I let consciousness slip away, let the fire in my hand take my whole body. Maybe I could die too.
But there was not even that much mercy anywhere in the universe.
Epilogue
The Crystal Chamber, high in Comyn Castle, was the most formal of all the meeting places for Comyn Council. An even blue light spilled through the walls; flashes of green, crimson, violet struck through, reflected from the prisms everywhere in the glass. It was like meeting at the heart of a rainbow, Regis thought, wondering if this was in honor of the Terran Legate. Certainly the Legate looked suitably impressed. Not many Terrans had ever been allowed to see the Crystal Chamber.
“… in conclusion, my lords, I am prepared to explain to you what provisions have been made for enforcing the Compact on a planet-wide basis,” the Legate said, and Regis waited while the interpreter repeated his words in casta for the benefit of the Comyn and assembled nobles. Regis, who understood Terran Standard and had heard it the first time around, sat thinking about the young interpreter, Dan Lawton, the redheaded half-Darkovan whom he had met at the spaceport.
Lawton could have been on the other side of the railing, listening to this speech, not interpreting it for the Terrans. Regis wondered if he regretted his choice. It was easy enough to guess: no choice ever went wholly unregretted. Regis was mostly thinking of his own.
There was still time. His grandfather had made him promise three years. But he knew that for him, time had run out on his choices.
Dan Lawton was finishing up the Legate’s speech.
“. . . every individual landing at any Trade City, whether at Thendara, Port Chicago or Caer Donn, when Caer Donn can be returned to operation as a Trade City, will be required to sign a formal declaration that there is no contraband in his possession, or to leave all such weapons under bond in the Terran Zone. Furthermore, all weapons imported to this planet for legal use by Terrans shall be treated with a small and ineradicable mark of a radioactive substance, so that the whereabouts of such weapons can be traced and they can be recalled.”
Regis gave a faint, wry smile. How quickly the Terrans had come around, when they discovered the Compact was not designed to eliminate Terran weapons but the great and dangerous Darkovan ones. They had had enough of Darkovan ones on the night when Caer Donn burned. Now they were all too eager to honor the Compact, in return for a Darkovan pledge to continue to do so.
So Kadarin accomplished something. And for the Comyn. What irony!
A brief recess was called after the Legate’s speech and Regis, going to stretch his legs in the corridor, met Dan Lawton briefly face to face.
“I didn*t recognize you,” the young Terran said. “I didn’t know you’d taken a seat in Council, Lord Regis.”
Regis said, “I’m anticipating the fact by about half an hour, actually.”
“This doesn’t mean your grandfather is going to retire?”
“Not for a great many years, I hope.”
“I heard a rumor—” Lawton hesitated. “I’m not sure it’s proper to be talking like this outside of diplomatic channels …”
Regis laughed and said, “Let’s say I’m not tied down to diplomatic channels for half an hour yet. One of the things I hope to see altered between Terran and Darkovan is this business of doing everything through diplomatic channels. It’s your custom, not ours.”
“I’m enough of a Darkovan to resent it sometimes. I heard a rumor that there would be war with Aldaran. Any truth to it?”
“None whatever, I’m glad to say. Beltran has enough trouble. The fire at Caer Donn destroyed nearly eighty years of loyalty to Aldaran among the mountain people—and eighty years of good relations between Aldaran and the Terrans. The last thing he wants is to fight the Domains.”
“Rumor for rumor,” Lawton said. “The man Kadarin seems to have vanished into thin air. He’d been seen in the Dry Towns, but he’s gone again. We’ve had a price on his head since he quit Terran intelligence thirty years ago—”