"Yes, it is. But how did you figure it out?" Domenic knew she was very intelligent, but she seemed to be learning much faster than he had anticipated. Was she picking up clues from his mind-no, there was no sense of her overhearing him. Then he realized he was enjoying teaching her, and that he did not want her to learn so quickly, only because he did not want to end the time with her.

"I . . . uh . . . just matched the end of your first name with the letter you made bigger, because you told me that places started with capitals. That's all. Did I do it wrong?"

"No, Illona. You are a very good student."

"Write down ordinary words for me-bread and rain and . . . I want to know what they all look like!"

Domenic did not move for a moment. Then he pulled the folded letter to Marguerida toward him, opened it, and wrote above "Dear Mother," "Please send me a copy of your book of folktales as soon as you are able." Then he turned back to the other sheet of paper and began to pen the words Illona had requested.

"What did you just put in your letter?"

"I asked my mother to send me a book she wrote. You will like it because it is full of stories, and by the time you get done with it, you will be able to read very well."

"You asked . . ." she gave a little gasp of astonishment. "Your mother is Marguerida Alton-Hastur, isn't she?"

"Yes."

Illona shook her head. "And you just asked her to send a book, as if she was . . . a nobody. You are a very strange person, Domenic."

"Call me Nico-all my friends do."

"And I am your friend?"

"I told you that last night, didn't I?"

"Yes, but I didn't really believe you then. Now, write 'bread' for me."

It was late afternoon and the rain had been pouring down for hours. Katherine Aldaran put down her brush and rubbed the back of her neck. She had lost track of time. She gave a quick look at the panel on the easel, taking in the shapes she had placed there, and decided it was not a bad beginning.

"Are you tired?" Gisela asked, from where she sat on a thronelike chair across the room. "I know I am. I never imagined that sitting in one position could be so wearing!"

"Forgive me-I got caught up in the work! I am not usually so thoughtless of my sitters."

"I didn't mind, really. It was very interesting watching you. And I will tell you a useful thing, if you like."

Kate put the brush into a jar of turpentine and swirled it around. "What's that?"

"When you are thinking about painting, your mind gets extremely quiet."

"Quiet?"

"Well, maybe more like you are walled away. Shielded."

"I see. So if I walk down the corridor thinking about yellow ocher, no one can hear my random thoughts? That is useful! Thank you."

"I am glad you didn't mind, Kate. Can I look at what you did, or must I wait until it is done?"

"You won't see much at this stage, but you can look if you like." Actually, Katherine did not usually let her sitters see the preliminary painting, because it was just forms and was difficult for those who were not artists to understand. At present, she had blocked in the shape of Gisela's head and shoulders, the carved posts of the chair, and a little of the draping of the violet tunic she had chosen to wear. What color there was in the face did not resemble any human being yet, since green was not a hue that people ordinarily thought of when they looked at themselves.

Before Gisela could rise and come toward the easel, there was a knock on the door, and a second later Roderick stuck his red head into the room, his eyes sparkling. Then he saw Gisela and he hesitated slightly. "Oh, sorry-Mother said you might be working."

"It is fine, Rory-we are finished for today, aren't we, Kate?"

"Yes, we are. Did you come about learning to draw, Roderick?"

The boy grinned and glanced around the studio, taking in the panel on the easel swiftly. "No, I didn't. Mother asked me to bring you this. She just got a letter from Nico, and this one is for you-from Herm." Rory held out a thick packet and shifted restlessly from foot to foot. He watched Kate with an air of anticipation. When she did not immediately react, he looked very disappointed. "Aren't you going to take it?"

"Thank you," Kate answered rather stiffly, and took the object from his hand.

"Aren't you going to read it?"

"Roderick Rafael Alton-Hastur-you are being a pest!" Gisela scolded him, but there was no real anger in her voice. "It is private, you little scamp!"

"But, I just wanted to know how many Terranan he has killed so far!"

Gisela looked scandalized. "Shoo! Get along with you, you imp of Zandru! Both of us are going to swallow our curiosity and leave Katherine to enjoy her letter in peace."

"Ah, Aunty Giz, that's not fair! First Nico goes off and gets into trouble, and I am stuck here in the castle, and then . . ."

"Enough!" Gisela was on her feet, shaking out the folds of her tunic and petticoats.

"Please, Giz, don't go." Kate held the letter between her fingers, suddenly cold all over. She did not want to be alone right now. "Why don't you make us some of that nice tea we had earlier, while I . . ."

"Of course! Just what we need on a rainy afternoon." She walked over to the fireplace, shook a kettle sitting on the hearthstones, and poured some water into it from a jug nearby. Then she hung it on a hook, and turned around. "Are you still here, Roderick?"

"You are so mean," he muttered, and then retreated and closed the door behind him. Once he was gone, Gisela began to laugh, and in spite of her own tension, Katherine joined in.

She sat down in the chair Gisela had been posing in and the merriment faded away. Kate looked at the packet in her hands, dreading what might be within its pages. She had said so many terrible things, in her fear, the night Herm had left Comyn Castle. What would she do if he decided she was right-that being married to a laranless wife was indeed impossible for him? And, knowing how much her husband disliked emotional conflict, it would be just like him to tell her in a letter, to avoid the inevitable confrontation it would mean.

