“You know—” Danilo broke off, kicking a windfall apple with the point of his clog. It broke with a rotten, slushy clunk. “It’s over. Whatever I did to offend you, I’ve paid.”
Then for a moment the rapport, the awareness Danilo had wakened in him, flared again between them. He could feel Danilo’s despair and grief as if it were his own. He said, harsh with the pain of it, “Danilo Syrtis, speak your grudge and let me avow or deny it! I tried not to think ill of you even in disgrace! But you called me foul names when I meant you nothing but kindness, and if you have spread lies about me or my kinsmen, then you deserve everything they have done to you, and you still have a score to settle with me!” Without realizing it, he had sprung to his feet, his hand going to the hilt of his sword.
Danilo stood defiant. His gray eyes, gleaming like molten metal beneath dark brows, blazed with anger and sorrow. “Dom Regis, I beg you, leave me in peace! Isn’t it enough that I am here, my hopes gone, my father shamed forever—I might as well be dead!” he cried out desperately, his words tumbling over themselves. “Grudge, Regis? No, no, none against you, you showed me nothing but kindness, but you were one of them, one of those, those—” He stopped again, his voice tight with the effort not to cry. At last he cried out passionately, “Regis Hastur, as the Gods live, my conscience is clear and your Lord of Light and the God of the cristoforos may judge between the Sons of Hastur and me!”
Almost without volition, Regis drew his sword. Danilo, startled, took a step backward in fear; then he straightened and stiffened his mouth. “Do you punish blasphemy so quickly, lord? I am unarmed, but if my offense merits death, then kill me now where I stand! My life is no good to me!”
Shocked, Regis lowered the point of the sword. “Kill you, Dani?” he said in horror. “God forbid! It never crossed my mind! I wished … Dani, lay your hand on the hilt of my sword.”
Confused, startled into obedience, Danilo put a tentative hand on the hilt Regis gripped hand and hilt together in his own fingers.
“Son of Hastur who is the Son of Aldones who is the Lord of Light! May this hand and this sword pierce my heart and my honor, Danilo, if I had part or knowledge in your disgrace, or if anything you say now shall be used to work you harm!” Again, from the hand-touch, he felt that odd little shock running up his arm, blurring his own thoughts, felt Danilo’s sobs tight in his own throat.
Danilo said on a drawn breath, “No Hastur would forswear that oath!”
“No Hastur would forswear his naked word,” Regis retorted proudly, “but if it took an oath to convince you, an oath you have.” He sheathed the sword.
“Now tell me what happened, Dani. Was the charge a lie, then?”
Danilo was still visibly dazed. “The night I came in—it had been raining. You woke, you knew—”
“I knew only that you were in pain, Dani. No more. I asked if I could help, but you drove me away.” The pain and shock he had felt that night returned to him in full force and he felt his heart pounding again with the agony of it, as he had done when Danilo thrust him away.
Danilo said, “You are a telepath. I thought—”
“A very rudimentary one, Danilo,” said Regis, trying to steady his voice. “I sensed only that you were unhappy, in pain. I didn’t know why and you would not tell me.”
“Why should you care?”
Regis put out his hand, slowly closed it around Danilo’s wrist. “I am Hastur and Comyn. It touches the honor of my clan and my caste that anyone should have cause to speak ill of us. With false slanders we can deal, but with truth, we can only try to right the wrong. We Comyn can be mistaken.” Dimly, at the back of his mind, he realized he had said “We Comyn” for the first time. “More,” he said, and smiled fleetingly, “I like your father, Dani. He was willing to anger a Hastur in order to have you left in peace.”