What did Rinaldo see? Were the towers of steel and glass ugly in their alienness, or did they present a strange, austere beauty? Regis himself was never sure.
“I did not realize it was so big,” Rinaldo murmured. “So many people, such riches! You must think me even more rustic than ever, for saying so.”
“Not at all,” Regis said. “I value that you speak as you think. Such honesty is rare in the city.”
“So I have been warned all my life.” Rinaldo grinned. “Father Master described Thendara as a cesspool of fleshly indulgence and deceit, rife with every form of sinfulness. I wonder what he would have said about Shainsa or Ardcarran, should he have been induced to pollute his tongue with their names. But I have no fear for my soul, with a brother to guide me.” He straightened his shoulders. “In fact, if Father Master’s assessment was at all correct, I will consider this a challenge.”
“A challenge?” Regis was not sure if he had understood or if the breath of chill that touched the nape of his neck were a premonition. Rinaldo’s easy smile set his fears to rest.
“To test what a man of determination and virtue can do in such a place,” Rinaldo answered.
“Let us hope for compassion and an open mind, as well.” Regis nudged his horse forward, and they began the long descent. The City Guards stationed at the gate recognized him long before he drew to a halt.
“Lord Hastur, welcome back to Thendara.” The senior officer bowed respectfully. “ DomDanilo.” His eyes flickered to Rinaldo, taking in the poor quality of his horse, the worn clothing, and the fact that this disreputable-appearing person rode at the side of the most honored man in Thendara.
Regis noticed the officer’s reaction, the confusion that flickered momentarily across his face. He knew, too, that Rinaldo had seen it.
Indignation stirred. I will not make excuses for my brother’s appearance or anything else. Rinaldo is here under my protection.
Soon enough, everyone of any consequence in Thendara—in all the Domains, most likely—would know who Rinaldo was. It was better to let the poor man enjoy a little peace before they descended upon him, the courtiers and power seekers, the sycophants and schemers.
Regis wondered if he had done his brother a favor by taking him away from the peace of Nevarsin.
Still, the ordinary world was not all bad. If Thendara teemed with unscrupulous men, it also held those who valued honor and justice, the bonds of blood and integrity. If Regis had suffered from the demands of his rank, he had also known great kindness here. At least, he could count on Javanne to extend a gracious welcome to Rinaldo.
Javanne did not fail Regis. In his absence, she had completed the transfer of his possessions from the townhouse to his grandfather’s rooms in Comyn Castle. A second suite, the best available, had been scrubbed spotless and refurnished for Rinaldo, and a body-servant engaged as well. Regis was astonished at her energy and efficiency, but he was also concerned at the new lines around her eyes. She was using work as a way of holding her grief at bay. She had always thrived when she felt needed.
After making sure the horses were properly tended and Rinaldo escorted to his new quarters and given everything he needed, and after thanking Javanne for her efforts, Regis was at last free to seek his own rest. He was so tired that even the strangeness of Danvan’s bedchamber could not keep him awake for long. He undressed without the help of a servant, sponged away the worst of the travel dirt, and tumbled into the enormous bed. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he wished it were possible for Danilo to slip between the soft linexsheets beside him. This wasn’t the townhouse, where they might enjoy a certain latitude of behavior, not to mention privacy. This was Comyn Castle, where the servants knew and gossiped about everything, and Regis was not longer Heir but Hastur of Hastur.
The next morning, Regis awoke to the sound of a servant lighting the fire in the bedroom. He jerked upright. The poor man startled, bowed, and retreated.
Regis raked his hair back from his face, pulled on the dressing robe that lay across the foot of the bed, and stumbled about in a semblance of his usual morning ablutions. Shortly his body-servant brought in a breakfast tray and an armload of clothing. Suppressing his irritation, for it was hardly the poor man’s fault that proprieties must be observed for the Hastur of Hastur, Regis allowed himself to be dressed, his hair combed into place, and his meal placed before him in the parlor. He forced himself to sip the steaming jacowithout burning his mouth. When he had finished, he asked the servant to send for Danilo as his paxman to discuss the day’s schedule. Then he went into his grandfather’s study, now his own.
Where to begin? The brief respite was over. The question of Terran Federation membership, while settled for the moment, must be carefully monitored; he should send a message to Lew Alton and find out if there was more news. As the Head of his Domain, he now bore the responsibility for running Carcosa and Castle Hastur. His departure for Nevarsin had postponed a number of ceremonial duties that could no longer be put off—reviewing the cadets, meeting with Gabriel in his capacity as Commander of the City Guards, holding audiences with those Comyn still in the city, and speaking with the Pan-Darkovan League and the trade delegation from the Dry Towns. Regis began pacing to keep his head from spinning at the sheer number of tasks. He should arrange for more help in the management of Comyn Castle, but subtly, so that Javanne would not take it as a criticism.
Linnea rose in his memory, and his heart ached. If things had gone otherwise, if he had not made such a botch of the marriage proposal, she would be here, relieving Javanne as Castle chatelaine. It could not be helped; no amount of self-recrimination would change the past.
All the smiths in Zandru’s Forge cannot put a hatched chick back into its egg.
What was taking Danilo so long?
And Rinaldo . . .Regis could not leave his brother alone and unguided in the treacherous maze of Castle and city. He must carve out time to continue getting to know his brother, helping him to find his place. The first thing was to have Rinaldo recognized as a legitimate son of their father. In the old times, this would have been a matter for the Comyn Council, but that body no longer existed. The Cortes? The Telepath Council? A simple written declaration?
Danilo halted at the library door and bowed. “Vai dom.”
Regis strode over to his grandfather’s desk, now hisas well, and sat down. “Close the door.”
Danilo held out his hands. Regis, in a spasm of inexpressible relief, took them. Danilo’s fingers felt warm, so his own must be half-frozen.
“It will be hard at first,” Danilo said softly, “adjusting to new arrangements, but that cannot change how I feel, what I want . . . You are the lord of my heart as well as of my sword. Nothing can take that away from us.”
Although he had heard these words before and had spoken them in his own turn, Regis could not respond aloud. He did not need to. A pulse of wordless understanding gathered them both. Regis felt his heart grow calmer.
“Meanwhile, I have need of my paxman, my friend and advisor.”
Danilo gestured theatrically. “He stands before you.”
“Then we had best get to work.” Regis outlined his thoughts on the duties ahead of him. Danilo nodded, making suggestions about what must be attended to first and what could be easily put off.
“No one will expect you to pick up where old Lord Hastur left off,” Danilo observed. “People will understand. They’ll give you time to find your feet.”