Dyannis emerged from sleep to a sound like pebbles cascading over the roof.

She shared the second-story room in the headman's village house with two of the Cedestri leroni, the three sleeping together in the master's own bed, for there was little room to bring in even a pallet; the house was roofed with fired-clay tiles instead of thatch. Pale light sifted in through the single window across the room. She shivered, drawing the bedcovers around her shoulders as she sat up.

Bianca pushed the door open with one elbow and sidled in, carrying a tray.

She wore a thick shawl crossed over her chest and then tucked under her belt. She set the tray down on the bed, rummaged in the pile of clothing on the single straight-backed chair, and handed another shawl to Dyannis.

"It's hailing outside, can you believe? The storm came out of nowhere last night." From her tone, she thought some vengeful Tower had sent it expressly to annoy her.

"It's late in the season for hail," Dyannis said. She looked at the tray, a little puzzled that it seemed to be intended for her. Bianca had always acted as if her laran Gifts placed her above the work of a servant.

"That is as it may be," the other woman replied. "If you don't eat your breakfast, it'll get cold, that much is certain."

Dyannis took a piece of honey-smeared nutbread and wished laran work did not require so many sweet foods. Just yesterday she'd eaten more than she would in a month. One bite led to another, as if her body still craved the concentrated energy. She finished off three pieces before she turned to the pots of cheese curds and preserved fruit.

Dyannis had never been one to lie abed once she was awake, although for a fleeting second, she understood the allure of indolence. As soon as her appetite was satisfied, she pulled on a thick wool underdress and began her stretching exercises. Her body felt as stiff as if she'd slept for a tenday. Eventually, the rhythmic movements loosened her muscles. She finished dressing and went out to see what the day had to bring.

She found Varzil in conference with Francisco, sitting together in the single chamber of the Tower that had been largely untouched by the fire-bombing.

It was on the ground floor, a small snug room once used for teaching but now the heart of the Tower community. Maps and diagrams covered the central table.

Varzil smiled as she entered. "You have anticipated our summoning you."

"Good morning to you, brother," she answered, feeling a bit impish. "Dom Francisco, I am glad to see you well."

"It is some hours into the afternoon, and you have slept for two days," Varzil said. "We have already inspected the repairs and laid out plans for the interior restoration."

"Two days! No wonder I was so hungry." Dyannis sat down. "I will have to step merrily to catch up with you. What's the work for today?"

Francisco paused for a moment before replying. The sunlight streaming through the windows accentuated the deep lines in his face, the jutting projection of jaw and cheekbone. The near destruction of his Tower and his own injuries had weathered him beyond his years. When he spoke, however, his voice was firm.

"It is said that what the gods grant, they also take away," he said, "and I believe the reverse must be true. Before this catastrophe, we at Cedestri and our masters in Isoldir lived in a constant state of desperation. How could we defend ourselves against the might of Valeron, which seemed to threaten our very existence? Not by force of ordinary arms, that much was sure.

"As you know," he went on with a slight inclination of his head toward Varzil, "we have never accepted the imposition of any outside restrictions upon our actions. In recent years, we were approached by disaffected workers from other Towers, who could not in conscience abide by King Carolin's Compact. They saw us as an honorable and legitimate alternative and we welcomed their skills, although perhaps we were overhasty in several cases. Sometimes there were other reasons why a laranzu found himself unwelcome in his former community.

"Be that as it may," Francisco continued, "when we discovered a previously unknown, untapped power source of immense magnitude, we rejoiced. By ourselves, we had insufficient laran to produce the kinds of weapons Isoldir needed to balance its lesser force against Valeron. By harnessing this power stream, our single circle became the equivalent of three or four."

Dyannis sensed his memory of that discovery, the surge of triumph. It frightened her as much as the idea of a novice loose in a laboratory of twelfth-order matrices. Given Isoldir's desperation, all considerations of safety, all fear of consequences would be swept aside in the passion of hope.

She knew where it had led. She had seen the mill Cedestri had constructed in the Overworld, had stood beneath the Isoldir aircars on their way to rain poison upon Aillard lands. She had watched Cedestri burn.

Beside Francisco, Varzil sat quietly, letting the other man find his way through the story.

