The Sword of Aldones d-2 Read online

  But changes in technology had made it unnecessary. There was no need for the Keepers to give up all human contact and live behind walls, guarding their powers in seclusion. Conversely, there was no need for them to be deferred to, near-worshipped.

  Callina smiled wryly, guessing my thoughts. “That’s true,” she said, “and I’m not greedy for power. But,” she met my eyes steadily, “you know why I’m against this alliance, Lew. I don’t want to bring it out in council, because it’s your affair really. I don’t like to ask you this, but I must. Will you tell them about Sharra and the Aldarans?” I bowed over her hand, unable to speak. For the sake of my sanity, I tried never to think or to speak about what the Aldarans, and their horde of rebels, had done to me — or to Marjorie.

  But now I must. I owed Callina a debt I could never pay. At the awful end, when I had fled with Marjorie — both of us wounded, and Marjorie dying — it had been Callina who opened the Hidden City to us. That night, when the swords of Darkover and the blasters of the Terrans had hounded us, alike, Callina had dared exposure to the radioactive site of the ancient starships, and risked a terrible death herself, to give Marjorie a bare chance of life. It had been too late for Marjorie; but I could never forget.

  Just the same — to drag it all out before the Council again — I felt the sweat break out on my forehead.

  Regis said quietly, “You’re the only chance we have, Lew. They might listen to you.”

  I swallowed. At last I said, “I’ll — try.”

  “Try to do what? Stay sober long enough to welcome us all?” Derik Elhalyn thrust his way gaily between Regis and Callina, and gripped my shoulders. “Lew, old fellow, I didn’t know you were on Darkover at all, until you popped up like one of those toys your father used to make for us! Dyan said it, but I’ll say it again — welcome home!” He stood back, waiting for me to return the clasp, then his eyes fell on my empty sleeve. He said quickly, trying to cover up the awkward moment, “I’m glad you’re back. We had some good times once.”

  I nodded, upset by his confusion but glad of a pleasanter memory. “And well have more, I hope. Are the Elhalyn hawks still the finest in the mountains? Do you still climb the cliffs to take your own nestlings?”

  “Yes, though Tve not so much time now,” Derik laughed. “Do you remember the day we climbed the north face of Neversin, hanging on by our eyebrows?” Once again he cut himself short, all too obviously remembering that L at least, would never climb again. For my part, I was wondering what would happen to the Comyn when this scatterbrained lad assumed the place rightfully his. Old Hastur was a statesman and a diplomat. But Derik? For once I was glad of the telepathic dampers which kept them from following my thoughts.

  Derik moved me toward the high seat, a hand on my shoulder. He said, “It was all arranged before your father died, you remember. But Linnell’s refused even to talk about setting a day for the marriage, until you were home again! So I have two reasons for welcoming you back!”

  I returned his affectionate grin. I wasn’t wholly alone, after all. I had kinsmen, friends. That marriage had been in the air since Linnell put away her-’dolls, yet it waited for my consent. “I haven’t even seen Linnell yet,” I said. “Though I thought I had.”

  I wondered if Linnell knew she had a double in the Terran Zone. I’d have to tell her that; it would amuse her. But Hastur was calling us all to order again, and I took a seat between Regis and Derik. I was shocked at the small number of those who could claim blood-right in the Comyn; counting men and women alike, there were not three dozen. Yet they looked like a hostile army when, at Hastur’s signal, I rose to face them.

  I began slowly, knowing I must plead my cause without heat.

  “If I understand this, you want to ally with Aldaran, to restore the old Seventh Domain to the Comyn. You’re counting on this alliance to make peace with his mountain lords, and choke off all the outbreaks of rioting and war on the border. To get the co-operation of the Aldarans, in keeping the outlaws and renegades and trailmen where they belong-on the other side of the Kadarin river. Maybe, even, to get us some Terran trade, and permits for machinery and planes, without making too many concessions to the Terrans themselves.”

  Lerrys Ridenow rose. “So far, you have been correctly informed,” he drawled. “Can you tell us something new?”

