Текст книги "Heritage Of Hastur"

Автор книги: Marion Zimmer Bradley

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Kadarin’s deep exasperation could be felt by all of us– stubborn, superstitious old beldame!as he said, “It is Kermiac of Aldaran who bids me remind you that you took Sharra’s matrix from Aldaran without leave—”

“I do not recognize his right.”

“Desideria,” he said, “let’s not quarrel or quibble. Kermiac sent me to bring the Sharra matrix back to Aldaran; Aldaran is liege-lord to Storn and there’s an end to it.”

“Kermiac does not know what I know, sir. The Sharra matrix is well where it is; let it lie there. There are no Keepers today powerful enough to handle it. I myself called it up only with the aid of a hundred of the forge-folk, and it would be ill done of me to deprive them of their goddess. I beg you say to Kermiac that by my best judgment, which he trusted always, it should stay where it is.”

“I am sick of this superstitious talk of goddesses and talismans, lady. A matrix is a machine, no more.”

“Is it? So I thought when I was a maiden,” the old woman said. “I knew more of the art of a matrix at fifteen, sir, than you know now, and I know how old you really are.” I felt the man flinch from her sharp, steady gaze. “I know thismatrix, you do not. Be advised by me. You could not handle it. Nor could Kermiac. Nor could I, at my age. Let it lie, man! Don’t wake it! If you do not like the talk of goddesses, call it a force basically beyond human control in these days, and evil.”

Kadarin paced the floor and I paced with him, sharing a restlessness so strong it was pain. “Lady, a matrix can be no more good or evil in itself than the mind of the man who wields it. Do you think me evil, then?”

She waved that away with an impatient gesture. “I think you honest, but you will not believe there are some powers so strong, so far from ordinary human purpose, that they warp all things to evil. Or to evil in ordinary human terms, at least. And what would you know of that? Let it be, Kadarin.”

“I cannot. There is no other force strong enough for my purposes, and these are honest. I have safeguarded all, and I have a circle ready to my hand.”

“You do not mean to use it alone, then, or with the Darriell woman?”

“ Thatfoolhardy I am not. I tell you, I have safeguarded all. I have won a Comyn telepath to aid me. He is cautious and skilled,” Kadarin said persuasively, “and trained at Arilinn.”

“Arilinn,” said Desideria at last “I know how they were trained at Arilinn. I did not believe that knowledge still survived. That should be safe, then. Promise me, Kadarin, to place it in his hands and leave all things to his judgment, and I will give you the matrix.”

“I promise you,” Kadarin said. We were so deeply in rapport that it seemed it was I myself, Lew Alton, who bowed before the old Keeper, feeling her gray eyes search myvery soul rather than his.

It is in the memory of that moment that I will swear, even after all the nightmare that came later, that Kadarin was honest, that he meant no evil …

Desideria said, “Be it so, then, I will entrust it to you.” Again the sharp gray eyes met his. “But I tell you, Robert Kadarin, or whatever you call yourself now, beware!If you have any flaw, it will expose it brutally; if you seek only power, it will turn your purposes to such ruin as you cannot even guess; and if you kindle its fires recklessly, they will turn on you, and consume you and all you love! I know, Kadarin! I have stood in Sharra’s flame and though I emerged unburnt, I was not unscarred. I have long put aside my power, I am old, but this much I can still say– beware!”

And suddenly the identity swirled and dissolved. Thyra sighed, the circle dropped like strands of cobweb and we stood, staring at one another dazed, in the darkening hallway.

Thyra was white with exhaustion and I felt Marjorie’s hands trembling on mine.

“Enough,” I said firmly, knowing that until it was certain who was to take the centerpolar place, until we knew which of us was Keeper, it was my responsibility to safeguard them all. I motioned to the others to separate, draw apart physically, to break the last clinging strands of rapport. I let Marjorie’s hands go with regret. “Enough. We all need rest and food. You must learn never to overtax your physical strength.” I spoke deliberately, in a firm, didactic manner, to minimize any emotional contact or concern. “Self-discipline is just as important as talent, and far more important than skill.”

