The Heritage Of Hastur d-18 Read online

  With a scowl I brought myself back to the present. It needed no great precognition to sense that in a completely strange part of the world I might meet strangers and that some of them would have a lasting effect on my life. I told myself that crossing that valley, stepping through the gates of Castle Aldaran, was not some great and irrevocable division in my life which would cut me off from my past and all my kindred. I was here at my father's bidding, an obedient son, disloyal only in thought and will.

  I struggled to get myself back hi focus, "Well, we might as well try to reach it while we still have some daylight," I said, and started down the excellent road.

  The ride across Caer Donn was in a strange way dreamlike. I had chosen to travel simply, without the complicated escort of an ambassador, treating this as the family visit it purported to be, and I attracted no particular attention. In a way the city was like myself, I thought, outwardly all Darkovan, but with a subliminal difference somewhere, something that did not quite belong. For all these years I had been content to accept myself as Darkovan; now, looking at the old Terran port as I had never looked at the familiar one at Thendara, I thought that this too was my heritage ... if I had courage to take it

  I was in a curious mood, feeling a trifle fey, as if, without knowing what shape or form it would take, I could smell a wind that bore my fate.

  There were guards at the gates of Aldaran, mountain men, and for the first time I gave my full name, not the one I bore as my father's nedestro heir, but the name given before either father or mother had cause to suspect anyone could doubt my legitimacy. "I am Lewis‑Kennard Lanart‑Montray Alton y Aldaran, son of Kennard, Lord Alton, and Elaine Mon‑tray‑Aldaran. I have come as envoy of my father, and I ask a kinsman's welcome of Kermiac, Lord Aldaran."

  The guards bowed and one of them, some kind of major‑domo or steward, said, "Enter, dom, you are welcome and you honor the house of Aldaran. In his name I extend you welcome, until you hear it from his own lips." My escort was taken away to be housed elsewhere while I was led to a spacious room high in one of the far wings of the castle; my saddle bags were brought and servants sent to me when they found I traveled with no valet. In general they established me in luxury. After a while the steward returned.

  "My lord, Kermiac of Aldaran is at dinner and asks, if you are not too weary from travel, that you join him in the hall. If you are trail‑wearied, he bids you dine here and rest well, but he bade me say he was eager to welcome his sister's grandson."

  I said I would join him with pleasure. At that moment I was not capable of feeling fatigue; the fey mood of excitement was still on me. I washed off the dust of travel and dressed in my best, a fine tunic of crimson‑dyed leather with breeches to match, low velvet boots, a dress cape lined with fur‑not vanity, this, but to show honor to my unknown kinsman.

  Dusk was falling when the servant returned to conduct me to the great dining hall. Expecting dim torchlight, I was struck amazed by the daylight flood of brilliance. Arc‑light, I thought, blinking, arc‑light such as the Terrans use in their Trade City. It seemed strange to go at night into a room flooded by such noonday brilliance, strange and disorienting, yet I was glad, for it allowed me to see clearly the faces in the great hall. Evidently, despite his use of the newfangled lights, Kermiac kept to the old ways, for the lower part of his hall was crammed with a motley conglomeration of faces, Guardsmen, servants, mountain people, rich and poor, even some Terrans and a cristoforo monk or two in their drab robes.

  The servant led me toward the high table at the far end where the nobles sat. At first they were only a blur of faces: a tall man, lean and wolfish, with a great shock of fair hair; a pretty, red‑haired girl in a blue dress; a small boy about Marius* age; and at their center, an aging man with a dark reddish beard, old to decrepitude but still straight‑backed and keen‑eyed. He bent his eyes on me, studying my face intently. This, I knew, must be Kermiac, Lord Aldaran, my kinsman. He wore plain clothes, of a simple cut like those the Terrans wore, and I felt briefly ashamed of my barbarian finery.

  He rose and came down from the dais to greet me. His voice, thinned with age, was still strong.

  "Welcome, kinsman." He held out his arms and gave me a kinsman's embrace, his thin dry lips pressing each of my cheeks in turn. He held my shoulders between his hands for a moment. "It warms my heart to see your face at last, Elaine's son. We hear tidings in the Hellers here, even of the Hali'imyn," He used the ancient mountain word, but without

  offense. "Come, you must be weary and hungry after this long journey. I am glad you felt able to join us. Come and sit beside me, nephew."

