they were children together; but he has never liked me, nor I him. My father saw my expression and said sharply, “He has befriended your brother when I was not there to guard his interests, Lew. He has sent me the only news I had—”
“Don’t you throw that up at me,” I said sharply. “I never asked you to bring me here! Or to Terra, either.”
He waved that aside. “I won’t quarrel with you about that. Dyan has been a good friend to your brother
—”
“If I had a son,” I said deliberately, “I would want a better friend for him than that damned sandal-wearer!”
“We’ve never agreed on that, and I doubt we ever will,” said my father, “but Dyan is an honorable man, and he has the good of the Comyn at heart. Now he tells me that they are about to pass over Marius, and formally give over the Alton Domain to Gabriel Lanart-Hastur.”
“Is that such a tragedy? Let him have it! I don’t want it.”
“When you have a son of your own, you will understand, Lew. That time is not very far away, either. I think you should come back with me to Darkover, and settle things at this Council season.”
He heard my refusal, like a shout of rage, before what I actually said, which was a quiet “No. I cannot and I will not. Dio is too pregnant to travel.”
“You can be back before the child is born,” he said reasonably. “And you will have settled his future properly.”
“Would you have left my mother?”
“No. But your son should be born at Armida—”
“It’s no good thinking about that,” I said. “Dio is here, and here she must stay until the baby is born.
And I will stay with her.”
His sigh was heavy, like the rustling of winter leaves. “I am not eager for the journey, alone, but if you will not go, then I must. Would you trust me to stay with Dio, Lew? I do not know if I can bear the climate of the Kilghard Hills. Yet I will not let Armida go by default, nor let them pass over Marius’s rights without being sure how Marius feels about it.” And as he spoke I was overwhelmed with the flood of memories—Armida lying in the fold of the Kilghard Hills, flooded with sunlight, the great herds of horses grazing in the upland pastures, the streams rushing, or frozen into knotted and unruly floods, torrents arrested in motion and midair; snow lying deep on the hills, a line of dark trees against the sky; the fire that had ravaged us in my seventeenth year, and the long line of men, stooped over their fire-shovels in back-breaking work; camping on the fire-lines, sharing blankets and bowls, the satisfaction of seeing the fires die and knowing that our home was safe for another season… the smell of resins, and bloom of kireseth , gold and blue with the blowing pollen in a high summer… sunset over the roofs… the skyline of Thendara… the four moons hanging behind one another in the darkening sky of Festival… my home. My home, too, loved and renounced…
Get… out ! Were even my memories not my own?
“There’s still time, Lew. I won’t leave for more than a tenday. Let me know what you decide.”
“I’ve already decided,” I said, and slammed out, not waiting for the concerned questions I knew would follow, his scrupulous inquiries about Dio, his kind wishes for her well-being.
The decision had been made for me. I would not return with my father. Dio could not go and so I would not go, it was as simple as that, I need not listen to the thousand memories that pulled me back—
It was that night that she asked me to monitor the child. Perhaps she sensed my agitation; perhaps, in that curious way that lovers share one another’s preoccupations and fears (and Dio and I, even after the year and more we had spent together, were still very much lovers), she felt the flood of my memories and it made her eager for reassurance.
I started to refuse. But it meant so much to her. And I was free now, free of it for months at a time; surely a time would come when I was wholly free.
“Don’t you throw that up at me,” I said sharply. “I never asked you to bring me here! Or to Terra, either.”
He waved that aside. “I won’t quarrel with you about that. Dyan has been a good friend to your brother
—”
“If I had a son,” I said deliberately, “I would want a better friend for him than that damned sandal-wearer!”
“We’ve never agreed on that, and I doubt we ever will,” said my father, “but Dyan is an honorable man, and he has the good of the Comyn at heart. Now he tells me that they are about to pass over Marius, and formally give over the Alton Domain to Gabriel Lanart-Hastur.”
“Is that such a tragedy? Let him have it! I don’t want it.”
“When you have a son of your own, you will understand, Lew. That time is not very far away, either. I think you should come back with me to Darkover, and settle things at this Council season.”
He heard my refusal, like a shout of rage, before what I actually said, which was a quiet “No. I cannot and I will not. Dio is too pregnant to travel.”
“You can be back before the child is born,” he said reasonably. “And you will have settled his future properly.”
“Would you have left my mother?”
“No. But your son should be born at Armida—”
“It’s no good thinking about that,” I said. “Dio is here, and here she must stay until the baby is born.
And I will stay with her.”
His sigh was heavy, like the rustling of winter leaves. “I am not eager for the journey, alone, but if you will not go, then I must. Would you trust me to stay with Dio, Lew? I do not know if I can bear the climate of the Kilghard Hills. Yet I will not let Armida go by default, nor let them pass over Marius’s rights without being sure how Marius feels about it.” And as he spoke I was overwhelmed with the flood of memories—Armida lying in the fold of the Kilghard Hills, flooded with sunlight, the great herds of horses grazing in the upland pastures, the streams rushing, or frozen into knotted and unruly floods, torrents arrested in motion and midair; snow lying deep on the hills, a line of dark trees against the sky; the fire that had ravaged us in my seventeenth year, and the long line of men, stooped over their fire-shovels in back-breaking work; camping on the fire-lines, sharing blankets and bowls, the satisfaction of seeing the fires die and knowing that our home was safe for another season… the smell of resins, and bloom of kireseth , gold and blue with the blowing pollen in a high summer… sunset over the roofs… the skyline of Thendara… the four moons hanging behind one another in the darkening sky of Festival… my home. My home, too, loved and renounced…
Get… out ! Were even my memories not my own?
“There’s still time, Lew. I won’t leave for more than a tenday. Let me know what you decide.”
“I’ve already decided,” I said, and slammed out, not waiting for the concerned questions I knew would follow, his scrupulous inquiries about Dio, his kind wishes for her well-being.
The decision had been made for me. I would not return with my father. Dio could not go and so I would not go, it was as simple as that, I need not listen to the thousand memories that pulled me back—
It was that night that she asked me to monitor the child. Perhaps she sensed my agitation; perhaps, in that curious way that lovers share one another’s preoccupations and fears (and Dio and I, even after the year and more we had spent together, were still very much lovers), she felt the flood of my memories and it made her eager for reassurance.
I started to refuse. But it meant so much to her. And I was free now, free of it for months at a time; surely a time would come when I was wholly free.
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