Zandru's Forge (64 page)

Although Varzil spoke mildly, the man’s certainty crumbled. “I—I am no such monster. I thought it was the right thing to do. Eduin was so persuasive, so sure. He said that since we have the power to stand against tyranny, we must use it.”

“Is Eduin the keeper of your conscience?” Varzil demanded.

For a stunned moment, the man stared at him. “Who, then, am I supposed to believe?”

Who, indeed?
Varzil asked himself.
A Keeper too weak to instill proper discipline? A usurper king bent on only his own lust for power?

The Compact, if it ever came into reality, would be only a beginning, a single underlying point of honor between all men. The Towers themselves needed more, because they wielded so much greater potential for discord and destruction. Varzil did not know what form that might take—a league of Keepers, a codification of ethics and tradition. Something must be worked out, or Darkover would descend from instability into chaos.

Nothing in this world is certain but death and next winter’s snows,
went the old saying. Add to that, Varzil thought, the propensity of men to abuse however much power they had.

When they had finished, all but one truly regretted what he had done. Varzil suggested to Loryn that he be removed from work and, when the fighting was over, be sent to Arilinn or Hali for better training. The man accepted the judgment with surprising good grace, as if he realized that this was his only chance to continue in a legitimate Tower.

Serena tapped on the door. “Eduin’s waiting if you’re ready for him.”

“Let him come,” Loryn said.

Eduin walked in and, with a nod to Loryn, sat in the chair in the center of the chamber. Though his
laran
barriers were tightly raised, Varzil sensed the waves of fury resonating through his mind.

“Eduin,” Loryn began in a heavy, slow voice, “you have committed a grave offense against both this Tower and the principles of human decency.”

Eduin’s chin jerked up. “I am not the offender, as well you know. It is Rakhal Hastur and his wolves—although that is an insult to the wolves—who generated the present crisis. I—we—were not the ones to initiate this violence, but we will be the ones to end it. That is, if we are not crippled by those with their own private grievances to pursue.” He glared at Varzil.

Varzil blinked, startled by Eduin’s vehemence. “We have never had an easy comradeship, you and I, if that is what you mean. That is not the issue here. I am neither your prosecutor nor your judge. Your actions alone indict you.”

“Eduin, you brought together a circle although you have not been trained as a Keeper, and against my direct wishes,” Loryn said. “Matrix work is difficult and dangerous enough, even with the best training. You risked not only your own life and mind, but those of the men who trusted you. This—” he sighed deeply, as if the very act of speech pained him, “—cannot be allowed. Not only that, you escalated the conflict with Rakhal Hastur’s men. You—”

“I
ended
the conflict! I did what no one else in this Tower had the cojones to do.” Eduin gestured toward the gates and the fields beyond them. “Who is left to attack us now?”

“That is not the point,” Loryn said. “If you will not listen to reason, I have no choice but to confine you under guard until your fate can be decided.”

Eduin scrambled to his feet and pointed at Varzil. “This is all his doing!”

Varzil, stung, rose also. It seemed only right that he should face Eduin’s accusations on his feet.

“Can’t you see?” Eduin screamed. “He’s using the incident to promote a personal vendetta against me! Ever since we were students at Arilinn, he’s disliked me. He’s used every opportunity to besmirch my character, to turn others against me. Carolin Hastur was my friend until Varzil poisoned his mind. Even his own sister was taken in by his self-serving manipulations! You have a scorpion-ant in your midst, Loryn! Take care you do not nurse him at your bosom, or you will discover to your sorrow how treacherous he can be!”

The door flung open and two of the senior workers rushed in. One carried a telepathic damper, the other an open vial. Varzil caught a whiff and recognized one of the many distillations of
kireseth.
Some worked by lowering
laran
barriers, but others, like this one, temporarily blocked all psychic abilities. Its use was rare but not unknown, for
laran
was no guarantee of self-control. Sometimes, an adolescent in the throes of threshold sickness became so disoriented as to pose a danger to himself and all around him.

