“I, myself? None, sir, save that they attacked an air-car in which I was riding with my father, and brought about his death. But all the Domains of the Lowlands have a grudge against the Ridenow because they have moved into the old Domain of Serrais and have taken their women in marriage.”
“Is that such a bad thing?” Aldaran asked. “Did the women of Serrais ask your aid against these marriages, or prove to you that they had been married against their will?”
“No, but—” Allart hesitated. He knew it was not lawful for women of the Hastur kin to marry outside that kinfolk. As the thought crossed his mind, Aldaran picked it up and said, “As I thought. It is only that you want these women for your own Domain, and those close akin to you. I had heard that the male line of Serrais is extinct; it is this inbreeding which has brought that line to extinction. If the women of Serrais wed back into the Hastur kin, I know enough of their bloodlines to predict that their laran will not survive another hundred years. They need new blood in that House. The Ridenow are healthy, and fertile. Nothing better could happen to the Serrais women than for the Ridenow to marry into their kindred.”
Allart knew that his face betrayed his revulsion, though he tried to hide it. “If you will forgive plain speaking, sir, I find it revolting to speak of the relationships between men and women only in terms of this accursed breeding program in the Domains.”
Aldaran snorted. “Yet you think it fitting to let the Serrais women be married off to Hasturs and Elhalyns and Aillards all over again? Isn’t that breeding them for their laran, too? They wouldn’t survive three more generations, I tell you! How many fertile sons have been born to Serrais in the last forty years? Come, come, do you think the lords who rule at Thendara are so charitable that they are trying to preserve the purity of Serrais? You are young, but you can hardly be so naïve as that. The Hastur kin would let Serrais die out before they let outlanders breed into it, but these Ridenow have other ideas. And that is the only hope for Serrais—some new genes! If you are wise, you people in the Domains will welcome the Ridenow and bind them to your own daughters with marriage ties!”
Allart was shocked. “The Ridenow—marry into the Hastur kin? They have no part in the blood of Hastur and Cassilda.”
“Their sons will have it,” Aldaran said bluntly, “and with new blood, the old Serrais line may survive, instead of breeding itself into sterility, as the Aillards are doing at Valeron, and as some of the Hasturs have done already. How many emmasca sons have been born into the Hasturs of Carcosa, or of Elhalyn, or Aillard, in the last hundred years?”
“Too many, I fear.” Against his will Allart thought of the lads he had known in the monastery; emmasca, neither male nor wholly female, sterile, some with other defects. “But I have not studied the matter.”
“Yet you presume to form an opinion on it?” Aldaran raised his eyebrows again. “I heard you had married an Aillard daughter; how many healthy sons and daughters have you? Though I need hardly ask. If you had, you would hardly be willing to swear allegiance to another man’s bastards.”
Stung, Allart retorted, “My wife and I have been wedded less than half a year.”
“How many healthy legitimate sons has your brother? Come, come, Allart; you know as well as I that if your genes survive, they will do so in the veins of your nedestro children, even as mine. My wife was an Ardais, and bore me no more living children than your Aillard lady is likely to bear you.”
Allart lowered his eyes, thinking with a spasm of grief and guilt, It is no wonder the men of our line turn to riyachiyas and such perversions. We can take so little joy in our wives, between guilt at what we do to them, or fear for what will befall them!
Aldaran saw the play of emotion on the young man’s face and relented. “Well, well, there is no need to quarrel, kinsman; I meant no offense. But we have followed a breeding program, among the kin of Hastur and Cassilda, that has endangered our blood more than any upstart bandits could do—and salvation may take strange forms. It seems to me that the Ridenow will be the salvation of Serrais, if you folk at Elhalyn do not hinder them. But that is neither here nor there. Tell your brother that even if I wished to join in the war, which I do not, I could do nothing of the sort. I am myself hard-pressed; I have quarreled with my brother of Scathfell, and it troubles me that he has, as yet, sought no revenge. What is he plotting? I have meaty bones to pick, here at Aldaran, and it seems to me sometimes that the other mountain lords are like kyorebni, circling, waiting… I am old. I have no legitimate heir, no living son at all, no single child of my own blood save my young daughter.”