But I was not nearly as detached as I sounded, and I suspected they knew it.

Three days later, at dinner in the great lighted hall, I spoke of my original mission to Kermiac. Beltran, I knew, felt that I had wholly turned my back on Comyn. It was true that I no longer felt bound to my father’s will. He had lied to me, used me ruthlessly. Kadarin had spoken of Compact as just another Comyn plot to disarm Darkover, to keep the Council’s rule intact. Now I wondered how my elderly kinsman felt about it. He had ruled many years in the mountains, with the Terrans ever at hand. It was reasonable he should see everything differently from the Comyn lords. I had heard their side; I had never been given opportunity to know the other view.

When I spoke to him of Hastur’s disquiet about the violations of Compact and told him I had been sent to find out the truth, he nodded and frowned, thinking deeply. At last he said, “Danvan Hastur and I have crossed words over this before. I doubt we will ever really agree. I have a good bit of respect for that man: down there between the Dry Towns and the Terrans he has no bed of roses, and all things considered he’s managed well. But his choices aren’t mine, and fortunately I’m not oath-bound to abide by them. Myself, I believe the Compact has outlived its usefulness, if it ever had any, which I’m no longer sure of.”

I had known he felt this way, yet I felt shocked. From childhood I had been taught to think of Compact as the first ethical code of civilized men.

“Stop and think,” he said. “Do you realize that we are a part of a great galactic civilization? The days when any single planet could live in isolation is over forever. Swords and shields belong to that day and must be abandoned with it. Do you realize what an anachronism we are?”

“No, I don’t realize that, sir. I don’t know that much about any world but this one.”

“And not too much even about this one, it seems. Let me ask you this, Lew, when did you learn the use of weapons?”

“At seven or eight, more or less.” I had always been proud that I need fear no swordsman in the Domains—or out of them.

“I, too,” said the old man. “And when I came to rule in my father’s high seat, I took it for granted that I would have bodyguards following me everywhere but my marriage-bed! Halfway through my life I realized I was living inside a dead past, gone for centuries. I sent my bodyguards home to their farms, except for a few old men who had no other skills and no livelihood. I let themwalk around looking important more for their own usefulness than mine, and yet I sit here, untroubled and free in my own house, my rule unquestioned.”

I felt horrified. “At the mercy of any malcontent—”

He shrugged. “I am here, alive and well. By and large, those who give allegiance to Aldaran want me here. If they did not, I would persuade them peacefully or step aside and let them try to rule better. Do you honestly believe Hastur keeps authority over the Domains only because he has a bigger and better bodyguard than his rivals?”

“Of course not. I never heard him seriously challenged.”

“So. My people too are content with my rule, I need no private army to enforce it.”

“But still … some malcontent, some madman—”

“Some slip on a broken stair, some lightning-bolt, some misstep by a frightened or half-broken horse, some blunder by my cook with a deadly mushroom for a wholesome one … Lew, every man alive is divided from death by that narrow a line. That’s as true at your age as mine. If I put down rebellion with armed men, does it prove me the better man, or only the man who can pay the better swordsmen or build the bigger weapons? The long reign of Compact has meant only that every man is expected to settle his affairs with his sword instead of his brains or the rightness of his cause.”

“Just the same, it has kept peace in the Domains for generations.”

“Flummery!”the old man said rudely. “You have peace in the Domains because, by and large, most of you down there are content to obey Comyn law and no longer put every little matter to the sword. Your celebrated Castle Guard is a police force keeping drunks off the streets! I’m not insulting it, I think that’s what it should be. When did youlast draw your sword in earnest, son?”

I had to stop and think. “Four years ago bandits in the Kilghard hills broke into Armida, stealing horses. We chased them back across the hills and hanged a few of them.”

“When did you last fight a duel?”

“Why, never.”

“And you last drew your sword against common horse-thieves. No rebellions, wars, invasions from nonhumans?”

