Regis knew he must be very calm now, must keep his voice steady. He said, “The Syrtis men are our wards and paxmen, sir. From their years of duty to us, is it not our duty to safeguard them from being attacked and abused, even by Comyn? I have learned … Danilo Syrtis was wrongfully attacked and disgraced, sir, and it’s worse than that. Danilo is a … a catalyst telepath, and Lord Dyan ill-used him, contrived his disgrace for revenge—”
Regis’ voice broke. That searing moment of contact with Danilo flooded him again. Hastur looked at him in deep distress.
“Regis, this cannot possibly be true!”
He doesn’t believe me! Regis heard his voice crack and break again. “Grandfather, I swear—”
“Child, child, I know you are not lying, I know you better than that!”
“You don’t know me at all!” Regis flung at him, almost hysterical.
Hastur rose and came to him, laying a concerned hand on his forehead. “You are ill, Regis, feverish, perhaps delirious.”
Regis shook the hand off. “I know perfectly well what I am saying. I had an attack of threshold sickness at Edelweiss, it’s better now.”
The old man looked at him with startled skepticism. “Regis, threshold sickness is nothing to take lightly. One of the symptoms is delusion, hallucination. I cannot accuse Lord Dyan of the wild ravings of a sick child. Let me send for Kennard Alton; he is tower-trained and can deal with this kind of illness.”
“Send to Kennard indeed,” Regis demanded, his voice wavering, “he is the one man in Thendara who will know for a fact that I am neither lying nor raving! This was by his contrivance, too; he stood by and watched Danilo disgraced and the cadet corps shamed!”
Hastur looked deeply troubled. He said, “Can it not wait—” He looked at Regis sharply and said, “No. If you rode through a blizzard at this hour to bring me such news, it certainly cannot wait. But Kennard is very ill, too. Can you possibly manage to go to him, child?”
Regis cut off another angry outburst and only said, with tight control, “I am not ill. I can go to him.”
His grandfather looked at him steadily. “If you are not ill you will soon be so, if you stand there shivering and dripping. Go to your room and change your clothes while I send word to Kennard.”
He was angry at being sent like a child to change his clothes but he obeyed. It seemed the best way to convince his grandfather of his rationality. When he returned, dry-clad and feeling better, his grandfather said shortly, “Kennard is willing to talk to you. Come with me.”
As they went through the long corridors, Regis was aware of his grandfather’s bristling disapproval. In the Alton rooms, Kennard was seated in the main hall, before the fire. He rose and took one step toward them and Regis saw with deep compunction that the older man looked terribly ill, his gaunt face flushed, his hands looking hugely swollen and shapeless. But he smiled at Regis with heartfelt welcome and held out the misshapen hand. “My lad, I’m glad to see you.”
Regis touched the swollen fingers with awkward carefulness, unable to blur out Kennard’s pain and exhaustion. He felt raw-edged, hypersensitive. Kennard could hardly stand!
“Lord Hastur, you honor me. How may I serve you?”
“My grandson has come to me with a strange and disturbing story. It’s his tale, I’ll leave him to tell it.”
Regis felt consuming relief. He had feared to be treated like a sick child dragged unwilling to a doctor. For once he was being treated like a man. He felt grateful, a little disarmed.
Kennard said, “I cannot stand like this long. You there—” He gestured to a servant “An armchair for the Regent. Sit beside me, Regis, tell me what’s troubling you.”
“My lord Alton—”
Kennard said kindly, “Am I no longer Uncle, my boy?”
Regis knew if he did not resist that fatherly warmth with all his strength, he would sob out his story like a beaten child. He said stiffly, “My lord, this is a serious matter concerning the honor of the Guardsmen. I have visited Danilo Syrtis at his home—”