She set aside these thoughts firmly and concentrated on making Katherine feel more comfortable. "We must have an easel built for you immediately. The Castle carpenters can probably manage that in a day, although they will complain that they have been rushed and that it is not a good job, that the wood is not of the proper sort, then stand around and mutter darkly. They will tell you that it would have been better if they had had oak, but that only pine was available, most likely."

Katherine laughed at last. "I know. Craftsmen are such perfectionists. I don't suppose I can get any canvases?"

"We have canvas, but it is not of a quality for painting, only for making awnings and tents. Can you manage with board? Wood we have in plenty, and our painters here use panels of it."

"Perhaps Master Gilhooly can provide some," Mikhail offered. "He is head of the Painters Guild, which I confess is a very small company. They can probably supply you with panels and anything else you need, including pigments."

"That would be wonderful, since my supplies are limited, and it does not seem that I am going to be able to get more when these are exhausted. I confess that I am very spoiled, since all I needed to do was sit down at the console of my computer and order what I needed, and it would be delivered in a few hours." I cannot believe I am standing here discussing paints with these complete strangers, as if nothing were more important. Why is Mikhail wearing a glove indoors-maybe his hand is scarred or something? And Marguerida has mitts, but Gisela does not. It is not cold in here, but perhaps she has poor circulation. Will I ever understand these people? It is all too confusing. I wish I were somewhere else!

"There are no computers here since that is a restricted technology, forbidden except to the people at HQ," said Mikhail. "And we have nothing resembling a depot of art supplies on Darkover. The Painters Guild grinds and mixes their own colors, and the Brushmakers supply the tools. I believe the Woodworkers Guild is charged with creating the panels. And that entirely exhausts my store of knowledge on the matter."

"Then you have never visited the Painters Guild yourself?" Katherine seemed surprised by his knowledge and then by his ignorance.

"No, I have not." Mikhail shrugged his shoulders. Like Regis before him, he had been a virtual prisoner in Comyn Castle for years, except for a few trips to Arilinn, and one to Armida, ten years before. Now he would be even more restricted, he knew, and the prospect did not delight him. "I would know nothing at all, except that I was a very curious boy, and I absorbed tidbits whenever I could. I know who is head of the Guild, because it is part of my duty to know, but I have never actually met Master Gilhooly. I met his predecessor long ago, when he came to arrange for a portrait of Lady Linnea, and I asked him a great many questions, the answers to which have long since faded from memory." Mikhail shook his head and laughed softly.

"I think we are about to sit down, Mikhail. Will you show Domna Katherine to her place." And keep charming her, cario. It's working. She is starting to relax a little, which should improve her digestion.

That will not be any burden. I like her. Do you?

Oh, yes. And it is taking all my discipline not to ask her more about Amedi Korniel right now. His official biography is rather dry and she probably never actually met him, but maybe she knows some family stories about him. But it gives us some common ground for further conversation.

It is good to hear you sounding excited, my dearest. These last few days have been so hard on you.

On both of us, Mikhail.

Mikhail offered Katherine his arm, and she took it cautiously, acutely aware of the young man just behind him, watching her suspiciously. Who was he, and why had no one introduced him? Katherine let herself be guided toward the table as her husband fell in beside Marguerida with conscious grace, as if this were no more than a state dinner of the sort they had attended hundreds of times before.

There was a quiet scraping of chairs, as everyone got settled. Mikhail saw Nico get Alanna seated, while Roderick helped Terese. Amaury, taking a cue from the boys, helped Yllana, and then sat between her and Alanna, casting an admiring glance at the Alar girl. Mikhail seated Katherine to his right, in the place of honor, while Marguerida did the same with Hermes.

Gisela started to take the place at Mikhail's left, but just then Lew Alton appeared with Ida Davidson, the widow of Marguerida's mentor, on his arm. He seated Ida next to Herm, then subtly shifted Gisela one place down, getting a very dirty look for his pains. Danilo Syrtis-Ardais trailed behind them, and took the empty place on Gisela's other side. She did not look as if being buttressed by the two men pleased her, but she shrugged and seemed to choose to make the best of it. Mikhail observed her green eyes as they flashed toward the other side of the table, where Rafael was taking his place on Marguerida's left, with the children ranged beside him.