Allart said, “But she is a fair child—and a healthy one, it seems—and she possesses laran. If you have no son, surely you can find somewhere a son-in-law to inherit your estate!”
“I had hoped so,” Aldaran said. “I think now it might even be well to marry her to one of those Ridenow, but that would bring down all the Elhalyn and Hastur kindred as well. It must depend, also, on whether your kinswoman can help her to survive the threshold at adolescence. I lost three grown sons and a daughter so. When I sought to wed into a line— such as my late wife, Deonara of Ardais—whose laran came early upon them, the children died before birth or in infancy. Dorilys survived birth and infancy, but with her laran, I fear she will not survive adolescence.”
“The gods forbid she should die so! My kinswoman and I will do all that we can. There are many ways now of preventing death in adolescence. I myself came near it, yet I live.”
“If that is so,” Aldaran said, “then am I your humble suppliant, kinsman. What I have is yours for the asking. But I beg you, remain and save my child from this fate!”
“I am at your service. Lord Aldaran. My brother has bidden me remain while I can be of use to you, or as long as needful to persuade you to remain neutral in this war.”
“That I promise you,” Aldaran said.
“Then you may command me, Lord Aldaran.” Then Allart’s bitterness broke through. “If you do not hold me too greatly in contempt, that I am not eager to return to the battlefield, since that seems to you the most fitting place for the young men of my clan!”
Aldaran bent his head. “I spoke in anger. Forgive me, kinsman. But I have no will to join this stupid war in the Lowlands, even though I feel the Hasturs should test the Ridenow before they admit them into their kindred. If the Ridenow cannot survive, perhaps they do not truly deserve to come into the line of Serrais. Perhaps the gods know what they are doing when they send wars among men, so that old lines of blood, softened by luxury and decadence, may die out, and new ones prevail, or come into them; new genetic material with traits tested by their ability to survive.”
Allart shook his head. “This may have been true in the older days,” he said, “when war was truly a test of strength and courage, so that the weaker did not survive to breed. I cannot believe it is so now, my lord, when such things as clingfire kill the strong and the weak alike, even women and little children who have no part in the quarrels of the lords…”
“Clingfire!” Lord Aldaran whispered. “Is it so, then—that they have begun to use clingfire in the Domains? But surely they can use it but little; the raw material is hard to mine from the earth and deteriorates so rapidly once it is exposed to the air.”
“It is made by matrix circles in the Towers, my lord. This is one reason I was eager to leave the area of this war. I would not be sent cleanly into battle, but would be put to make the hellish stuff.” Aldaran closed his eyes as if to shut out the unbearable.
“Are they all madmen, then, below the Kadarin? I had thought sheer sanity would deter them from weapons which must ravage conquerer and conquered alike! I find it hard to believe in any man of honor loosing such terrible weapons against his kin,” Aldaran said. “Remain here, Allart. All the gods forbid I should send any man back into such dishonorable warfare!” His face twisted. “Perhaps, if the gods are kind, they will exterminate one another, like the dragons of legend who consumed one another in their fi
re, leaving their prey to build on the scorched ground beneath them.”
* * *
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
« ^ »
Renata, head lowered, hurried across the courtyard at Aldaran. In her preoccupation, she ran hard into someone, murmured an apology, and would have hurried on, but felt herself caught and held.
“Wait a moment, kinswoman! I have hardly seen you since I came here,” Allart said.
Renata, raising her eyes, said, “Are you making ready to return to the Lowlands, cousin?”
“No, my lord of Aldaran has invited me to remain, to teach Donal something of what I learned at Nevarsin,” Allart said. Then, looking full into her face, he drew a breath of consternation. “Cousin, what troubles you? What is so dreadful?”
Confused, Renata looked at him, saying, “Why, I do not know.” Then, dropping into full rapport with his thoughts, she saw herself as she looked in his eyes—drawn, pale, her face twisted with grief and tragedy.
