“So this is… Linnell’s identical twin… ?”
“More alike than that; only once in a million times or so would a twin be the duplicate under Cherilly’s Law. This is her real twin; same fingerprints, same retinal patterns and brainwave patterns, same betagraphs and blood type. She won’t be much like Linnell in personality, probably, because the duplicates of Linnell’s environment are duplicated all over the Galaxy.” I pointed to the small scar beside her chin; turned over the limp wrist where the mark of Comyn was embedded in the flesh. “Probably a birthmark,” I said, “but it’s identical with Linnell’s Seal, see? Flesh and blood are identical; same blood type, and even her chromosomes, if you could monitor that deeply, would be identical with Linnell’s.”
Callina stared and stared. “She can live in this—this alien environment, then?”
“If she’s identical,” I said. “Her lungs breathe the same ratio of oxygen in the air as ours do, and her internal organs are adjusted to the same gravity.”
“Can you carry her?” Callina asked, “She’ll get a dreadful shock if she wakes up in this place.”
I grinned humorlessly. “She’ll get one anyhow.” But I managed to scoop her up one-handed; she was frail and light, like Linnell. Callina went ahead of me, pulled back curtains, showed me where to lay her down on a couch in a small bare room—I supposed the young men and women who worked in the relays sometimes took a nap here instead of returning to their own rooms. I covered her, for it was cold.
“I wonder where she comes from?” Callina murmured.
“From a world with about the same gravity as Darkover, which narrows it a little,” I evaded. I could not remember the nurse’s name, some barbaric Terran syllables. I wondered if she would recognize me. I should explain it all to Callina. But her face was lined with exhaustion, making her look gaunt, twice her age. “Let’s leave her to sleep off the shock— and get some sleep ourselves.”
We went down to the foot of the Tower. Callina stood in the doorway with me, her hands lightly resting in mine. She looked haggard, worn, but lovely to me after the shared danger, the intimacy created by matrix work, a closeness greater than family, greater than that of lovers— I bent and kissed her, but she turned her head so that my kiss fell only on a mouthful of soft, fine, sweet-scented hair. I bowed my own head and did not press her. She was right. It would have been insanity; we were both exhausted.
She murmured, as if finished a sentence I had started “… and I must go and see if Linnell is really all right…”
So she, too, had shared that sense of portent, of doom? I put her gently away, and went out of the Tower, but I did not go to my rooms to sleep as I meant to do. Instead I paced in the courtyard, like a trapped animal, battling unendurable thoughts, until the red sun came up and Festival dawned in Thendara.
CHAPTER NINE
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The morning of Festival dawned red and misty; Regis Hastur, restless, watched the sun come up, and asked his body-servant to arrange for flowers to be sent to his sister Javanne.
I should send gifts, too, to the mothers of my children—
It was simple enough to arrange that baskets of fruits and flowers should be sent, but he felt profoundly depressed and, paradoxically, lonely.
There is no reason I should be lonely. Grandfather would be only too happy to arrange a marriage for me, and I could choose any woman in Thendara for wife, and have as many concubines as a Dry-Towner, and no one could criticize me, not even if I chose to keep a male favorite or two on the side.
I suppose, when it comes to that, I am alone because I would rather be alone, and responsible to no one…
… except the whole damned population of the Domains! I cannot call my life my own… and I will not marry so that they will approve of me!
There was only one person in Thendara, he reflected, whom he really wished to send a gift; and because of custom, he could not do that. He would not degrade what was between Danilo and himself by the pretense that it was the more conventional tie. He sat at his high window, looking out over the city, pondering yesterday’s end to the Council, frightened because he had done what he had done, manifested the Form of Fire before them all. Somehow, without training more than the barest minimum, so that he could use his laran without becoming ill, he had acquired a new Gift he did not know he had, nor did he know what to do with it. He knew so little of the Hastur Gift and he suspected that his grandfather knew little more.
If only Kennard had still been alive, he would have gone to the kindly kinsman he had learned to call “Uncle” and set his puzzlement before him. Kennard had spent years in Arilinn and knew everything that was known about the Comyn powers. But Kennard was dead, under a faraway alien sun, and Lew seemed to know little more than himself. Moreover, Lew had his own troubles.
At this point he was summoned to breakfast with his grandfather. For a moment he considered sending a message that he was not hungry—he had made a point with his grandfather and was not inclined to give way on it—but then he remembered that it was, after all, Festival, and kinsmen should put aside their quarrels for the day. In any case he would have to confront his grandfather at the great ball tonight; he might as well meet him in private first.
Danvan Hastur bowed to his grandson, then embraced him and as Regis took a seat before the laden table, he noticed that his grandfather had ordered all his favorite delicacies. He supposed this was as near to an apology as he would ever have from the old man. There was coffee from the Terran Zone, in itself a great luxury, and various honey cakes and fruits, as well as the more traditional fare of porridge and nut breads. As he helped himself, Danvan Hastur said, “I ordered a basket of fruits and candies sent to Javanne in your name.”
“You might have trusted me to remember, sir,” said Regis, smiling, “but with that brood of children, the sweets won’t go to waste.”
But thinking of Javanne set him to remembering again the eerie power he had somehow acquired over Javanne’s matrix when it had been possessed by Sharra— He did not understand and there was no one to ask. Should he go and demand the audience with Ashara which Callina had denied him? Lew’s matrix was overshadowed by Sharra; perhaps I would have power over that too—
But he feared to try and fail. And then he remembered that there was another matrix, and one within his own reach, which had been overshadowed by Sharra; though at a greater distance than Lew’s; Lew had been in the very heart of Sharra’s flames… Rafe Scott was concealed in the Terran Zone, and Regis didn’t blame him. But did Rafe even know that Beltran was here, threatening all of them? Yes, he would pay a call upon Rafe this morning.
He declined another cup of coffee… although he was grateful for the gesture his grandfather had made, he did not really like it… and pushed his chair back, just as the servant announced:
“Lord Danilo, Warden of Ardais.”
Hastur greeted Danilo with affable courtesy, and invited him to join them at the table; Regis knew that his grandfather was underlining a conceded point. But Danilo, bowing to them both, said, “I am here with a message from Lord Ardais, sir. Beltran of Aldaran has brought his honor guard within the city walls and has invited you to witness his formal giving up of Terran weapons into the hands of his promised wife, Lady Aillard.”
“Send a messenger to tell him I will be there within a few moments,” said Hastur, rising. “Regis, will you join me?”
“Please excuse me, Grandfather, I have an errand elsewhere,” Regis said, and though his grandfather did not look pleased, he did not question Regis.