“Whatever else he may be,” Danilo said, “Lord Hastur is a good man. He has spent most of his life as a cristoforomonk, dedicated to a virtuous life. Did they tell you that, as well?”
She shook her head, and he wondered if she had indeed been told but had not understood. He explained, in the broadest terms, the principles of that faith. Rinaldo’s constant reminders and regular chapel attendance had sharpened his memory.
The conversation continued through the dinner hour. For the first time, Bettany seemed to be genuinely interested in something besides herself. Perhaps she was relieved or simply attracted to the idea of a husband who was not only rich and powerful but romantically mysterious as well. At least, she was now minimally familiar with the tenets of her husband’s faith.
Danilo escorted Bettany up the stairs to the room she shared with one of the Renunciates.
“What I said about my promised husband,” she said, “I did not mean it. I was told those things out of spite. Theywanted me to believe that he could never love me or give me a child. If what you say is true—if the Lord of All Worlds and His saints work miracles for the faithful—then who is to say we will not be blessed as well? Surely, there can be no more devout follower than my husband.”
Leaving Danilo speechless, the girl shut the door behind her.
24
As the party neared Thendara, the weather worsened. Clouds blanketed the sun. Both humans and animals breathed out streams of vapor, and ice formed on skin and clothing. Sleet poured down as they crested the pass through the Venza Hills. The horses plodded on, heads lowered and tails clamped to their rumps. There was no shelter along this stretch of the road, and the winds cut through the hills like razor- edged knives. Darilyn, her face pale and set, shouted to keep together and keep moving. Danilo admired her ability to keep everyone organized.
They arrived in Thendara late, as the quick hush of nightfall settled over the city. They were all thoroughly drenched and aching with cold. Bettany’s lips had turned blue. She was shivering visibly.
Darilyn sent one of her women ahead to alert the Castle. When they clattered into the courtyard, lanterns were already lit and the cobblestones swept clear of snow. Servants waited in the sheltered alcoves of the doors with blankets in hand.
Within the Castle itself, Javanne Hastur and a handful of maids waited to take Bettany in hand. Javanne stripped off the girl’s sodden cloak and wrapped her in a thick shawl.
“Where is her waiting-woman? Has she no kinswoman to attend her?” Javanne demanded of Danilo, as if this lapse of propriety were his fault.
He hesitated to blurt out the truth in front of the girl, that she had been thrust into an unseasonable journey among strangers, without even that small comfort. Javanne pressed her lips together, her posture expressing her opinion, and bustled the girl away.
The Renunciates had finished offloading what did not belong to them and were ready to leave. Danilo offered them a hot meal from the Castle kitchens, but they refused. They looked weary, yet anxious to be back in their own Guild House.
Darilyn and Danilo stood in the lee of the outer wall as he counted out the rest of the fee, adding a generous bonus from his own purse. Instead of taking her leave, Darilyn lingered.
“Is anything amiss?” Danilo asked. He was distracted by the business of their arrival and the safe disposal of Bettany’s dowry, so that he was not blocking telepathic contact the way he normally did. She was unsure but not alarmed.
“You are—you were paxman to DomRegis Hastur?”
Pain welled, but only a small pulse, quickly fading in the thought: Was and still am, in my heart.Nothing could change that, not all of Rinaldo’s fiery words or the gods themselves.
Darilyn said, “I hear he is lately married to Lady Linnea Storn.”
“Yes, that is true.” Why would the affairs of the Comyn concern a Renunciate? Given Darilyn’s touch of laranand red-tinted hair, could she and Linnea be distant kinswomen? Throughout the Domains, the illegitimate offspring of Comyn lords often had some degree of psychic talent.
“Would you convey my wishes for her happiness?” Darilyn’s usually brusque manner softened. “I met her years ago, you see, when she was Keeper at Arilinn. My freemate and I sought her out when there was no one else we could turn to for help. She was gracious to us when there was no obligation. She accepted us, accepted mefor what I am. I have never forgotten that kindness.”
How like Linnea to have seen past the cropped hair, the mannish clothing, and the surgical mutilation to the heart of the woman. There was nothing mean spirited or prideful in Linnea. She would not judge Darilyn for her choices . . . or Regis for his.
“I cannot say when I will next have the opportunity, but I will speak to the lady and give her your greetings.” Danilo bowed in informal salute.
With a whisper of a smile, Darilyn returned to her sisters.
While Danilo was fetching Bettany to Thendara, arrangements for the marriage had been made. The ceremony took place only a tenday later, with barely enough time to sew the wedding clothes.
The intervening time went by in a cascade of autumnal storms, one upon the heels of the next. Ice-edged rain battered the city, sending even the hardiest folk scurrying for shelter. The damp chill penetrated stone and wooden walls alike. Winds swirled through the streets and the courtyards of the Castle. In the brief respites between gusts, common people emerged to rush through the most essential tasks. Street vendors set up their wares with desperate speed and as quickly took them down. On corners and outside taverns, men in ragged cloaks gathered to exchange dire prophecies about the winter to come.
At last, on a particularly blustery day, the waiting came to an end. Danilo’s temper was thoroughly frayed, and he wanted the wretched affair to be over; Rinaldo had kept him running between Gabriel, who was in charge of the security arrangements, Javanne and the Castle coridom,who were in charge of decorations and food, the musicians, the priest who was to perform the cristoforoportion of the ceremony, and almost daily errands to Tiphani Lawton. Danilo had scarcely had a moment to himself, let along to deliver Darilyn’s message to Linnea or find a way of letting Regis know, by look or thought, of his desire for a reconciliation. He had scarcely seen Bettany, for she had kept to her rooms, refusing to see anyone but a bevy of dressmakers and jewelers.
Javanne had taken it upon herself to supervise the bride’s gown and attendants. Everything would be in impeccable taste, but Danilo could not imagine Javanne as a sympathetic friend.
Danilo wondered if Linnea might be able to help Bettany. If anyone could heal the psychic wounds caused by the Ghost Wind, it was a trained leronis. Try as he might, however, Danilo could not think of a way of suggesting it that would not immediately meet with Rinaldo’s refusal.
Rinaldo had wanted the wedding to take place in the Crystal Chamber, but Valdir had convinced him of the impropriety of admitting commoners to a place traditionally reserved for Comyn. Therefore, a smaller but no less stately venue was selected, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom. Paneled in rich dark wood with southern-facing windows, ample wall sconces now filled with beeswax candles, and a fireplace capable of warming the entire chamber, the place was suitable for even a royal marriage. Javanne had outdone herself with garlands of hothouse flowers, tied with ribbons in Hastur blue and white. The honey-sweet smell of the candles mingled with the perfume of the flowers.