Traitor's Sun (55 page)

“Is that what you believe?”

“Everyone knows . . . oops, I did it again, didn’t I?” She shrank back, afraid of his earlier threat. When he made no move to strike her, she relaxed slightly, wriggling her bare toes over the lower rung of her chair. Fear and curiosity warred in her sharp features, and he caught wisps of memory, of beatings and hunger, cold and constant fear of those around her. Only Loret seemed to have treated her with any real kindness.

Nico felt sick and ashamed of himself. He had no idea until that instant of how really hard her life had been. No one had ever struck him for no better reason than that they were angry or drunk. He had been frightened, but only of the strange things within himself, never of his parents. Even his grandmother had never done him any more injury than to hate him.

Domenic wondered what words would reassure her. Perhaps silence was the best answer, that and not making any move that would threaten the girl. She was very quick, and perhaps she would work it out for herself.

After several minutes of quiet, Nico saw her relax slightly, and sensed that her curiosity might be the victor for the moment. “But how else does a Keeper work? I mean, no one would really want to live in a Tower unless they were forced to, would they?”

“Have you ever gone to Nevarsin?”

“What a strange thing to ask. Yes, I have. We went there once, about three years back. Why?”

“Did you see the
cristoforos
?”

“Certainly.”

“Was anyone making them stay there?”

“That’s different. They don’t have anything anyone wants. They are just a bunch of crazy old men who believe in some weird god.”

“The biggest difference between a Tower and a monastery is that a Tower is not concerned with religion, Illona. But both are communities of people who have things in common.”

“You will never convince me of that. The Towers take the best people and make them into slaves, and then expect the rest of Darkover to support them. They don’t
do
anything!”

“You don’t know that since you have never been in a Tower.”

“Then tell me what good they are, except to keep the Domains in power?”

This novel idea had never occurred to him, but he could see now how someone living on the edges of Darkovan society might believe it. “They are schools for people like yourself, Illona, who would go mad if they did not receive training.”

“I’ve done fine so far.”

“Then you have been very fortunate.”

“I don’t want to spend the rest of my life locked up!”

“Lots and lots of people take training in the Towers and then leave.”

“I don’t believe you.” She was absolutely determined to hold to her own fears.

“Fine. Ask Rafaella. She has a sister who spent some time at Neskaya, then left and married and is very happily living her own life, up in the Kilghards.”

“She would say anything you told her to.”

This was too much for him, in his tiredness, and he found himself laughing while the girl glared at him, outraged and furious. When he finally managed to get himself under control, he said, “I am sorry. I was not laughing at you, though you probably don’t believe me. It is just that the very thought of me telling my Aunt Rafi what to do struck me as very funny.”

“Your aunt? You have an aunt who is a Renunciate?” Illona seemed to be having a great deal of trouble taking in this relationship.

“She is my mother’s best friend, and she is freemated to a great-uncle of mine, Rafe Scott.”

“The same Rafe Scott who runs expeditions?”

“You know of him, then?”

“Sort of. I . . . have heard of him.”

“How?”

“Dirck thought about him sometimes, and I kept catching the name when we were still up in the Hellers.” She seemed troubled now, as if something about Vancof’s thoughts unsettled her.

Nico waited for her to continue, but Illona became quiet and thoughtful instead. He forced himself not to even brush her mind, letting her sort things out for herself. At last he said, “Tell me about Dirck’s thoughts, why don’t you?”

“He drinks, you know.”

“I had that impression.”

“Well, when he does, it is like he is throwing his thoughts all over the room. Nasty things. I tried not to hear anything, because it made me want to throw up. And it was all muddled, with a lot of things I didn’t understand. But I do know he was afraid of Rafe Scott for some reason, and often thought about trying to kill him, when he was really in his cups. He thought about killing people a lot, and I think he has done it, too.” Illona shivered. “He is a very bad man, but after our regular driver left, we didn’t have a lot of choice.”

“Your driver left?”

“I guess. He just didn’t show up one morning, and the next day Dirck showed up and said he was from Dyan Player’s troupe, and Aunty—you think that Dirck . . .”

“It does seem very convenient, doesn’t it?”

Illona pulled her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs, as if trying to make herself as small as possible. She seemed very small and afraid, but her fear was no longer of Nico. He looked beyond her, toward the wall, staring at the paneling and refused to let his mind catch even the slightest thought that ran in her brain. “Yes, I suppose it was,” she said softly. “I never liked him, and neither did Aunty—and just look where it got her! But I told myself that I was being silly, because, you know, he looked at me so . . . strangely. Like he wanted to do something bad to me, only he dared not because of Loret.” She paused, swallowed hard, reliving those moments, he was sure. “And I never took the things I heard him think seriously.”

“Why not?”

“It was too scary.” She trembled all over for a moment, then forced herself to stop. “What would you do if you were riding around the countryside with a man who seemed to be a . . . murderer? And who thought about—”

Domenic received a clear and unwelcome impression of rape, and it was all he could do not to march up the stairs, enter the room where he knew Vancof was at that moment, and kill the man. He controlled his own feelings with an effort. Aware that he did not want to frighten her again, that he was beginning to gain her trust, he only said, “You couldn’t very well tell a village constable, I suppose.”

Illona gave a feeble laugh. “We Travelers stay as far away from them as we can, because they are always looking for a way to make trouble for us. It is bad enough that we have to bribe them half the time, to let us perform. Not the ones near the Towers, though. But the ones in the smaller towns are greedy bullies as often as not. Except to smile and say good day, I have never spoken to a constable in my life!”

