“But not all ways, is that your meaning, brother?” Rinaldo smiled as Regis nodded. “Yes, yes, that makes sense. If I am to take my place in Comyn society, I must not remain ignorant of the issues that divide us.”
“I cannot tell you how happy I am to hear you say that,” Regis replied. “On the surface, the Federation offer of membership is tempting. When you understand the cost to our culture, our independence, even the ecology of our planet, things look very different.”
“That is a simplistic way of putting it,” Rinaldo said.
“I am sorry to interrupt what must be a long, involved conversation,” Javanne said, “but I really must get to work. There is a great deal to do, cleaning up after the ball in addition to the normal daily housekeeping.”
Regis rose. “Please, do not let us keep you. Your work is deeply appreciated.”
Javanne gathered up her daughter and swept from the room. Mikhail remained behind, very much on his best behavior, perhaps hoping to escape any suggestion that he might assist his mother.
Regis turned back to Rinaldo. “So you would learn more of the Terran Federation situation?”
“I must begin by becoming acquainted with these Terrans themselves. The Holy St. Christopher bears the burdens of all who pray to him, regardless of their worldly allegiances. Do you not try to see these star travelers as fellow creatures, with their gifts and sorrows, rather than as a single nameless adversary?”
Regis nodded. All too many tragedies might have been prevented, had the parties thought as his brother did. He proposed a visit to the Federation Legate and a tour of the Terran Zone. Rinaldo was openly delighted with the prospect, as was Mikhail with being asked to accompany them.
14
Regis strolled beside his brother through the Trade City, which lay between the older part of Thendara and the Terran Zone. Mikhail followed half a pace behind, serious with the weight of his new responsibility. Since Regis had decided against summoning Danilo or a pair of the Castle Guards to accompany them, Mikhail had taken it upon himself to protect his two uncles from any possible harm. Regis suspected that if there were any danger he and Mikhail could not handle together, the addition of two or even twenty swordsmen would make no difference. The Terran authorities did all they could to prevent the illegal sale of blasters and other Compact-banned weapons, but it was still possible to obtain them on permit.
Regis did not want his brother’s experience of Thendara, both the Darkovan and Terran portions, to be one of constant vigilance against real and imagined threats. He himself had spent too much of his life either a prisoner in a gilded cage or looking over his shoulder to see who might be hunting him. His fears were not all paranoid imagination. The World Wreckers assassins had threatened him on at least seven occasions and had succeeded in killing half a dozen Comyn . . . and, Aldones help him, two of his nedestrochildren.
Now, as Regis remembered the loss of those two babes, slaughtered in their cradles, he felt renewed grief. He had not thought of them in years, had never really known them. Their mothers had been young women of good birth, eager for the honor of bearing a child to a Hastur lord. Nonetheless, he had mourned their passing and still did.
And Kierestelli, would he ever know her, watch her grow to womanhood, share her dreams?The sense of loss shifted, now something far more chilling, something akin to prescience.
Danger . . . a child in danger . . . Stelli? Some other child?The impression slipped away like snowmelt.
“Regis? Is something the matter?” Rinaldo peered at him anxiously.
Regis felt himself once again standing in a street lined with houses and shops in Terran-style architecture. They were only a short distance from the Terran checkpoint.
“A stray worry, nothing more.” Regis followed Rinaldo and Mikhail to a planter filled with summer blooms, surrounded with benches for the ease of travelers enjoying the miniature garden. It was a Terran innovation he found particularly pleasing.
Regis sat down and inhaled the sweet, moist scents. Mikhail bent over him, clearly anxious. A crease formed between his fair brows.
“Let me summon Uncle Danilo,” Mikhail said. “Or get you some jacoor Terran coffee. I saw a shop a couple of blocks back.”
“I’m all right, just a little troubled in spirit. It’s hereditary with us Hasturs. I don’t like coffee, but jacowould be welcome. And some for you, as well, Rinaldo?”
Rinaldo shook his head as Mikhail hurried off. “He’s a good lad.”
“That he is.”
“But he should not refer to your paxman in such an intimate way. It is not respectful.”
Regis made a dismissive gesture. “Mikhail has known Danilo since he was a small child. We do not stand upon ceremony among such close friends.”
“But DomSyrtis is not, after all, a member of your family.” Rinaldo inflected the words to invite agreement that Danilo was no more to Regis than a bodyguard.
Regis felt his spine stiffen instinctively. He could not allow that comment to go unanswered. “Danilo and I have been pledged to one another, as bredhinand as lord and paxman, since we were cadets.” His voice sounded rusty to his own ears. “Our father and his older brother also swore such a vow. Rafael Syrtis died trying to save our father’s life, and they are buried together in the Field of Kilghairlie. Danilo and I are bound by blood, by honor, and more than that—”
Just then, Mikhail appeared at the end of the street, carrying two cheap mugs, the sort one could buy for a few reisat a cook shop.
Uncle Regis?came the boy’s tentative mental touch. What happened?
Leave it,chiyu . It has nothing to do with you.
They finished their jacoand proceeded to the Terran Headquarters. Mikhail did his best to keep up a lively chatter, pointing out various shops. The Spaceforce guards at the checkpoint recognized Regis and admitted his party without question.
By the time they reached the Headquarters building, a rectangular tower of steel and glass instead of Darkovan stone, Regis had wrestled himself into a better mood. Security had been increased since his last visit, doubtless as a result of the volatile debate regarding Federation membership. The Terran guards looked humorless to the point of belligerence. They were armed with nerve guns as well as blasters. Even Regis, as Lord Hastur, was not allowed entry without an escort.
The Legate was not in his office, but after a wait and a number of radio communications back and forth, a Spaceforce officer accompanied Regis and his party to the Lawton family living quarters. Regis had never seen where his friend lived. It must be strange to sleep, eat, and work all within the same walls, bathed in the unrelenting yellow light and breathing the tasteless reconditioned air. The floor, a slick synthetic material, felt as unyielding as granite, unlike the carpet Javanne had installed in the Castle, a touch of living green.
The Headquarters tower was almost as confusing as the Castle, although less labyrinthine. There were no stone cul-de-sacs, no blind corners or hidden doors. They proceeded upward in a series of interconnecting elevators. Such devices, Regis supposed, were necessary for a structure twenty or thirty floors high, but that did not make him enjoy riding in one. Mikhail did his best to disguise his delight, and Rinaldo was openly filled with wonder.
“Such marvels!” he murmured as they emerged into a hallway bounded by an immense glass window that gave a view of half the city. “Such grandeur!”
“I’ll tell Dan Lawton you’re impressed,” Regis said with a humorous lilt. “He’ll be pleased to hear it.”
They reached a doorway, and the officer stood to one side. The door looked like any of the many they’d passed, distinguished only by a small plaque bearing the occupant’s name. A small copper charm had been affixed to the wall. Regis noticed it, since that metal was rare and expensive on Darkover, but thought nothing more of it. Rinaldo, however, bent to examine it with an exclamation of unaffected delight.