“Surely Lew wouldn’t be a party to anything dishonorable.
“Not knowingly, maybe. But he’s very angry with the Comyn, and wholly committed to Beltran now,” Danilo said. “This is what he told me.”
He began to explain Beltran’s plan for revival of the old matrix technology, bringing Darkover from a non-industrial, non-technological culture into a position of strength in a galactic empire. As he spoke of star-travel Regis’ eyes brightened, recalling his own dreams. Suppose he need not desert his world and his heritage to go out among the stars, but could serve his people and still be part of a great star-spanning culture… it seemed too good to be true.
“Surely if it could have been done at all, it would have been done at the height of the strength of the towers. They must have tried this.”
“I don’t know,” said Danilo humbly, “I’m not as well-educated as you, Regis.” And Regis knew so little!
“Let’s not sit and make guesses about what they’re doing,” Regis said, “Let’s wait till tomorrow and ask them.” He yawned deliberately. “I haven’t slept in a bed for a dozen nights. I think I’ll try this one out.” Danilo was taking away the mugs and bowls; Regis beckoned him back.
“I hope you have no foolish notion of standing guard while I sleep, or sleeping on the floor across my doorway?”
“Only if you want me to,” said Dani, but he sounded hurt, and with that unwelcome sensitivity Regis knew he’d have liked to. The picture that had haunted him for days now returned, Dani’s brother shielding his father with his body. Did Dani really want to die for him? The thought shocked him speechless.
He said curtly, “Sleep where you damn please, but get some sleep. And if you really like having me give you orders, Dani, that’s an order.” He didn’t wait to see where Dani chose. He slid down into the great bed and dropped into a bottomless pit of sleep.
At first, exhaustion taking its toll of his aching body and overstrained emotions, he was too weary even to dream. Then he began to drift in and out of dreams: the sound of horses’ hooves on a road, galloping … the armory in Comyn Castle, struggling weakly against Dyan, armed and fresh against an aching lassitude that would not let Regis lift his sword … a great form swooping down, touching Castle Aldaran with a finger of fire, flames rising skyward. By the firelight he saw Lew’s face alight with terror, and reached out to him, feeling the strange and unfamiliar emotions and sensations, but this time he knew what he was doing. This time he was not a child, his child’s body responding half-aware to the most innocent of caresses; this time he knew and accepted it all, and suddenly it was Danilo in his arms, and Danilo was struggling, trying to push him away in pain and terror. Regis, gripped by need and blind cruelty, gripped him more and more tightly, fighting to hold him, subdue him, and then, with a gasp, cried aloud, “No! Oh, no!” and flung him away, pulling himself upright in the great bed.
He was alone, the firelight burned down to coals. Across the foot of the enormous bed, like a dark shadow, Danilo slept, wrapped in a blanket, his back turned away. Regis stared at the sleeping boy, unable to shake off the horror of the dream, the shock of knowing what he had tried to do.
No. Not tried to do. Wanted to do. Dreamed of doing. There was a difference.
Or was there, for a telepath?
Once, one of the few times Kennard had spoken of his own years in the tower, Kennard had said, very seriously: “I am an Alton; my anger can kill. A murderous thought is, for me, almost a murder. A lustful thought is the psychological equivalent of a rape.”
Regis wondered if he was responsible even for his dreams. Would he ever dare sleep again?
Danilo stirred with a moan. Abruptly he began to gasp and cry out and struggle in his sleep. He muttered aloud, “No— NO, please!” and began to cry. Regis stared in horror. Did his own dream disturb Dani! Dyan had reached him, even in sleep…. He could not leave him crying. He leaned forward, saying gently, “Dani, it’s all right, you were asleep.”