"Never mind," I said. "Get on your riding‑things, unless you love Aldaran's hospitality too well to leave it!"
Regis said, "They came and took away my sword, and Danilo's dagger." For some reason the loss of the dagger seemed to grieve him most. I had no time to wonder why. I went and hauled at the senseless guardsmen's sword‑belts, gave one to Regis, belted the other around my own waist. It was too long for me, but better than nothing. I gave the daggers to Marjorie and Danilo. "I have repaid my kinsman's theft," I said, "now let's get out of here."
"Where shall we go?"
I had made my decision swiftly, "I'll take Marjorie to Arilinn," I said. "You two just get away as fast and far as you can, before all hell breaks loose."
Regis nodded. "We'll take the straight road to Thendara, and get the word to Comyn."
Danilo said, "Shouldn't we all stay together?"
"No, Dani. One of us may get through if the others are recaptured, and the Comyn must be warned, whatever happens. There is an out‑of‑control, unmonitored matrix being used here. Tell them that, if I cannot!" Then I hesitated. "Regis, don't take the straight road! It's suicide! It's the first place they'll look!"
"Then maybe I can draw pursuit away from you," he said. "Anyway, it's you and Marjorie they'll be after. Danilo and I are nothing to them."
I wasn't so sure. Then I saw what I could not mistake. I said, "No. We cannot separate while I send you on the route of danger. You are ill." Threshold sickness, I finally realized. "I cannot send the heir to Hastur into such danger!"
"Lew, we must separate." He looked straight up into my eyes. "Someone must get through to warn the Comyn."
What he said was true and I knew it. "Can you endure the journey?" I asked.
Danilo said, "I'll look after him, and anyway he's better off on the road than in Beltran's hands, especially once you've escaped." This was true also and I knew it. Danilo was quickly separating the contents of Regis' saddlebags, discarding nearly everything. "We've got to travel light. There's food here from Regis' journey north ,.." He quickly divided it, rolling meat and fruit, hard bread, into two small parcels. He handed the larger one to me and said, "You'll be on the back roads, further away from villages."
I stuffed it into the inside pocket of my riding cloak and looked at Marjorie. "Can we get out unseen?"
"That's easy enough, word won't have reached the stables. We'll get horses, too."
Marjorie led us out a small side door near the stables. Most of the stablemen were sleeping; she roused one old man who knew her as Kermiac's ward. It was eccentric, perhaps, for her to set forth at nightfall with some of Beltran's honored guests, but it wasn't for an old horse‑keeper to question. Most of them had seen me with her and had heard the castle gossip that a marriage was being arranged. If he had
heard of the quarrel, this would have accounted for it in his mind, that Marjorie and I had run away to marry against Beltran's will. I'm sure this accounted for the looks of sympathy the old groom gave us. He found mounts for us all. I thought tardily of the escort from Comyn, who had come here with me.
I could order them to go with Regis and Danilo, protect them. But that would make a stir. Marjorie said softly, "If they don't know where you've gone, they cannot be made to tell," and that decided me.
If we rode hard till morning, and Beltran's guards slept as I had insured they would, we might be beyond pursuit. We led our horses toward the gates; the groom let us out. I lifted Marjorie to her saddle, readied myself to mount. She looked back with a faint sadness but, seeing me watching, she smiled bravely and turned her face to the road.
I turned to Regis, holding him for a moment in a kinsman's embrace. Would I ever see him again? I thought I had turned my back on Comyn, yet the tie was stronger than I knew. I had thought him a child, easily flattered, easily swayed. No. Less so than I was myself. I told myself firmly not to be morbid, and kissed him on the cheek, letting him go. "The Gods ride with you, bredu," I said, turning away. His hand clung to my arm for a moment, and in a split second I saw, for the last time, the frightened child I had taken into the fire‑lines; he remembered, too, but the very memory of conquered fear strengthened us both. Still, I could not forget that he had been placed in my charge. I said hesitantly, "I am not sure ... I do not like letting you take the road of most danger, Regis."