The servants went around, filling glasses, and the soup course was brought. Except for the children, there was very little conversation around the table. Roderick was telling Herm's daughter about his horse, and she was round-eyed. Horses were almost extinct in much of the Federation, and it was clear the girl had only seen one in the Menagerie.

Lew gave Mikhail a quick look, his eyes troubled. What is it, Lew?

I just received a most interesting message from Belfontaine-addressed to Regis, of course. Thus far I have managed to keep word of his death from getting to HQ, but I won't be able to keep it from them for much longer.

Why bother, they'll find out eventually?

Because I do not wish us to be perceived as being vulnerable, Mikhail. The Federation has a history of using events like Regis' death to try to further their own interests. I am especially glad that Dani as here, and not at Elhalyn Castle. And Gareth Elhalyn showed up an hour ago, so he is safe, too.

I don't understand.

It is not beyond imagination that they might kidnap him and try to have him put into power. They have done such things on other worlds. I believe that the situation in the Federation is too chaotic at present for anyone to attempt such a coup, but the sooner Domna Miralys and her daughter get here, the happier I wall be. Gareth is with his father and Lady Linnea for the evening. I am probably jumping at shadows, and giving Belfontaine more credit for imagination than he deserves.

So, what was in the message?

It was closer to a demand-he wants me to hand over Herm, as an enemy of the Federation. He made a few veiled threats about what would result if we did not, but since 1 know that the Federation is going to be leaving Darkover in the very near future, 1 don't think he can really act on them.

Pull out? Did Belfontaine say that?

Hardly. That I learned in a note from Ethan MacDoevid just ten minutes ago-our intelligence as still better than Belfontaine's! He seems to have charmed the information out of Belfontaine's personal clerk, immediately before he was ordered out of Headquarters for good. He said he will come around tomorrow, and tell me everything he has managed to pick up. I praise the day Marguerida decided to send him to Rafe Scott, for he has been invaluable since Rafe was forced to retire, even though he has no laran and cannot eavesdrop that way. But it does mean we now have no one actually in HQ and any information we get will have to be acquired unscrupulously. There was a kind of merriment in this last remark, and Mikhail knew what his father-in-law meant.

Mikhail realized that Katherine was watching him intently, and that she must suspect something was being said that she could not hear. Her earlier discomfort had returned, and he cursed himself silently for letting his attention wander. She was an intelligent woman, and for all he knew, might be a Federation spy. No, he was being overcautious. She was just a woman in an unfamiliar setting, yanked out of her familiar world without warning and dropped down in the middle of a political crisis.

"Lew mentioned that you were from Renney, Domna Katherine. I confess I know nothing about it, except that your ancestor, the composer, came from there. He is a favorite of my wife's, and she is yearning to interrogate you about him, but that will keep. Please, tell me about your home world."

Katherine set down her spoon, her bowl empty, looking quite relieved to be asked about so ordinary a subject. "Well, there is not a great deal to tell. It is a small place, at the edge of the Pollux sector. We are farmers and dairymen and seafarers, much as our ancestors were when they were still on Terra. We speak a tongue very similar to your own-it astonished me when Herm demonstrated the likenesses. I lived there until I was sixteen, and then I won a scholarship to the Fine Arts Academy on Coronis. I studied painting with Donaldo dePaul, and then met my first husband, Amaury's father. He was killed in an accident when Amaury was a baby, and two years later, I met Herm. My life, until the past few days, has been extremely uneventful."

"I am sorry that you did not come to Darkover under better circumstances, domna."

