"All of your people are in the local lockup, and unlikely to be released for some time to come," he answered, pitching his voice carefully. It was a thing he had trained himself to do, in order to keep his foster sister Alanna from her all too frequent bouts of fury, a calming use of the command voice.

"Why? We did nothing wrong."

Domenic could sense that she was less angry now, but still intractable. What a stubborn girl! She reminded him somewhat of Alanna, except that there was nothing about her of the boiling confusion he always sensed from his cousin. Instead there was a certain single-mindedness to her, as if when she got hold of an idea, nothing could make her let go. "Come on. Let's go sit in the taproom and talk for a while. The fire is still going in there, and we can be comfortable."

"I don't want to talk to anyone," she snarled. Despite her angry words, she turned and walked into the taproom, shivering a little. It was chilly in the hall, and in bare feet, she probably felt it more than he did. Domenic followed her, and they sat down in front of the grate, where the embers of the previous night's fire still glowed. Gregor plopped a small log onto the irons, then withdrew at Nico's gesture.

Domenic thought for a minute while the fire started to grow, trying to decide how to approach this wary girl. She was defensive and hostile, but these were very clear emotions in her, not muddled the way they would have been in Alanna. Finally he said, "Illona, do you know anything about yourself?"

"What a strange question. Of course I know about myself. I am fifteen, a foundling, and . . . what exactly do you mean?" She was immediately alert, curious and puzzled at the same time. He could sense her trying to discern his intent, and at the same time planning to elude it. It was an interesting juxtaposition of thought and emotion, and he found himself admiring the clarity she was holding onto.

"Do you know where the Travelers found you?"

"What does that matter?"

"I am curious. Humor me, won't you?"

"Why are you talking in that . . . peculiar way, as if you were very serious. You can't possibly be interested in me." Now there was an air of confusion in her words and, beneath it, a fresh prickle of alarm.

Domenic was surprised. No one, except his mother, had ever caught him using the command voice, and yet he was sure that Illona could sense that he was. He shrugged, wishing he knew better how to test for laran, or that there was someone nearby who could, and relaxed his throat. "I am interested in you. You are a very remarkable person."

"Huh? Me, remarkable? That's rich." She gave a little frown. "Are you trying to seduce me, vai dom?" She spoke the last words with enormous contempt, as if she were cursing.

Nico coughed with startlement. "That idea had not crossed my mind," he admitted. No, he hadn't thought about anything so tame as seduction-it had been much less subtle than that. He felt himself redden slightly and hoped she would not notice it in the light from the hearth. She was pretty, in a waifish kind of way, but his present intentions were not in the least dishonorable. "Why would you think that?"

"Aunty Loret told me to watch out, that's all. And everyone knows that the lords of the Domains can do as they please with girls, and no one can stop them." She appeared to be nursing a grievance. And that nasty man who grabbed me called you vai dom, so even if you are young, I know you are one of them!

"I've never seduced anyone, Illona, and I'm not sure I'd know how to begin." The subject was making him feel uncomfortable, putting him subtly in the wrong somehow, so he went back to his original question. "Where did the Travelers find you? Did your aunt ever say?"

Illona did not answer right away. He is such a strange boy, so old seeming, though I don't think he can be more than sixteen. There is something about him . . . . Why does he want to know where I come from . . . ? I suppose it can't hurt to tell him. "Yes, she did. They came on a village that was burned out by brigands, and found me screaming my lungs out in the ruins of a house. That was up in the Kilghards, toward the Ardais Domain. My mother, whoever she was, was either dead or taken off by the bandits. And that is all I know about it."

"I see. Have you ever . . . been tested . . . ?"

"I wouldn't go into a Tower for all the gold in Carthon," she snapped before he could finish his question.

What has made you so fearful and hostile to the Towers?

Illona jumped a little and shivered all over. "What are you doing to me," she whispered.

"Nothing. You heard my thought just then." He tried to sound calm, and was tempted to use the Voice again, but remembered how sensitive she was to it and refrained. Frightening her further would not help him. Toward the Ardais Domain? That was very suggestive-was it possible that she was a child of young Dyan Ardais? According to Mikhail, Dom Dyan had been something of a rascal in his youth. And the other Dyan, the old one, dead for years now since the final battle between Sharra and Aldones had had the Alton Gift himself.

