Marion Bradley - The Sword of Aldones

I broke there, unable to say another word, and slumped into a chair, hiding my face on my arm. Callina came swiftly to me, kneeling, her arms around my bent shoulders. “I know, Lew. I know.”

I jerked away from her touch. “You know! Thank your Gods you don’t know!” I said savagely. Then, gripped in the fist of memory, I let my head fall forward on her breast. She did know. She had tried to save us both. Marjorie had died in her arms. “Yes,” I muttered, “you know the rest.”

My head was throbbing, and I could feel the echoing throb-throb of her heart through the soft silk of her dress. Her hair was like the dust of flowers against my face. I raised my good hand to clasp her soft fingers in mine.

She threw back her head and looked at me.

“We’re alone with this, Lew. Hastur’s bound by Compact to obey the council. Derik’s an imbecile, and Regis is only a boy. The Ridenow, the Ardais — they want anything that will keep them in power; they’d sell out to Sharra themselves if they thought they could do it safely! You’re powerless alone. And I—” her mouth worked, but no sound came.

Finally she said, “I’m a Keeper, and I could hold all the power of Ashara if I would. Ashara would give me strength enough to rule the whole council if I would let her, but I — I won’t be a puppet, Lew, I don’t want to be only her pawn! I won’t! The council pulling me one way, Ashara the other. Beltran couldn’t be worse!”

We were clinging together like children frightened by the darkness. She was soft in my arms. I tightened my clasp on her; then her half-breathed protest went lax in the middle of a kiss. She made no resistance when I lifted her to her feet and drew back her head beneath my own.

Outside the last red trace of the sun dropped behind Nevarsin Peak and the stars began to wink in the denuded sky.

At the height of Comyn power, centuries ago, the Crystal Chamber must have seemed small for all those who could claim blood-right in the hierarchy. An even blue light spilled diffused radiance over the glass walls; green, scarlet, golden flashes struck through. At noon it was like dwelling in a rainbow’s heart; at night it seemed to hang high and alone, buffeted on the winds of space.

Here I had first been presented to the Comyn, a boy of five, too big-boned and dark for a true Comyn child; young as I had been, I remembered the debates, and old Duvic Elhalyn shouting, “Kennard Alton, you waste our time and insult this holy place bringing your half-caste bastard into Council!”

And I could see in memory my father turning savagely to lift me high above them, in full sight of the Comyn. “ Look at the boy, and eat those words!” And the old Lord had eaten them. No one ever defied my father twice. Much good his raging had done. Half-caste I was, bastard I remained, alien I was and would be; as much as that small boy who had sat for hours, fidgeting through the long ceremonials he did not understand, arm aching from the touch of the matrix that had set its pattern in the flesh to seal his Comyn. I glanced impassively at my wrist. I still had the mark. About three inches above where they had had to take off my hand.

“What are you brooding about?” Derik demanded.

“Sorry. Did you ask me something? I was thinking about my first council. There were more of us then.”

Derik laughed. “Then it’s high time you began raising sons to follow you, laggard!”

The thought was not unpleasant. My own estates, fertile green valleys in the uplands around Daillon, were waiting for me. I glanced at Callina; she sat beside Linnell, the two snuggled together in a great chair that would have held half a dozen girls their size. Derik went over to them and stood talking to Linnell. She looked happy, and the prince’s shallow handsome face seemed lighted from within. Not really stupid, Derik; only dull.

Not good enough for Linnell. But she loved him.

Dio Ridenow caught my eyes, then lowered her own with a resentful flush. Dyan Ardais came through the prism door, and I frowned suspiciously. Dyan, and Dyan alone, had known I had the Sharra matrix. Marius, while I was away, had been nothing more than a lonely boy, despised by the Comyn for his alien blood, powerless. I, alone, was powerless and maimed. But together we formed a powerful threat to his ambition.

Kadarin’s attempt on my life was a personal feud, and he had fairly filed his intentions. The trailmen would always steal. But would they risk killing an Alton, even by accident? Reprisals for such things were swift and terrible — or had been when the Comyn was worthy of the name. With swift decision, I reached out and made contact with Dyan’s mind. He scowled and raised his head, locking barriers against me; and I did not take up the challenge. Not yet.

Hastur was calling us to order. This was a formality, of course; a gesture toward appeasing those who had been absent or ill. Ostensibly, since this closing ceremony of Comyn could not be held unless everyone who held laran rights in the Comyn were present, no member could complain that he had no chance to be heard. In theory I could keep them there as long as I chose — I, or any dissatisfied member — simply by refusing my assent to close the session. But in fact, any triviality, and small time-consuming matter, would be brought up and argued at length; anything to keep me from getting a chance to speak. Until time, or weariness, brought the session to an end and silenced me on those issues forever. Once the council was closed, I was bound by Comyn law and many oaths to contest the issues no further. I’d seen the blocking technique used before.

The triviality was not long in coming. Lerrys Ridenow arose and glared belligerently around the room, and Hastur Stretched his baton to Lerrys, ignoring roe.

“Comyn, I have a personal complaint—”

I saw Dio’s hands knot into small fists. Would Lerrys really drag that affair out in Comyn council, or demand satisfaction from me at this late date and on another planet? But Lerrys did not look at me, but at Derik.

“My lords, in these days when the Comyn and the other powers of Darkover drift apart, our young ruler should take a consort outside of council, and bring in some strong alliance. Linnell Aillard, too, could give marriage-right to some strong and loyal man.”

I stared. Dio and I had escaped public censure — but this was almost as bad. Linnell was white with shock, and Callina broke in angrily, rising to her feet, “Linnell is my ward! This is no matter for council meddling!”

Dyan caught up the phrase maliciously. “Meddling? Does a Comyn Keeper question the will of the council?”

“Not where I am concerned,” Callina retorted, standing straight and defiant. “But for Linnell, yes!”

I knew this was only a point of delay, but I could not look at Linnell’s small stricken face and keep silent. “Idiots!” I said harshly. “Yes, you too, Lord Regent! You very cleverly rushed the council through while I was out of my head—”

“From his utter disregard of council manners,” drawled Lerrys in languid rebuke, “Lew Alton is still out of his head.”

“Then more of you should have your wits addled like that,” I retorted, turning on him. “This council is a farce, and now it is turning into a brawl! Here we sit like gaffers in the market square, haggling over marriages! Can a burst dam be mended with toothpicks?”

They were all listening to me, but I stopped, a familiar fist squeezing my throat. What was this?

Callina’s face seemed to waver in the rainbow shimmer or was it my eyes? But she caught up my words;

“Oh, we are so safe, my lords, we have so much time for this nonsense! While the Terrans lure the people away, and make a reeking, filthy Trade City out of our Thendara, we sit wrangling among ourselves, letting our young lords and ladies enjoy themselves on other planets—” her glance rested coldly on Dio Ridenow — “while we sit in the Crystal Chamber making marriages. And Sharra’s matrix in Kadarin’s hands! You had a demonstration, the other day, of our Comyn powers and what did you do? You let Marius Alton be killed, and Lew hurt. Those two you should have guarded above all the others! Which of you can answer for the life of Marius? Which of you would dare take his place?”