"When I married Herm, I took a vow to be with him at all times, good and bad, but I confess I never expected that to mean I would be dragged out of my bed in the middle of the night and end up on the other side of the Federation, far away from everything I know, and with very little chance of ever seeing Renney again." There was no mistaking the sadness in her voice now, and the undertone of worry as well. "Except for the children, and my cousin Cara, who was in the Chamber of Deputies, my entire family is still there, for we are not a world that produces very many travelers. We have everything we need on Renney, or almost. When I left, my Nana just shook her head and said she hoped I would not rue the day. I can imagine what she would say now."

"I hope you will not miss it too much, and we must both pray that things do not get completely out of hand."

She shook her head, and the coil at her nape shifted, so Mikhail got a glimpse of the soft flesh at the back of her neck. "I overheard Lew Alton and Herm talking, and they did not sound very cheerful. I can barely believe that the Premier has disbanded the Legislature. It seems so . . . extreme. And, for all that I am the wife of politician, I have managed to keep myself in relative ignorance, because worrying about political strife interferes with my work." She looked faintly embarrased at this admission, and glanced at the now empty glass in front of her, as if she wanted something to focus on. A servant started to refill it almost immediately.

Domenic, who was seated beside Katherine, spoke for the first time. "It was a crazy thing to do, domna." A puzzled look came into his face, as if he was surprised by his own outburst. He glanced at his father, and when he found no look of disapproval, he relaxed.

Mikhail looked fondly at his oldest child, the most mysterious of his offspring. He did not know if it was because the child had been conceived in the distant past, or because he had spent several weeks of time suspended in his mother's womb while both she and Mikhail were in the misty waters of Lake Hali, but he was much more mature than his years suggested, and he was a remote boy. No . . . not remote, but just having a hard time making the transition from childhood to adulthood. Sometimes he was shy and other times he was outspoken, although he was never bold in the way his brother Roderick was.

Istvana Ridenow, who had first tested him, said he had a unique laran, one she was unable to define to her own satisfaction. True, he had the Alton Gift of forced rapport, as strongly as his mother, but there was something else as well. Mikhail wondered from time to time if Nico had the living matrix of the Hasturs, but Istvana said it was not that. Whatever it was, it was developing in its own way, slowly and almost painfully. He had a kind of shyness around everyone except his cousin Alana that made him quiet and reserved.

Katherine looked at Nico with interest. "I agree, but I would like to know your thoughts." What am I saying? I can't know his thoughts, because I am not a telepath, but he can probably know mine, even though Marguerida said that . . . damn Herm for not warning me! And what about Terese? Is my little girl going to be a mindreader or some other sort of witch, like Great-grandmother Lila was supposed to have been? Nana's stories about her always gave me the creeps, and here I am on a planet where some of the people have the ability to look into my mind whenever they choose, and I can't tell who can and who cannot. Even though I have nothing to hide, it as still intolerable! Well, I would not be disappointed to give that Gisela a piece of my mind, except she probably has just enough scruples not to snoop when I very much wish she would! I really must try to be more consistent-one second feeling naked in this room, and the next expecting these odd folks to hear my thoughts. I wonder what that man next to Gisela is saying. Whatever it is, she doesn't look very happy about it-serves her right, the cat! She deliberately tried to embarrass us!

Nico considered her question without speaking, as if trying to find the best approach. These days he often appeared very sullen, alternating without reason toward sudden bursts of pungent observation that surprised his elders. Remembering his own adolescence, Mikhail knew it was normal for his age. At least he thought about his words first, unlike Rory who said the first thing that came into his head, without any thought of the consequences. Mikhail loved them both, but he knew he favored Roderick, just a little, because Domenic was so very opaque and distant.

"I have been listening to Grandfather Lew. And thinking. It seems to me that the Terranan have leaped before they looked." Nico frowned and hesitated. Then he continued. "Granddad says that most of his mistakes came from acting before he considered what might happen, and that the Federation has done that now." He glanced across the table at Lew, to see if he had said anything untoward, but Lew just continued consuming his soup in pleasant silence.

"Aren't you a little young to be thinking about political ramifications?" Katherine sounded both amused and genuinely interested. It was clear she was at ease with the boy. Mikhail could tell that Domenic was starting to respond to her friendliness, to abandon his normal reserve and actually enjoy himself.

