“It will be my pleasure to furnish you with all that you require,” Regis gently assured his brother. “Danilo, I leave the matter in your capable hands. There must be a stable or horse market where you can obtain a mount for my brother.”

“You can ride, I suppose?” Danilo asked Rinaldo, a little stiffly.

“I have made sure I could, although I learned on a stag- pony, not a proper horse. I will do my best not to disgrace you.”

As they sat at their ease, Regis went on, “I am afraid that any clothing to be found in Nevarsin will fall short of the elegance proper to a son of Hastur. Once we reach Thendara, I will order an appropriate wardrobe for you.”

“That is most generous of you, little brother.”

“It is no more than you deserve,” Regis returned with a smile.

“You have convinced me,” Rinaldo replied. “I believe you are right. I deserve the best, even if I must wait to receive it.”

In the presence of the monastery community, gathered together in the chapel, the Father Master performed the ceremony that formally released Rinaldo from his vows. He would no longer bear the name of Brother Valentine or be bound by the rules of the order. If only, Regis thought, there were such a Comyn ritual for himself.

The monks embraced their former brother for the last time, exchanging blessings and wishes for peace. The ceremony concluded with a speech by the Father Master exhorting Rinaldo and every other man present to faithfully and scrupulously adhere to the principles set forth by the holy saints, to emulate the Holy Bearer of Burdens, to keep themselves pure through the Creed of Chastity, and to redeem their sins by acts of charity and penance.

“Never stray from the path of righteousness!” The Father Master’s thunderous voice filled the chapel. “Accept your burdens . . . no, rejoice in them! Remember always— Righteousness flourishes under the lash of discipline!”

A lifetime of sitting through formal events had given Regis the ability to look interested no matter how bored or irritated he felt. He allowed the lecture to wash over him, paying little heed to its content. He was a guest here, an observer only.

But Danilo, who was an adherent to this faith, what must this tirade be like for him?Regis stole a glance at his companion, sitting a short distance away. Danilo’s cheeks had gone pale.

As they made ready to depart, Danilo was taut and silent. He answered Regis in monosyllables. Regis did not press the issue. Danilo would speak to him in his own time or deal with his feelings in his own way.

Rinaldo was in high spirits, excited by every aspect of the journey. When he was presented with his mount, however, he seemed less than pleased. The horse Danilo had found for him was almost as small and shaggy as the local ponies. The rust-brown gelding had a scrawny neck and a loose, hanging lower lip, but the slope of his shoulders and the sturdy bone beneath the knee promised an easy gait. Regis knew enough of the mountain breeds to have confidence in the animal’s ability to carry a large man over rough terrain and to thrive on poor forage. This horse was a practical choice, if less than beautiful.

Danilo had also obtained warm, serviceable clothing, trousers, jacket, and riding cloak of mixed sheep and chervinewool for extra water repellence. Neither the garments nor the boots were new; the pants were stained, and the leather was worn to softness that would minimize blisters.

Regis caught a flash of quickly masked disappointment in his brother’s face. It was gone in an instant, as if it had never been, a faint tightening of eyes and mouth, a glace at Danilo. Regis opened his mouth to explain that such clothing and such a horse were the best that could be had and would be far more comfortable than anything new or flashy. He stopped himself. What was he doing, making excuses for Danilo? Surely, Rinaldo could see the true quality of these things, and when they were settled in Thendara, more elaborate garb, suitable for a Hastur Lord, could readily be ordered.

11

Several days later, the party set off from Nevarsin, traveling at an easy pace. As a peace offering to Danilo, Regis suggested that they break their return journey at Syrtis, Danilo’s ancestral home.

“There’s no need to hurry back.” Regis did not need to add that it might be a long time before he had another opportunity to escape the city and the weight of his new duties.

“I would appreciate that,” Danilo replied. “Since my father’s death, I have had few opportunities to oversee the estate. My coridommanages well enough, but it is still my responsibility to examine the accounts and ascertain for myself that all is in order. It—” and here a shade of emotion crept into his voice, “—it will be good to be home again.”

Rinaldo responded with easy-going cheerfulness to the change in plans. Regis supposed that his brother had traveled so little in the world that any new place must be a pleasure. Despite his disappointment at being given worn clothing and an ugly mount, Rinaldo was a pleasant traveling companion. Regis never heard him utter a syllable of complaint.

Syrtis lay half a mile off the road to Edelweiss, where Javanne and her family had once lived. The manor was situated at the end of a valley, leading downward to the lake country around Mariposa. Grass grew lush along the road. Mice and rabbithorns scurried away at their approach. Cattle grazed in the fields, lazily swishing away flies. One of the Guardsmen, a fine baritone, began an old ballad from the Kilghard Hills.

As they traveled through a little village, Danilo was instantly recognized and welcomed. Drawing near the main house, the party passed orchards of apple, pear, and ambernuts. The trees looked well-pruned and healthy, laden with fruit.

“It will be a good harvest,” Regis commented.

Danilo, who had been riding silently at his side, turned to Regis with an expression of bittersweet contentment. “Yes.” But I will not be here to see it.

“Perhaps . . .” Regis hesitated, his boyhood diffidence rising once more, “perhaps you could return this fall.”

Dark eyes hardened. And leave you to the wolves?

Dani, I will not be alone. I have Rinaldo now.

Danilo looked away, his laranbarriers tight. Regis kept silent with an effort.

Seeing the house, it was impossible for Regis not to remember his first visit to Syrtis, so many years and so many sorrows ago . . . At the time, he had not realized how poor Danilo’s family was. One wing of the house had fallen into such disrepair that it was not safe for human habitation. Now the house sat like a jewel amid its gardens. The old moat had been drained, ditched, and turned into plots of vegetables and pot-herbs. Rosalys and star-lilies glowed like bits of sun-touched colored glass. Bees hung in the air. Regis took a deep breath, drinking in the fragrances of flowers and rich earth. A layer of tension slipped from his shoulders.

A stone barn, with its snug roof and new siding, led to a paddock in which several horses stood dozing in the sun. Beyond it lay a mews, and Regis remembered the splendid hawks bred and trained by Danilo’s father. Old DomFelix had been hawkmaster to Danvan Hastur.

The thought came to Regis, Dani’s brother and my own father died together. ‘The two Rafaels,’ they were called.

Past and present overlapped in his vision. There, down the path that led to an apple orchard, now so old the trees in all likelihood no longer bore fruit, he and Danilo had exchanged vows as liege and paxman, had bound themselves with honor.

Our lives were woven together even before our hearts knew one another.