"Are you sure you want me to answer that?"

The other woman thought for a moment. "Yes, I think I do. All my life I have been . . . other people's Gisela. I was my father's pet, when he noticed me at all, and then his pawn. I was a wife, then a widow, and a wife again-but none of that seems to be about me. I can't explain it better than that."

"You did fine. What I see is a very intelligent woman who does not really like pleasing others."

"You mean that I am selfish? I already knew that."

"No, because if you were really selfish, you would please yourself and not worry about the consequences. Instead you keep trying to be what other people expect of you, and it ends up making you angry. So, you punish yourself by doing mean things that make you dislike yourself."

"Ouch!" Gisela started, then looked reflective.

"Are you sorry you asked?"

"No, but you are much too close to the bone for my comfort. Do you talk like this to Hermes?"

"Not often enough!"

Gisela shook her head in wonder. "It must gall him dreadfully."

"Yes, it does. Now, tell me why you are afraid to do something you want to do?"

"When I was little and I carved, I lost all track of time and got so . . . far away. I didn't pay attention to anything except finding the thing in the wood. And that is unwomanly, or so my nurse told me time after time."

"Lost? Obsessed? Totally unaware of anyone else on the planet?"

"Oh!" Tears swelled in Gisela's eyes. "You do know what I mean!"

"Of course I do, and I am sure Marguerida would as well, although I can see that you never could have told her what you just told me. Now, I do not know Rafael very well yet, but somehow I can't see him objecting, as long as you don't come to bed with splinters in your nightdress."

"You make it sound so easy," Gisela almost moaned.

"Do you really want to spend the rest of your life being bored and . . . getting into mischief?"

"No."

"Then, for Birga's sake, do what you wish."

"Birga?"

"The goddess of craftsmen on Renney."

"Do what I wish . . . I don't know if I dare."

" 'She who dares nothing is truly lost.' I mean, it is not like you are proposing to establish a . . . joyhouse in Comyn Castle or something, is it?"

"A . . . joyhouse?" Gisela laughed and laughed, until tears fell from her eyes. She hugged her sides and rocked from side to side. "Oh, my! What an idea! I am almost tempted to suggest it, just to see the looks on the faces of . . . no, that is more mischief, isn't it."

"My Nana always told me that shocking people just to get attention was very naughty, and she is a wise woman." Then her own demon of wickedness stirred a little. "On the other hand, if you did suggest it, then the idea of you whittling or sculpting would seem perfectly wonderful by comparison!"

"Quite right." She fell silent for a moment, thinking. "Katherine, what if I am no good at it?"

"Irrelevant. What matters is the doing."

"But I want to be good!" Her face twisted, as if she had heard her own words and grasped the depth of desire within them.

"Of course you do-but you dare not let your fear of failure corrupt your intention. Renney is a world of forests and seas, and we use wood for everything we can. We have a great tradition of wood carving, therefore, and lots of proverbs as well. One is 'Be true to the wood, and the wood will be true to you.' "

" 'Be true to the wood!' How beautiful! Oh, Katherine, I am so glad you came to Darkover!"

"Do you know, I am starting to be glad I came here, too-although I confess I find some of your customs . . . distasteful. Well, you might feel the same if you went to Renney. Married off to a drunk! I have a feeling that my father-in-law and I will never see eye to eye."

Gisela smiled fondly at her. "You will be part of a large group, then, for hardly anyone sees eye-to-eye with him!" The light through the carriage window caught her features for a moment, the green eyes gleaming and the mouth relaxed almost completely for the first time Katherine had seen.

"Will you sit for me, for a portrait?" The impulse was irresistible because the subject was beautiful, and she itched to start to work.

"Really? I would like that very much. Thank you, Katherine-for everything!" Gisela's hands stroked the fur on her lap and her eyes unfocused slightly. Her taut shoulders drooped softly now, as she mused. Then she roused, leaned across the carriage, and took Kate's hand in hers, tears brimming in viridescent eyes. "You have given me hope, at last."

8.

