relationship with Dom Gabriel.
But the Old Man was a no-nonsense sort of fellow, and Mikhail—for perhaps the first
time—wished he was more like him. Gabriel lacked sensitivity, of which Mikhail felt
he had too much, and rolled over opposition without any hesitations. Just the thought
of Dom Gabriel was strengthening, and he needed every ounce of energy he could
muster.
He was not going to resolve the problem standing in the middle of the hall. For a
moment he wondered what he was doing there. What had he been seeking? Oh, yes.
Towels.
He was aware that he had just forgotten something, but he could not drag it back into
his mind, no matter how hard he tried. All he wanted was a long bath and some clean
clothing. That, at least, he had in his baggage. He would feel more himself after a bath.
He grabbed his things and went into the steaming chamber. It was the cleanest place he
had seen in Halyn House, and that made him feel less helpless.
Lowering himself into the hot water, Mikhail relaxed. He felt an impulse to sink down
into the water, to let the water cover his head, to float away into. ... He shot up,
spouting water from his lips, his lungs straining for air. Why had he done that?
Puzzlement gave way to cleansing anger. His mind cleared. Then doubt dispelled the
momentary clarity. Mikhail suddenly felt powerless, ill-equipped, to deal with the
children. Agreeing to be Regent for the Elhalyn children had been a great mistake. He
should have insisted that one of his brothers undertake the task. He was going to need
help, the aid of someone more experienced and better trained. He would have to get in
touch with Regis and—
Mikhail cringed. He. had not even been here a day, and already he had failed. He just
was not up to the challenge, was he? Doubt gnawed at him, as it had when he was an
adolescent, after Danilo Hastur had been born, and Mikhail's position had altered. If I
had been good enough, Regis would never have needed a son.
He tried to shake away his sense of his own unworthiness, but the feeling persisted that
he was not nearly the man he imagined himself to be. He was fit only to be paxman to
Dyan Ardais or some other lord of the Domains. But Regis had given him a task, and
he must try to accomplish it, no matter how he felt, and he must do it alone!
His first duty was to these children. That meant he must get the house in order, and see
to their health. Mikhail could not even attempt to test the boys in their present state of
malnutrition and filth. He wasn't even sure he had really learned enough at Arilinn to
do it right.
Mikhail began to scrub himself with a dried gourd, and
make a list of things to do. Fix the windows, clear the chimneys, repair the roofs, and
get the laundry done. In the morning he would send Daryll to the village to get
workmen. He would hire some maids to clean, some men to fix things. These, at least,
were tasks he felt able to manage—even though he realized, with mild amusement, that
he really had no idea of how the laundry at Armida functioned. And he would wager
that Marguerida would know such things, not because she was female, but because she
had lived on other worlds, and had likely, being the observant woman that she was,
taken note of it. She had probably hung around recording the songs the laundresses
sang, or what the blacksmith chorused while he forged the horseshoes.
He was so involved in thinking of Marguerida that he hardly noticed he was rubbing
just one place almost raw. When he did, Mikhail frowned. He stopped, rinsed his arm,
and finished his bath much more rapidly than he normally did. He wound himself in a
threadbare towel, and made a mental note to send for new linens as soon as possible.
Then he got into his clothes and hastily left the room.
In the hall, he could sense he was being watched. Mikhail turned and looked up and
down the corridor. He felt muzzy from the warmth of the bath, and he tried to
But the Old Man was a no-nonsense sort of fellow, and Mikhail—for perhaps the first
time—wished he was more like him. Gabriel lacked sensitivity, of which Mikhail felt
he had too much, and rolled over opposition without any hesitations. Just the thought
of Dom Gabriel was strengthening, and he needed every ounce of energy he could
muster.
He was not going to resolve the problem standing in the middle of the hall. For a
moment he wondered what he was doing there. What had he been seeking? Oh, yes.
Towels.
He was aware that he had just forgotten something, but he could not drag it back into
his mind, no matter how hard he tried. All he wanted was a long bath and some clean
clothing. That, at least, he had in his baggage. He would feel more himself after a bath.
He grabbed his things and went into the steaming chamber. It was the cleanest place he
had seen in Halyn House, and that made him feel less helpless.
Lowering himself into the hot water, Mikhail relaxed. He felt an impulse to sink down
into the water, to let the water cover his head, to float away into. ... He shot up,
spouting water from his lips, his lungs straining for air. Why had he done that?
Puzzlement gave way to cleansing anger. His mind cleared. Then doubt dispelled the
momentary clarity. Mikhail suddenly felt powerless, ill-equipped, to deal with the
children. Agreeing to be Regent for the Elhalyn children had been a great mistake. He
should have insisted that one of his brothers undertake the task. He was going to need
help, the aid of someone more experienced and better trained. He would have to get in
touch with Regis and—
Mikhail cringed. He. had not even been here a day, and already he had failed. He just
was not up to the challenge, was he? Doubt gnawed at him, as it had when he was an
adolescent, after Danilo Hastur had been born, and Mikhail's position had altered. If I
had been good enough, Regis would never have needed a son.
He tried to shake away his sense of his own unworthiness, but the feeling persisted that
he was not nearly the man he imagined himself to be. He was fit only to be paxman to
Dyan Ardais or some other lord of the Domains. But Regis had given him a task, and
he must try to accomplish it, no matter how he felt, and he must do it alone!
His first duty was to these children. That meant he must get the house in order, and see
to their health. Mikhail could not even attempt to test the boys in their present state of
malnutrition and filth. He wasn't even sure he had really learned enough at Arilinn to
do it right.
Mikhail began to scrub himself with a dried gourd, and
make a list of things to do. Fix the windows, clear the chimneys, repair the roofs, and
get the laundry done. In the morning he would send Daryll to the village to get
workmen. He would hire some maids to clean, some men to fix things. These, at least,
were tasks he felt able to manage—even though he realized, with mild amusement, that
he really had no idea of how the laundry at Armida functioned. And he would wager
that Marguerida would know such things, not because she was female, but because she
had lived on other worlds, and had likely, being the observant woman that she was,
taken note of it. She had probably hung around recording the songs the laundresses
sang, or what the blacksmith chorused while he forged the horseshoes.
He was so involved in thinking of Marguerida that he hardly noticed he was rubbing
just one place almost raw. When he did, Mikhail frowned. He stopped, rinsed his arm,
and finished his bath much more rapidly than he normally did. He wound himself in a
threadbare towel, and made a mental note to send for new linens as soon as possible.
Then he got into his clothes and hastily left the room.
In the hall, he could sense he was being watched. Mikhail turned and looked up and
down the corridor. He felt muzzy from the warmth of the bath, and he tried to
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