  “No.” I turned,, studying him. He was the only one of Dio’s brothers worth the name of man, even when the term was used loosely. I’d known them, all three, on the pleasure moon off Vainwal. They were all delicate, effeminate, cat-graceful — and dangerous as so many tigers. They all tried to take the best of both worlds, a privilege which their great wealth, and the Comyn immunity from ordinary Dark-ovan laws, gave them. But Lerrys seemed to have the stuff of a man behind the languid, almost feminine mask, and he deserved an answer.

  “No, but I can tell you something old. It won’t work,” I said. “Beltran of Aldaran, himself, is a decent sort of fellow.

  But he’s tied himself up so tight with renegades and rebels and Trailmen and half-breed spies, he couldn’t make peace with us if he wanted to. And you want to bring him into the Comyn?” I spread my hands. “Certainly. Bring in Beltran of Aldaran. Bring in the man they call Kadarin, and Lawton from Thendara, and the Terran Co-ordinator from Port Chicago, while you’re about it!”

  Hastur frowned. “Who is this Kadarin?” he asked.

  “Hell, I don’t know. Supposed to be kin to Aldaran.”

  “Like you,” Dyan murmured.

  “Yes. Half Terran, maybe. Rabble-rouser on any world that will hold him. They deported him from at least two other planets before he came back here. And that man Beltran of Aldaran, that man you want to marry to a Keeper, made Castle Aldaran into a hidey-hole for all of Kadarin’s damned ridge runners and renegades!”

  “Kadarin isn’t a man’s name,” Lerrys said.

  “And I’m not so sure he’s a man,” I retorted. The hills around Aldaran — you know what used to live back in those hills — all sorts of things you couldn’t really call human. He looks human enough until you see his eyes.” I stopped, turned inward on horror. Abruptly, remembering where I was, the wheels of my mind began to go round again.

  “The name Kadarin is just defiance,” I said. “In the hills across the river Kadarin, any bastard is called a son of the Kadarin. They say he never knew who or what his father was. When the Terrans hauled him in for questioning, he gave his name as Kadarin. That’s all.”

  “Then he’s working against the Terrans, too,” Lerrys said.

  “Maybe, maybe not. But he’s tied up with Sharra—”

  “And so were you,” Dyan Ardais said softly. “But here you are.”

  My chair crashed over backwards. “Yes, damn you! Why else would I put myself through all this, if I didn’t know what hell it is? You think the danger’s all over? If I can show you where Sharra is still out of control — not ten miles from here-then will you call off this crazy alliance?”

  Hastur looked troubled, motioning Dyan and Lerrys to silence. “Can you do that, Lew? You’re an Alton, and a telepath. Put you couldn’t do anything like that alone. You’d need a mental focus—”

  “He’s counting on that,” Dyan sneered. “It’s a good safe bluff! He’s the last living adult Alton!”

  From the shadows a voice said, “Oh, no he isn’t.” Marius got slowly to his feet, and I stared at my brother in amazement. I thought he had left with the others. Could he — or would he — dare that most fearful of the Comyn powers?

  Dyan laughed aloud. “You? You — Terranl” The word was an insult as he spoke it.

  I was not yet ready to crawl away beaten. “Shall we turn, off the dampers — and prove it on you, Lord-Ardais?”

  That was a bluff. I hadn’t the faintest idea whether Marius had the Alton Gift, or whether he would go down in a screaming frenzy when my mind ripped into his. But Dyan did not know either, and his face was white before he lowered his eyes.

  “It’s still a bl
uff,” said Lerrys. “We all know that Sharra’s matrix was destroyed. What bugbear is this you drag out to frighten us, Lew? We are not children, to shiver at shadows! Sharra? That for Sharra!” He snapped his fingers.

  I flung caution to the winds. “Destroyed hell!” I raged, “It’s in my rooms this minute!”

  I heard the gasps that ran round the circle. “You have it?” I nodded, slowly. They wouldn’t call me a liar again. But then I caught a glimpse of Dyan’s mocking eyes. And suddenly I realized I had not been clever at all.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Marius leaned across his saddle as I laid the insulated sword across the pommel of my own.