  He led me to a place of honor at his side. Servants brought us food. In the Domains the choicest food is served a guest without asking his preference, so that he need not in courtesy choose the simplest; here they made much of asking whether I would have meat, game‑bird or fish, whether I would drink the white mountain wine or the red wine of the valleys. It was all cooked well and served to perfection, and I did it justice after days of trail food.

  "So, nephew," he said at last, when I had appeased my hunger and was sipping a glass of white wine and nibbling at some strange and delicious sweets, "I have heard you are tower‑trained, a telepath. Here in the mountains it's believed that men tower‑trained are half eunuch, but I can see you are a man; you have the look of a soldier. Are you one of their Guardsmen?"

  'T have been a captain for three years."

  He nodded. "There is peace in the mountains now, although the Dry‑Towners get ideas now and then. Yet I can respect a soldier; in my youth I had to keep Caer Donn by force of arms."

  I said, "In the Domains it is not known that Caer Donn is so great a city."

  He shrugged. "Largely of Terran building. They are good neighbors, or we find them so. Is it otherwise hi Thendara?"

  I was not yet ready to discuss my feelings about the Terrans, but to my relief he did not pursue that topic. He was studying my face in profile.

  "You are not much like your father, nephew. Yet I see nothing of Elaine in you, either."

  "It is my brother Marius who is said to have my mother's face and her eyes."

  "I have never seen him. I last saw your father twelve years ago, when he brought Elaine's body here to rest among her kin. I asked then for the privilege of fostering her sons, but Kennard chose to rear you in his own house."

  I had never known that. I had been told nothing of my mother's people. I was not even sure what degree of kin I was to the old man, I said something of this to him, and he nodded.

  "Kennard has had no easy life," Kermiac said. "I cannot

  blame him that he never wanted to look back. But if he chose to tell you nothing of your mother's kin, he cannot take offense that I tell you now hi my own fashion. Years ago, when the Terrans were mostly stationed at Caer Donn and the ground had just been broken for the fine building at Thendara‑I hear it has been finished in this winter past‑ years ago, then, when I was not much more than a boy, my sister Mariel chose to marry a Terran, Wade Montray. She dwelt with him many years on Terra. I have heard the marriage was not a happy one and they separated, after she had borne him two children. Mariel chose to remain with her daughter Elaine on Terra; Wade Montray came with his son Larry, whom we called Lerrys, back to Darkover. And now you may see how the hand of fate works, for Larry Montray and your father, Kennard, met as boys and swore friendship. I am no great believer in predestination or a fate foretold, but so it came about that Larry Montray remained on Darkover to be fostered at Armida and your father was sent back to Terra, to be fostered as Wade Montray's son, m the hope that these two lads would build again the old bridge between Terra and Darkover. And there, of course, your father met Montray's daughter, who was also the daughter of my sister Mariel. Well, to make a long tale short, Kennard returned to Darkover, was given in marriage to a woman of the Domains, who bore him no child, served in Arilinn Tower‑some of this you must have been told. But he bore the memory of Elaine, it seems, ever in
his heart, and at last sought her in marriage. As her nearest kinsman, it was I who gave consent. I have always felt such marriages are fortunate, and children of mixed blood the closest road to friendship between people of different world. I had no idea, then, that your Comyn kinsmen would not bless the marriage as I had done, and rejoice in it."

  All the more wrong of the Comyn, I thought, since it was by their doing that my father had first gone to Terra. Well, it was all of a piece with their doings since. And another score I bore against them.

  Yet my father stood with them!

  Kenniac concluded, "When it was clear they would not accept you, I offered to Kennard that you should be fostered here, honored at least as Elaine's son if not as his. He was certain he could force them, at last, to accept you. He must have succeeded, then?"

  "After a fashion," I said slowly. "I am his heir." I did not want to discuss the costs of that with him. Not yet.