Domenic turned the idea over in his mind, and decided it would certainly explain several things about Illona that he had observed but been too tired and busy to really consider. He restrained a shudder at the idea of an untrained mind with the Alton Gift being on the loose.

"Oh, no!" Her voice was a wail of despair, breaking into his thoughts. She swallowed hard several times, and he could see she was fighting back tears. So much for not scaring her. I have laran, and I've known it for years. But it can't be very much, so maybe I won't have to be shut up in one of those places and forced to work for the Keepers. I have to get away before he drags me off and . . . he seems so nice, too. But that is just a sham, because he as one of them, and all he wants is to order me around and tell me what to do.

Nico was glad she was too agitated to notice his eavesdropping now, and tried to think of something comforting to say. "It is not the end of the world, Illona," Nico said softly. He had heard his mother's tales of her first experiences with laran, and how she had been afraid and angry at the same time. The emotions boiling off of Illona must be close to what Marguerida Alton had gone through, and he felt a deep empathy for her.

"I won't go to a Tower! I won't! You can't make me. I don't care who you are!"

"Why are you so afraid of the Towers?" It was genuinely puzzling to him. He had never encountered anyone who expressed such a tremendous fear and antipathy for the Towers before. Those students at Arilinn who were there less than willingly had not been afraid, only uncomfortable and out of place. Still, he did not have a lot of experience from which to work. Perhaps it was a more widespread feeling than he could imagine.

He had grown up with Istvana Ridenow, the Keeper from Neskaya, always present, and had never had a time when he was not aware of laran and its potential around him. He knew her almost as well as he knew his own mother. He had nothing but respect for her, and for the other leroni he had met during his time at Arilinn. He was particularly fond of his cousin Valenta Elhalyn, who was now Underkeeper there, even though she was only twenty-eight. She had a keen sense of mischief and was rarely serious about the matter of matrix science, even when she was teaching it. He could think of half a dozen others without straining, all sober, hard-working men and women who had given their lives to serve Darkover.

"I don't want to slave away in a Tower."

"Slave? You make it sound as if you would be forced to . . ."

"The Towers are even worse than the Domains! They are parasites, and they do nothing except keep people locked up."

"That is a very strange thing to say, Illona. I trained at Arilinn, and I am not locked up, am I?" Parasites? The term startled him, and more, it disquieted him more than a little. He wondered if this was only the idea of the thin, frightened girl sitting opposite him, or if this opinion was common.

Domenic felt out of his depth and wished that there were someone he could consult at that moment. Herm could not help him. He had been away from Darkover too long. Should he ask one of the Guardsmen? They might have heard such remarks. Rafaella? No, if she had heard such talk, she would have told his mother.

"But you are some sort of lord, and can do as you please."

The words put his questions right out of his mind, and Domenic found himself laughing. It felt good, except that it made the spot on his ribs where Illona's elbow had struck him hurt. As far as he could see, his entire life had been planned for him, before he was even born, and he had not been allowed to stray from it until he snuck off in the night for this ill-fated adventure. He had been closeted in Comyn Castle for years, except for his time at Arilinn, and one visit to the Alton Domain years earlier. He knew that building very well, but the city around it was largely a mystery to him. He almost envied her wider experience. He also knew that there was no way he could convey this reality to her, even as he knew he had to try.

For a moment he wondered why he felt compelled to persuade her of anything. Why couldn't he leave it to others, people more skilled than himself. Illona was only a girl, uneducated and rough, and not really any concern of his. Yet he didn't believe that, even for a second. And if she really did have the Alton Gift, then he had a duty to help her.

Did he like her because she was unlike anyone else he knew, or was there some other reason? It made no sense, and all he had to go on was a feeling in his belly that it was important to keep her from harm. It was similar to the way he felt about Alanna, but without the feeling of despair he so often had about his difficult foster-sister.

