“Very well.” Mikhail stood, then looked at the carving on the back of his chair for a long moment. He shook his head. “My father will never forgive me for this, never.”
“Why?” Margaret walked over to her cousin. “I don’t see that this should be anything for him to be angry about, except that he seems to enjoy being upset about anything he didn’t think of! Will one of you please explain to me why this decision is so dreadful. You said you wanted something more meaningful than being a paxman, Mik—and this sounds like an important thing your uncle has asked you to do.”
They left the Crystal Chamber and Lew led them down the corridor and out onto a small terrace that overlooked the city of Thendara, glowing ruddily in the early afternoon sun. Margaret stretched her arms over her head and smelled the clear air, glad to be out of doors.
“Regis has just reshaped things in a way I never anticipated, nor Mikhail either, and we are both rather surprised.” Lew spoke quietly. “She’s very beautiful, isn’t she?”
“Who,” Margaret asked.
“Thendara. I have seen a great many cities, chiya, but the view over Thendara remains my favorite. I never thought I would stand here again and look across it.”
Mikhail was leaning against the balistrade, and some of the tension that had gripped him left his shoulders. He still didn’t look happy, but he seemed to Margaret to be less distressed, and that was enough for the moment. “I do not want to be a crown on a stick, hung in the marketplace for men to bow down to.”
“And just what does that mean,” Margaret asked him.
“Regis once told me that if I wished to live my own life, I should have arranged to be born to other parents.” He laughed a little at this ironic jest. “I didn’t understand him at the time. No one chooses his own life, really. Do they, Uncle Lew?”
“Well, no. I did not choose to be the many things I have become—or at least it has always seemed to me that I was forced into situations that were not precisely what I would have chosen. That, I believe, is hindsight. When I did the things I did, it certainly seemed right at the time. But, Mikhail, I do know how you feel right now.”
“Well, I don’t,” Margaret snapped, her patience worn thin.
Lew smiled at her. “For generations the Elhalyn have been our kings, but the power behind the throne has always been a Hastur. What Regis has done, by nominating Mikhail to the Regency of Elhalyn, is to make him a kingmaker. What it means, I believe, is that while young Danilo will be Regis’ heir, the real power will be in Mikhail’s hands. He does not know if they are capable hands, but he believes that they are. It is a bold move, one that I confess I admire.”
Mikhail gave a sharp, barking laugh. “That is easy for you to say—your entire life has not just been disarranged!” Mikhail turned and looked at her. “My life is no longer my own. So I cannot say to you what I should have said sooner—that I wish we could have wed. Then you could have been a queen, though to me you are already more than that.”
Margaret felt her face flame. She turned to her father, but he seemed to be miles away, deep in some thoughts of his own. “I don’t think I would make a very good queen, Mik. I would be breaking rules right and left all the time. But I do wish you had spoken, because . . . it would have meant a lot to me. I take it that you being regent for the Elhalyn makes a difference?” She was holding back her disappointment with great difficulty.
“In the past,” Lew answered, “it would have done so. Now, I am not sure. As the holder of the Alton Domain, an alliance with the regent of Elhalyn would have been an extremely powerful combination, one that the other Domains would have viewed with suspicion.”
“Well, what if you reclaim the Domain, and leave me out of it? I don’t want the thing, you know!”
“That, I think, would not be in the best interests of Darkover.”
“I see. I am supposed to put my personal happiness aside for the sake of the planet?” Margaret was simmering with rage and rebellion now, feeling very much as she had during her adolescence.
Lew chuckled, then reached over and patted her cheek gently. “No, chiya, I would not ask you to do that.”
“Then, what?”
“Anyone but a complete fool can see that you and Mikhail are in love, my Marja. And I want you both to be happy, because that will serve Darkover as well as your own needs.”
“My mother and father will never permit that,” Mikhail protested.
“Hmm. If my guess is correct, Regis is bending his charm to persuade Javanne to his ideas even as we speak. You see, power is being redistributed, and there will be a great deal of resistance, of course. But I believe, in the long term, something will be worked out that will satisfy everyone. Well, not Dom Gabriel, perhaps.”
“Are you telling me to be patient, Father?”