“Not in my time.” I began to see what he was driving at.

“Then,” he said, “why risk law-abiding men, good men and loyal, against horse-thieves, bandits, rabble who have no right to the protection given men of honor? Why not develop really effective protection against the lawless and let your sons learn something more useful than the arts of the sword? I am a peaceful man and Beltran will, I think, have no reason to force himself on my people by armed force. The law in the Hellers states that no man given to breach of the peace may own any weapon, even a sword, and there are laws about how long a pocketknife he may carry. As for the men who keep my laws, they are welcome to any weapon they can get. An honest man is less threat to our world with a Terran’s nerve-blaster than a lawless one with my cook’s paring knife or a stonemason’s hammer. I don’t believe in matching good honest men against rogues, both armed with the same weapons. When I left off fairy tales I left off believing that an honest man must always be a better swordsman than a horse-thief or a bandit. The Compact, which allows unlimited handweapons and training in their use to good men and criminals alike, has simply meant that honest men must struggle day and night to make themselves stronger than brutes.”

There was certainly some truth in what he said. Now that my father was so lame, Dyan was certainly the best swordsman in the Domains. Did that mean if Dyan fought a duel, and won, that his cause was therefore just? If the horse-thieves had been better swordsmen than ours at Armida, would they have had a right to our horses? Yet there was a flaw in his logic too. Perhaps there was no flawless logic anywhere.

“What you say is true, Uncle, as far as it goes. Yet ever since the Ages of Chaos, it’s been known that if an unjust man gets a weapon he can do great damage. With the Compact, and such a weapon as he can get under the Compact, he can do only one man’s worth of damage.”

Kermiac nodded, acknowledging the truth of what I said. “True. Yet if weapons are outlawed, soon only outlaws can get them—and they always do. Old Hastur’s heir so died. The Compact is only workable as long as everybody is willing to keep it. In today’s world, with Darkover on the very edge of becoming part of the Empire, it’s unenforceable. Completely unenforceable. And if you try to make an unworkable law work and fail, it encourages other men to break laws. I have no love for futile gestures, so I enforce only such laws as I can. I suspect the only answer is the one that Hastur, even though he pays lip service to Compact, is trying to spread in the Domains: make the land so safe that no man seriously needs to defend himself, and let weapons become toys of honor and tokens of manhood.”

Uneasily I touched the hilt of the sword I had worn every day of my adult life.

Kermiac patted my wrist affectionately. “Don’t trouble yourself, nephew. The world will go as it will, not as you or I would have it. Leave tomorrow’s troubles for tomorrow’s men to solve. I’ll leave Beltran the best world I can, but if he wants a better one he can always build it himself. I’d like to think that some day Beltran and the heir to Hastur could sit down together and build a better world, instead of spitting venom at one another between Thendara and Caer Donn. And I’d like to think that when that day comes you’ll be there to help, whether you’re standing behind Beltran or young Hastur. Just that you’ll be there.”

He picked up a nut and cracked it with his strong old teeth. I wondered what he knew of Beltran’s plans, wondered too how much of what he said was straightforward, how much meant to reach Hastur’s ears. I was beginning to love the old man, yet unease nagged at my mind. Most of the crowd at dinner had dispersed; Thyra and Marjorie were gathered with Beltran and Rafe near one of the windows. Kermiac saw the direction of my eyes and laughed.

“Don’t sit here among the old men, nephew, take yourself along to the young folk.”

“A moment,” I said. “Beltran calls them foster-sisters; are they your kinswomen too?”

“Thyra and Marguerida? That’s an odd story,” Kenniac said. “Some years ago I had a bodyguard in my house, a Terran named Zeb Scott, while I still indulged in such foolishness, and I gave him Felicia Darriell to wife—Does this long tale weary you, Lew?”

“By no means.” I was eager to know all I could about Marjorie’s parentage.