He gripped my forearms with both hands and looked straight into my eyes. He said fiercely, "Lew, you too are the heir to your Domain! And I have an heir, you don't! If it comes to that, better me than you!" I was shocked speechless by the words. Yet they were true. My father was old and ill, Marcus, so far as we knew, was without laran,
I was the last male Alton. And it had taken Regis to remind me!"
This was a man, a Hastur. I bowed my head in acquiescence, knowing we stood at that moment before something older, more powerful than either of us. Regis drew a long breath, let go of my hands, and said, "We'll meet in Then‑dara, if the Gods will it, cousin."
I knew my voice was shaking. I said, 'Take care of him, Dani."
He answered, "With my life, Dom Lewis," as they swung into their saddles. Without a backward glance, Regis rode away down the path, Danilo a pace behind him.
I mounted, taking the opposite fork of the road, Marjorie at my side. I thanked all the gods I had ever heard of, and all the rest I hadn't, for the time I had spent with maps on my northward journey. It was a long way to Arilinn, through some of the worst country on Darkover, and I wondered If Marjorie could endure it.
Overhead two of the moons swung, violet‑blue, green‑blue, shedding soft light on the snow‑clad hills. We rode for hours in that soft night light. I was wholly aware of Marjorie: her grief and regret at leaving her childhood home, the desperation which had driven her to this. She must never regret it! I pledged my own life she should not regret.
The green face of Idriel sank behind the crest of the pass; above us was a bank of cold fog, stained blood color with the coming sunrise. We must begin to look somewhere for shelter; I was sure the hunt would be up soon after daylight. I was enough in contact with Marjorie to know when her weariness became almost unendurable. But when I spoke of it, she said, "Another mile or so. On the slope of the next hill, far back from the roadway, is a summer pasture. The herd‑women have probably taken their beasts down into the valleys, so it will be empty."
The herdwomen's hut was concealed within a grove of nut trees. As we drew near my heart sank, for I could hear the soft lowing of herd aminals, and as we dismounted I saw one of the women, barefoot in the melting snow, her hair long and tangled around her face, clad in a ragged leather skirt. Marjorie, however, seemed pleased.
"We're in luck, Lew. Her mother was one of my mother's people." She called softly, Mhari!"
The woman turned, her face lighting up. "Domna Mar‑guerida!" She spoke a dialect too ancient for me to follow; Marjorie answered her softly in the same patois. Mhari grinned widely and led us into the hut.
Most of the inside was taken up with a couple of dirty straw pallets on which an older woman lay, entangled with half a dozen small children and a few puppies. The only furniture was a wooden bench. Mhari gestured to us to sit on it,
and ladled us out bowls of hot, coarse, nut‑porridge. Marjorie almost collapsed on the bench; Mhari came to draw oS her ;i. riding‑boots.
"What did she say to you, Marjorie? What did you tell her?"
"The truth. That Kermiac was dead, that on, his deathbed v he had promised me to you, and that you and Beltran had quarreled, so we are going into the lowlands to marry. She has promised that neither she nor her friend, nor any of the children, will say a word of our being here." Marjorie took another spoonful of the porridge. She was almost too weary to lift her spoon to her mouth. I was glad to down my portion, to put aside my sword and haul off my boots and later, when the conglomeration of babies and puppies had vacated the mattress, to lie down there in my clothes beside Marjorie. "They should have gone, days ago," Marjorie said, "but Caillean's husband has not come for them. She says they'll be / out all day with the beasts and we can sleep safely here." And indeed, very shortly the clamoring crew of babies and puppies had been fed on the rest of the porridge and hustled outside. I drew Marjorie into the circle of my arm, then realized that in spite of the noise made by children and dogs she was already deeply asleep. The straw smelled of dogs and dirt, but I was too tired to be critical. Marjorie lying in the curve of my arm, I slept too.