With a snort of exasperation, Danilo got up and went to the door leading to the bedroom. From where he sat, Regis could see four narrow beds, straw-tick mattresses on simple wooden frames, a washstand and a couple of chairs. Their baggage had been stacked neatly beside the nearest bed. Without another word, Danilo began unpacking and making up two of the beds with a precision that would have made a Cadet Master proud.
Regis poured himself a mug of jacoand sipped it, staring into the fire. Why could there not be peace between the people he loved? Why did it always come down to a choice?
Regis was still turning over these depressing questions when Brother Valentine arrived. Danilo, having finished preparing for the coming night, joined them in the sitting room.
At the insistence of Regis, Valentine took one of the chairs. He smiled as he settled against the cushions, clearly enjoying the unaccustomed comfort.
“You may not remember me,” the monk said, once they had resumed their conversation, “but I have kept myself informed about you, little brother. Although they call me Valentine, after the holy saint who founded this order, I was named Rinaldo. You may call me that if you would claim me as kin.”
“I am in need of kinsmen, for we are so few,” Regis said with a sigh.
“Tell me, have you thought—would you be willing to come with me to Thendara, to take up your place as a Hastur?”
Rinaldo regarded him with those strange gray eyes. “Until your message arrived, I never expected to enter the world. I understood there is little acceptance for one such as I.”
“I intend to have you formally legitimatized,” Regis said quickly. “Then no one will question your right—”
“No, no, that is not what I meant.” Rinaldo protested. “Our grandfather could have done the same, but he chose not to, for reasons that seemed good to him.”
“Your . . . difference, you mean.”
“You are too courteous to ask,” Rinaldo said, “so I will tell you straight out. I would not have you think I withheld the truth in order to curry your favor. We do not speak of such things here at St. Valentine’s, but I believe I am emmasca. That is, I am shaped as other men, or I could not live among the brothers. Although I admit to being curious, I have never had the opportunity to lie with a woman, but I am not indifferent to the prospect. As to fathering a child, who can say, but from everything I know about my condition, I cannot believe it possible.”
Regis looked away. So his first impression was correct. Yet to be born emmascaand without laranwould be very strange indeed, since the telepathic genes ran so strongly in their chieriancestors.
Rinaldo paused. “Do you wish to withdraw your offer, now that you know what I am?”
“We are not living in the Ages of Chaos, when a man’s value was measured by his pedigree, his laran,his ability to father children, or anything else except the quality of his character,” Regis said with feeling.
Rinaldo gave him a long, measuring look. “Bare is a brotherless back, as they say?”
“As they say. Hastur does not need another stud horse to breed heirs, but Ihave need of a brother.”
“It seems that I am indeed called to be of service in the outer world. To my family . . . to my brother,” Rinaldo inflected the word with a warmth that brought a rush of pleasure to Regis. “In that case, I will petition Father Master for a release from my vows. He has already indicated he would do so if I wished.”
“I welcome you to the family with a joyful heart,” Regis said.
Rinaldo bowed his head in a gracious gesture. “As you know, we monks are not permitted to own property. Even my robe and sandals and the wooden bowl and spoon I eat with do not belong to me. You must provide me with clothing suitable to my rank and a means of transportation.”
Was there a hint of reproach beneath the words delivered with all civility? Although of equal blood, Regis had enjoyed all the privileges and luxuries that the Heir to a Domain might expect, while his brother had languished in obscure poverty.
“It will be my pleasure to furnish you with all that you require,” Regis gently assured his brother. “Danilo, I leave the matter in your capable hands. There must be a stable or horse market where you can obtain a mount for my brother.”
“You can ride, I suppose?” Danilo asked Rinaldo, a little stiffly.
“I have made sure I could, although I learned on a stag- pony, not a proper horse. I will do my best not to disgrace you.”
As they sat at their ease, Regis went on, “I am afraid that any clothing to be found in Nevarsin will fall short of the elegance proper to a son of Hastur. Once we reach Thendara, I will order an appropriate wardrobe for you.”
“That is most generous of you, little brother.”
“It is no more than you deserve,” Regis returned with a smile.
“You have convinced me,” Rinaldo replied. “I believe you are right. I deserve the best, even if I must wait to receive it.”
In the presence of the monastery community, gathered together in the chapel, the Father Master performed the ceremony that formally released Rinaldo from his vows. He would no longer bear the name of Brother Valentine or be bound by the rules of the order. If only, Regis thought, there were such a Comyn ritual for himself.
The monks embraced their former brother for the last time, exchanging blessings and wishes for peace. The ceremony concluded with a speech by the Father Master exhorting Rinaldo and every other man present to faithfully and scrupulously adhere to the principles set forth by the holy saints, to emulate the Holy Bearer of Burdens, to keep themselves pure through the Creed of Chastity, and to redeem their sins by acts of charity and penance.
“Never stray from the path of righteousness!” The Father Master’s thunderous voice filled the chapel. “Accept your burdens . . . no, rejoice in them! Remember always— Righteousness flourishes under the lash of discipline!”
A lifetime of sitting through formal events had given Regis the ability to look interested no matter how bored or irritated he felt. He allowed the lecture to wash over him, paying little heed to its content. He was a guest here, an observer only.
But Danilo, who was an adherent to this faith, what must this tirade be like for him?Regis stole a glance at his companion, sitting a short distance away. Danilo’s cheeks had gone pale.
As they made ready to depart, Danilo was taut and silent. He answered Regis in monosyllables. Regis did not press the issue. Danilo would speak to him in his own time or deal with his feelings in his own way.
Rinaldo was in high spirits, excited by every aspect of the journey. When he was presented with his mount, however, he seemed less than pleased. The horse Danilo had found for him was almost as small and shaggy as the local ponies. The rust-brown gelding had a scrawny neck and a loose, hanging lower lip, but the slope of his shoulders and the sturdy bone beneath the knee promised an easy gait. Regis knew enough of the mountain breeds to have confidence in the animal’s ability to carry a large man over rough terrain and to thrive on poor forage. This horse was a practical choice, if less than beautiful.
Danilo had also obtained warm, serviceable clothing, trousers, jacket, and riding cloak of mixed sheep and chervinewool for extra water repellence. Neither the garments nor the boots were new; the pants were stained, and the leather was worn to softness that would minimize blisters.