"Kate, read your letter and stop your fretting." Giz spoke in a gentle voice, and then turned away to clean out the pottery teapot.

Katherine sighed and broke the paper wafer which sealed the packet. Three sheets unfolded on her lap, and Herm's large scrawl danced before her eyes. He had written to her a few times when they were courting, but she had not seen his handwriting since then, and the sight of it now made her heart leap in her chest. She remembered how the sight of one of his notes had made her blood race ten years before, how girlish and excited she had felt whenever she received one.

Dearest Kate- I am a fool. I hope that you can find it in your heart to forgive me for being a coward and running away at the first chance I had. Please understand that it was not your fault, that nothing you did, including point out my many stupidities, was the cause. It was me, my fears and habits, that was the problem, and never you, my caria.

There are so many things I want to tell you, that I should have told you earlier, and I don't know if I have the courage to do it now. The paper under my hand seems like a vast field of snow that I cannot get across.

Just at this moment, I am sitting in my room at an inn called the Crowing Cock. It is in a little town called Carcosa, about a half day's slow ride from Thendara-so I am not very far away, although it feels to me as if it were a great distance. Last night there was a riot in the courtyard of the inn, and people were killed. The rain came and freshened things up a little, but I can still smell the stench of it. Perhaps that is my imagination, or maybe it is that my clothes are filthy with ash and sweat and a lot of other unpleasant things.

I am delaying getting down to business. First, I have to tell you that the Station Chief at Federation Headquarters there in Thendara has an arrest warrant out on me. I did not tell you about it when I learned of it, and you somehow knew I was holding something back, even though I managed to distract you by telling you that Terese would need to be tested for laran. You were already so tired and worried that I could not bring myself to add to it-well, that is my excuse anyhow. I am hardly a threat to Federation security, and this man knows that perfectly well, but he wanted to use my presence in Comyn Castle to cause trouble for Mikhail Hastur.

Katherine stopped reading and looked up. "Did you know that Herm had an arrest warrant out for him?"

"Yes, breda, I did, but Mikhail asked us-Rafael and me-not to tell you, because he felt you didn't need to know about it so you wouldn't worry."

"I do wish everyone would stop keeping things from me and not meddle in my life!"

Gisela chuckled and then took the kettle off the fire to pour hot water into the teapot. "I'm not sure if that is possible on Darkover-everyone seems to meddle just for sport."

"Sport!" Kate spat out the word and felt much better for it. "I suppose it is something to do-when you are snowed in for weeks at a time," she added, less angrily but with great feeling.

"It is better than killing each other, Kate."

"I'm not completely sure of that." She picked up the letter and went on reading.

But it was more than keeping Mikhail out of a mess he had no hand in. I came home, expecting to feel at ease, and instead I found myself feeling trapped. No, it was not you, but everything! After years dealing with the intrigues of the Senate, you would have thought that those of my own people would be simple for me. I only wish that were true. I felt more alienated in Comyn Castle than I did when we were still in the Federation-exacerbated, I must add, by your own entirely normal reaction to discovering that you were married to a telepath. In short, you were only making things harder, Kate-and I just couldn't deal with it.

That is not a very loving thing to write, but it is a true one. I hope you can forgive me eventually. I behaved selfishly. I jumped at the opportunity to get away from everything for a few days, and I do not regret the choice, even though I caused you grief. I am not perfect, and I have been more imperfect these past few days than I ever have before in my life.

"He says he isn't perfect," Kate told Gisela as the woman approached her with a mug of steaming tea, the pleasant minty smell wafting toward her.

"He is only now discovering that?"

"I don't know, but he is admitting it now." She took a sip and found the tea too hot to drink yet.

"I suppose that is progress of some sort," Gisela answered with her usual tartness.

It seemed to me that too much was happening, and I was overwhelmed. I could not bring myself to deal with the problem of your lack of laran, or how it might affect our lives or the lives of our children. More, I could not cope with how I suddenly felt about life here on Darkover. And then Nico discovered a plot against Mikhail Hastur, and I offered my services.

I ran away, Kate, ran away from you and the children, who are my life, and I confess that I was enormously relieved, even though I felt like dung. It was the wrong thing to do, but also the right one. Can you understand that?

Probably not. I feel that I am making a complete fool of myself, but I had to write and tell you as much as I was able. I want to come back to you, but just at the moment that is not possible. I have to remain here with Domenic until this matter is settled. But I hope that you can find it in your heart to somehow overlook my many flaws, my secretiveness and my cowardice, and to start anew very soon.

I remain, your adoring husband, Hermes-Gabriel Aldaran

Katherine looked up and found there were tears in her eyes. She folded the letter over and picked up her tea. Then she wiped her wet cheeks with the sleeve of her blouse. The soft spider silk brushed across her skin like a lover's kiss.

"Well?"

"He is very contrite."