“Well, then. The Darriells are an old, old family in these hills, and the last of them, old Rakhal—Rafe’s true name is Rakhal, you know, but my Terrans find that hard to say—old Rakhal Darriell dwelt as a hermit, half mad and all drunk, in his family mansion, which was falling to ruins even then. And now and then, when he was maddened with wine or when the Ghost Wind blew—the kiresethstill grows in some of the far valleys—he would wander crazed in the forests. He’d tell strange tales, afterward, of women astray in the forests, dancing naked in the winds and taking him to their arms—such a tale as any madman might tell. But a long time ago, a very long time now, old Rakhal, they say, came to Storn Castle bearing a girl-child in his arms, saying he had found her like this, naked in the snow at his doorway. He told them the babe was his child by one of the forest-folk, cast out to die by her kin. So the lady of Storn took her in for, whatever the babe was, human or of the forest-folk, old Rakhal could not rear her. She fostered her with her own daughters. And many years after, when I was married to Lauretta Storn-Lanart, Felicia Darriell, as she was called, came with Lauretta among her ladies and companions. Felicia’s oldest child—Thyra there—may well be my daughter. When Lauretta was heavy with child it was Felicia, by her wish, that I took to my bed. Lauretta’s first child was stillborn and she took Thyra as a fosterling. I have always treated her as Beltran’s sister, although nothing is certain. Later, Felicia married Zeb Scott, and these two, Rafe and Marguerida, are half-Terran and none of your kin. But Thyra may well be your cousin.”

He added, musing, “Old Rakhal’s tale may well have been true. Felicia was a strange woman; her eyes were very strange. I always thought such tales mere drunken babble. Yet, having known Felicia … ” He was silent, lost in memories of time long past. I looked at Marjorie, wondering. I had never believed such tales, either. Yet those eyes …

Kermiac laughed and dismissed me. “Nephew, since your eyes and heart are over there with Marguerida, take the rest of yourself along over there too!”

Thyra was gazing intently out into the storm; I could feel the questing tendrils of her thought and knew she was searching, through the gathering darkness, for her lover. Now Thyra, I could well believe, was not all human.

But Marjorie? She reached her hands to me and I caught them in one of mine, circled her waist with my free arm. Beltran said, joining us, “He’ll be here soon. What then, Lew?”

“It’s your plan,” I said, “and Kadarin is certainly enough of a telepath to fit into a circle. You know what we want to do, though there are limits to what can be done with a group this size. There are certainly technologies we can demonstrate. Road-building and surfacing, for instance. It should convince the Terrans we are worth watching. Powered aircraft may be more difficult. There may be records of that at Arilinn. But it won’t be fast or easy.”

“You still feel I’m not fit to take a place in the matrix circle.”

“There’s no question of fitness, you’re not able. I’m sorry, Beltran. Some powers may develop. But without a catalyst … ”

He set his mouth and for a moment he looked ugly. Then he laughed. “Maybe some day we can persuade the young one at Syrtis to join us, since you say he does not love the Comyn.”

There had been no sound I could hear, but Thyra turned from the window and went out of the hall. A few moments later she came back with Kadarin. He held in his arms a long, heavily wrapped bundle, waving away the servants who would have taken it.

Kermiac had risen to leave the table; he waited for Kadarin at the edge of the dais while the other people in the hall were leaving. Kadarin said, “I have it, kinsman, and a fine struggle I had with the old lady, too. Desideria sends you her compliments.” He made a wry face. Kermiac said, with a bleak smile, “Aye, Desideria ever had a mind of her own. You didn’t have to use strong persuasion?”

There was sarcasm in Kadarin’s grin. “You know Lady Storn better than I. Do you really think it would have availed much? Fortunately, it was not needed. I have small talent for bullying womenfolk.”

Kermiac held out his hand to take it, but Kadarin shook his head. “No, I made her a pledge and I must keep it, kinsman, to place it only in the hands of the Arilinn telepath and be guided by his judgment.”

Kermiac nodded and said, “Her judgment is good; honor your pledge, then, Bob.”