“Yes. You must go to a Tower, to Arilinn or Neskaya, for some training.”
“Mik says that takes years and years. By the time I am done, I’ll be a dried-up old prune! And that isn’t what I want! Everyone seems bent on deciding my life without consulting me. The only person on Darkover who has ever asked me what I want is Mikhail.”
“All right, my Marja, what do you want?” Lew moved his handless arm toward her a little in a gesture of affection.
“I want . . . to marry Mikhail, if he will have me.”
Of course I will have you! There is nothing I want more than that!
Well, then, that is settled, isn’t it?
It’s not that simple, Marguerida. I only wish it were. Aldones, how I love you!
“Nothing else?” Lew interrupted.
“Yes, there is more! The level of illiteracy on Darkover is unforgivable! It isn’t healthy, and it’s not safe. People here need to be more informed about the Federation, about the danger from people like the Expansionists. As long as the Comyn make all the decisions for an uninformed populace, then I think Darkover is at risk.”
“Well said, daughter! And, absolutely right. So, would you establish schools or just set aside our feudal ways in a sweep of the hand?” He was teasing her now, and she was torn between wanting to enjoy it and the desire to shake him.
“I have no desire to disrupt Darkovan culture wholesale. But, if I am really to be the heir to a Domain, then I want Darkover to be in the strongest possible position as regards the Federation. I don’t want to dwindle into a mere wife, or end up an aging intrigant, like Javanne!”
“She would be deeply hurt by that estimation,” Lew answered cheerfully. “And you are quite correct. We must prepare Darkover for the future—without discarding our customs right and left. I am proud of you, daughter, prouder than I ever imagined I would be.”
Margaret felt as if all the air had gone from her lungs at this sudden praise. She looked at Lew, tears forming in her eyes, and found him smiling at her. “Thank you.
I have waited a long time to hear that. I never knew how much I needed to hear it until you said it.”
I never knew how much I wanted to say that I was proud of you—so both of us are pleased. Now, I am going to go talk to Dio. See if you can’t persuade Mikhail out of his dumps, will you? You have chosen a fine man, Marguerida—a man who is almost good enough for you!
With that, Lew Alton turned and left the terrace. Margaret moved closer to her cousin, leaning against the ballustrade, their shoulders almost touching. Gently, she put her right hand over his left one, feeling the warmth of his skin on hers.
“Don’t despair, Mik—it feels awful.”
“I’m being a fool, aren’t I?”
“No. You are just behaving like any man who has had the rug yanked out from under his feet.”
He chuckled. “Dead on the mark! Do you know, I am very angry with Regis for just springing it on me—he didn’t even ask me first!” Mikhail twined his fingers into hers, as Lady Linnea had claimed Regis’ in the Crystal Chamber an hour before.
She remembered how envious she had been of that small movement, that tenderness and intimacy. Margaret felt herself no longer
envious, just content to stand beside Mikhail and look out at the city. They stood quietly for a long time, neither speaking nor moving,
“Do you think this mess will get worked out?” he asked at last.
“If my father can manage it, yes. And if he can’t, there is always mushroom farming!”
Mikhail turned and put his arms around her, his breath brushing her cheeks. He reached up and touched one of the tendrils of copper hair that curled over her brow. “Do you know how glad I am that I have resisted all the comely lasses of Darkover, and that I love you very much.”
She felt breathless again, and cold for a second. The intensity of his feelings was frightening after a lifetime of deliberate isolation. Margaret glanced toward the blackened ruins of the Old Tower, where Ashara had captured her two decades before, then looked back at Mikhail. Her chill vanished, as if the last ice in her heart were melting under the sun of Darkover. She was home, at last; the exile she had never known she had was gone forever. “I think I do.”
Mikhail Hastur looked into her eyes, then bent forward and pressed his lips to hers. It was a tender kiss, passionate but gentle, and it burned like lightning through the very core of her being. She knew that she would never have another moment as wonderful as this. No matter what happened, she would have this, and with that she was content.
1 forthcoming from DAW Books in hardcover.
Marion Zimmer Bradley, Exile's Song
(Series: Darkover # 32)
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