The season ended. The cadets were dismissed to their homes and Regis moved into the Hastur apartments in Comyn Castle. He appreciated the peace and quiet and felt a certain pleasure in being able to sleep as late as he pleased in the morning. And the Hastur cooks were certainly better than those in the Guards mess. The prolonged austerity, though, first in Nevarsin, then in the barracks, had made him almost guilty about this kind of luxury. He couldn’t appreciate it as he wanted to.
One morning he was at breakfast with his grandfather when Lord Hastur said abruptly, “You’re not looking like yourself. Is something wrong?”
Regis thought that his grandfather had seen so tittle of him that he would have no idea what he usually looked like. He was too polite to say it, of course, so answered, “Bored, maybe. Not getting enough exercise.”
It disturbed him that he could not help picking up his grandfather’s thoughts: It’s wrong to keep the boy hanging about here when I’ve so little time to spend with him.
Hastur said aloud, “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy to notice, my boy. I’m very sorry. Would you like to return to Castle Hastur, or go somewhere else?”
“I wasn’t complaining, sir. But I feel I’m no use to you. When you asked me to stay for the winter, I thought there was something I could do to help you.”
“I wish you could. Unfortunately, you haven’t the experience to be a great deal of help yet,” Hastur said, hut could not conceal a faint flicker of satisfaction. He’s beginning to be interested. “Some time this winter you might attend a few sessions of the Cortes and find out about the problems we’re facing. I’ll get you a pass. Or you could ride to Edelweiss, spend a few days with Javanne.”
Regis shrugged. He found Edelweiss dull. There was no hunting except for rabbits and squirrels, the rain kept them indoors much of the time, and he and Javanne were too far apart in age and too unlike in personality to find much pleasure in each other’s company.
“I know it’s not very exciting there either,” Hastur said, almost apologizing, “but she is your sister, and we do not have so many kinfolk that we can neglect one another. If you want hunting, you know, you are free to go to Armida at any time. Lew is away and Kennard too ill to travel, but you can go there and take a friend.”
But the only friend he’d made in the cadets, Regis thought, was sent home in disgrace, “Kennard is ill, sir? What’s wrong?”
Danvan sighed. “This climate doesn’t agree with him. He grows more crippled every year. He’ll be better when the rains—” He broke off as a servant came in with a message. “Already? Yes, I have to go and talk with a trade delegation from the Dry Towns,” he said with weary resignation, laying down his napkin. He excused himself to Regis, adding, “Let me know your plans, lad, and I’ll arrange for escort.”
Left alone, Regis poured himself another cup of Terran coffee, one of the few luxuries the austere old man allowed himself, and thought it over. The duty visit to Javanne could not, of course be avoided. A visit to Armida could await Lew’s return; he could hardly be intending to spend the winter at Aldaran.
If Kennard was ill, courtesy demanded that Regis pay him a visit in his suite, but for some unknown reason he was unwilling to face the Alton lord. He did not know why. Kennard had always been kind to him. After a time he focused it down to resentment: he stood by and watched Danilo’s disgrace and didn’t say a word. Lew wanted to interfere, but he couldn’t. Kennard didn’t care.
And Kennard was one of the most powerful telepaths in the Comyn. Regis, feeling this much resentment, was reluctant to face him. Kennard would know immediately how he felt.
He knew, rationally, that he should go to Kennard at once, if only to tell him about his newly developing laran. There were training techniques to help him master and control his new facilities. But in the cadets it had not seemed to matter, and the proper time to speak to Lew about it had never come till too late. Dyan had seemed to take it for granted that he already had what training he needed. Kennard was the obvious one to tell. He admonished himself sternly that he should go at once, now, today.