Kadarin laid the long bundle on the bench while he began removing his snow-crusted outer wear. I said, “You look as if you’d been out in the worst weather in the Hellers, Bob. Was it as bad as that?”

He nodded. “I didn’t want to linger or be stormbound on the way, carrying this.” He nodded at the bundle, accepted the hot drink Marjorie brought him and gulped it thirstily. “Season’s coming in early; another bad storm on the way. What have you done while I was away?”

Thyra met his eyes and I felt, like a small palpable shock, the quick touch and link as he came into the circle. It was easier than long explanations. He set down the empty cup and said, “Well done, children.”

“Nothing’s done,” I said, “only begun.”

Thyra knelt and began to unfasten the knots in the long bundle. Kadarin caught her wrist. “No,” he said, “I made a pledge. Take it, Lew.”

“We know,” said Thyra, “we heard you.” She sounded impatient.

“Then will you set my word at nothing, wild-bird?” His hand holding hers motionless was large, brown, heavy-knuckled. Like the Ardais and the Aillards, he had six fingers on his hand. I could easily believe nonhuman blood there, too. Thyra smiled at him and he drew her against him, saying, “Lew, it’s for you to take this.”

I knelt beside the bundle and began to unfasten the heavy wrappings. It was longer than my arm and narrow, and had been bundled into layer on layer of heavy canvas cloth, the layers bound and knotted with embroidered straps, Marjorie and Beltran came to look over my shoulder as I struggled with the knots. Inside the last layer of heavy canvas was a layer of raw colorless silk, like the insulation of a matrix. When I finally got it unrolled, I saw that it was a ceremonial or ornamental sword, forged of pure silver. An atavistic little prickle went down to the ends of my spine. I had never set eyes on this before. But I knew what it was.

My hands almost refused to take it, despite the thing of beauty the forge-folk had made to cover and guard it. Then I forced myself back to sanity. Was I as superstitious as Thyra thought me? I took the hilt in my hand, sensing the pulsing life within. I seized the sword in both hands and gave the hilt a hard twist.

It came off in my hand. Inside lay the matrix itself, a great blue stone, with an inner glimmer curling fires which, trained as I was, made my head reel and my vision blur.

I heard Thyra gasp aloud. Beltran had quickly turned away. If it made me, after three seasons in Arilinn, fight for control, I could imagine what it had done to him. I quickly wadded it up in the silk, then took it gingerly between my fingers. I was immensely reluctant to look, even for a moment, into those endlessly livedepths. Finally I bent my eyes to it. Space wrenched, tore at me. For a moment I felt myself falling, saw the face of a young girl shrouded in flame, crimson and orange and scarlet. It was a face I knewsomehow– Desideria!The old woman I had seen in Karadin’s mind! Then the face shifted, shrouded, was no more a woman but a looming, towering form of fire, a woman’s form, chained in gold, rising, flaming, striking, walls crumbling like dust …

I wrapped it in the silk again and said, “Do you know what this is?”

Kadarin said, “It was used of old by the forge-folk to bring metals from the deeps of the ground, to their fires.”

“I’m not so sure,” I said. “Some of the Sharra matrices were used that way. Others were … less innocent. I’m not sure this is a monitored matrix.”

“All the better. We want no Comyn eyes spying on what we do.”

“But that means it’s essentially uncontrollable,” I said. “A monitored matrix has a safety factor: if it gets out of hand the monitor takes over and breaks the circle. Which is why I still have a right hand.” I held out the ugly scar. He flinched slightly and said, “Are you afraid?”

“Of this happening again? No, I know what precautions to take. But of this matrix? Yes, I am.”

“You Comyn are superstitious cowards! All my life I’ve heard about the powers of the Arilinn-trained telepaths and mechanics. Now you are afraid—”

Anger surged through me. Comyn, was I? And cowardly? It seemed that the anger pulsed, beat within me, surging up my arm from the matrix in my fist. I thrust it back into the sword, sealing it there. Thyra said, “Nothing’s gained by calling names. Lew, can this be used for what Beltran has in mind?

