, and the bathing chamber and privy are down the hall, second door on the right. You can’t miss it. There are robes and towels and all that, and I will have some food brought up as soon as you tell me whether you want breakfast or dinner. Lew says the food on the ships is abysmal, and that you would certainly want something tasty immediately.”

“What is that other door?” Terése pointed to a closed portal on the far side of the sitting room.