  The steward had been trying to attract Lord Kermiac's attention; he saw it and gave a signal for the tables to be cleared. As the great crowd who dined at his table began to disperse, he led me into a small sitting room, dimly lighted, a pleasant room with an open fireplace. He said, "I am old, and old men tire quickly, nephew. But before I go to rest, I want you to know your kinsmen. Nephew, your cousin, my son Beltran."

  To this day, even after all that came later, I still remember how I felt when I first looked on my cousin. I knew at last what blood had shaped me such a changeling among the Comyn. In face and feature we might have been brothers; I have known twins who were less like. Beltran held out his hand, drew it back and said, "Sorry, I have heard that tele‑paths don't like touching strangers."

  "I won't refuse a kinsman my hand," I said, and returned the clasp lightly. In the strange mood I was in the touch gave me a swift pattern of impressions: curiosity, enthusiasm, a disarming friendliness. Kermiac smiled at us as we stood close together and said, "I leave your cousin to you, Beltran. Lew, believe me, you are at home." He said good night and left us, and Beltran drew me toward the others. He said, "My father's foster‑children and wards, cousin, and my friends. Come and meet them. So you're tower‑trained? Are you a natural telepath as well?"

  I nodded and he said, "Manorie is our telepath." He drew forward the pretty, red‑haired girl in blue whom I had noticed at the table. She smiled, looking directly into my eyes in the way mountain girls have. She said, "I am a telepath, yes, but untrained; so many of the old things have been forgotten here in the mountains. Perhaps you can tell us what you were taught at Arilinn, kinsman."

  Her eyes were a strange color, a tint I had never seen before: gold‑flecked amber, like some unknown animal. Her hair was almost red enough for the valley Comyn. I gave her my hand, as I had done with Beltran. It reminded me a little of the way the women at Arilinn had accepted me, simply as a human being, without fuss or flirtatiousness. I felt strangely reluctant to let her fingers go. I asked, "Are you a kinswoman?"

  Beltnm said, "Marjorie Scott, and her sister and brother,

  too, are my father's wards. It's a long story, he may tell you some day if he will. Their mother was my own mother's foster‑sister, so I call them, all three, sister and brother." He drew the others forward and presented them. Rafe Scott was a boy of eleven or twelve, not unlike my own brother Mar‑ius, with the same gold‑flecked eyes. He looked at me shyly and did not speak. Thyra was a few years older than Mar‑jorie, a slight, restless, sharp‑featured woman, with the family eyes but a look of old Kermiac, too. She met my eyes but did not offer her hand. 'This is a long and weary journey for a lowlander, kinsman."

  "I had good weather and skilled escort for the mountains," I said, bowing to her as I would have done to a lady of the Domains. Her dark features looked amused, but she was friendly enough, and for a little we talked of weather and the mountain roads. After a time Beltran drew the conversation back.

  "My father was greatly skilled in his youth and has taught all of us some of the skills of a matrix technician. Yet I am said to have but little natural talent for it. You have had the training, Lew, so tell me, which is the most important, talent or skilir

  I told him what I had been told myself. "Talent and skill are the right hand and the left; it is the will that rules both, and the will must be disciplined. Without talent, little skill can be learned; but talent alone is worth little without training."

  "I am said to have the talent," said the girl Marjorie. "Uncle told me so, yet I have no skill, for by the time I was old enough to learn, he was old past teaching. And I am half‑Terran. Could a Terran learn those skills, do you think?"

  I smiled and said, "I too am part‑Terran, yet I served at Arilinn‑Marjorie?" I tried to speak her Terran name and she smiled at my stumbling formation of the syllables.

  "Marguerida, if you like that better," she said softly in ca‑huenga. I shook my head. "As you speak it, it is rare and strange . . . and precious," I said, wanting to add, "like you," Beltran curled his lip disdainfully and said, "So the Comyn actually let you, with your Terran blood, into their sacred towers? How very condescending of them! I'd have laughed in their faces and told them what they could do with their tower!"

  "No, cousin, it wasn't like that," I said. "It was only in the

  towers that no one took thought of my Terran blood. Among the Comyn I was nedestro, bastard. In Aiih'nn, no one cared what I was, only what I could do."

