Was thatwhat Valdir wanted? Or did he simply not see the logical progression of consequences?

Wishing he could be anywhere but in that suddenly hostile chamber, Regis conceded that Rinaldo had been right. He had been a very unworldly, optimistic person after all.

Regis could see only one way of avoiding the destruction of the world he loved. “ Vai comyn,these are indeed unpredictable times, and as DomValdir has so eloquently pointed out, change breeds uncertainty. We must look to our strengths for guidance and stability: our connections with one another and with the past, our unique Gifts, our love for this world and its people. Now more than ever, Darkover needs all our leaders.”

“No one questions your qualifications, Lord Hastur,” said the Castamir lord. Others nodded agreement, Ruyven among them.

“I have called you here out of respect for our ancient traditions. Set your minds at rest, I have no intention of relinquishing my responsibilities as Head of my Domain. Honor demands no less. As has been pointed out, we are not so many that we can afford to exclude one who has so much to contribute. For this reason, I ask for your approval of full Comyn rights for my brother as a member of Hastur.”

“There is ample precedent for a younger son to hold a Domain,” Danilo said, looking pointedly at Valdir.

“Yes, that is true,” the Monterey lord agreed in a quavering voice. “Lord Regis Hastur has already been recognized as Head of his Domain. The legitimacy of his brother, whose attributes, however worthy of a devotional life, hardly qualify him to administer a Domain, does not alter that fact. Of course, if DomRegis himself were to abdicate, that would be an entirely different matter. Or if Rinaldo were to marry and produce a male heir, which is . . . ah, unlikely . . . the legal precedents . . . ah, yes. But neither of these situations pertains.”

“Put that way, I see no reason to object,” Ruyven said. “It seems to me as good a compromise as any. DomRegis will retain the position he already holds, and Hastur will gain another member, but one out of the line of succession.”

“Aye . . .” Murmurs of agreement filled the room. Some, including Lady Marilla, looked frankly relieved. Valdir held back, his expression unreadable. To Regis, he did not have the air of a man entirely pleased with the outcome. He’d wanted Regis out of the way, that much was clear, and now he had not one but two Hasturs to contend with.

Valdir was too crafty to let any trace of disappointment show. As everyone rose to leave, he congratulated Regis on a matter well handled and then spoke to Rinaldo, but for somewhat longer than courtesy required.

When, at last, the socializing came to an end, Regis felt thoroughly wrung out, like an old rag that had been used too many times and left soggy all winter. The last time he had used such an object was in his time as a cadet. Danilo, he recalled, had been far more adept at scrubbing stone floors.

Danilo . . .

There he was, standing just outside the door. Regis yearned for a private moment, to feel the strength of his bredhyu,that sense of acceptance deeper than words. Of all the men in Thendara, none would understand better than Danilo what Regis had done, the price he had paid. The corridor was far too public for any semblance of intimacy, however, and Rinaldo was waiting, overflowing with excitement, wanting to discuss every detail of the meeting. Regis had only a moment to meet Danilo’s dark, compassionate gaze.

13

Summer descended on Thendara, and lengthening days brightened the city. The social season enjoyed a brief, frenzied renewal with the ball held in Rinaldo’s honor. Almost every dignitary in Thendara attended, those few from major Comyn houses and any minor nobility who could be found, wealthy commoners, and a good portion of the Telepath Council. Only the Terrans were lacking; Dan Lawton had been invited, but he had declined. Regis was not entirely sure why, but he sensed some continuing family difficulty.

As the evening approached, Regis found himself uneasy, although he rejoiced in the evident pleasure of his brother. He had never felt comfortable in large assemblies. Since his first entry into society, people had stared at him, openly or covertly, out of curiosity or envy. He felt himself measured against his grandfather and the lineage of great Hastur leaders, against the prowess of the other cadets, against the stories that sprang up wherever he went. He hated the whispers and insinuations, but worst of all was the adulation. How could one man live up to everything they said he had done?

As Regis moved through the glittering crowd in the main ballroom of Comyn Castle, he was not sure whether the shift of public interest from himself to Rinaldo was a good thing. Mostly, he felt a sense of relief at not being the sole object of gossip.

Danilo shadowed him, discreet as usual, the exemplary paxman.

Despite the lively music and air of festivity, Regis danced little and only with his sister. Javanne loved to dance and had few opportunities. She had grown up in a generation when it was improper for a woman to dance with any man not a kinsman or husband. This night, Gabriel had been called away at the last minute to sort out a disturbance in the Trade City. Regis did not want Javanne to be too disappointed. If Linnea had been there, he would have asked her as well, but she was not.

Although he did not dance, Rinaldo took great apparent delight in watching. His eyes followed the ladies gliding through the patterned steps. Not indifferent, indeed,Regis thought. It was a shame that as a novice and then a monk, his brother had never learned to dance. The old Darkovan proverb went, “Only men laugh, only men weep, only men dance.”During his three years of study at Nevarsin, Regis had returned home for Midsummer and Midwinter Festivals, so he had never thought about how the monks might celebrate. He stood at Rinaldo’s side, watching two of the cadet officers begin the Hellers Sword Dance. Rinaldo, who had been smiling and tapping one foot in time to the music, stiffened.

“Is something amiss, brother?” Regis asked. “All this elegance must be a bit bewildering to you.”

Rinaldo looked abashed, but did not lower his gaze. “The evening was enjoyable enough, until . . .” His gaze flickered to the two cadets, now dancing very close to one another, leaping and twirling with such precision that they seemed to be one being.

“The Sword Dance is a bit barbaric, I admit,” Regis said, “but it is very old, from the deep Hellers, and traditional at Comyn gatherings. When I was young, Dyan Ardais was famous for his performance. Rest assured, the swords are not used as weapons; if anyone gets hurt, it is from overexertion and muscle strain.”

“The swords do not offend me.”

“What then?” Regis wondered at the use of the word offend.

Rinaldo inclined his head toward Regis, so that they could not be easily overheard. “It is indecent for two men to—to comport themselves in such an unseemly fashion.”

What, dancing together?Even as Regis thought this, the two dancers came together for one of the complicated duet figures, arms flung over one another’s shoulders, each in turn using the other for balance and support during the increasingly wild acrobatics. Both men were breathing hard, their faces flushed and gleaming with sweat, their eyes alight with savage joy as they threw themselves into the stylized martial movements. From their excitement, the intensity of their awareness of one another, and the closeness of their bodies, they might almost be lovers . . .

“They are not—” Regis began. “And even if they were, that is hardly indecent.This is Thendara, not St. Valentine’s.”