Eduin recognized the drug, too, for he drew back. “You will have no need for such with me.
I
am not your enemy.”

“Will you give your solemn word that you will make no effort to escape or harm anyone in this Tower?” Loryn said.

Edam’s shoulders lifted minutely. “As long as Hestral stands and the Hastur menaces us, I will abide by your rule. Will that satisfy you?”

“I think it must,” Loryn replied. He signaled to the others to escort Eduin back to his own quarters.

Varzil thought that Eduin had chosen his words too carefully, but could discover no fault in what he had said.

“I do not know what has distressed me most,” Loryn said, “these days of attack and siege, or Eduin’s misguided heroism, or his excuses. I am tired, Varzil, tired of this interminable tension between hope for the future and despair that no matter what we do, things only get worse.”

Varzil sought for words, but none came. Loryn had aged visibly since he had arrived at Hestral, and he did not think the present warfare was entirely responsible.

A Keeper carries a heavy burden, he thought. Not only for the work we do, but for what we are.
He wondered if it were too great for any one person to bear.
But what choice has Loryn? What choice have I? We neither of us can undo what
we
have become.

The thought came to him, with a little shiver of premonition, that the same was true for Eduin.

One long day stretched into another without any further attack from the Hastur camp. The rain stopped and the mud dried. After a single sunny day, however, the sky turned gray and sullen, brooding. All of Hestral Tower rested, at first gratefully, then with increasing anxiety. Any attempt to leave the Tower walls was promptly turned back by the remaining soldiers. Food supplies dipped even lower, although there was water enough from their own deep wells.

“I don’t understand why they don’t just go home,” Oranna said fretfully. Varzil had joined her at the commons hall window, watching the sunset with mugs of steaming plain water. She disliked plain water even more than brewed roasted blackroot. “We won’t give in to them, and if they weren’t strong enough to overpower us before, they certainly aren’t now. Sooner or later, we’ll break out. I don’t understand what Loryn is waiting for.”

Varzil held his peace. He had been on watch all afternoon and was too tired to argue. He and Loryn had been in contact with the other Towers, searching for a way out of the impasse.

“It is not yet over,” he said. “The Hasturs are waiting for something, or they would have left already.”

“Reinforcements from Thendara? Would they be so foolish?”

Varzil was certain of it. “Next time, they will take no chances, but will send an overwhelming force. There are many who would see a successful resistance as a sign, a call to action. At the same time, Rakhal dares not put himself into a public position of incompetence, which will surely happen if he makes a show of force here and then fails.”

She looked thoughtful. “Then why press the issue at all? Why not accept our first answer, that we had no
clingfire
to surrender? Whatever was the King thinking of?”

“Ah, who can tell? It was many years ago when I met him, and even then he was so involved in court politics, it was difficult to tell what sort of person he was. Once, Carolin loved and trusted him, and showered him with favors. Yet people change, or perhaps life itself changes them, and sometimes they hide their true nature.”

“Perhaps somewhere there is still the man who was worthy of Carolin’s goodwill,” Oranna said with a brief, bright smile.

Varzil found himself smiling back at her. “You have such faith in people,
carya.
It is part of what makes you a good monitor. I fear that in this case, it is misplaced. Let us hope that even men such as Rakhal may come to see reason.”

He broke off. That had indeed been Loryn’s hope, that by refusing to retaliate or further provoke their besiegers, Hestral might calm the situation until a peaceful settlement might be found, some kind of compromise.

Varzil went to sit in one of the big comfortable chairs beside the now-bare fireplace. His body, tense and aching with fatigue, sank into the cushions. He let his head rest against the chair’s high back. As he closed his eyes, his thoughts wandered to that time, so many years ago, when he had entered the cave of the catmen with no idea of how he might succeed, only the determination to do whatever was necessary to free his brother.