Is this what I am, or what I shall be? In sudden fear, she clung for a moment to him, and he steadied her, gently.
“Forgive me, cousin, that I frightened you. Indeed, I am beginning to feel that much of what I see exists only in my own fear. Surely there is nothing so frightful here, is there? Or is the damisela Dorilys such a little monster as the servants say?”
Renata laughed, but she still looked troubled. “No, indeed; she is the dearest, sweetest child, and as yet she has shown me only her most biddable and loving face. But— Oh, Allart, it is true! I am frightened for her; she bears a truly dreadful laran, and I am afraid for what I must say to the lord Aldaran, her father! It cannot but make him angry!”
“I have seen her only for a few minutes,” Allart said. “Donal was showing me how he controls the glider-toys, and she came down and begged to fly with us; but Donal said she must ask Margali, that he would not take the responsibility of letting her come. She was very cross, and went off in a great sulk.”
“But she did not strike at him?”
“No,” said Allart. “She pouted and said he did not love her, but she obeyed him. I would not want to let her fly until she could control a matrix, but Donal said he was given one when he was nine, and learned to use it without trouble. Evidently laran comes early on the Delleray kindred.”
“Or on those of Rockraven,” Renata said, but she still looked troubled. “I would not want to trust Dorilys with a matrix yet; perhaps never. But we will speak of that later. Lord Aldaran has agreed to receive me, and I must not keep him waiting.”
“Indeed you must not,” Allart said, and Renata went across the courtyard, frowning.
Outside the presence-chamber of the lord Aldaran, she found Dorilys. The little girl looked more controlled and civilized today, her hair neatly plaited, her dress an embroidered smock.
“I want to hear what you say to my father about me, cousin,” she said, sliding her hand confidingly into Renata’s.
Renata shook her head. “It is not good for little girls to listen to the councils of their elders,” she said. “I must say many things which you would not understand. I give you my word that everything concerning you will be told to you when the proper time comes, but that proper time is not now, Dorilys.”
“I am not a little girl,” Dorilys said, thrusting her lip out.
“Then you should not behave like one, pouting and stamping your foot as if you were five years old! Certainly such behavior will not convince me that you are old enough to listen with maturity to talk about your future.”
Dorilys looked more rebellious than ever. “Who do you think you are, to talk that way to me? I am Lady of Aldaran!”
“You are a child who will one day be Lady of Aldaran,” Renata said coldly, “and I am the leronis whom your father saw fit to entrust with the task of teaching you proper behavior befitting that high place.”
Dorilys pulled her hand free of Renata’s, staring sulkily at the floor. “I will not be spoken to in that way! I will complain of you to my father, and he will send you away if you are not kind to me!”
“You do not know the meaning of the word unkindness,” Renata said mildly. “When I entered the Tower of Hali as a novice to learn the art of monitor, no one was allowed to speak to me for forty days, nor to look into my eyes. This was to strengthen my reliance upon my laran.”
“I wouldn’t have put up with it,” Dorilys said, and Renata smiled.
“Then they would have sent me home, knowing I did not have the strength and self-discipline to learn what I must learn. I will never be unkind to you, Dorilys, but you must master yourself before you are fit to command others.”
“But it is different with me,” Dorilys argued. “I am Lady of Aldaran, and already I command all the women in the castle, and most of the men, too. You are not the Lady of your Domain, are you?”
Rehata shook her head. “No, but I am a Tower monitor. And even a Keeper is taught so. You have met your brother’s friend, Allart. He is Regent of Elhalyn, yet at Nevarsin, for his training, he slept naked on stone for three winters, and never spoke in the presence of any monk superior to him.”
“That’s horrible,” Dorilys said, making a face.
“No. We undertake these disciplines voluntarily, because we know we need to discipline our bodies and minds to obey us, so that our laran will not destroy us.”
“If I obey you,” Dorilys asked craftily, “will you give me a matrix and teach me to use it, so that I can fly with Donal?”
“I will when I think you can be trusted with it, chiya.”Renata said.
