THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR by Marion Zimmer Bradley

Danilo stood nervously locking and unlocking his hands. He said, “The charge is true. I drew my dagger on Lord Dyan. I only wish I had cut his throat while I was about it; whatever they did to me, the world would be a cleaner place.”

Regis stared, disbelieving. “Zandru! Dani—”

“I know, in days past, the men who touched Comyn lord in irreverence would have been torn on hooks. In those days, perhaps, Comyn were worth reverence—”

“Leave that,” Regis said sharply. “Dani, I am heir to Hastur, but even I could not draw steel on an officer without disgrace. Even if the officer I struck were no Comyn lord but young Hjalmar, whose mother is a harlot of the streets.”

Danilo stood fighting for control. “If I struck young Hjalmar, Regis, then I would have deserved my punishment; he is an honorable man. It was not as my officer I drew on Lord Dyan. He had forfeited all claim to obedience or respect.”

“Is that for you to judge?”

“In those circumstances …” Danilo swallowed. “Could I respect and obey a man who had so far forgotten himself as to try to make me his—” He used a cahuenga word Regis did not know, only that it was unspeakably obscene. But he was still in rapport with Danilo, so there was no scrap of doubt about his meaning. Regis went white. He literally could not speak under the shock of it.

“At first I thought he was joking,” Danilo said, almost stammering. “I do not like such jests—I am a cristoforo—but I gave him some similar joke for an answer and thought that was the end of it, for if he meant the jest in seriousness, then I had given him his answer without offense. Then he made himself clearer and grew angry when I answered him no, and swore he could force me to it. I don’t know what he did to me, Regis, he did something with his mind, so that wherever I was, alone or with others, I felt him touching me, heard his … his foul whispers, that awful, mocking laugh of his. He pursued me, he seemed to be inside my mind all the time. All the time. I thought he meant to drive me out of my mind! I had thought … a telepath could not inflict pain. … I can’t stand it even to be around anyone who’s really unhappy, but he took some awful, hateful kind of pleasure in it.” Danilo sobbed suddenly. “I went to him, then, I begged him to let me be! Regis, I am no gutter-brat, my family has served the Hasturs honorably for years, but if I were a whore’s foundling and he the king on his throne, he would have had no right to use me so shamefully!” Danilo broke down again and sobbed. “And then . . . and then he said I knew perfectly well how I could be free of him. He laughed at me, that awful, hideous laugh. And then I had my dagger out, I hardly know how I came to draw it, or what I meant to do with it, kill myself maybe. . . .” Danilo put his hands over his face. “You know the rest,” he said through them.

Regis could hardly draw breath. “Zandru send him scorpion whips! Dani, why didn’t you lay a charge and claim immunity? He is subject to the laws of Comyn too, and a telepath who misuses his laran that way …”

Danilo gave a weary little shrug. It said more than words.

Regis felt wholly numbed by the revelation. How could he ever face Dyan again, knowing this?

I knew it wasn’t true what they said of you, Regis. But you were Comyn too, and Dyan showed you so much favor, and that last night, when you touched me, I was afraid . . .

Regis looked up, outraged, then realized Danilo had not spoken at all. They were deeply in rapport; he felt the other boy’s thoughts. He sat back down on the log, feeling that his legs were unable to hold him upright.

“I touched you … only to quiet you.” he said at last.