kissed Jaelle coldly and spoke graciously to Kindra.
Why shouldn’t she be gracious? It’s all she has to do in life, Kindra thought.
“So this is our dear Melora’s child,” said Jerana, looking the girl up and down. “A pity she is Jalak’s daughter as well; it will be hard to arrange a marriage for her that suits her station. Has she laran?”
“I do not know. I have not had her tested.” Rohana’s voice was cold. “I have had other things to think about.”
Lorill Hastur said, “Such brilliantly red hair often indicates an extraordinary degree of psi power; if she were so gifted, she could be sent to a Tower, and the question of marriage need not arise.”
Rohana thought that in any case it was too soon to worry about the marriage of an orphan only twelve years old, who had not yet recovered from multiple shocks; but she did not say so. She suspected Lorill picked up the thought anyway. He was a slightly built, serious-looking man about Rohana’s own age; like many of the Hasturs, his flaming hair had already begun to turn white. He frowned in Jaelle’s direction, and said tactlessly, “I suppose there is no doubt she is Jalak’s child? Now if Melora had been already pregnant when she was captured, or if we could put it about that this was the case—”
Jaelle was biting her lip; Rohana feared she would cry. She said coldly that, unfortunately or not, there was no doubt about the girl’s parentage.
“I assume Jalak is dead?”
Kindra said that they did not know for certain. “But there was no pursuit, Lord Hastur, and when we reached Carthon, there were already rumors of change in the Great House at Shainsa.”
“Of course you know what troubles me,” Lorill Hastur said. “Your rash act—I am speaking to you, Rohana; I know the Free Amazon only did what you employed her to do—your rash act could have plunged us into war with the Dry Towns.”
Kindra’s eyes met Rohana’s in a brief, vindicated grin. She might as well have said, aloud, “I told you so.”
“Lorill, you are Melora’s kinsman, too! Should I have left her to die in slavery, and her child in Jalak’s hands?”
The man looked deeply troubled. “How can I say that? I loved Melora; I cannot express my grief that she did not live to enjoy her freedom. As a man, and her kinsman, what else can I say? But the peace of the Domains is in my hands. I cannot go to war to right one person’s wrongs, or I am no better than the Dry-Towners with their endless tyrannies of blood feud and revenge. I must try to do what is best for everyone within these Domains, Rohana; Comyn and commoner alike. What of our farmers and peaceful citizens who live along the borders of the Drylands? Must they live in fear of revenge and reprisal by the Dry-Towners? And if the truces we have worked so hard to make are broken, that is all they can hope for.”
Suddenly Rohana felt sorry for him. He was speaking only the truth. His personal feelings could not be allowed to conflict with his duty as Councilor. He was Melora’s nearest living kinsman; the duty he had shirked, for whatever good reason, had been done instead by women. That could not be easy for a Hastur to swallow.
“Kinsman, that is of little moment now. What does matter is the guardianship of Melora’s children.”
“Children?” Jerana asked. “Has she others?”
“The son she died in bearing, Lady.” Rohana glanced uneasily at Jaelle. Jerana should have had tact enough to send the child away before discussing her future before her; but it was not for Rohana to suggest it.
Jerana said, “Oh, they can be fostered somewhere. If Melora had lived, I suppose we’d have had to do something for them, but we can’t be expected to take any kind of responsibility for the children of some Dry-Town tyrant. Put them out to fosterage somewhere and forget about them.”
Even Lorill flinched at the brutal tactlessness of that. Rohana said firmly, “I pledged Melora before she died that I
Why shouldn’t she be gracious? It’s all she has to do in life, Kindra thought.
“So this is our dear Melora’s child,” said Jerana, looking the girl up and down. “A pity she is Jalak’s daughter as well; it will be hard to arrange a marriage for her that suits her station. Has she laran?”
“I do not know. I have not had her tested.” Rohana’s voice was cold. “I have had other things to think about.”
Lorill Hastur said, “Such brilliantly red hair often indicates an extraordinary degree of psi power; if she were so gifted, she could be sent to a Tower, and the question of marriage need not arise.”
Rohana thought that in any case it was too soon to worry about the marriage of an orphan only twelve years old, who had not yet recovered from multiple shocks; but she did not say so. She suspected Lorill picked up the thought anyway. He was a slightly built, serious-looking man about Rohana’s own age; like many of the Hasturs, his flaming hair had already begun to turn white. He frowned in Jaelle’s direction, and said tactlessly, “I suppose there is no doubt she is Jalak’s child? Now if Melora had been already pregnant when she was captured, or if we could put it about that this was the case—”
Jaelle was biting her lip; Rohana feared she would cry. She said coldly that, unfortunately or not, there was no doubt about the girl’s parentage.
“I assume Jalak is dead?”
Kindra said that they did not know for certain. “But there was no pursuit, Lord Hastur, and when we reached Carthon, there were already rumors of change in the Great House at Shainsa.”
“Of course you know what troubles me,” Lorill Hastur said. “Your rash act—I am speaking to you, Rohana; I know the Free Amazon only did what you employed her to do—your rash act could have plunged us into war with the Dry Towns.”
Kindra’s eyes met Rohana’s in a brief, vindicated grin. She might as well have said, aloud, “I told you so.”
“Lorill, you are Melora’s kinsman, too! Should I have left her to die in slavery, and her child in Jalak’s hands?”
The man looked deeply troubled. “How can I say that? I loved Melora; I cannot express my grief that she did not live to enjoy her freedom. As a man, and her kinsman, what else can I say? But the peace of the Domains is in my hands. I cannot go to war to right one person’s wrongs, or I am no better than the Dry-Towners with their endless tyrannies of blood feud and revenge. I must try to do what is best for everyone within these Domains, Rohana; Comyn and commoner alike. What of our farmers and peaceful citizens who live along the borders of the Drylands? Must they live in fear of revenge and reprisal by the Dry-Towners? And if the truces we have worked so hard to make are broken, that is all they can hope for.”
Suddenly Rohana felt sorry for him. He was speaking only the truth. His personal feelings could not be allowed to conflict with his duty as Councilor. He was Melora’s nearest living kinsman; the duty he had shirked, for whatever good reason, had been done instead by women. That could not be easy for a Hastur to swallow.
“Kinsman, that is of little moment now. What does matter is the guardianship of Melora’s children.”
“Children?” Jerana asked. “Has she others?”
“The son she died in bearing, Lady.” Rohana glanced uneasily at Jaelle. Jerana should have had tact enough to send the child away before discussing her future before her; but it was not for Rohana to suggest it.
Jerana said, “Oh, they can be fostered somewhere. If Melora had lived, I suppose we’d have had to do something for them, but we can’t be expected to take any kind of responsibility for the children of some Dry-Town tyrant. Put them out to fosterage somewhere and forget about them.”
Even Lorill flinched at the brutal tactlessness of that. Rohana said firmly, “I pledged Melora before she died that I
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