"I am fifteen, and I have been thinking of politics all my life, or so it seems to me." He gave Katherine one of his rare and charming smiles, then ran his fingers through his hair, unconsciously imitating Mikhail. His hair was a little long, touching the collar of his green tunic, because Nico loathed the barber. "You see, with our long winters, with the snow up to the window sills for months, we are all devoted to intrigue here. Just ask Aunt Giz sometime, and you will get an earful." He cast a look across the table at Gisela, and to Mikhail's surprise, there was something like real malice in his son's gaze.

"Aunt?" She looked slightly confused for a moment. "Of course. Do you know, I believe that makes me your in-law as well. I had not thought of that before. I have lots of sisters, and nieces and nephews by the bushel, but it hadn't really penetrated my brain that I would have instant relations on Darkover." She turned her head gracefully and looked Gisela up and down, managing to convey without a word that her new sister-in-law was a mere country girl, and something of a dowd into the bargain. Mikhail dabbed his napkin to his mouth to conceal the broad grin on his lips, while Gisela simmered with fury. Then Katherine turned back to Mikhail, her dark eyes flashing in a very attractive way, as if she had paid off a score and was quite pleased with herself. "Indeed, I believe Amaury and I are the only people at the table who are not some sort of relation to you by blood. Is that right?"

Mikhail nodded. She was as intelligent as Lew had suggested. "Almost correct. The elderly woman seated next to Hermes is not a native of Darkover, but the widow of Marguerida's musical mentor. But everyone else is a relative, yes. Young Donal here," he said, gesturing over his shoulder, "is both my nephew and my paxman, and Alanna is his sister. You could say that most gatherings of the Domain families are family gatherings, and not be too far off the mark." It seemed like a safe topic, and he decided to pursue it further, just to keep Katherine from dwelling on her fears. "And since the arrival of the Terranan over a century ago, we have intermarried with them as well. For instance, Lew's mother, Elaine, was a daughter of Mariel Aldaran and a Terran man, Wade Montray. Lew's first wife, Marjorie, was also an Aldaran, on her mother's side, and her father was Zeb Scott, a Terran. So, my Marguerida is a cousin of your husband through her grandmother."

Katherine frowned over this. "But not an Aldaran through her father's first wife, I take it."

She was quick! "No-Marguerida's mother was Marjorie's half sister, Thyra."

"Mother does not like to talk about her," Nico said very quietly, the remnants of his usual shyness vanishing in the warmth of Katherine's attention. "She was a very strange person, and wicked, too."

"Thank you for telling me-I can see that it would be easy to make a mistake and mention something that would offend her. Now I finally understand why she and Gisela look so similar-they are cousins as well as sisters-in-law. I thought that Renney kinships were convoluted, but I think that Darkover might just have us beaten, fair and square."

"Father was almost forced to marry Gisela, but he went away instead," Nico answered, his tongue loosened with wine and his dark eyes glittering with something like his brother's devilment. He knew that the subject still made Mikhail squirm. Then he glanced at Katherine's face and grinned. "Father and Mother ran away together in the middle of the night and got married by . . ."

"Domenic!"

"Oh, Father, she is sure to hear the tale from someone, and you would not want the servants telling her, would you?"

"I am sure Domna Katherine does not wish to be bored with events in the past."

Domenic laughed aloud, and everyone stared at him for a moment. "The past! That is a good one, Father."

For a moment, Mikhail had the wish to strangle his firstborn. Katherine was not yet easy in their company, and he was sure that hearing a tale about a trip into the Ages of Chaos, in Darkover's distant past, would only increase her discomfort. Accepting telepaths was surely enough for the present. At the same time, he realized, Nico was right. If she did not hear the story from him, she would find out from another source, likely embellished with details that were more fancy than truth. He could just imagine Gisela's version of their adventures.

