Dyan’s intensity did not embarrass him now. Regis realized that for a long time he had felt starved for just such an opportunity to talk about these things with a man of his own caste, one who understood the world he must live in. He set down his mug and said, “Kinsman, I wonder if that isn’t why Grandfather insisted I should serve in the cadets.”

Dyan nodded, “Probably so,” he said. “It was I who advised him to send you into the cadets, instead of letting you spend your time in idleness and amusements. There’s a time for that, of course. But it’s true I felt that time spent in the cadets would teach you, more quickly, the things you’d failed to learn before.”

Regis looked at him eagerly. “I didn’t want to go in the cadets. I hated it at first.”

Dyan laid a light hand on his shoulder again and said affectionately, “Everyone does. If you hadn’t, I’d be disturbed; it would mean you’d hardened too young.”

“But now I think I know why Comyn heirs have to serve in the cadets,” Regis said. “Not just the discipline. I got plenty of that in Nevarsin. But learning how to be one of the people, doing the same work they do, sharing their lives and their problems, so we—” He bit his lip, searching carefully for words. “So we’ll know what our people are.”

Dyan said softly, “That was eloquent, lad. As your cadet-master, I’m content. As your kinsman, too. I wish more boys your age had that kind of understanding. I’ve been accused of being ruthless. But whatever I’ve done, I’ve done it out of allegiance to Comyn. Can you understand that, Regis?”

Regis said, “I think so.” He felt warmed, somehow less lonely, by having someone care how he felt or what he thought.

Dyan said, “Do you also understand what I said about how the other cadets would take it ill if you shunned their common amusements.”

Regis bit his lip. He said, “I know what you mean. I do, really. Just the same, I feel very strange about—” He was suddenly embarrassed again. “About places like the House of Lanterns. Maybe it will wear off as I get older. But I’m a … a telepath—” How strange it felt to say it! How strange that Dyan should be the first one he told! “And it feels … wrong,” he said, stumbling from phrase to phrase.

Dyan lifted his glass and drank the last in it before he answered. “Maybe you’re right. Life can be complicated enough for a telepath, without that, too. Some day you’ll know what you want, and then will be the time to trust your instincts and your needs.” He fell silent, brooding, and Regis found himself wondering what bitter memories lay behind the pensive look. Finally Dyan said, “You’d probably do well, then, to keep clear of such places and wait until, if the Gods are good to you, someone you can love helps you discover that part of your life.” He sighed heavily and said, “If you can. You may discover needs even more imperative than those instincts. It’s always a difficult balance for a telepath. There are physical needs. And there are needs which can be even stronger. Emotional needs. And that’s a balance which can tear any of us to pieces.” Regis had the curious feeling that Dyan was not really talking to him at all, but to himself.

Abruptly, Dyan set down his empty wineglass and rose. He said, “But one pleasure which has no danger attached is to watch young people grow in wisdom, cousin. I hope to see much of that growth in you this winter, and I’ll watch with interest. Meanwhile, keep this in mind: I know the city well and it would be a pleasure to show you anything you wish to see.” He laughed aloud suddenly and said, “And believe me, cousin, such instruction would at least leave no bruises.”

He strode quickly away. Regis, collecting his cloak from the seat, felt more puzzled than ever, feeling there was something else Dyan had wanted to say.

He had to pass the table crowded with cadets, lounging over cider or beer; he noticed that they were staring at him in no friendly fashion. None of them offered him even the bare civility of a formal greeting. He set his chin and turned his back on them. He heard one say in a low tone, “Catamite!”

Regis felt a flood of intense anger washing over him. He wanted to turn on the boy and beat him to a crimson pulp. Then he set his jaw, disciplining himself to walk away and pretend he had not heard. If you listen to dogs barking, you’ll go deaf and never learn much.

He remembered various insults be had pretended not to hear, mostly to the intent that the Comyn hung together, that he had had special favors because he was a Comyn heir. But this one was new. He recalled the taunt Danilo had flung at him the night before his expulsion. Dani was a cristoforoand to him it was more than an insult.

He knew Dyan would have nothing but scorn for such gossip. He never made any secret of his tastes. Yet Regis felt oddly protective toward his kinsman, having sensed his bitterness. He felt a strange wish to defend him.

It occurred to him again, with frustration too new for him to realize it was a commonplace among telepaths, that there were times when laranwas absolutely no help at all in personal relationships.

The season ended. The cadets were dismissed to their homes and Regis moved into the Hastur apartments in Comyn Castle. He appreciated the peace and quiet and felt a certain pleasure in being able to sleep as late as he pleased in the morning. And the Hastur cooks were certainly better than those in the Guards mess. The prolonged austerity, though, first in Nevarsin, then in the barracks, had made him almost guilty about this kind of luxury. He couldn’t appreciate it as he wanted to.

One morning he was at breakfast with his grandfather when Lord Hastur said abruptly, “You’re not looking like yourself. Is something wrong?”

Regis thought that his grandfather had seen so little of him that he would have no idea what he usually looked like. He was too polite to say it, of course, so answered, “Bored, maybe. Not getting enough exercise.”

It disturbed him that he could not help picking up his grandfather’s thoughts: It’s wrong to keep the boy hanging about here when I’ve so little time to spend with him.

Hastur said aloud, “I’m afraid I’ve been too busy to notice, my boy. I’m very sorry. Would you like to return to Castle Hastur, or go somewhere else?”

“I wasn’t complaining, sir. But I feel I’m no use to you. When you asked me to stay for the winter, I thought there was something I could do to help you.”

“I wish you could. Unfortunately, you haven’t the experience to be a great deal of help yet,” Hastur said, but could not conceal a faint flicker of satisfaction. He’s beginning to be interested.“Some time this winter you might attend a few sessions of the Cortesand find out about the problems we’re facing. I’ll get you a pass. Or you could ride to Edelweiss, spend a few days with Javanne.”

Regis shrugged. He found Edelweiss dull. There was no hunting except for rabbits and squirrels, the rain kept them indoors much of the time, and he and Javanne were too far apart in age and too unlike in personality to find much pleasure in each other’s company.

“I know it’s not very exciting there either,” Hastur said, almost apologizing, “but she is your sister, and we do not have so many kinfolk that we can neglect one another. If you want hunting, you know, you are free to go to Armida at any time. Lew is away and Kennard too ill to travel, but you can go there and take a friend.”

But the only friend he’d made in the cadets, Regis thought, was sent home in disgrace, “Kennard is ill, sir? What’s wrong?”

Danvan sighed. “This climate doesn’t agree with him. He grows more crippled every year. He’ll be better when the rains—” He broke off as a servant came in with a message. “Already? Yes, I have to go and talk with a trade delegation from the Dry Towns,” he said with weary resignation, laying down his napkin. He excused himself to Regis, adding, “Let me know your plans, lad, and I’ll arrange for escort.”