My rage mounted as I circled the floor, looking for my father. Dyan had known and Hastur had known—how many others had been dragged into this? Had they held a Council meeting to discuss the fate of Lord Alton’s bastard heir? How long had it taken them to find a woman who would have me? They’d had to go far afield, I noticed, and get one young enough to obey her father and mother without question! I supposed I ought to feel flattered that they’d picked a nice looking one!
I found myself face to face with the Regent. I gave him a curt greeting and started to pass him by; he laid a hand on my arm to detain me, wishing me the greetings of the season.
“I thank you, my lord. Have you seen my father?”
The old man said mildly, “If you’re storming off to complain, Lew, why not come directly to me? It was I who asked my granddaughter to present the girl to you.” He turned to the buffet. “Have you had supper? The fruits are exceptional this season. We have ice-melons from Nevarsin; they’re not usually obtainable in the market.”
“Thank you but I’m not hungry,” I said. “Is it permitted to ask why you take such an interest in my marriage, my lord? Or am I to feel flattered that you interest yourself, without asking why?”
“I take it the girl was not to your liking, then.”
“What could I possibly have against her? But forgive me, sir, I have a certain distaste for airing my personal affairs before half the city of Thendara.” I moved my hand to indicate the dancing crowds. He smiled genially.
“Do you really think anyone here is intent on anything but his own affairs?” He was calmly filling a plate for himself with assorted delicacies. Sullenly, I followed suit. He moved toward a couple of reasonably isolated chairs and said, “We can sit here and talk, if you like. What’s the matter, Lew? You’re just about the proper age to be married.”
“Just like that,” I said, “and I’m not to be consulted?”
“I thought we were consulting you,” Hastur said, taking a forkful of some kind of shredded seafood mixed with greens. “We did not, after all, summon you to the chapel at a few hours’ notice, to be married on the spot, as was done only a few years ago. I was given no chance even to see my dear wife’s face until a few minutes before the bracelets were locked on our wrists, yet we lived together in harmony for forty years.”
My father, speaking of his first years on Terra and being plunged abruptly into their alien customs, had once used a phrase for the way I felt now: culture shock. “With all deference, Lord Hastur, times have changed too much for that to be a suitable way of making marriages. Why is there such a hurry?”
Hastur’s face suddenly hardened. “Lew, do you really understand that if your father had broken his neck on those damnable stairs, instead of a few ribs and his collarbone, you would now be Lord Alton of Armida, with all that implies? My own son never lived to see his son. With our world in the shape it’s in, none of us can afford to take chances with the heirship of a Domain. What is your specific objection to marriage? Are you a lover of men?” He used the very polite casta phrase and I, used to the much coarser one customary in the Guards, was not for a moment quite certain what he meant. Then I grinned without amusement. “That arrow went wide of the mark, my lord. Even as a boy I had small taste for such games. I may be young, but that young I am not.”
“Then what can it possibly be?” He seemed honestly bewildered. “Is it Linnell you wish to marry? We had other marriage-plans for her, but if both of you really wish—”
I said in honest outrage, “Evanda protect us both! Lord Hastur, Linnell is my sister!”
“Not blood-kin,” he said, “or not so close as to be a grave risk to your children. It might be a suitable match after all.”