  “Going to unwrap it here?”

  Around us the thin morning air was as expressionless as his face. Behind us the foothills rose; and J caught the thin pungent smell of slopes scorched by forest fire, drifting down from the Hellers. Further back in the clearing, the other Comyn waited.

  My barriers were down, and I could feel the impact of their emotions. Hostility, curiosity, disbelief or contempt from the Ardais and Aillard and Ridenow men; interested sympathy, and disquiet from the Hasturs and strangely, from Lerrys Ridenow.

  I would have preferred to do this thing privately. The thought of a hostile audience unnerved me. Knowing that my brother’s life depended on my own nerves and control didn’t help, either. Suddenly, I shivered. If Marius died — and he very likely would — only these witnesses would stand between me and a charge of murder. We were gambling on something we couldn’t possibly be sure about; and I was scared.

  The Alton focus is not easy. Having both parties aware and willing doesn’t make it easy, even for two mature telepaths; it just makes it possible.

  What we intended was to link minds — not in ordinary telepathic contact; not even in the forced rapport which an Alton — or, sometimes, a Hastur — can impose on another mind. But complete, and mutual rapport; conscious and subconscious mind, telepathic and psychokinetic nerve systems, time-scanning and coordinating consciousness, energonic functions, so that in effect we would function as one hyperdeveloped brain in two bodies.

  My father had done it with me — once, for about thirty seconds — with my full awareness that it would probably kill me. He had known; it was the only thing that would prove to them that I was a true Alton. It had forced the Comyn to accept me. I had been trained for days, and safeguarded by every bit of his skill. Marius was taking it on almost unprepared.

  I seemed to be seeing my brother for the first time. The difference in our ages, his freakish face and alien eyes, had made him a stranger; the knowledge that he might die beneath my mind, a few minutes from now, made him seem somehow less real; shadowy, like someone in a long dream. I made my voice rough.

  “Want to back down, Marius? There’s still time.” He looked amused again. “Jealous? Want to keep the laran privilege all to yourself?” he asked softly. “Don’t want any more Altons in the Comyn, huh?”

  I put the question point blank. “Do you have the Alton Gift, Marius?”

  He shrugged. “I haven’t the least notion. I’ve never tried to find out. What with one thing and another, I was given to understand that it would be unwarrantable insolence on my part.”

  I felt cold. That sentence outlined my brother’s Me. I’d have to remember that. There was a chance that what I gave him would not be death, but full Comyn status as an Alton. If he thought it was worth the gamble, what right had I to deny him? My father had gambled with me, and won. I lowered my head, and started to strip the insulating cloth from the sword.

  “Is it a real sword?” Derik Elhalyn asked, guiding his horse toward us.

  I shook my head, giving the hilt a hard twist. It came off in my hand, and I removed the silk-wrapped thing inside. A familiar hand crushed down on my chest.

  “No,” I said, “the sword’s camouflage. You can look at it.” I thrust the pieces, hilt and blade, at him, but he backed away convulsively.

  I saw the men hide unkind grins. But it wasn’t funny — that Derik, Lord of the Comyn, was a coward. Hastur took the pieces and fitted them neatly together.

  “The platinum and sapphires in. this thing would buy a good sized city,” he said, “But Lew’s got the dangerous part.”

  I stripped the matrix, feeling the familiar live warmth between my hands. It was egg-shaped and not quite egg-sized, a hunk of dull metal laced with little ribbons of shinier metal, and starred with a pattern of blue winking eyes. “The pattern of sapphires in the sword hilt — sensitized carbon-matches the pattern of the matrix. They’ve altered my nerve reactions some way, to respond to it—” I stopped, my throat dry. What idiocy of self-flagellation had made me bring the thing back to Darkover? I was walking back, on my own feet, into the corner of hell that Kadarin had opened for me.

  “Just what are you going to do?” Derik asked.

  I tried to put it into words he’d understand. “All over the Hellers, there are certain spots which are activated-magnetized, somehow, to respond to the — the vibrations that key in Sharra. They can be used to draw on the power of Sharra.”