Katherine looked from son to father and raised her eyebrows. She really was a handsome woman. "Now I am very intrigued. My Nana always said that I was as curious as a bag of cats. And, in truth, I would rather hear about anything except the follies of the Federation. I am throughly sick of that subject."

A servant removed her soup bowl and replaced it with a plate of fritters and broiled fish. Mikhail had already been served his portion, and picked up his fork with his gloved hand. He cut off a bite of fritter, lightly flavored with herbs, and speared a piece of fish.

When he had swallowed and sipped some wine, Mikhail spoke. "Domenic means that Marguerida and I were drawn into the past-about seven hundred years-and were married by an ancient laranzu called Varzil the Good, who was of the Ridenow Domain. It all seems quite fantastic to me, and I was there!" Then he cursed himself for the clumsiness of his choice of words, and knew how very weary he still was.

Katherine choked, and Domenic gave her a few firm pats between her bare shoulders. She gasped for air and her eyes bulged. Then she recovered her breath, emptied her refilled glass in a few gulps, and stared at Mikhail. "You are serious, aren't you?"

"Very. But I do not expect you to believe me, when my own mother very much doubts the truth of it. I can only say that I was there, and I know what happened. You do not have to believe me." He glanced at the heavy di catenas bracelet that encircled his wrist, made for another man whose name was a variant of Mikhail, then looked down the long table toward his wife, remembering that strange, magical time.

"You traveled in time?" She was both amazed and disbelieving, but her curiosity got the better of her.

"Yes."

"What was it like?"

Mikhail was rather taken aback by her question, for it was not the reaction he had anticipated. "It was very uncomfortable."

Katherine began to laugh, and tears formed in the corners of her eyes. After a few moments, they began to trickle down her cheeks, and she dabbed at them with the corner of her napkin. Finally she regained control of herself and turned to Domenic. "Is he always this terse?"

"Almost, unless he is lecturing Rory." Domenic gave his father a fond look, which took most of the sting out of the words. But not all. Mikhail could remember vividly the day Dani Hastur had told him that his father never seemed to have time to talk to him. Was this how Nico felt? Mikhail had promised himself he would be a great parent, that he would not neglect his children that way. Now he felt that he had failed.

It is all right, Father. You listen more than you talk, that is all. And you worry too much.

Thank you, Nico. You do know that you can always come to me, don't you?

Yes, but I don't have much to say.

Are you happy, son?

No, but there is nothing you can do about it. And I don't want to discuss it, either now or any other time.

Very well. Mikhail returned to eating glumly. Then he remembered himself at fifteen, and how prickly he had been. He forced himself to relax and let the matter go, for it was likely just the normal problem of being an adolescent, and would take care of itself in time. Was any teenager happy? Probably not.

Mikhail looked up from his plate and found Marguerida looking at him from the other end of the table. She gave him one of her wonderful smiles, a look that never failed to reassure him and comfort him, then turned her attention back to Herm Aldaran. The deep pain of his uncle's sudden death, and the actuality that he was now the real ruler of Darkover seemed to lessen a little with her look. With Marguerida beside him, he knew he could face anything, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment. He turned his attention to the food on his plate, while his son and Katherine talked, and let himself think of nothing in particular.

At the other end of the table, Marguerida observed her son and husband, and sighed softly. She wondered what had provoked Katherine's outburst of merriment. The woman struck her as very serious, but she seemed less angry now, and Marguerida was glad of that.

"I don't know what Mikhail said, but it is good to hear Kate laugh like that again. I was beginning to think . . . well, no matter." Herm smiled at Marguerida as he spoke.

"She must be beside herself."

"Do you know, I have never understood that phrase. How can one be beside themselves? But, yes, she has been very troubled, for which I cannot blame her. When I first met her, she was a young widow, and very sad. From all I can gather, Amaury's father was a very good fellow, and his sudden death was a great blow. I have often wished I had known him, although if he had still been alive, I would never have had the opportunity to marry Katherine, and that would have been intolerable for me!" He chuckled to himself. "I might have had to challenge him to a duel, or something equally preposterous."

