“Rafe?”
“He’s fine. I gave him a few drops of kirian, got him to drink some hot milk and honey, left him asleep.” Kadarin wore his sad, tender smile on his face. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. After all your warnings, I never expected— it was Thyra who suggested you might be with Marjorie.” He laughed. “But I hadn’t expected to find you in her bed!” I said stiffly, “I assure you—”
“Lew, in the name of all the damned obscene gods of the Dry-Towners, do you think it matters a damn to me?” He was laughing again. “Oh, I believe you, you’re just scrupulous enough, and bound hand and foot with your own idiot superstitions! I think you’re putting a considerable strain on human nature, myself—I wouldn’t trust myself to lie down with a woman I loved and never touch her—but if you happen to enjoy self-torture, that’s your own choice. As the Dry-Towner said to the cralmac . . .” And he launched into a long, good-humored and incredibly obscene tale which took my mind off my embarrassment as nothing else could have. Not a word of it was suitable for repeating in polite company, but it was exactly what the situation demanded.
When we reached the fireside room, he said, “You heard the helicopter land this afternoon?”
I was still chuckling at the adventures of the Dry-Towner, the spaceman and the three nonhumans; the sudden gravity of his voice shocked me back to normal.
“I saw it, yes. Has it to do with me?”
“A special guest,” Kadarin said. “Beltran feels you should speak with him. You told us he is a catalyst telepath with no reason to love the Comyn, and Beltran sent to persuade him—”
Seated on one of the stone benches near the fire, his dark hair awry, looking cold and ruffled and angry, was Danilo Syrtis. Beltran said, “Perhaps you can explain that we mean no harm, that he is not a prisoner, but an honored guest.”
Danilo tried to sound defiant, but despite his best efforts I could hear that his voice was shaking. “You carried me off with armed men and my father will be ill with fright! Is this how you mountain men welcome guests, taking them away in infernal Terran machines?” He looked no older than Rafe.
I called “Danilo—” and his mouth dropped open. He sprang up. “They told me you were here, but I thought it was just another of their lies.” The childish face hardened. “Was it by your orders they had me kidnapped? How long will the Comyn persecute me?”
I shook my head. “Not my orders, nor Comyn. Until this moment I had no idea you were here.”
He turned on Beltran in childish triumph. His voice, still unbroken, sounded shrill. “I knew you were lying, when you told me Lew Alton ordered me brought here—”
I swung toward Beltran and said in real anger, “I told you Danilo might be persuaded to join us! Did you take that as license to kidnap him?” I held out both hands to the boy and said, “Dani, forgive me. It is true I told them of you and your laran; I suggested that one day they might seek you out and persuade you to join us in what we are doing.” His hands felt cold. He had been badly frightened. “Don’t be afraid. I swear on my honor, no one will hurt you.”
“I am not afraid of such rabble,” he said scornfully, and I saw Beltran wince. Well, if he was going to behave like some Brynat Scarface or Cyrillon des Trailles, he must expect to be called uncomplimentary names! Danilo added, his voice shaking, “My father is old and feeble. He has already suffered my disgrace. Now to lose me again … he will surely grieve himself to death.”
I said to Beltran, “You fool, you utter fool! Send a message at once, send it through the Terran relays if you must, that Danilo is alive and well, and that someone must inform his family that he is here, an honored guest! Do you want a friend and ally, or a mortal enemy?”
He had the grace to look ashamed. He said, “I gave no orders to hurt or frighten him or his father. Did anyone lay rough hands on either of you, lad?”