He had wanted to protest, but instead he had only shaken his head and said humbly, “How can I know? But I will try to make it easy for her.”
Leonie’s sigh had seemed ripped up from the very depths of her being. She had said, “Nothing you could do, in this world or the next, could make it easy for her. If you are patient and careful — and lucky — you may make it possible. I do not want Callista to suffer. And yet in the choice she has made, there will be much suffering. She is young, but not so young that she can put aside her training without pain. The training that makes a Keeper is long; it cannot be undone in a little while.”
Andrew had protested. “I know—” and Leonie had sighed again. “Do you? I wonder. It is not only a matter of delaying the consummation of your marriage for days, or perhaps for seasons; that will be only the beginning. She loves you, and is eager for your love—”
“I can be patient until she is ready,” Andrew had sworn, but Leonie had said, shaking her head, “Patience may not be enough. What Callista has learned cannot be unlearned. You do not want to know about that. Perhaps it is better for you not to know too much.”
He had said again, protesting, “I’ll try to make it easy for her,” and again Leonie had shaken her head and sighed, repeating, “Nothing you could do could make it easy. Chickens cannot go back into eggs. Callista will suffer, and I fear you will suffer with her, but if you are — if you both are lucky, you may make it possible for her to retrace her steps. Not easy. But possible.”
Indignation had burst out of him then. “How can you people do this to young girls? How can you destroy their lives this way?” But Leonie had not answered, lowering her head; and moving noiselessly away from him. When he blinked she was gone, as swiftly as if she had been a shadow, so that he began to doubt his sanity, began to wonder if she had ever been there at all, or if his own doubts and fears had constructed an hallucination.
Callista, standing before him in the room that — tomorrow — would be theirs to share, raised her eyes again, slowly, to his. She said in a whisper, “I did not know Leonie had come to you that way,” and he saw her hands clench tightly, so tightly that the small knuckles were white as bone. Then she said, looking away from him, “Andrew, promise me something.”
“Anything, my love.”
“Promise me. If you ever… desire some woman, promise me you will take her and not suffer needlessly…”
He exploded. “What kind of man do you think I am? I love you! Why would I want anyone else?”
“I cannot expect — It is not right or natural…”
“Look here, Callista,” and his voice was gentle, “I’ve lived a long time without women. I never found it did me all that much harm. A few, here and there, while I was knocking around the Empire on my own. Nothing serious.”
She looked down at the tips of her small dyed-leather sandals. “That’s different, men alone, living away from women. But here, living with me, sleeping in the same room, being near me all the time and knowing…” She ran out of words. He wanted to take her into his arms and kiss her till she lost that rigid, lost look. He actually laid his hands on her shoulders, felt her tense under the touch, and let his hands drop to his sides. Damn anyone who could built pathological reflexes into a young girl this way! But even without the touch, he felt the grief in her, grief and guilt. She said softly, “You have no bargain in a wife, Andrew.”
He replied gently, “I have the wife I want.”
Damon and Ellemir came into the room. Ellemir’s hair was tousled, her eyes shining; she had that glassy-eyed look which he associated with women aroused, excited. For the first time since he had seen the twins, he saw Ellemir as a woman, not merely as Callista’s sister, and found her sensually attractive to him. Or was it that for a moment he saw in her the way Callista might, one day, look at him? He felt a flicker of guilt. She was his promised wife’s sister, in a few hours she would be his best friend’s wife, and of all women, she was the one at whom he should not look with desire. He looked away as she collected herself, slowly coming back to ordinary awareness.
She said, “Callie, we must have new curtains brought in; these have not been aired or washed, since — since” — she groped for analogy — “since the days of Regis the Fourth.” Andrew knew that she had been in close contact with Damon, and smiled to himself.
Just before high noon a clatter of hooves sounded in the courtyard, a commotion like a small hurricane, riders, sounds, cries, noises. Callista laughed. “It is Domenic; no one else ever arrives with such a fury!” She drew Andrew down to the courtyard. Domenic Lanart, heir to the Domain of Alton, was a slight, red-haired boy, tall and freckled, astride an enormous gray stallion. He flung the reins to a groom, jumped down, grabbed Ellemir and hugged her exuberantly, then threw his arms around Damon.
“Two weddings for one!” he exclaimed, drawing them up the steps at his side. “You’ve been long enough about your wooing, Damon. I knew last year that you wanted her; why did it take a war to bring you to the point of asking her hand? Elli, will you have a husband so reluctant?” He turned his head from side to side, kissing both of them, then broke away and turned to Callista.
“And for you a lover insistent enough to win you from the Tower! I am eager to meet this marvel, breda.” But his voice was suddenly gentle, and when Callista presented him to Andrew, he bowed. For all the exuberant noise and boyish laughter, he had the manners of a prince. His hands were small and square, calloused like a swordsman’s.
“So you are to marry Callista? I suppose that crowd of old ladies and graywigs in the Council won’t like it, but it’s time we had some new blood in the family.” He stood on tiptoe — Callista was a tall woman, and for all his lanky height, Domenic was not, Andrew thought, quite full-grown yet — and brushed her cheek lightly with his lips. “Be happy, sister. Avarra’s mercy! You deserve it, if you can dare to marry like this, without Council permission or the catenas.”
“Catenas” she said scornfully. “I had as soon marry a Dry-Towner and go in chains!”
“Good for you, sister.” He turned to Andrew as they went into the hall. “Father said in his message that you were a Terran. I have talked with some of your people in Thendara. They seem good enough folk, but lazy. Good Gods, they have machines for everything, to walk on, to lift them up a flight of stairs, to bring them food at table. Tell me, Andrew, do they have machines to wipe themselves with?” He shouted boisterous boyish laughter, while the girls giggled.
He turned to Damon. “So you’re not coming back to the Guards, cousin? You’re the only decent cadet-master we’ve had in ages. Young Danvan Hastur’s trying his hand at it now, but it’s not working. The lads are all too much in awe of him, and anyway, he’s too young. It needs a man of more years. Any suggestions?”