"That is not true, Illona. I've never done as I pleased. I have had duties and obligations since the day I was born, and I have honored them as well as I could. But I think you have been listening to the wrong people. Have you ever actually talked to anyone who worked in a Tower?"

"No. I always stayed in the wain when we went there, because I was afraid." If I had been noticed, then someone would have grabbed me and dragged me away from Aunty. I knew that since I was eleven. I've always been afraid that I would get caught.

"Caught?"

She glared at him in the flickering light from the fireplace, aware that he had overheard her thoughts once again. "Yes. I knew that I had a tiny bit of laran, even if I didn't want it. And everyone knows that they want to keep anyone with laran locked up, or breeding for them."

"Illona, I think if you say 'everyone knows' one more time, I am going to be very angry. You don't know anything at all!"

She glared at him fiercely, the light playing across the freckles on her sharp nose in a pleasing way. "I am just an ignorant girl, huh? And you are some vai dom who knows it all. You are not much older than I am, or maybe younger, even. Who are you!"

He hesitated for a moment, caught between the need for secrecy and his enormous desire to gain her trust. Then he threw caution to the winds and used his Gift. Domenic Gabriel-Lewis Alton-Hastur.

The expression on her face would have been comical if it had not been so frightened. "How did you do that," she whispered, shrinking back on her seat. "I didn't do that-you did-on purpose!"

"It is something I learned at Arilinn." The slight lie came easily to his tongue. "It is something you might learn as well, if you were not so muleheaded."

"I am not going to listen to you! You are a nasty boy, and I hate you." This is even worse than I thought-he's a Hastur. He could turn my mind to dust in a second, if he wanted. What does he want from me?

"A nasty boy would not have rescued you from that mob, Illona." Domenic refused to let himself be drawn in by her fear or anger, but it was difficult. He felt a sudden, powerful need to defend himself, to say something that would dissuade her from her odd beliefs about the Towers and his own family.

Several emotions flickered across her mobile features too quickly for him to name them. She pleated the front of her tunic between nimble fingers, weighing something in her mind. "That's true, I guess. But it doesn't change anything. You are still my enemy, and you want to force me into servitude."

"What does that mean?"

"If you have your way, you will either lock me up, or marry me off to someone so I can have babies with laran."

He shook his head. "No, that is not true. I wish you could meet my mother. She and I have had any number of interesting discussions about that subject, and she does not approve of breeding for laran any more than you do."

"So, why did she submit and have children, then?"

"I believe that she was in love with my father-and, truthfully, submit is not a word I would ever use to describe her! She kicked and screamed about going to Arilinn, or so I have been told. And I am glad she had children, or else we would not be having this fascinating conversation, because I would not exist."

"That would suit me just fine." She chewed on her lower lip and thought for a few seconds. "Look, why don't you just pretend to look the other way, and I will leave, and you can forget about me?"

"And then what would happen?"

"I'll go find another troupe of Travelers. I am a good puppeteer, even if I don't like it very much."

"I can't. It wouldn't be right."

"Why not?"

"Because letting a wild telepath just wander off into the night would be wrong, that's all. And that is what you are, right now. Your talent isn't going to go away, Illona. You need to know how to use it properly, or else you are going to be a danger to yourself and everyone around you."

"No! I want to go back to the Travelers!" She paused and peered at him intently. "You know something about them, don't you? Damn, damn, damn! I can almost hear your thoughts, which is the most revolting thing in the world. It is like you are nearly whispering in my head. I don't want this'!" She whimpered slightly and clenched her teeth to hold back the sound.

Nico swallowed hard and thought about this piece of information. His own mind, he knew, was well-shielded and he was not forcing rapport with her. Without training and a matrix stone, she should not be able to hear him, unless his earlier suspicion was correct. And if he informed her of the nature of her Gift, she was going to collapse. She was too near the ragged edge of her own endurance as it was. After giving her some time to think, he asked "Wouldn't you rather be able to control your Gift than be at its mercy all the time?"

"Gift!" She spat the word out, as if it was foul on her lips. "I'm not at the mercy of anything! I just keep my concentration on something, and then I don't hear anything hardly at all."

