Regis threw his head back arrogantly. “Who are you? By what right did you have me brought here?”
“My name’s Dan Lawton,” the man said. He spoke the same language in which Regis had addressed him, and spoke it well. That wasn’t common. He said, “I am an assistant to the Legate and just now I’m handling curfew duty. Which you were violating, young man.”
One of the spaceforce men said, “We brought him straight to you, Dan. He wanted to fight a duel with us, for God’s sake! Can you handle this one?”
“We don’t fight duels in the Terran Zone,” Lawton said. “Are you new to Thendara? The curfew regulations are posted everywhere. If you can’t read, I suggest you ask someone to read them to you.”
Regis retorted, “I recognize no laws but those of the Children of Hastur!”
A strange look passed over Lawton’s face. Regis thought for a moment that the young Terran was laughing at him, but face and voice were alike noncommittal. “A praiseworthy objective, sir, but not particularly suitable here. The Hasturs themselves made and recognized those boundaries and agreed to assist us in enforcing our laws within them. Do you refuse to recognize the authority of Comyn Council? Who are you to refuse?”
Regis drew himself to his full height. He knew that between the giant spaceforce men he still looked childishly small.
“I am Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y Elhalyn,” he stated proudly.
Lawton’s eyes reflected amazement. “Then what, in the name of all your own gods, are you doing roaming around alone at this hour? Where is your escort? Yes, you look like a Hastur,” he said as he pulled an intercom toward him, speaking urgently in Terran Standard. Regis had learned it at Nevarsin. “Have the Comyn Elders left yet?” He listened a moment, then turned back to Regis. “A dozen of your kin-folk left here about half an hour ago. Were you sent with a message for them? If so, you came too late.”
“No,” Regis confessed, “I came on my own. I simply had a fancy to see the starships take off.” It sounded, here in this office, like a childish whim. Lawton looked startled.
“That’s easily enough arranged. If you’d sent in a formal request a few days ago, we’d gladly have arranged a tour for any of your kinsmen. At short notice like this, there’s nothing spectacular going on, but there’s a cargo transport about to take off for Vega in a few minutes, and I’ll take you up to one of the viewing platforms. Meanwhile, could I offer you some coffee?” He hesitated, then said, “You couldn’t be Lord Hastur; that must be your father?”
“Grandfather. For me the proper address is Lord Regis.” He accepted the proffered Terran drink, finding it bitter but rather pleasant. Dan Lawton led him into a tall shaft which rose upward at alarming speed, opening on a glass-enclosed viewing terrace. Below him an enormous cargo ship was in the final stages of readying for takeoff, with refueling cranes being moved away, scaffoldings and loading platforms being wheeled like toys to a distance. The process was quick and efficient. He heard again the waterfall sound, rising to a roar, a scream. The great ship lifted slowly, then more swiftly and finally was gone … out, beyond the stars.
Regis remained motionless, staring at the spot in the sky where the starship had vanished. He knew there were tears in his eyes again but he didn’t care. After a little while Lawton guided him down the elevator shaft. Regis went as if sleepwalking. Resolve had suddenly crystallized inside him.
Somewhere in the Empire, somewhere away from the Domains which had no place for him, there must be a world for him. A world where he could be free of the tremendous burden laid on the Comyn, a world where he could be himself, more than simply heir to his Domain, his life laid out in preordained duties from birth to grave. The Domain? Let Javanne’s sons have it! He felt almost intoxicated by the smell of freedom. Freedom from a burden he’d been born to—and born unfit to bear!
Lawton had not noticed his preoccupation. He said, “I’ll arrange an escort for you back to Comyn Castle, Lord Regis. You can’t go alone, put it out of your mind. Impossible.”
“I came here alone, and I’m not a child.”
“Certainly not,” Lawton said, straight-faced, “but with the situation in the city now, anything might happen. And if an accident occurred, I would be personally responsible.”
He had used the castaphrase implying personal honor. Regis lifted his eyebrows and congratulated him on his command of the language.
“As a matter of fact, Lord Regis, it is my native tongue. My mother never spoke anything else to me. It was Terran I learned as a foreign language.”
“You are Darkovan?”
“My mother was, and kin to Comyn. Lord Ardais is my mother’s cousin, though I doubt he’d care to acknowledge the relationship.”
Regis thought about that as Lawton arranged his escort. Relatives far more distant than that were often seated in Comyn Council. This Terran officer—half-Terran—might have chosen to be Darkovan. He had as much right to a Comyn seat as Lew Alton, for instance. Lew could have chosen to be Terran, as Regis was about to choose his own future. He spent the uneventful journey across the city thinking how he would break the news to his grandfather.
In the Hastur apartments, a servant told him that Danvan Hastur was awaiting him. As he changed his clothes—the thought of presenting himself before the Regent of Comyn in house clothes and felt slippers was not even to be contemplated—he wondered grimly if Lew had said anything to his grandfather. It occurred to him, hours too late, that if anything had happened to him, Hastur might well have held Lew responsible. A poor return for Lew’s friendship!
When he had made himself presentable, in a sky-blue dyed-leather tunic and high boots, he went up to his grandfather’s audience room.
Inside he found Danvan Hastur of Hastur, Regent of the Seven Domains, talking to Kennard Alton. As he opened the door, Hastur raised his eyebrows and gestured to him to sit down. “One moment, my lad, I’ll talk to you later.” He turned back to Kennard and said in a tone of endless patience, “Kennard, my friend, my dear kinsman, what you ask is simply impossible. I let you force Lew on us—”
“Have you regretted it?” Kennard demanded angrily. “They tell me at Arilinn that he is a strong telepath, one of their best. In the Guard he is a competent officer. What right have you to assume Marius would bring disgrace on the Comyn?”
“Who spoke of disgrace, kinsman?” Hastur was standing before his writing table, a strongly built old man, not as tall as Kennard, with hair that had once been silver-gilt and was now nearly all gray. He spoke with a slow, considered mildness. “I let you force Lew on us and I’ve had no reason to regret it. But there is more to it than that. Lew does not look Comyn, no more than you, but there is no question in anyone’s mind that he is Darkovan and your son. But Marius? Impossible.”
Kennard’s mouth thinned and tightened. “Are you questioning the paternity of an acknowledged Alton son?” Standing quietly in a corner, Regis was glad Kennard’s rage was not turned on him.
“By no means. But he has his mother’s blood, his mother’s face, his mother’s eyes. My friend, you know what the first-year cadets go through in the Guards … ”
“He’s my son and no coward. Why do you think he would be incompetent to take his place, the place to which he is legally entitled—”
“Legally, no. I won’t quibble with you, Ken, but we never recognized your marriage to Elaine. Marius is legally, as regards inheritance and Domain-right, entitled to nothing whatever. We gaveLew that right. Not by birth entitlement, but by Council action, because he was Alton, telepath, with full laran. Marius has received no such rights from Council.” He sighed. “How can I make you understand? I’m sure the boy is brave, trustworthy, honest—that he has all the virtues we Comyn demand of our sons. Any lad you reared would have those qualities. Who knows better than I? But Marius looks Terran. The other lads would tear him to pieces. I know what Lew went through. I pitied him, even while I admired his courage. They’ve accepted him, after a fashion. They would never accept Marius. Never. Why put him through that misery for nothing?”