Varzil drifted toward sleep. Once more, he wandered through caves dim in the light of hand-held torches. Passages opened before him. He pushed on, searching for something. The tunnels grew darker as he outstripped the fragile orange glow. Ahead, he saw light like a pale shadow. It grew stronger, colorless and cool, as he rushed toward it. He recognized it as the Overworld, and he knew that something—or someone—drew him there.

The darkness of the cavern dropped away. Between one hurried step and the next, he burst into the gray landscape of the Overworld that lay above and beyond any physical dimension.

A woman stood before him, arms outstretched, gauzy gown blown in an unfelt wind. A clear white radiance, like the light in the heart of the ring stone, shone from her body. Her hair framed her face in an aureole of red curls. His heart leaped as he recognized her—

Felicia!

A smile brightened her features and she moved toward him. He saw that her mouth moved, shaping his name, although no sound reached him.

Varzil ... Varzil
...

The voice was not Felicia‘s, but another’s, and it did not come from ahead of him, where Felicia beckoned, but from behind, from the twisted cavern passages. He hesitated, knowing he must answer that summons, yet unwilling to turn away. To see her, whole and beautiful, before him, to take her into his arms, even insubstantial Overworld arms—

The next instant, he was back in his chair in Hestral’s commons, and someone was shaking his shoulders, shouting his name. He started awake. His eyes focused on the face bent over him—Marius Rockraven. The boy’s cheeks were pale and his eyes looked bruised. Behind him, Varzil spotted Oranna and Serena.

“Varzil!” Marius cried again. “Please wake up! We need you!”

Varzil swept the dregs of fatigue and sleep from his mind. He sat up. “What has happened?”

“I was at the relays—and word came from Hali—for Loryn. They said—it couldn’t wait. But Loryn—I knocked, called him—he didn’t answer—I didn’t want to wake him if he was that tired.” Marius gulped. “Should I try again? What do I tell Hali?”

“It’s all right,” Varzil said, getting to his feet. The brief sleep had been unexpectedly deep and the worst of the ache had faded from his muscles. “Oranna, go check on Loryn.”

“On my way,” she said, and whirled to go.

“I’ll talk to Hali.” Varzil started toward the stairs leading to the relay chamber. Marius hurried after him.

Varzil settled himself on the bench and found it still warm. The relay lattice hummed with light. Marius had adjusted it to his own comfort and Varzil found the tuning hard-edged. He unfocused his eyes, letting his thoughts sink into the pattern, and shifted it. Even as he did so, he felt the mind on the other end of the invisible linkage.

Loryn of Hestral?
The mental voice held no warmth, yet sounded vaguely familiar. Varzil wondered if it might not be one of the
leronyn
he had met during one of his visits to Hali Tower, perhaps even one who had helped him after his adventure in the cloud-filled lake.

No, he cannot come at the moment,
Varzil answered.
I am Varzil Ridenow, Keeper. I will accept whatever messages you have for us. How fares our sister Tower at Hali?

Suddenly, the contact flickered. Varzil frowned, puzzled. The relay linkage remained intact, yet he had lost all sense of another presence.

Varzil! He recognized his sister, Dyannis. Her mental voice was stronger than the last time they’d spoken when he was still at Arilinn. Her present agitation rang through the contact.

He smiled, although she could not see it.
Little sister, it is good to touch your mind as well. I have been here the better part of a year. It’s a long story, and not altogether a happy one.
How could he tell her of his suspicions of Eduin—or of her lover’s rash actions? Chill whispered along his nerves, for Hali Tower was bound to Hastur.

Never mind!
She was almost shouting now.
Varzil, get out of there! Get out now!

Dyannis broke off and the first mental voice returned.
Varzil of Arilinn, you have no part in this quarrel. Sadly, we cannot count you or anyone else within your walls as neutral. As a result of the unprovoked and unlawful attack upon his soldaers, King Rakhal Hastur has declared Hestral Tower renegade. If you do not surrender immediately, you will be destroyed.