“I wish my sister had your strength of mind. I fear she will never forgive me for betraying the bonds of our kinship.”
I have lost Danilo and my brother, and now Javanne as well . . .
“There is an even greater reason for me to remain here, despite the risk,” Linnea said with quiet intensity. “Regis, you act as if the weight of the world rested on you alone.”
“The failure is mine,” he said stubbornly. “So must the remedy be.”
Linnea regarded him with that deep, searching gaze, but she made no attempt to breach the fragile shell of his isolation.
A heartbeat later, he had gathered himself. “Given what you just told me, I must waste no more time in dealing with my brother.”
“What will you do?”
“Try to reason with him, certainly. He must be brought to see this concentration of power cannot be good for Darkover.”
“And if he will not listen to you? What then?”
“I will fly that hawk when his pinions are grown,” Regis retorted. “Do you mean to cripple me with prophecies of failure?”
She sighed but did not argue further.
Regis went to make himself presentable for a visit to the Castle. He did not know what awaited him or what arguments or actions he might be forced to take. If Rinaldo would not listen to reason, what then?
What then?
30
By the time Regis arrived at Comyn Castle, he had acquired an escort of three off-duty City Guardsmen, all seasoned officers. The sincerity with which they offered him their service as an honor guard bespoke their hope that now all things would be put right. Eventually, Regis would need a paxman, and Gabriel might be willing, but in the urgency of the moment, these volunteers provided the necessary security.
The three Guardsmen sliced through knots of pedestrians. Even the occasional rider steered clear, so they made much better time than Regis could have on his own.
They passed the outer gates of Comyn Castle and entered an open-air courtyard. In summer, the garden would be a haven of flowers and arching green branches. Now the benches were rain- wet, and the buds of the branches had only begun to open. The place seemed to be holding its breath.
The three Guardsmen who had attached themselves to Regis, although none had been on active duty since the coronation, were well informed. At this hour Rinaldo was within the Castle, not visiting one of the many new cristoforoshrines about the city. The new king held court daily in the same elegant hall used for his wedding, adjacent to the Grand Ballroom.
Regis would have preferred a private place where each might speak in confidence, most likely the study that Regis still though of as his grandfather’s. He had not anticipated the effect of Rinaldo’s newly royal status.
A pair of Castle Guards stood at attention outside the Grand Ballroom. They looked barely more than cadets, and they offered no objection as their senior officers escorted Regis through.
The hall had been newly furbished with hangings and carpets. Paintings and sculptures of various cristoforoholy images, many of them gilded or bejeweled, dotted the walls. Between these religious objects and tapestries that looked as if they had recently been dragged from the Castle storage rooms, there was hardly an inch of bare wall. Regis, who had never cared for ornate embellishments, felt as if the true beauty of the place, the stones so beautifully cut and placed, and the panels of translucent blue, had been crusted over and obscured.
Regis drew himself up. The decoration was trivial, although it revealed much about the man who had ordered it. He must not allow it to distract him from his own purpose.
With his escort on each side and behind him, Regis marched down the central aisle. Onlookers stared as he passed. The faint, rankling buzz of a telepathic damper blurred his laransenses.
A dais had been erected at the far end. Rinaldo occupied the massive carved chair used by Danvan Hastur when he presided over meetings of the Comyn Council. In fact, Regis realized, the configuration of the room approximated that of the Crystal Chamber. The arrangement of the seating formed a roughly octagonal shape, angled toward the throne. Rinaldo seemed to be saying, As the Comyn once ruled the Domains, I do now.
The assembly drew back as Regis approached. He knew some of them, city dignitaries, members of the Telepath Council, and a few minor Comyn. All were formally dressed, and many looked pleased with themselves.
Rinaldo’s courtiers are showing off, vying for power and royal favor,Regis thought with disgust. Here and there, he heard whispers and expressions of surprise.
Ignoring several attempts at greeting, Regis drew near the dais. Rinaldo was wearing a long robe in Hastur colors, the fir tree embroidered in silver thread. His belt and ornamental chain were of gleaming copper. A crown perched on his head, bright with Ardcarran rubies and sapphires. Danilo stood in the proper position of a paxman, features waxen, mouth set. His eyes came to life when he saw Regis, but he gave no other sign of recognition.
A man in a suit of opulent bronze brocade knelt at Rinaldo’s feet, hands placed in the attitude of a vassal pledging his loyalty. Rinaldo bent forward, his face intent. A cristoforopriest, who had been standing beside the dais, came forward.
Regis slowed his pace. The ceremony was akin to that used among the Comyn from ancient times. Regis himself had, at various occasions, both given and accepted oaths in just this fashion, but never with the participation of a priest . . .
The meaning of the ritual became evident a moment later: The new vassal had just publicly converted to the cristoforofaith. Regis set his jaw to suppress a shudder. In Darkover’s long past, kings and re-gents and Comyn lords had demanded—and received—fidelity of word and deed, even unto death. A man’s religious beliefs were matters for his own conscience. They had never been the price of royal patronage.
The ceremony concluded as Regis reached the dais. Rinaldo’s head jerked up, his expression momentarily unreadable. The newly sworn liegeman withdrew with alacrity.
Regis schooled his features into a pleasant smile and bowed. He lowered himself to the exact degree due to a kinsman of slightly higher rank. It was the salutation of a Comyn lord to the Head of his Domain, nothing more. How easily such niceties came to him, but, then, he had been drilled in the intricacies of Comyn politics since the time he could walk. If the nuances were lost on Rinaldo, they would be obvious to those few Comyn present.
“Regis! Brother!” Rinaldo exclaimed. “Where have you—I mean—we bid you welcome!”
Regis permitted himself an answering smile. “It gladdens my heart to see you well, my brother. Or should I say, Your Majesty?”
“It seems we have much to say to one another.”
“Then we had best do so privately.”
Rinaldo surged to his feet and raised his voice, addressing the assembly. “No more for today! Out, all of you!” As he strode out the door behind the dais, he barely managed to avoid knocking over the startled priest. Danilo followed closely, as a paxman should. Regis thought he saw a fleeting smile lighten Danilo’s mouth.
Rinaldo rushed along the Castle corridors at such a pace that Regis did not catch up with him and Danilo until they halted outside the study door.
“You’re not needed,” Rinaldo snarled at Danilo.
“As you wish, vai dom,” Danilo bowed with impeccable grace and backed away.
Rinaldo slammed the door and rounded on Regis. “What do you mean, disappearing without a word and then returning in such an ostentatious manner, interrupting my court?”