Herm Aldaran sat down on the edge of the bed, bent over, and pulled off his boots. He wriggled his toes sensuously, then leaned back across the covers, his arms extended above his head. He gazed up at the hangings, and at the plastered ceiling, enjoying the utter silence of the suite. Katherine was gone, and he did not know where the children were, but he was too drained to worry. He had been with Lew Alton, Mikhail, and Danilo Syrtis-Ardais for hours, and his tongue ached from talking. He was parched, and wanted a pitcher of good beer, but lacked the energy to sit up and ring for a servant. Instead he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Overall, he was pleased. Mikhail Hastur had matured from the callow young man he remembered over two decades earlier, and seemed to have a good head on his shoulders. He had been preparing for the task that lay ahead of him for years. If anyone could guide Darkover through the difficulties that lay ahead, it was he. He had listened to Herm intently, and his questions had been both informed and intelligent.

Unfortunately, no one could accurately guess what the Federation might do next, although everyone at the meeting was attempting to anticipate it. He hoped they would just ignore Darkover, but doubted that the Expansionists would be that cooperative. And Lew Alton had said some disturbing things about the current station chief, Lyle Belfontaine, at HQ, including his demand that Herm be turned over for arrest as an enemy of the Federation. He tried to be amused by the whole idea, but his guts had churned with fear when he heard about it. He had lived with this kind of terror for years now, and had believed that once he reached the safe haven of Darkover, he would no longer be subject to its claws. The more fool he-the Federation was not going to let him go!

This was a time when he wished he could provoke the Aldaran Gift into activity, but unlike other forms of laran, it was almost impossible, without the use of certain dangerous substances, to cause it to manifest. He might see more than he desired, or find out things he did not wish to know at all.

So much for coming home to peace and quiet. Why had he ever gone into politics, and when was he going to be allowed out? He chuckled to himself, knowing that he would never be able to give up meddling and intriguing. It was in his blood, like some strange disease, and from all reports, might even be genetic. His little sister Gisela was of the same ilk, and he wondered exactly what she was up to at the moment. He had seen her twice now, and each time he had come away with the distinct feeling that she was looking for trouble. There was a kind of guardedness about her he mistrusted, as he had when she was a girl. He knew that expression, that catlike narrowing of green eyes that boded no good. And it would be some time before he forgave her for her mean trick on Katherine the previous evening. He did not want her to embarrass the Aldarans, or give her long-suffering husband any more grief than he suspected she already did. Really, Gisela needed a good spanking-except it was years too late for that remedy. If only their father had not alternately spoiled her and neglected her!

A soft rustle of fabric made him open his eyes. Katherine walked into the bedroom and gave him a smile. Her cheeks were rosy, and she smelled of fresh air. "What have you been up to?" He sat up and studied her. She was wearing an outfit of typical Darkovan garments, a green tunic and shirt over russet petticoats. The colors did not really become her, but she looked healthier and more alive than she had for days.

"Gisela and I went to meet the head of the Painters Guild, Master Gilhooly."

"Giz and . . . I'm surprised. After the stunt she pulled by not telling you how to dress for dinner last night, I assumed you would not speak to her for about a month."

Katherine smiled and her shoulders lifted in a slight shrug. "Gisela appeared right after breakfast with these clothes-but no apology. She ordered a carriage and went with me. It was rather enjoyable, actually, and we talked over a good many things. I don't know what caused her change of heart, but I rather suspect it was something that man next to her at dinner said to her."

"Danilo?"

"I don't know-he arrived late, and somehow I was never introduced to him."

"That was Danilo Syrtis-Ardais, paxman to the late Regis Hastur, among other things. Having just spent several hours in his company, I can well imagine him putting Giz in her place."

"Paxman-I've heard that term several times, but no one has bothered to tell me what it means, Herm-like so many other things." Her good mood seemed to recede a little, and she looked as if she might be nursing a grievance. Well, he could hardly blame her if she were.

"Umm-it is a bit hard to define. The paxman is a personal guard, and in the case of Danilo or young Donal Alar, also an advisor, constant companion, brother-in-arms. When Mikhail was a young man, he was paxman to young Dyan Ardais, even though he was also Regis' heir. I suppose it is one of the ways in which we keep ourselves connected to one another. And, Katherine, I am sorry about how badly my sister has behaved."

"She's just a little jealous, Herm." And restless, like you are most of the time, my dearest.

"Of what?" He sat up.

"Of me. You are her brother, and her favorite one, if I read things correctly."

"I hadn't thought of that. Hmm . . . yes, she never favored Robert, who is the best of men, but a bit . . . ponderous, and our other brothers-the nedestro sons-never gave her much attention, I suppose. But I still don't understand why she should be jealous of you."

"It is a female thing," Katherine answered easily. She had ended her trip with Gisela in a good mood, and she wanted to keep it.