"Herm was always good at that, when he was a boy. He was always sorry for the mischief he got into. And he always meant it, too! Are you going to take him back?"

"What choice do I have?"

"Kate, you can do just as you please-something I never had a chance to do. The Aldaran Domain is not the richest on Darkover-Aldones knows it is certainly the coldest!-but you will never want for anything, should you decide that he has to sleep in the hawks' mews for the rest of his life. My brother Robert will see that you are well provided for. So you don't have to take Hermes back just because he says he is sorry. The question is-do you want him, imperfections and all?"

Katherine did not answer immediately, but drank some of her tea. Then she answered, slowly, "Yes, I do-as maddening as he is."

"Well, then, that settles it."

"Not exactly. Things can never be the same between us, Gisela, and I don't know if he understands that. He is so good at manipulating me-everyone, for that matter-and being clever, that he doesn't seem to realize the hurt it causes. So, I am going to have to insist that . . ."

"What?"

"That he not treat me like some adoring little woman who can be pushed aside when it pleases him!"

"That may be very difficult, Kate."

"I know." She bent her head forward and her shoulders drooped.

"Here, now, don't go falling into the dumps on me. Why, if things don't work out, there are always the Renunciates!"

"The Renunciates!" Gisela had told Kate about those women, and she had been fascinated. But the thought of herself living in a community of females was so bizarre that it was funny, and she began to chuckle. "What, and cut off my hair?"

Gisela rolled her eyes drolly. "There you are-saved by sheer vanity!"

Mikhail came into the sitting room of the suite and found Marguerida in a high-backed chair, with a sheet of thick paper in her lap. He realized that it was the first time, except for meals, that he had seen her seated in days. He studied her, noticing the slightest redness at the tip of her nose and the puffiness around her eyes-she must have been crying. And she looked so tired. He wanted to kill anyone who made his wife weep. She would not like that thought, since she preferred to take care of herself, but he could not entirely stem the feeling of outrage. After perhaps half a minute he realized that he was just using it as an excuse to vent his own emotions. Why shouldn't she cry if she wished to?

"What's the matter, caria?"

Marguerida looked up, as if she had not noticed he had entered the room, and stared slightly. "Nothing, really. Or perhaps everything. Nico has sent me a letter."

"Really? Might I read it, or is it too private?"

"You may not like it."

"I don't like a great many things, dearest, but that does not prevent me from discovering them." He tried to keep the sharpness out of his voice, and almost succeeded.

"I had no idea he was so dreadfully unhappy," she said as she handed him the letter.

"All boys his age are unhappy, I think. I was, and Dani was. Fifteen is a terrible year. At least he does not have spots any longer-I still did, and my voice kept breaking, which embarrassed me no end." He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand, realized he was looking at the back of it, and turned it over. "I wonder why he asked for your book?" he asked, noticing the writing above the salutation.

"I have no idea-maybe he is bored. I hope he is bored and not in danger."

"Umm." Mikhail was already deep in the first page and barely heard her remark. He frowned over the words, admiring the care he knew had been put into them. There was nothing he found very surprising, for he had suspected for some time that Nico was perturbed about himself. He had assumed that Alanna Alar was the cause, and had been happy at the way in which Domenic had walked the taut rope between his affection for his foster-sister and propriety. He turned the page over again, and looked at the back of the sheet.

Yes, Nico was upset about his feelings for his cousin, but that did not appear to be the real problem. The words danced before his eyes, and Mikhail sat down on the couch with a thump and reread them. When he was done, he shook his head. "It is a shame we could not have fostered him to someone."

"I don't really think that that would have helped, Mikhail. Are you feeling as if you were a poor parent? I know I am."

"Yes, I am. If only he wasn't such a prickly boy, so hard to . . . and you are right. Who would we have dared to foster him to? My brother Gabriel might have done, except that that would have placed him near to Javanne, and besides, Regis would never have agreed, would he?"

Marguerida sighed. "Your brother is an estimable man, when he isn't being a complete jackass, but I don't think he would have made any better a parent than we have done. We might just as well accept the fact that we did the best we could, and it wasn't enough!"

"Marguerida, this is not the end of the world! I know you are exhausted, and that you have been wearing yourself out, handling all the arrangements and worrying about Nico at the same time. But he did manage to tell you that he feels like some sort of unnatural child, didn't he?"

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" Her golden eyes sparkled with anger, and color came into her pale cheeks.

"Yes, it is. I don't know-maybe all boys that age feel to some degree unnatural." Mikhail rubbed his forehead and tried to will away his headache. He could heal anyone but himself, it seemed. "I could always tell Regis anything, when I was young, before this," he said, shaking his gloved hand. "Poor Dani couldn't. So Regis was a better parent to me than he was to his own son. And I have never been able to speak to my own father as I did with Regis, or the way I can with Lew. I think the fact that Nico can write you such a letter says that you have been a very good mother. I think he struggled over it, trying to find the right words. He is very brave, you know." He did not add how miserable he felt, after reading the letter, that he had done to Domenic exactly what he had sworn he would never do-kept the boy at arm's length and made it difficult for both of them.