Javanne did not fail Regis. In his absence, she had completed the transfer of his possessions from the townhouse to his grandfather’s rooms in Comyn Castle. A second suite, the best available, had been scrubbed spotless and refurnished for Rinaldo, and a body-servant engaged as well. Regis was astonished at her energy and efficiency, but he was also concerned at the new lines around her eyes. She was using work as a way of holding her grief at bay. She had always thrived when she felt needed.
After making sure the horses were properly tended and Rinaldo escorted to his new quarters and given everything he needed, and after thanking Javanne for her efforts, Regis was at last free to seek his own rest. He was so tired that even the strangeness of Danvan’s bedchamber could not keep him awake for long. He undressed without the help of a servant, sponged away the worst of the travel dirt, and tumbled into the enormous bed. As he drifted into unconsciousness, he wished it were possible for Danilo to slip between the soft linexsheets beside him. This wasn’t the townhouse, where they might enjoy a certain latitude of behavior, not to mention privacy. This was Comyn Castle, where the servants knew and gossiped about everything, and Regis was not longer Heir but Hastur of Hastur.
The next morning, Regis awoke to the sound of a servant lighting the fire in the bedroom. He jerked upright. The poor man startled, bowed, and retreated.
Regis raked his hair back from his face, pulled on the dressing robe that lay across the foot of the bed, and stumbled about in a semblance of his usual morning ablutions. Shortly his body-servant brought in a breakfast tray and an armload of clothing. Suppressing his irritation, for it was hardly the poor man’s fault that proprieties must be observed for the Hastur of Hastur, Regis allowed himself to be dressed, his hair combed into place, and his meal placed before him in the parlor. He forced himself to sip the steaming jacowithout burning his mouth. When he had finished, he asked the servant to send for Danilo as his paxman to discuss the day’s schedule. Then he went into his grandfather’s study, now his own.
Where to begin? The brief respite was over. The question of Terran Federation membership, while settled for the moment, must be carefully monitored; he should send a message to Lew Alton and find out if there was more news. As the Head of his Domain, he now bore the responsibility for running Carcosa and Castle Hastur. His departure for Nevarsin had postponed a number of ceremonial duties that could no longer be put off—reviewing the cadets, meeting with Gabriel in his capacity as Commander of the City Guards, holding audiences with those Comyn still in the city, and speaking with the Pan-Darkovan League and the trade delegation from the Dry Towns. Regis began pacing to keep his head from spinning at the sheer number of tasks. He should arrange for more help in the management of Comyn Castle, but subtly, so that Javanne would not take it as a criticism.
Linnea rose in his memory, and his heart ached. If things had gone otherwise, if he had not made such a botch of the marriage proposal, she would be here, relieving Javanne as Castle chatelaine. It could not be helped; no amount of self-recrimination would change the past.
All the smiths in Zandru’s Forge cannot put a hatched chick back into its egg.
What was taking Danilo so long?
And Rinaldo . . .Regis could not leave his brother alone and unguided in the treacherous maze of Castle and city. He must carve out time to continue getting to know his brother, helping him to find his place. The first thing was to have Rinaldo recognized as a legitimate son of their father. In the old times, this would have been a matter for the Comyn Council, but that body no longer existed. The Cortes? The Telepath Council? A simple written declaration?
Danilo halted at the library door and bowed. “Vai dom.”
Regis strode over to his grandfather’s desk, now hisas well, and sat down. “Close the door.”
Danilo held out his hands. Regis, in a spasm of inexpressible relief, took them. Danilo’s fingers felt warm, so his own must be half-frozen.
“It will be hard at first,” Danilo said softly, “adjusting to new arrangements, but that cannot change how I feel, what I want . . . You are the lord of my heart as well as of my sword. Nothing can take that away from us.”
Although he had heard these words before and had spoken them in his own turn, Regis could not respond aloud. He did not need to. A pulse of wordless understanding gathered them both. Regis felt his heart grow calmer.
“Meanwhile, I have need of my paxman, my friend and advisor.”
Danilo gestured theatrically. “He stands before you.”
“Then we had best get to work.” Regis outlined his thoughts on the duties ahead of him. Danilo nodded, making suggestions about what must be attended to first and what could be easily put off.
“No one will expect you to pick up where old Lord Hastur left off,” Danilo observed. “People will understand. They’ll give you time to find your feet.”
“Bless Aldones and anyone else who will take credit, I don’t have to deal with the Regency as well,” Regis said fervently.
“The Elhalyns aren’t going to storm Thendara, demanding the throne. Some may expect you to take on the title for ceremonial purposes, but that shouldn’t be onerous.”
Regis shook his head. “I won’t do it, not even as a token. I told Grandfather I would never be king, and I meant it! Regentis entirely too close to kingfor my taste.”
“Can you justifiably refuse a title that means nothing?”
“I can and will,” Regis repeated with a touch of savage heat.
Danilo would not be derailed. “At the same time, you cannot escape the fact that you are now Hastur of Hastur. You shake your head, Regis, but it is true. The Comyn may be less than we once were, but we are still here.”
“Not for long.”
Danilo shrugged, refusing to argue further.
“Be that as it may, the absence of a formal Comyn Council does present a problem.” Regis briefly described his intention to create a place for Rinaldo in the Domains.
At the mention of Rinaldo, Danilo stiffened. The warmth that had sprung up between the two men chilled. Danilo agreed that it would not be appropriate to bring the matter of Rinaldo’s legitimacy before the Telepath Council. Traditionally, the Comyn had governed themselves, especially in matters of inheritance, Domain-right, and marriage. Less than a generation ago, the Heir to a Domain could not have chosen a wife without the consent of the Council. Now, there was no authority to petition.
“There is a precedent,” Danilo pointed out after a little thought. “Historically, when urgent matters arose in between Council sessions, those Comyn still in Thendara would convene an informal decision-making body. They would in due course submit their actions to ratification by the full Council.”
Regis did not have a full tally of who had remained in Thendara after his grandfather’s funeral, enjoying the fair weather and summer festivities. Even one or two would be enough. Rinaldo’s status was as much social as it was legal. Documents could be drawn up and filed with the Cortes to ensure the latter.
“I will see to it,” Danilo said. “You have only to fix a date.”
“As soon as it can be arranged, after I have discussed the matter with my brother.”
The next moment, a tap sounded at the door. At a command from Regis, one of the Castle Guards stepped in. Regis did not know him but thought him to be one of Gabriel’s rising young officers.