"Ah, one of the mysteries."

"Yes."

Herm looked at her, trying to read her expression, realized she was not going to say more, and decided not to press her. "And how was your visit with Master Gilhooly?"

"Delightful. He showed me around the workshops and we talked technique. It strained my vocabulary to the utmost, and without Gisela's help I would have had a much more difficult time. She told me she had read some old book about painting and had picked up the words from it. She can be very charming when she wants to."

"Gisela read a book on painting? Amazing."

Katherine gave him a look he recognized. She was beginning to become annoyed with him, and he had better mind his words. "She tells me she has read just about everything in the archives during the past fifteen years, out of boredom, as near as I can gather. Poor thing."

This was completely unexpected, and Herm did not know what to make of it. Something had clearly happened between the two women during their outing, and it worried him more than a little, although he could not decide why. Still, she had come to no harm, and apparently found his sister interesting. "This is the first time I have seen your eyes really sparkle in days, Kate. Just promise me you will not come to the table smelling of turps, or with a smudge of charcoal on your lovely nose."

Katherine grinned broadly. "I will try not to disgrace you, my lord. But, remember, I was not raised to be a great lady, or even a medium one. I feel a bit stifled by all this formality, which made my visit to Master Gilhooly all the more pleasurable. After he recovered from the initial shock of Domna Aldaran-I haven't adjusted to the title yet, being bowed to and treated like I was important-entering his establishment, and in the company of Gisela as well, and realized that I was a serious artist, he unbuttoned completely. He stopped bowing and scraping and fell to discussing important things that are his passion."

"It is a bit unusual for a woman of the Domains to pursue anything other than childrearing, unless she chooses to become a leronis. Or a Renunciate," he added, still puzzled by the change in his wife. "I have never heard of a Darkovan woman who pursues art seriously. Our more artistic women satisfy themselves with vast amounts of unnecessary needlework. Lady Marilla Aillard has a pottery works in the Ardais Domain, but I do not think she throws bowls or glazes them personally. She might. You can ask her when she arrives."

"She is coming for the funeral, I assume."

"That is part of it. She holds the Aillard seat on the Comyn Council, which will meet in order to confirm Mikhail Hastur's succession to Regis. Her son, Dyan Ardais, will come as well."

"Domna Marilla Aillard and Dom Dyan Ardais? Different last names? It is a good thing I have had so much practice keeping such things straight. Gisela told me your father and brother are expected, too-though from what she said I am not really looking forward to meeting your parent-or is it parents? No one has mentioned his wife yet."

"There isn't one, as far as I know, although he probably has a barragana or two up in Aldaran Castle. Gisela's mother died a long time ago."

"I see." She frowned at the word for concubine, then shrugged. "The children seem to be adjusting well. Rory and Amaury are thick as thieves already, and I think Terese and Yllana will amuse one another."

"They will probably get into mischief." He had taken a liking to Roderick Alton-Hastur after dinner the previous evening, and thought that it would be good for his stepson to have someone his own age to play with. But he was fairly certain that Rory was a little too frisky for his own good, and could only hope that he would not lead Amaury into anything too dangerous.

"Will that be good or bad?"

"Neither. We Darkovans indulge our children a good deal, because we have always had a high infant mortality rate. A certain amount of wickedness is expected of the boys, though not of the girls, I confess."

"I had noticed that the attitude toward women here was a wee bit backward," she answered very dryly.

"What do you mean, precisely."

"Gisela gave me a thumbnail sketch of the proscribed roles of Darkovan wives and daughters during the ride. It is so different from Renney, which is my only real experience with a Protected Planet."

"I hadn't considered the matter, but since Renney is, for all practical purposes, a matriarchy, I can see that you would find it strange. We guard our women closely, and confine them in odd ways. There are a good many historical reasons for that, which we seem not to have overcome. I hope you do not find it too oppressive, darling Kate."

She sat down on the bed beside him and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Only if I am forced to spend all my time in this . . . outrageous building! It seems very odd not to be able to come and go as I please, to have all these servants and guards everywhere. I confess to feeling a bit stifled. And watched." Her voice dropped sharply and she shifted uncomfortably.

"What?"

"You grew up with this, but frankly the idea of being with a bunch of telepaths still gives me the cold grues. You would think, after living for years with invisible eyes observing my every move that I would not be bothered, but I am. The Federation was not interested in my thoughts, just in my actions. I keep thinking that someone is spying on me, trying to discover my secrets. I know I am being paranoid, Herm." I was almost easy around Gisela, as I always have been with you, but now . . .