“But I want it now,” Dorilys argued.
Renata shook her head. “No,” she said. “Now go back to your rooms, Dorilys, and I will see you when I have finished with your father.” She spoke firmly, and Dorilys started to obey; then, after a few steps, she whirled around, stamping her foot angrily.
“You will not use command-voice on me again!”
“I will do what I think fit,” said Renata, unmoved. “Your father has put me in charge of you. Must I tell him I find you disobedient, and ask him to command you to obey me in all things?”
Dorilys shrank. “No, please—don’t tell Father on me, Renata!”
“Then obey me at once,” Renata repeated, using the forbidden command-voice. “Go back and tell Margali you have been disobedient, and ask her to punish you.”
Dorilys’s eyes filled with tears, but she moved away, lagging, out of the courtyard, and Renata let her breath go.
How would I have forced her to obey if she had refused? And a time will come when she will refuse, and I must be prepared for that!
One of the servants was staring, wide-eyed, having observed the little interchange. Renata picked up the woman’s thoughts without trying: I have never seen my little lady obey like that…without a word of protest!
So it was the first time Dorilys had to obey against her will, Renata thought. Margali, she knew, would punish Dorilys gently, only by setting her to sew long and uninteresting seams on skirts and shifts, and forbidding her to touch her embroidery-frames. It will not hurt our little lady to learn to do tasks for which she has no liking or talent.
But the confrontation had hardened her will for what she knew would be a difficult meeting with Lord Aldaran. She was grateful that he had agreed to receive her in the small study where he wrote his letters and saw the coridom about the business of his estates, rather than in the formal presence-chamber.
She found him dictating to his private secretary, but he broke off when she came in, and sent the man away. “Well, damisela, how are you getting along with my daughter? Do you find her obedient and biddable? She is headstrong, but very sweet and loving.”
Renata smiled faintly. “She is not very loving at this moment, I fear,” she said. “I have had to punish her, to send her to Margali to sit over her sewing for a while, and learn to think before she speaks.”
Lord Aldaran sighed. “I suppose no child can be brought up without some punishment,” he said.
“I gave Donal’s tutors leave to beat him, if they must, but I was gentler with him than my father with me, for I forbade his tutors to strike him hard enough to leave bruises; while as a boy I often was beaten so that I could not sit in comfort for days. But you will not need to beat my daughter, I hope.”
“I would prefer not to,” Renata said. “I have always thought that solitary meditation over some tedious or boring task is punishment enough for most misbehavior. Still, I wish you would tell her, sometime, what you have told me, my lord. She seems to feel that her rank should excuse her from punishment or discipline.”
“You would like me to tell her that my tutors had leave to beat me when I was a lad?” Lord Aldaran chuckled. “Very well, I shall do so, by way of reminding her that even I have had to learn to rule myself. But did you come only for leave to punish my daughter, Lady? I had thought that when I put her in your charge, you would take that for granted.”
“And so I do,” Renata said. “But I had something far more serious to discuss with you. You brought me here because you feared the strength of your daughter’s laran, did you not? I have monitored her carefully, body and brain; she is still several moons short of puberty, I judge. Before that comes upon her, I would like to ask leave to monitor you, my lord, and Donal as well.”
Lord Aldaran raised his eyesbrows curiously. “May I ask why, damisela?”
“Margali has already told me all she can remember of Aliciane’s pregnancy and confinement,” Renata said, “so that I know some of what Dorilys inherited from her mother. But Donal, too, bears the heritage of Rockraven, and I would like to know what recessives Dorilys may be carrying. It is simpler to check Donal than to go into germ plasm. The same with you, my lord, since Dorilys bears not only your heritage but that of all your line. I would also like access to your genealogies, so that I can see if there are any traces in your line of certain kinds of laran.”
Lord Aldaran nodded. “I can see that you should be armed with such knowledge,” he said. “You may tell the keeper of the Aldaran archives that I give you freedom of all our records. Do you think, then, that she will survive threshold sickness in adolescence?”