THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Finally the ceremony was over. I should turn the cadets over to the cadet-master and let him take command. No, damn it, I couldn’t do it. Not until I had urged Father to reconsider. I hadn’t wanted to command the Guards, but he had insisted and now, for better or worse, all the Guards, from the youngest cadet to the oldest veteran, were in my care. I was bound to do my best for them and, damn it, my best didn’t include Dyan Ardais as cadet-master!

I beckoned to old Domenic di Asturien. He was an experienced officer, completely trustworthy, exactly the sort of man to be in charge of the young. He had retired from active . duty years ago—he was certainly in his eighties—but no one could complain of him. His family was so old that the Comyn themselves were upstarts to him. There was a joke, told in whispers, that he had once spoken of the Hasturs as “the new nobility.”

“Master, the Commander met with an accident this morning, and he has not yet informed me about his choice for cadet-master.” I crushed the staff lists in my hand as if the old man could see Dyan’s name written there and give me the lie direct. “I respectfully request you to take charge of them until he makes his wishes known.”

As I returned to my place, Dyan started to his feet. “You damned young pup, didn’t Kennard tell—” He saw curious eyes on us and dropped his voice. “Why didn’t you speak to me privately about this?”

Damn it. He knew. And I recalled that he was said to be a strong telepath, though he had been refused entry to the towers for unknown reasons, so. he knew that I knew. I blanked my mind to him. There are few who can read an Alton when he’s warned. It was a severe breach of courtesy and Comyn ethics that Dyan had done so uninvited. Or was it meant to convey that he didn’t think I deserved Comyn immunity? I said frigidly, trying to be civil, “After I have consulted the Commander, Captain Ardais, I shall make his wishes known to you.”

“Damn you, the Commander has made his wishes known, and you know it,” Dyan said, his mouth hardening into a tight line. There was still time. I could pretend to discover his name on the lists. But eat dirt before the filthy he-whore from the Hellers? I turned away and said to di Asturien, “When you please, Master, you may dismiss your charges.” “You insolent bastard, I’ll have your hide for this!” “Bastard I may be,” I said, keeping my voice low, “but I consider it no edifying sight for two captains to quarrel in the hearing of cadets, Captain Ardais,”

He swallowed that. He was soldier enough to know it was true. As I dismissed the men, I reflected on the powerful enemy I had made. Before this, he had disliked me, but he was my father’s friend and anything belonging to a friend he would tolerate, provided it stayed in its place. Now I had gone a long way beyond his rather narrow concept of that place and he would never forgive it.

Well, I could live without his approval. But I had better lose no time in talking to Father. Dyan wouldn’t.

I found him awake and restive, swathed in bandages, his lame leg propped up. He looked haggard and flushed, and I wished I need not trouble him. “Did the call-over go well?”

“Well enough. Danilo made a good appearance,” I said, knowing he’d want to know.

“Regis was added at the last moment. Was he there?” I nodded, and Father asked, “Did Dyan turn up to take charge? He had a sleepless night too, but said he’d be there.”

I stared at him in outrage, finally bursting out, “Father! You can’t be serious! I thought it was a joke! Dyan, as cadet-master?”

“I don’t joke about the Guards,” Father said, his face hard, “and why not Dyan?”

I hesitated, then said, “Must I spell it out for you in full? Have you forgotten last year and the Vallonde youngster?”

“Hysterics,” my father said with a shrug. “You took it more seriously than it deserved. When it came to the point, Octavien refused to undergo laran interrogation.”

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