"You do not strike me as a marrying sort of man," Marguerida commented.

"You are right on that, though how you could have discerned it after such a brief acquaintance I do not know. I was quite happy in my bachelorhood, until I encountered Katherine, and then the only thing I could think of was to marry her as quickly as possible, before someone else snatched her away."

"Were there other suitors, then?"

"No, not at all. But I kept imagining hordes of them, lurking in the corners of the ballrooms and drawing rooms. She is so beautiful that I could not help it. And why she agreed to marry me remains a mystery. I know I am not a handsome man." He gestured at his shining pate. "Whatever good looks I had, Robert damaged in a fist fight when we were lads." He rubbed his nose, which had clearly been broken at least once.

"Robert in a fist fight? Now, that is a remarkable notion, for he has always seemed to me to be the best-tempered of men."

"He is, but I was a very provoking boy. Not unlike your Rory, I suspect. But, tell me, how did you arrive at the conclusion that I was not the marrying type? My curiosity demands satisfaction."

"Gisela suggested to me, long ago, that you were a confirmed bachelor. Indeed, I did not even know you had married, let alone were a father, until you arrived. Somehow you never mentioned it in your messages to my father, or in your infrequent letters to your sister. Why did you keep it such a secret? Didn't you want your father to know he had another granddaughter?"

Herm grunted. "My father and I parted on poor terms, Domna Marguerida, and one reason I took the position in the Chamber of Deputies was to escape him. And because it was the chance of a lifetime for me. I had wanted to travel to the stars since I was a boy, all full of the tales told by the spacemen who frequented our home. But, I never wanted to be a spacer at all-the idea of being cooped up in a ship for long periods of time made me cringe. Besides having no talent for the mathematics and other disciplines that are needed. And it seemed that this was the only way to leave Darkover, until Regis decided to appoint me. I jumped at the chance, and, frankly, my father was furious with me."

"But, why?"

"I suspect it was because he never liked Regis, but I cannot say for certain. All I know is that he went into one of his rages, a drunken fury that had the servants scrambling for cover, and called me a number of things I cannot repeat in polite company."

Marguerida grinned. "There is nothing you can say that would shock me, and Mikhail can tell you that occasionally my language would shame a drayman. But I appreciate your restraint, since I do not particularly want Rory learning any more choice phrases than he already knows. Do not be fooled by his pleasant demeanor-he was born to mischief." She glanced at her red-haired son fondly, and Roderick blushed deeply.

"All boys his age are like that, even Amaury."

Marguerida shook her head. "Not my Domenic. He has always been the best child, so much so that I worry about him. I know it sounds silly, but I have often wished he would get into trouble of some sort. He is just too good sometimes."

"Do not borrow trouble, domna. It is a very dangerous thing."

"I know. But sometimes I cannot help myself." She cast a fond look at Lew Alton. "I am, after all, my father's child."

To her delight, Hermes Aldaran roared with laughter, making everyone at the table stare at him. "Born to trouble. Yes, I know that one very well," he chortled.

6.

Domenic stood at his post outside the Guard's Barracks and stared at the stonework of the buildings opposite, across the narrow street. A steady stream of foot traffic moved past him, the familiar faces of local merchants and householders, cheerful in the mild autumn weather. Distantly he registered the pleasant smell of woodsmoke, carried by a brisk but not unpleasant breeze. It was coming from the direction of the kitchens of Comyn Castle, so the odors of roasting fowl and baking bread mingled with the smoke. Usually this made his mouth water, but today he had no appetite.

He shifted and stamped his feet, which were slightly cold from standing in the shadows at attention for over an hour. He wriggled his toes in the tips of his boots, trying to restore some circulation. The problem which had troubled his sleep returned to his mind, and he bit his lower lip, trying to find some answer to it. He glared at the white bulk of the Castle to his right, swore unconsciously, making his companion look at him curiously.

"Something the matter, vai dom?"

"No, Kendrick. I didn't sleep well and am feeling rotten, is all."