"That sounds very tiring, Illona." Domenic felt a tremendous sympathy for her now, and a regret that she was so conflicted.

Illona's shoulders slumped forward a little. "Yes, I guess it is," she admitted grudgingly. Then a little of her normal defiant attitude returned. "But it is better than sneaking around listening to things that are none of my business, or making people do things they don't want to do, like the leroni."

"Is that what you believe?"

"Everyone knows . . . oops, I did it again, didn't I?" She shrank back, afraid of his earlier threat. When he made no move to strike her, she relaxed slightly, wriggling her bare toes over the lower rung of her chair. Fear and curiosity warred in her sharp features, and he caught wisps of memory, of beatings and hunger, cold and constant fear of those around her. Only Loret seemed to have treated her with any real kindness.

Nico felt sick and ashamed of himself. He had no idea until that instant of how really hard her life had been. No one had ever struck him for no better reason than that they were angry or drunk. He had been frightened, but only of the strange things within himself, never of his parents. Even his grandmother had never done him any more injury than to hate him.

Domenic wondered what words would reassure her. Perhaps silence was the best answer, that and not making any move that would threaten the girl. She was very quick, and perhaps she would work it out for herself.

After several minutes of quiet, Nico saw her relax slightly, and sensed that her curiosity might be the victor for the moment. "But how else does a Keeper work? I mean, no one would really want to live in a Tower unless they were forced to, would they?"

"Have you ever gone to Nevarsin?"

"What a strange thing to ask. Yes, I have. We went there once, about three years back. Why?"

"Did you see the cristoforos?"

"Certainly."

"Was anyone making them stay there?"

"That's different. They don't have anything anyone wants. They are just a bunch of crazy old men who believe in some weird god."

"The biggest difference between a Tower and a monastery is that a Tower is not concerned with religion, Illona. But both are communities of people who have things in common."

"You will never convince me of that. The Towers take the best people and make them into slaves, and then expect the rest of Darkover to support them. They don't do anything!"

"You don't know that since you have never been in a Tower."

"Then tell me what good they are, except to keep the Domains in power?"

This novel idea had never occurred to him, but he could see now how someone living on the edges of Darkovan society might believe it. "They are schools for people like yourself, Illona, who would go mad if they did not receive training."

"I've done fine so far."

"Then you have been very fortunate."

"I don't want to spend the rest of my life locked up!"

"Lots and lots of people take training in the Towers and then leave."

"I don't believe you." She was absolutely determined to hold to her own fears.

"Fine. Ask Rafaella. She has a sister who spent some time at Neskaya, then left and married and is very happily living her own life, up in the Kilghards."

"She would say anything you told her to."

This was too much for him, in his tiredness, and he found himself laughing while the girl glared at him, outraged and furious. When he finally managed to get himself under control, he said, "I am sorry. I was not laughing at you, though you probably don't believe me. It is just that the very thought of me telling my Aunt Rafi what to do struck me as very funny."

"Your aunt? You have an aunt who is a Renunciate?" Illona seemed to be having a great deal of trouble taking in this relationship.

"She is my mother's best friend, and she is freemated to a great-uncle of mine, Rafe Scott."

"The same Rafe Scott who runs expeditions?"

"You know of him, then?"

"Sort of. I . . . have heard of him."

"How?"

"Dirck thought about him sometimes, and I kept catching the name when we were still up in the Hellers." She seemed troubled now, as if something about Vancof's thoughts unsettled her.

Nico waited for her to continue, but Illona became quiet and thoughtful instead. He forced himself not to even brush her mind, letting her sort things out for herself. At last he said, "Tell me about Dirck's thoughts, why don't you?"

"He drinks, you know."

"I had that impression."

"Well, when he does, it is like he is throwing his thoughts all over the room. Nasty things. I tried not to hear anything, because it made me want to throw up. And it was all muddled, with a lot of things I didn't understand. But I do know he was afraid of Rafe Scott for some reason, and often thought about trying to kill him, when he was really in his cups. He thought about killing people a lot, and I think he has done it, too." Illona shivered. "He is a very bad man, but after our regular driver left, we didn't have a lot of choice."

"Your driver left?"