Rinaldo bade the messenger convey his congratulations to the new parents. Then he returned to the letter he had been contemplating before the interruption. His smile faded, and the creases between his brows deepened.
As the silence wore on, Danilo’s curiosity stirred. “My lord . . . ?”
Rinaldo looked up, his frown shifting towards annoyance.
“My lord, is there something I might help you with? A matter in which my experience might be of use?”
“I hardly think that is the case here.” Rinaldo pushed the paper away. “I suppose it is difficult to change beliefs people have clung to for so many centuries. I am speaking, you understand, of achieving full acceptance of the cristofororeligion throughout the Domains.”
“In matters of faith, I believe change comes slowly,” Danilo said in an encouraging tone. “People tend to stay with what they were taught as children.”
Rinaldo’s face tightened again. “I cannot wait a generation! Who knows how many souls may be lost? This prejudice against the true faith is intolerable!”
“There are more chapels in Thendara than ever before,” Danilo reminded him. “Surely, given time, the people will come to accept—”
“The common people, but not the Comyn! My own caste, the very men who should be leading this glorious battle, cling to the accursed superstitions of the past! What will it take to make them see that idolatrous worship of Aldones and the rest leads to damnation?”
Danilo flinched at Rinaldo’s ferocity. He could not believe that Regis or Lew Alton or any of the other Comyn who faithfully followed the practices of his ancestors, these decent, honorable men, must necessarily face eternal torture. Before he could think of a suitably nonconfrontational comment, he heard an angry voice outside the door, followed by a barrage of sharp raps.
“Out of my way, lout! I will not be put off again!”
The door flew open, and Valdir Ridenow strode in. He was richly attired in the green of his Domain trimmed in gold thread, and his face was flushed.
Drawing his sword, Danilo stepped between Valdir and Rinaldo. The steel sang softly as it came free. A feral smile warmed his lips. Very few things would have pleased him more than an excuse to plunge the blade into Valdir’s heart.
Valdir halted, quickly composing himself. Danilo held his position; it was for Rinaldo to command him to attack or to stand down.
Rinaldo waited another moment before speaking. “Danilo, lower your sword. While I appreciate your enthusiasm, I hardly think such a worthy man as DomValdir has come here with the express intent to assault me.”
“As you wish, vai dom.” Without taking his eyes off Valdir, Danilo replaced his blade in its scabbard. “I beg you to remember that Hasturs have been targets for assassins before this.”
He had killed his share of them, defending Regis.
“It seems,” Valdir said, attempting levity, “your tame paxman may not be so tame after all.”
“I take my oath seriously.” Danilo met Valdir’s eyes.
Valdir glared back, as if to say, You were my prisoner once, your life in my hands . . . and can become so again.
“Enough of this!” Rinaldo’s irritation returned in full force. “What do you want, Valdir? I already told your man that I have no time for foolishness.”
“The future of Darkover in the Federation is hardly foolishness. Now dismiss your paxman so we may discuss the matter freely.” Valdir moved toward the larger of the two chairs.
“Sit down if you wish,” Rinaldo said tightly, “but I have no intention of wasting my time on affairs that do not immediately concern Darkover . . . with my paxman present or without him.”
Valdir did not take a seat. He halted, poised on the balls of his feet. In that moment, he became far more dangerous. Any trained fighter, any experienced politician—in short, any Comyn—would have recognized the threat. Apparently Rinaldo did not, for he reached for the paper and began reading it again.
“I cannot force the Hastur Domain to act,” Valdir began, in clear control of himself.
“No,” Rinaldo glanced up, “you cannot. Unless you propose to overthrow your precious tradition and place another Domain in ascendancy or find someone to crown as king, you have no power.”
“I do.”
The man was not bluffing. Danilo had seen enough blustering to know the difference. So, apparently, had Rinaldo.
Valdir let the moment stretch out. “I see we understand one another, Lord Hastur. I cannot remove you from the position I have placed you in, and I doubt that taking your lady wife under my . . . protectionwill make any difference to you. Oh, do not look so innocent! You know very well how such things are done—and so does he,” meaning Danilo.
“You no longer have the power to advance your pet project,” Rinaldo sneered, “and hence must come begging to me like an abandoned cur. I told you before that membership in the Federation is of little consequence compared to the salvation—”
“But these are not my only options. I can convene what is left of the Comyn Council. I can move that each Domain may act as an independent polity unfettered by any previous accord. If, for example, Ridenow wished to join the Federation, we would be free to do so.”
Blood drained from Danilo’s face.
“Go ahead, then!” Rinaldo snarled. “You cannot coerce me into acting against my conscience!”
“Pardon my intrusion,” Danilo kept his face toward Rinaldo, whose ignorance of the implications was appalling. “My lord, how would the Federation respond if only someof the Domains applied for membership and others remained opposed?”
“Why, they could do nothing,” was the reply, delivered in a careless tone. “How could the Federation accept only partof a planet? For that matter, even if all seven Domains wished it, should we exclude the Dry Towns?” Rinaldo snorted in ridicule. “Why not consult the trailmen, as well? Or the kyrri?” referring to two of the nonhuman races on Darkover. “Or the chieri,assuming any still exist?”
Danilo pressed his lips together to keep from bursting out with the truth. The Federation would jump at the chance to declare the Darkovan government a failed state. They would send military forces to “restore order.” Lew Alton had reported on more than one such instance elsewhere, always when intervention was in the best economic interest of the Expansionist Party.
The danger ran deeper than occupation by an interstellar army, dreadful as that might be. Without the Compact, the Council, and the ancient ties of interdependence, there was nothing to stop one Domain from declaring war on another. The armies of Aldaran had marched on Thendara within Danilo’s own memory. Every Comyn was taught from childhood about the horrors of the past, incessant warfare when laranweapons poisoned water and land, and clingfirerained from the skies.
Did Valdir mean to bring about a second Age of Chaos?
Danilo turned to face Valdir, praying his voice would not shake. “You are an educated man, my lord, well versed in history. Do you recall what happened the last time Hastur and Ridenow went to war?”
Valdir paled minutely. If Rinaldo did not appreciate the lessons from that terrible conflict, then Valdir certainly did.
Something shifted in Valdir’s demeanor. There was no lessening of determination, only a drawing back from words that could not be unsaid . . . and a tinge of consternation. Was he now regretting his alliance with the man he once considered a pliant and useful tool?
“I have taken up enough of your valuable time, Lord Hastur.” Valdir bowed, his features carefully masked. “Perhaps we might continue this conversation at a time when you are more disposed to give it your full consideration.”
“Perhaps,” Rinaldo murmured, “although I cannot tell when that might be.”