“I’ve got a pulse!” The man kneeling on the other side of Felix looked up with an expression of astonishment.

Felix groaned and feebly lifted one arm.

“Lie still, son,” the commander said. “Help’s on the way.”

“Sir? What about this one?” asked one of the men holding Regis.

“Let him go,” the commander answered, his voice thick. “He’s not with—Sweet heavens, it’s Lord Hastur.” He got to his feet, brisk and efficient, and confronted Regis. “What in blazes are youdoing here?”

Regis glared back. Outrage flared, fueling his words. “Trying to rescue these children. Which I would have done without bloodshed if you had not come barging in. You are in direct violation of the Compact and, need I add, of Federation policy.”

“You savages! Do you think you can kidnap the Legate’s son, a Federation citizen, with impunity? That we would sit back and do nothing? It’s a miracle the kid’s still alive!” And he still might not make it.

Shaking off the grip of the two Spaceforce men, Regis drew himself up. He had not contradicted the commander’s use of the title, Lord Hastur. It was time he took back those responsibilities as well.

“There will be consequences,” Regis promised, “to the ones responsible for this outrage. But your presence here, your disregard for local sovereignty is not only illegal but inflammatory. It will be seen as an act of aggression, an abrogation of all we have worked to achieve between our two worlds.”

“When the safety of a Federation citizen is at risk, we have the right—”

“You have the right to ask Darkovan authorities for assistance, but you do nothave the right to single- handedly start a war! Is that what you want? Have you forgotten recent history? Do you think we are such backward savages,” Regis deliberately echoed the words of the Spaceforce man, “that we have no means to defend ourselves? Have you so quickly blotted out how the spaceport at Caer Donn was destroyed?”

The commander blanched.

“I will see to it those Darkovans responsible for this tragedy are held accountable,” Regis continued, more quietly now. “What you must do is remove your men and their weapons as quickly as possible.”

Just then, a trio in the uniforms of the Terran Medical Corps pelted into the foyer. Regis had no idea how they had arrived so fast. The commander directed them first to Felix, then to the other wounded. They set about examining the boy with their instruments. Regis did not understand a fraction of what they did, only that they meant to stabilize him for transport.

“He’s a lucky kid,” the head medic told the commander. His gaze flickered to Regis in his gore-stained shirt. He added in Terran Standard, “What about that one? He looks like one of the local aristocrats.”

“It’s not my blood,” Regis answered in the same language.

A few minutes later, the medics had brought in a rigid carrier for Felix and secured him to it. Regis approached the head medic. “Tell Dan—” his voice caught, then held firm, “tell the Legate how very sorry I am.”

“Nothing—to be sorry—” Felix stumbled, before the medics maneuvered his carrier through the doors.

“And these?” The commander indicated Haldred and his two comrades. One of them was still alive, huddled on the floor while a medic applied an anesthetic spray.

“If you’re willing to treat him, it would be seen as a gesture of goodwill,” Regis conceded. “As for him,” with a nod toward Haldred’s corpse, “I’ll inform his family.”

“With your permission, I’ll transport the bodies back to HQ. This will require an internal investigation. We will treat the remains with respect, and the families can claim them as soon as the forensic reports are done.”

Regis was in no mood to dispute such a sound plan.

With practiced efficiency, the Spaceforce team took charge of the wounded and the dead. Regis turned to the priest and issued a string of orders regarding the children. The cristoforo,visibly shaken by the turn of events, obeyed meekly. Soon nothing remained of the fight except bloodstains and the reek of charred flesh.

The Terran commander paused at the outer door. “I’m taking a big risk in trusting you to keep your word. How do I know you’ll punish those responsible? That you won’t exonerate them because they’re your own people?”

Regis glared at the man. “I have said it. I am Hastur.”

There it was, his word an unbreakable promise. It was a burden he would bear for all his days.

Something in his tone, his bearing, or perhaps his eyes, reached the Terran. The commander lowered his own gaze, nodded, and retreated back into the street.

Regis held out his hand to Ariel. She stared at him, eyes white-rimmed, mouth set in a tight line. Slowly she slipped her chill fingers into his. Now that the last traces of power had drained from him, Regis felt lightheaded, as if his bones belonged to someone else. He could not rest, not yet.

He lifted his gaze to the waiting children. “Come, little ones. It’s time to go home.”

33

They looked like a bunch of refugees, some of the children barefoot, others wrapped in oversized cloaks from the storerooms. Regis had worried about how the younger ones were going to walk all the way back to the Castle, but before long, he was able to hail a wagon half-filled with bales of unspun wool. The driver, an elderly, leather-skinned man, said it was no burden to his team to carry such little ones. He lifted the children one by one to perch on the soft bales. The younger ones giggled, as if this were a fine adventure. Ariel huddled beside Regis, clutching his hand.

When they arrived at the Castle gates, Regis dispatched a Guardsman to fetch Javanne. He dared not trust anyone else with the children, for fear of turning them over to Rinaldo’s agents.

A few minutes later, when the children were still clambering down from the wagon and thanking the driver, Javanne burst through the gate. Gabriel followed close behind. Ariel gave a piercing cry. Regis lifted the girl from the wagon and into her mother’s arms. Javanne pressed her daughter close, rocking her with exclamations of relief.

Gabriel caught Regis in a kinsman’s embrace. “You did it! I truly did not believe you could—but you freed them!”

“All is not well,” Regis said somberly. “The Legate’s son is badly injured and Haldred Ridenow—I’m afraid he’s dead. And a couple of other men, I don’t know their names.”

“Zandru’s demons! What happened?” Gabriel fixed on the blood-stained shirt. “Are you hurt?”

Shaking his head, Regis glanced toward the children, now clustered around Javanne. She’d put Ariel down and was herding the others together, clucking over their thinness and pallor like a mother barnfowl.

“Spaceforce sent a rescue party,” Regis lowered his voice. “They were armed with blasters. As you can imagine, the result was some nasty fighting. I’ll tell you more later. For now, we need to notify the families, and I must deal with my brother.”

“He’s in council with Lord Valdir and half a dozen others.”

Leave it to Gabriel, even when relieved of his command, to know the inner workings of the Castle.

“I can’t waste any time,” Regis said. “For all I know, Rinaldo’s already gotten word of what happened. Gabriel, I need your help.”

“You’ve got it. Regis . . . there will be Nine Hells to pay. You and I both know it.”

“That’s why this madness has to stop now, whatever it takes, before any more men die. Before we reach the point of no return with the Federation. Before there is too much anger, too much bloodshed, too much reason for retaliation.”

“Aye, that’s true,” Gabriel muttered. “Once the Terrananimpose martial law, they’ll never let go. We’ll become little more than a heavily armed spaceport.”

Once given a task, and with Ariel firmly in hand, Javanne regained her composure. She rattled off orders to a stream of servants. Within the hour, the children would be restored to their families. Knowing her, they would first be fed and properly clothed.