I found I had an incomprehensible desire to take the sword in my hand again. The matrix seemed to call me, demanding that I take it out, master it … It was almost a sensual hunger. Could it really be dangerous, then? I put the canvas wrappings around it and gave Thyra’s question some thought.

Finally I said, “Given a fully trained circle, one I can trust, yes, probably. A tower circle is usually seven or eight mechanics and a Keeper, and we seldom handle more than fourth-or fifth-level matrices. I know this one is stronger than that. And we have no trained Keeper.”

“Thyra can do that work,” Kadarin said.

I considered it for a moment. She had, after all, drawn us all around her, taking the central position with swift precision. But finally I shook my head.

“I won’t risk it. She’s worked wild too long. She’s self-taught and her training could come apart under stress.” I thought of the prowling beast I had sensed when the circle formed. I felt Thyra’s eyes on me and was painfully embarrassed, but I had been disciplined to rigid honesty within a circle. You can’t hide from one another, it’s disaster to try.

“I can control her,” Kadarin said.

“I’m sorry, Bob. That’s no answer. She herself must be in control or she’ll be killed, and it’s not a nice way to die. I could control her myself, but the essence of a Keeper is that she does the controlling. I trust her powers, Bob, but not her judgment under stress. If I’m to work with her, I must trust her implicitly. And I can’t. Not as Keeper. I think Marjorie can do it—if she will.”

Kadarin was regarding Marjorie with a curious wry smile. He said, “You’re rationalizing. Do you think I don’t know you’re in love with her, and want her to have this post of honor?”

“You’re mad,” I said. “Damn it, yes, I’m in love with her! But it’s clear you know nothing about matrix circles. Do you think I want her to be Keeper in this circle? Don’t you know that will make it impossible for me to touch her? As long as she’s a functioning Keeper, none of us may touch her, and I least of all, because I love her and want her. Didn’t you know that?” I drew my fingers slowly away from Marjorie’s. My hand felt cold and alone.

“Comyn superstition,” Beltran said scornfully, “driveling nonsense about virgins and purity! Do you really believe all that rubbish?”

“Belief has nothing to do with it,” I said, “and no, Keepers don’t have to be sheltered virgins in this day and age. But while they’re working in the circles they stay strictly chaste. That’s a physical fact. It has to do with nerve currents. It’s no more superstition than what every midwife knows, that a pregnant woman must not ride too fast or hard, nor wear tight lacing in her dresses. And even so, it’s dangerous. Terribly dangerous. If you think I want Marjorie to be our Keeper, you are more ignorant than I thought!”

Kadarin looked at me steadily, and I saw that he was weighing what be said. “I believe you,” he said at last. “But you believe Marjorie can do it?”

I nodded, wishing I could lie and be done with it. A telepath’s love life is always infernally complicated. And Marjorie and I had just found each other. We had had so very little, so very little …

“She can, if she will,” I said at last, “but she must consent. No woman can be made Keeper unwilling. It is too strong a weight to carry, except by free will.”

Kadarin looked at us both then and said, “So it all hangs on Mariorie, then. What about it, Margie? Will you be Keeper for us?

She looked at me and, biting her lip, she stretched out her hands to mine. She said, “Lew, I don’t know … ”

She was afraid, and small wonder. And then, like a compelling, magical dream, I remembered the morning when we had walked together through Caer Donn and shared our dreams for this world. Wasn’t this worth a little danger, a little waiting for our happiness? A world where we need not feel shame but pride for our dual heritage, Darkovan and Terran? I felt Marjorie catch the dream, too, as without a word, she slowly loosed her hand from mine and we drew apart. From this moment until our work was ended and the circle dissolved, Marjorie would stand inviolate, set apart, alone. The Keeper.

No words were necessary, but Marjorie spoke the simple words as if they were an oath sealed in fire.

“I agree. If you will help me, I will do what I can.”

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