"That is not what is really bothering you, Katherine."

"No, it isn't." She stiffened slightly, as if bracing herself. "For the first time in my life, I feel . . . crippled. Unequal. I wish you had told me, before we came, about laran and all the Gifts and . . . everything. And about the Towers." She jerked her head away from his shoulder abruptly as if she no longer wanted to be touched by him. Gisela had told her something about these peculiar places, and she wasn't really comfortable with the idea yet.

"It was not something I was free to explain, even when we went to Renney. I was always worried that I could have been overheard by a spying device of the Federation. And it is not as if I didn't want to tell you the truth, Kate, but only that I could never find the words. Besides, you will have lots of time to learn about the Towers, and soon."

"Why?"

He sensed a trace of anger and hostility now. "Terese will have to be tested for laran, and we will go to Arilinn Tower, which is east of here, for that. I've never been there myself, so I am looking forward to it." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he knew he had misjudged the situation.

"Damn you, Hermes! Were you going to tell me, or just wake me up one morning and announce we were going to this place? This is my daughter we are talking about. What's the matter with you?"

"Why are you so angry?"

"Because you are behaving in a high-handed way that makes me . . . want to bite you! Why does Terese need to go to this Arilinn?" This is intolerable. Just when I get my feet under me, I get knocked down again!

"I told you, Kate! She almost certainly has laran, and it is important that she be tested to determine the nature of her gifts."

Katherine sat in stunned silence for a moment. "You mean my little girl . . . ?" He tried to tell me the other day, but I would not listen!

"Our little girl, Katherine. She is my daughter, too, and has inherited as much from me as from you."

"I can't stand this!"

"Be reasonable, Kate. Believe me, the last thing you want is a wild telepath in the family. An untrained telepath is a danger to herself and everyone around her. If she has laran, she must learn how to use it properly."

"A wild . . . it sounds so odd." And abruptly she began to weep. My little girl, my baby! This is a terrible world, and I am so afraid. What will they do to her-how do they test! I have to stop it! Teresa has never been away from me, and she will be frightened. And what will she be like, if she learns how to read minds? If only I could talk to Nana right now. I don't even know this man, and I will never understand this world.

In despair, she covered her face with her hands and made a wailing sound that Herm had never heard from her before, so terrible that it wrenched his heart. He wanted to comfort Katherine, but he knew that no mere words would help. Perhaps he should not have brought her to Darkover. He had not thought through the problem of being head-blind, how frightening it must be for her, no matter how many reassurances she received. And Amaury, too. How was the boy going to feel if his sister turned out to be a telepath? Herm had not explained things to his stepson yet, and he did not look forward to doing so. With a sinking heart he realized that the budding friendship between Amaury and young Rory might lead to some upsetting revelations. And he was so tired!

Internally, Herm shrank away from all the possible outcomes that rose in his mind. He had always loathed the messiness of other people's emotions, and was deeply grateful he did not have the Ridenow Gift of empathy. He knew that he had left Aldaran Castle and Darkover as much to escape the swirls of drama that seemed to fall like the snows, no matter what the season. Now, with a wrenching start, he understood that what had drawn him to his Kate was her reserve and self-containment. She made no great demands on his feelings, and had rarely displayed her own fiery temper. It had been a relief to find a person who was so absorbed in their own work, as she was in her painting, that she did not bother him with petty arguments.

Somehow, in the back of his mind, Herm had expected Katherine to . . . what? To stop being herself, intelligent and independent, and become obedient and passive? To let him rule the roost? Why? She never had before, not really. She wasn't going to turn into a nice Darkovan wife, and he was a fool for imagining that she would. It was going to be unpleasant, and he knew it, and knew, too, that he was not going to be able to get out of it. He wished himself far away, in some distant place where there were no problems to disentangle.

Then Herm spent a futile moment berating himself for being selfish and a stupid bastard. Why had he never told Katherine before? Was it really because he was afraid of listening Terranan ears, or something more? He had a rare moment of introspection, and decided he had been afraid of Katherine's reaction, that he had suspected that she would feel just exactly as she did right now, angry and frightened. He had never been willing to risk losing her, and had hoped that the situation would never arise.

What an idiot he had been. How would he have tried to lie his way out of Terese's threshold sickness when it began? If he had remained away from Darkover, his precious daughter might have died!