"When Aillard retaliated, I saw how vain our pride had been." Francisco's voice dropped a tone. "I cursed them, and I cursed you, too, Varzil, for having interfered with our attack. I thought-" and here he gave a bark of laughter,"-that if only we had succeeded, there would have been an end to it. There would have been no retaliation, no fire raining from the Aillard aircars. Valeron would have been a wasteland until our children's children's time. Instead, we would have achieved enduring security for Isoldir, for who else would dare to menace us, when we were thus armed?

"How wrong I was! I think I must have had a brain fever to make me think that way. Now I see there could have been only one result of our actions.

Even if by some miracle we had triumphed, it would have brought us only a temporary peace. Sooner or later, some other kingdom, driven by that same desperate fear, would have launched an attack against us, or we would have found a new enemy. This time, our enemy might not be as merciful as Valeron. Yes, I call this merciful."

He gestured to the partly-restored Tower around them. "Merciful because they used ordinary fire instead of clingfire; we had something left to rebuild, and some few precious lives spared. And . . ." his voice cracked, "...

and we had help beyond any right or expectation."

"We did only what any people of good will would have done," Varzil said mildly.

Now who is being overly modest? Dyannis shot at him.

"If you had come to us earlier with fine speeches and asked us to sign your Compact, I would have sent you away and then laughed at you behind your back," Francisco said. "I would have thought you fools and cowards."

Varzil gave a wry smile. "It has happened before, and will again. That is not a reason to stop trying."

"Ah, but in this case, your deeds preceded your words and gave them substance. You put into practice your doctrine of fellowship and compassion. I know perfectly well that King Carolin Hastur has nothing to gain from my gratitude. I, on the other hand, have seen the price of con- tinuing as we are. My masters of Isoldir agree, though it can be said they have little choice, without a single functioning Tower to defend them. They would not even have what little we can offer, were it not for your assistance." His gaze took in Dyannis as well as Varzil.

She started to say that there had been no question of refusing aid. What did allegiances matter, when her fellow leronyn were suffering? The loss of one Tower diminished them all. The words that sprang to her mind seemed but pale echoes of her brother's. She held her tongue.

"Therefore, at our urging, Isoldir has agreed to abide by the Compact. A messenger brought formal word this morning, and Varzil is to carry the signed oath back to Thendara." Francisco's joy radiated like an aureole of light around his weary features.

Caught up in Varzil's own jubilation, Dyannis felt her heart give a little lurch. So you see, she could almost hear Varzil say, what seemed like a disaster has in the end brought good not only to this poor land but to all Darkover.

"This is all very well," Dyannis said, her thoughts spinning in a more practical direction, "but if you are to return to Thendara, Varzil, how will we continue our work here?"

"The physical rebuilding of the Tower is largely complete," Francisco answered her. "Isoldir will send masons and carpenters to help with the interior. Thanks to your efforts, I am strong enough now to resume limited duties."

Dyannis restrained herself from pointing out that Varzil's departure would deprive the Cedestri circle not only of its temporary Keeper, but of his extraordinary laran.

"We will indeed be diminished in strength, with many tasks ahead of us,"

Francisco said gently.

Dyannis flushed, realizing that he must have picked up her unvoiced thought. "Please forgive me, vai tenerezu. Truly, I meant no insult to you."

"I have taken none, vai leronis," he replied with a playful echo of the honorific. "Indeed, I and all of Cedestri would be deeply in your debt if you remain with us for a time, for you are the strongest of the remaining leronyn and the only one capable of acting as under-Keeper."

A-what?

She blinked. "Forgive me, I believe I have just suffered a momentary lapse in consciousness. I must be more fatigued than I realized. I thought you referred to me as an under-Keeper, but that is impossible. I have no such training."

My dear sister, you have been functioning as my under-Keeper for this past tenday. Varzil's mental voice bore a touch of amusement.

Dyannis remembered the way she seemed to lift the stones that formed the very same walls that now surrounded them. At the time, she had been lost in the floating bliss of the circle. Now she realized that instead of being one strand in an interwoven whole, she had been the one to channel and guide the combined mental energies of the circle. Somehow, with a touch so smooth as to be unnoticeable, Varzil had eased her into the centripolar position.

If you do not cease gaping at me as if I were a three-headed rabbit-horn, Varzil said, you will surely disgrace us both.