Nico chewed on this for a minute. It gave him a perspective on life outside the walls of Comyn Castle that was strange and uncomfortable. Had it always been like this, or had the withdrawal of Regis Hastur during the final years of his life allowed these actions to occur? He had never experienced any situation where he could not have asked for help, and he knew that this was not true for the girl, and for others like her as well. He could not even start to imagine what her life had been like, and the little he had learned so far only made him feel sick and sad. Domenic had never really thought about common life on Darkover, had merely assumed it was pleasant—certainly better than his life of endless duty. Now he realized how really ignorant he was.

If only his mother were there! She would reassure him—or would she? Marguerida Alton-Hastur was, in private, blunt and forthright. If she perceived a problem, she tried to remedy it, not tidy it away under the nearest carpet. Then, suddenly, he understood more of why Lew Alton had been so unhappy about Regis Hastur’s last years—the way he had withdrawn and become wary and anxious. His grandfather probably knew that things on Darkover were not perfect, nor even very good for some people. And he knew now that Regis’ refusal to actively rule the Domains, his insistance on hiding within Comyn Castle, had led to resentment in the common people. In another few years, or a decade, it might have even gone far enough to turn into the revolution that Vancof was attempting to foment.

Domenic was too tired to sort it out completely, and too confused. He felt as if a great weight were bearing down on him, grinding him to dust, and snatched himself back from that downward spiral with a sharp mental jerk. The girl was watching him now, her face a study in curiosity.

“You are a very strange boy, Domenic.”

“How so?”

“Well, you are about my age, but you feel years older, like some ancient trapped in a boy’s body. I think you know a lot of things, but I also think you don’t know anything about the real world.”

“You might be right about that.” He grinned stiffly. “I will gladly bow to your greater experience.”

“You will?” Her eyes got round as she considered this seriously. “But, why? I am just a nobody—an orphan girl.”

He rubbed his chest reflectively. “With very sharp elbows. For no reason I can say, I like you, Illona. True, you have a bunch of foolish ideas in your head about the Towers, but I just like you. And I want to help you.”

You do! I know it, and it scares me nearly to death.
Her eyes widened as she sensed her own touch against his mind.
Did I do that?

Domenic could not help the bubble of laughter that rose in his throat at her horrified expression, even though he tried to stifle it.
No, not doomed Illona, just overly dramatic. I suppose that comes from doing all those plays with the puppets.

She balled a fist, started to punch at him, then paused.
Aunty said something like that, too. I can’t believe she is really dead. What is going to happen to me? Wait! It’s that damn Dirck, and he is up to no good!

What? Ah, yes. I almost missed him.
Illona had distracted him, but now he could sense the driver leaving the room overhead, and he was not alone, from the sound of more than one pair of faint footfalls. “Gregor,” he hissed.

“Yes,
vai dom.
”

“Get out of sight and let the men who are coming down the stairs do whatever they wish.”

“But. . . .”

“That’s an order.”

An order, but it is going to be my skin that gets racked up for not following
Dom
Aldaran’s. Still, he’s a good lad, and probably knows what he is doing.

Domenic took Illona’s arm and drew her away from the fire, and to his surprise she did not resist. He could feel her fear of the driver, and he realized that without the protection of Loret, the man represented a real danger to her. He pulled her behind the long curtains that hung over the windows at the front of the inn, and hoped that Vancof and Granfell were not going to come into the taproom at all. It was cold next to the glass, and the girl pressed against him, pushing her knuckles into her generous mouth to keep from making the slightest sound.

Illona huddled against him, shivering from more than cold. He could smell the warm woolen tunic and the scent of balsam and lavender on her skin. Rafi must have made her take a hot bath before bed. His senses were so heightened now that it seemed he could feel her blood surging through her veins, and if he had not been quite so alarmed, he would have thoroughly enjoyed her nearness.

“I stashed a couple of horses behind the inn earlier,” a voice murmured. Domenic twitched the curtains slightly, so he could peek through a gap in the fabric. He could see the bottom of the stairs, and part of the hall that led to both the front door and the kitchens at the back. There was a small circle of light, then two, moving eerily across the polished floorboards. After a second he could see the shine of a pair of Terranan leather boots in the strange light.

“It’s raining, Vancof! I still don’t see why we can’t stay in until morning,” another answered.

“We don’t have far to go—just a few miles. There is an abandoned croft where we can hide. I don’t think we dare remain here. After the riot they might start looking for me.”

“That’s your problem, Vancof.”

“No, it is
our
problem. Now, be quiet. We don’t want to wake up the innkeeper and have to explain to him why we are sneaking out in the middle of . . .”

“A knife will . . .”

“Shut up! Do you want to draw attention to us?”

A gusty sigh followed. “Where the hell is Nailors?”

“He must have run off during the riot. This way. And try to be quiet!”

The noise of their footfalls faded away, and the strange lights with them. Both Illona and Nico let out aching breaths as they emerged from the curtains. The girl noticed she had her hand clutched around his upper arm and snatched it away as if it burned.
I am glad he is gone away! But I am still here.

She shuddered all over, the color draining from her cheeks. Nico felt a whirlpool of blackness begin to rise in her mind and caught her slender body firmly, holding it against him, supporting her head against his shoulder and speaking softly into her ear. Grief and fear and rage poured into him, an overwhelming rush of emotions that had been held in check for hours. It touched the same feelings in his own mind, releasing them abruptly.

They clung to one another for comfort, drowning in a sea of emotions, so close that it seemed to Domenic that there was no separation between them except their flesh. It was a shocking experience, one greater even than the intimacy of working in a Tower circle, and when it began to abate as suddenly as it had begun, he had a pang of loss as well as another of great relief.

“It will be all right, Illona, I promise,” he whispered feebly.

She snuffled, and he realized she was crying softly. Illona pulled away, a little reluctantly he thought, and gave him a bleary gaze. “Well, if you
promise,
that will make it fine, won’t it!” Even in tears, she was tart as a green apple.