  Nobody asked the question I feared. What is Sharra? I would have had to say I didn’t know. I knew what it could do, but I didn’t know what it was. Folklore says a goddess turned demon. I didn’t want to theorize about Sharra. I wanted to stay away from it.

  And that was the one thing I couldn’t do.

  Hastur took pity on me. “Once a certain locus has been put into key with the Sharra matrix, and the Sharra forces — as was done, years ago — a residue of power remains, and that spot can be drawn on. Lew has kept the matrix all these years, hoping for a chance to find these spots, through the original activator, and de-activate them. Once all the activated sites are released, the matrix can be monitored and then destroyed. But even an Alton telepath can’t do that sort of work without a focus. One body can’t handle that kind of vibration alone.”

  “And I’m the focus, if I live that long,” Marius said impatiently. “Can we get on with it?”

  I gave him one quick look; then, without further preliminary, made contact with his mind.

  There is no way to describe the first shock of rapport. The acceleration of a jet, the hurt of a punch in the solar plexus, the shock of diving headfirst into liquid oxygen, might approximate it if you could live through all three at once. I felt Marius physically slump in his saddle under the impact of it, and felt every defense of his mind concentrated to blocking me away. The human mind wasn’t built for this. Blind instinct locked his barriers against me; a normal mind would die under the thrust needed to shatter that kind of resistance.

  It was just as bald as that. If he had inherited the Alton Gift, he wouldn’t die. If he hadn’t, it would kill him.

  Inwardly I was concentrated on Marius, in agonized concentration, but outwardly every detail around us was cut sharp and clear on my senses, as if etched there in acid; the cold sweat? running down my body, the pity in the old Regent’s eyes, the faces of the men around us. I heard Lerrys moaning, “Stop them! Stop them! It’s killing them both!”

  There was an instant of agony so great I thought I would Scream aloud, the tension of a bow drawn back — and back — and bent to the very point where it must snap, where even the snap and break of death would be relief unspeakable.

  Regis Hastur moved like a thrown spear; he tore the sword hilt from Hastur’s hands and forced the matching pattern of gleaming stones into Marius’ clenched fists. I saw, and felt, the agony dissolve in my brother’s face, then the web of focused thought spread, gleamed, and wove together. Marius’ mind firmed, held, a tangible rock of strength, against my own.

  Alton! Terran blood in his veins — but true Alton, and my brother!

  My sigh of relief caught almost into a sob. There was no need of words, but I spoke anyhow. “All right, brother?”

  “Fine,” he said, and stared at the sword hilt in his hands. “How the hell did I get hold of this thing?”

  I handed him the
Sharra matrix. I tensed in the familiar, breathless anticipation of anguish as his hands closed around it; but there was nothing but the familiar sense of rapport. I let my breath go.

  “That’s that,” I said. “Well, Hastur?”

  He made a brief, grave bow to Marius; a formal sign of recognition. Then he said quietly, “You’re in charge.”

  I looked around at the mounted men. “Some of the activated spots are near here,” I said, “and the sooner we break them up, the sooner we’re safe. But—” I paused. I’d been so intent on the horror that possessed me, I hadn’t thought to ask for a larger escort of mounted men. Besides the Hasturs, Dyan, Derik and the Ridenow brothers, there were only a scant half dozen guardsmen.

  I said, “Sometimes the trailmen come this close to the Hidden City—”

  “Not since the ’Narr Campaign,” said Lerrys languidly. His unspoken thought was clear. You and your friends of Sharra stirred them up against us. Then you cleared out, but we did the fighting!

  “Just the same—” I looked up at the thick branches. Was it safe to ride so far with so few? Some of the Trailmen, far in the Hellers, are peaceful arboreal humanoids, no more harmful than so many monkeys. But those who have overflowed from the country around Aldaran, where every sort of human and half-human gathered, are a mixed breed — and dangerous.

  Finally I shrugged. “I’m not afraid if you’re not.”

  Dyan jeered, “You and your brother made a boast, Alton. Are you afraid someone will ask you to fulfil it?”

  Nothing, I knew, would have suited him better than for Marius to break under my mind, and die.