She closed her mouth, promising herself that at the first opportunity, she would make Varzil regret he'd done such a thing without her permission. To Francisco she said, with all the dignity she could muster, "If my Keeper at Hali allows it, I will remain as long as there is need of my services."

25

Dyannis followed Varzil from the little chamber. Varzil stopped to speak with Earnan, who was supervising a crew of laborers from the town. They were sorting through a pile of rubble for salvageable bits of metal and starstone. She waited patiently, pretending to be interested. News of Isoldir's adoption of the Compact had already spread through the Tower community, and probably to the town as well. Earnan's eyes shone and he looked as if he wanted to kiss Varzil's feet.

"Some of the others, they are still suspicious, but we all agree that we cannot go on as we have before. You have brought us great good, DomVarzil, and I most fervently believe this Compact will, even more so."

Varzil excused himself as quickly as he could without being rude. He hurried up the road toward the town before anyone else could approach him on the subject. Dyannis caught his discomfort, his reluctance to accept personal credit for something that went so far beyond any one man's creation. Her own outrage seemed petty and fleeting by comparison.

But, she fumed, she had been maneuvered into a role for which she felt so unworthy. As soon as they were out of hearing from the Tower, she turned on Varzil. "How dare you! How dare you do that to me!"

"And how dare you act like a spiteful child, holding back your Gift when it is so sorely needed?" he shot back. "You cannot say that you are incapable or untrustworthy, for you have already demonstrated otherwise."

"Without my knowledge!"

"You know it now," he said, refusing to be drawn in.

"You tricked me!"

Varzil smiled. "In no way did I violate my Keeper's oath. I merely exercised a Keeper's prerogative, which was to shape the circle in the manner I deemed best. If you object to the truth that was then revealed, you had best examine your own motives."

"You would have me undertake a Keeper's training, whether I will it or not- whether I am fit or not!"

"On the contrary. I would have you make a free choice, with reasoned judgment instead of misguided guilt."

Dyannis fell silent, her next retort dying on her tongue. She felt like a petulant child, hurling one angry accusation after another. His responses had been unfailingly kind.

She bowed her head. "Forgive me. I have been perverse and bad-tempered. I beg you, do not press me further, at least until I know my own heart. Let us not mar all the good work we have done together by quarreling."

To her surprise, he smiled. "When we first came to Cedestri, you would never have accepted my censure with such grace. You have learned much about self-control through your work here."

"I have had little choice," she retorted. Then, as if a wall within her gave way suddenly, she went on. "I have never had to work so hard in my life, not even when I was a novice at Hali. Everything came too easily for me then. Even when I gave way to this accursed temper of mine, I escaped with only the lightest punishments because I had also accomplished something brilliant."

She remembered how she'd discovered the power source at the bottom of the lake, and she flushed at how reckless, how undisciplined she had been.

"Brilliance has its limits," she added wryly.

"Yes, I think so, too." He gave a little chuckle. "On the other hand, when pushed to it, you accepted the consequences of your actions, as well as obedience to your Keeper. This has led to greater maturity on your part."

"Don't mock me," she said. "I know what I am."

"Do you?" His gaze bore down on her. He repeated in a softer, even more penetrating tone. "Do you?"

In a flash, she saw the direction of his thoughts.

Perhaps when we first came here to Cedestri, you were too impulsive, too rash to be considered for Keeper training. The people around you have always indulged your fits of rebellion and, as you said, success came too easily to you. Rebuilding Cedestri required you to dig more deeply into yourself, and you have proven yourself capable of humility as well as initiative.

She lowered her eyes. I know my limits.

Exactly. The training of a Keeper requires just that kind of honesty. You already knew how to act, how to rely upon your own resources. Here you have also learned to control those impulses for a greater good. I tell you, there is no better proof of your fitness as a Keeper candidate. Will you not reconsider?

For a long moment, she stared at him, letting the full import of his thoughts sink into her mind. All her life, there had been some important piece missing, like a stew without salt. Without realizing it, she had thrown herself headlong into each new possibility, as if she were searching for something. Always, she had come up short, dissatisfied without being able to say why. The only real challenge had been to escape the inevitable consequences of her recklessness.