  "You're wasting your time, Beltran," said a quiet voice from near the fire. "I am sure he knows no more of history than any of the Hali'imyn, and his Terran blood has done him little good," I looked across to the bench at the other side of the fire and saw a tall thin man, silver‑gilt hair standing awry all around his forehead. His face was shadowed, but it seemed to me for a moment that his eyes came glinting out of the darkness like a cat's eyes by torchlight. "No doubt he believes, like most of the valley‑bred, that the Comyn fell straight from the arms of the Lord of Light, and has come to believe all their pretty romances and fairy tales. Lew, shall I teach you your own history?"

  "Bob," said Marjorie, "no one questions your knowledge. But your manners are terrible!"

  The man gave a short laugh. I could see his features now by firelight, narrow and hawklike, and as he gestured I could see that he had six fingers on either hand, like the Ardais and Aillard men. There was something terribly strange about his eyes, too. He unfolded his long legs, stood up and made me an ironic bow.

  "Must I respect the chastity of your mind, via dom, as you respect that of your deluded sorceresses? Or have I leave to ravish you with some truths, in hope that they may bring forth the fruits of wisdom?"

  I scowled at the mockery. "Who in hell are you?"

  "In hell, I am no one at all," he said lightly. "On Darkover, I call myself Robert Raymon Kadarin, s'dei par servu" On his lips the elegant caste words became a mockery. "I regret I cannot follow your custom and add a long string of names detailing my parentage for generations. I know no more of my parentage than you Comyn know of yours but, unlike you, I have not yet learned to make up the deficiency with a long string of make‑believe gods and legendary figures!"

  "Are you Terran?" I asked. His clothing looked it

  He shrugged. "I was never told. However, it's a true saying: only a race‑horse or a Comyn lord is judged by his pedigree. I spent ten years in Terran Empire intelligence, though they wouldn't admit it now; they've put a price on my head because, like all governments who buy brains, they like

  to limit what the brains are used for. I found out, for instance," he added deliberately, "just what kind of game the Empire's been playing on Darkover and how the Comyn have been playing along with them. No, Beltran," he said, swinging around to face my cousin, "I'm going to tell him. He's the one we've been waiting for.**

  The harsh, disconnected way he spoke made me wonder if he was raving or drunk. "Just what do you mean, a game the Terrans are playing, with the Comyn to help?"

  I had come here to find out if Aldaran was danger
ously allied with Terra, to the danger of Comyn. Now this man Kad‑arin accused the Comyn of playing Terra's games. I said, "I don't know what in the hell you're talking about It sounds like rubbish."

  "Well, start with this," Kadarin said. "Do you know who the Darkovans are, where we came from? Did anyone ever tell you that we're the first and oldest of the Terran colonies? No, I thought you didn't know that By rights we should be equal to any of the planetary governments that sit in the Empire Council, doing our part to make the laws of the Empire, as other colonies do. We should be part of the galactic civilization we live in. Instead, we're treated like a backward, uncivilized world, poor relations to be content with what crumbs of knowledge they're willing to dole out to us drop by drop, kept carefully apart from the mainstream of the Empire, allowed to go on living as barbarians!"

  "Why? If this is true, why?"

  "Because the Comyn want it that way," Kadarin said. "It suits their purposes. Don't you even know Darkover is a Terran colony? You said they mocked your Terran blood. Damn them, what do they think they are? Terrans, all of them."

  "You're stark raving madl"

  "You'd like to think so. So would they. More flattering, isn't it to think of your father's precious caste as being descended from gods and divinely appointed to rule all Darkover. Too bad! They're just Terrans, like all the rest of the Empire colonies!" He stopped pacing and stood, staring down at us from his great height, he was a full head taller than I am, and I am not small. "I tell you, I've seen the records on Terra, and in the Administrative Archives on the Coronis colony. The facts are buried there, or supposed to be buried, but anybody with a security clearance can get them quickly enough."

  I demanded, "Where did you get all this stuffl" I could have used a much ruder word; out of deference to the women I used one meaning, literally, stable‑sweepings.

  He said, "Remarkable fertile stuff, stable‑sweepings. Grows good crops. The facts are there. I have a gift for languages, like all telepaths‑oh, yes, I am one, Dom Lewis. By the way, do you know you have a Terran name?"