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, Marius, 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 Thendara, 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 animals, 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 off her riding-boots.
“What did she say to you, Marjorie? What did you tell her?”
“The truth. That Kermiac was dead, that on, his deathbed 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.