Was that the problem? That she had never found any task too difficult, too daunting? Was she meant to be a Keeper, with all the discipline and demands of the post?

"I will consider it," she said, bowing her head.

The eve of Varzil's departure was exceptionally clear, the last of the smoke having long since blown away. A cool night breeze ruffled the ripening grain, laden with its musty sweetness. Dyannis climbed the little rise beyond the barley fields, looking for Varzil.

She found him sitting cross-legged upon a folded cloak. The light of three moons and the milky sweep of stars limned his features in silver. His hands lay loosely upon his thighs, one cradling a ring. The stone glimmered as if lit from within. It reminded her of a star-stone, but of unusual size and shape, lacking the characteristic blue tint. He held the ring as if it were a living thing, precious and yet not to be grasped too tightly, an odd way to treat a thing of metal and crystal.

He turned his head slightly as she lowered herself beside him, at once her familiar elder brother and a stranger. From his stillness, she knew he had been meditating.

"I'm sorry to disturb you. There's little enough peace for any of us these days," she said.

He said nothing, only covered the ring with his other hand. Its light remained like an after-image. Sensitized as she was from overlohg hours of laran work, Dyannis slipped into rapport with him. She realized he was lonely, that he welcomed her company, a familiar presence to ease some unspoken heartache.

A shiver ran through him, of spirit rather than body.

"Did you ever meet Felicia Leynier?" he asked her, his voice roughened with hidden emotion. "She worked for a time at Arilinn before going Hestral Tower." A pause followed, like the stillness between one heartbeat and the next. "She trained there as under-Keeper."

Dyannis sat very still. There was more beneath her brother's words than his scheme to train women as Keepers. Listening to the resonance of his voice, she heard love-and loss.

"I knew of her," she said gently.

"She was at Hestral Tower when Rakhal Hastur attacked. When he ordered Hali to destroy them."

And she died there, Dyannis thought, carefully shielding. "You could not save her, as you saved Harald when he was captured by the catmen so long ago, as you saved so many others." She laid her fingertips on the back of his wrist in the fashion of one telepath to another.

Bredu, she spoke telepathically, I did not take part in that battle, although I was at Hali then.

"I would not blame you if you had," he said aloud. "I blame no man-or woman-for following the lawful orders of his king. Felicia herself would never want that. She-she would have been pleased to see Hali Tower as it is today, bound in honor by the Compact. She believed in it. She-"

He broke off, clenching the ring. Dyannis laid her hand over his fist, thinking to ease the knot of anguish. His hand opened beneath hers and she brushed the smooth faceted surface of the crystal. To her surprise, it was warm, warmer than it should have been from mere contact with Varzil's skin. And alive-a sweet fragrance like sun on wildflowers ...

She jerked her hand back. "What-what is it?"

"Felicia placed her consciousness, her personality into this stone. At least, I feel her presence there from time to time."

"How is that possible?" Dyannis asked. "A starstone focuses and amplifies the laran of its owner, but has no power of its own."

"During the Ages of Chaos, there was some research in using psychoactive crystals to preserve a personality separate from the fleshly body. Perhaps this stone is a relic from those early experiments, waiting to be imprinted by a dying mind."

Dyannis shivered. Images rose unbidden to her mind, for she had seen the desperation of power-mad men- Rakhal the Usurper and, before her time, the outlaw laranzu, Rumail Deslucido. What if some Keeper, crazed by fear of his impending death, found a way to place his consciousness-and his psychic power-into a star-stone? What if he found a way to control others- direct a circle-overshadow vulnerable minds- Calm your fears. Varzil sent a wave of reassurance. I know of no such abomination, and those times are behind us now. "As for Felicia," he continued aloud, "she would gladly have chosen oblivion rather than use her Gift to harm anyone. What I feel from the ring is comfort and memory." He shrugged, straightened his shoulders, put the ring back on.

"You loved her very much," Dyannis said.

"I never thought to find another human being who was so much the other half of my soul. Dyannis-I have held back from saying something to you, because of your ... feelings. Now I am to leave Cedestri, and I do not know when we will see one another again. I would not leave it unsaid."

"We are brother and sister, fellow leronyn" she said with an assurance she did not feel. Something was coming, she knew not what, and she trembled inside. "Surely, we should have no secrets from one another."