“It’s too early for wine,” Regis said, but realized that he was thirsty from all the talking he had been doing with the Legate. Rafe went to a console, touched controls; a cup of some white smooth artificial material materialized and a stream of pale-gold liquid trickled into it. Rafe handed him the cup, materialized and filled another for himself. He came back and took a seat.

Regis said, sipping at the cool, tart liquid, “I have seen what happened to your matrix. I—” suddenly he did not have the faintest idea how he was going to say this.

“I have discovered—almost by accident—” he fumbled, “that I have some—some curious power over—not over Sharra, just over—matrixes which have been—contaminated—by Sharra. Will you let me try it with yours?”

Rafe made a wry face, “I came here so that I could forget about that,” he said. “It seems strange to hear talk of matrixes here.” He gestured to the bare plastic room.

“You may not be as safe as you think,” Regis warned him soberly, “Kadarin has been seen in the Terran Zone.”

“Where?” Rafe demanded. When Regis told him, he leaned back in his chair, white as death. “I know what he wanted. I must see Lew—” and stopped dead. He fumbled for the matrix round his neck; unwrapped it. He held it out quietly on the palm of his hand. Regis looked fixedly at it, and saw it begin to flame and glow with that frightening evocation, the Form of Fire in both their minds, the reek and terror of a city in flames…

He tried to summon memory of what he had done with Javanne’s matrix; found himself, after a brief struggle, wresting the Form of Fire slowly into a shadow, to nothing, a shred…

The matrix stared, blue and innocent, back at them. Rafe drew a noisy breath, color coming slowly into his face again.

“How did you do that?” he demanded.

That was, Regis thought with detachment, an excellent question. It was a pity he did not have an equally excellent answer. “I don’t know. It may have something to do with the Hastur Gift—whatever that is. I suggest you try to use it.”

Rafe looked scared. “I haven’t been able to—even to try— since—” but he did take the crystal between his hands. After a moment a cold globe of light appeared over his joined hands, floated slowly about the room, vanished. He sighed, again. “It seems to be—free—”

Now, perhaps, I can face Lew and do that…

Rafe’s eyes widened as he looked at Regis. He whispered, “Son of Hastur—” and bowed, an archaic gesture, bending almost to the ground.

Regis said impatiently, “Never mind that! What is it that you know about Kadarin?”

“I can’t tell you now.” Rafe seemed to be struggling between that archaic reverence and a perfectly ordinary exasperation. “I swear I can’t; it’s something I have to tell Lew first. It—” he hesitated. “It wouldn’t be honorable or right. Do you command me to tell you, Lord Hastur?”

“Of course not,” said Regis, scowling, “but I wish you’d tell me what you’re talking about.”

“I can’t. I have to go—” he stopped and sighed. Then he said, “Beltran is in the city. I do not want to encounter him. May I come to Comyn Castle? I promise, I will explain everything then. It is a—” again the hesitation. “A family matter. Will you ask Lew Alton to meet me in his quarters in the Castle? He—he may not want to see me. I was part of that— part of the Sharra rebellion. But I was his brother’s friend, too. Ask him, for Marius’s sake, if he will speak with me.”

“I’ll ask him,” Regis said, but he felt more puzzled than ever.

When he left the Terran Zone, the Guardsman at his heels drew diffidently level with him and said, “May I ask you a question, Lord Regis?”

“Ask,” Regis said, again annoyed at the archaic deference. I was a cadet under this man; he was an experienced officer when I was still putting the chin-strap on the cinch-ring! Why should he have to ask permission to speak to me?

“Sir, what’s going on in the city? They called all the Guards out for some kind of ceremony—”

Abruptly, Regis remembered; his errand in the Terran Zone had kept him away, and yet this might be called one of the most important days in the history of the Domains. The Seventh Domain of Aldaran was about to be restored with full ceremony to Comyn, and in token of that Beltran was to swear to Compact… he should have been there. Not that he trusted Beltran to observe any oath one moment longer than it was to his advantage to do so!

He said, “We’ll go to the city wall; at least you’ll see part of it from there.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the Guard said deferentially.

Inside the city wall there were stairs, so that they could walk atop the broad wall, past posted guards, each of whom saluted Regis as he passed. Spread out below them, he could see the men in Aldaran’s so-called Honor Guard. There must be hundreds of them, he thought, it is really an army, enough army to storm the walls of Thendara…he left nothing to our good will.

In a little knot at the head of them, he could see Beltran, and a number of brightly clad cloaked figures; Comyn lords, come to witness this ceremony. Without realizing he was doing it, Regis enhanced his sight with laran, and suddenly it was as if he stood within a few feet of his grandfather, spare and upright in the blue and silver ceremonial cloak of the Hasturs. Edric of Serrais was there too, and Lord Dyan of Ardais, and Prince Derik, and Merryl; and Danilo at Dyan’s side, the two dressed identically in the ceremonials of Ardais; and Merryl in the gray and crimson of Aillards, attending Callina, who stood slightly apart from them, enfolded in her gray cloudy wrap, her face partially veiled as befitted a Comyn lady among strangers.

One by one Beltran’s men were coming up, laying down their Terran blasters before Lady Callina, kneeling and pronouncing the brief formula dating back to the days of King Carolin of Hali, when the Compact had been devised; that no man should bear a weapon beyond the arm’s reach of him who wielded it, so that any man who would kill must dare his own death— Callina looked cold and cross.

“Can’t we go a bit nearer, sir? I can’t see or hear ’em,” the Guardsman asked.

Regis replied, “Go, if you like; I can see well enough from here.” His voice was absentminded; he himself was down there, a few steps from Callina. He could sense her inner raging; she was only a pawn in this, and like Regis, she was at the mercy of Comyn Council, without power to rebel even as effectively as Regis could do.

Regis had protested once, long ago, that the path was carved deep for a Comyn son, a path he must walk whether he wished or no… stronger yet were the forces binding Comyn daughters. He must have thought this more strongly than he realized, for he saw Callina turn her head a little and look, puzzled, at the spot where Regis felt himself to be and, not seeing him, frown a little, but he followed her thoughts: Ashara would protect me, but her price is too high… I do not want to be her pawn…

The ceremony seemed endless; no doubt Beltran had structured it that way, so that the Comyn witnesses might witness his strength. There was a high heap of Terran weapons, blasters and nerve guns, at Callina’s feet. What in Aldones’s name, does Beltran think we are going to do with them? Hand them over to the Terrans? For all we know, he might have as many more in Aldaran itself!

Beltran has made a demonstration of strength. He hopes to impress us. Now we need some counter-demonstration, so that he need not go away thinking that he has done what we had not the power to make him do…

His eyes met the eyes of Dyan Ardais. Dyan turned, looking up at the distant spot on the wall where Regis stood. Regis did, without thinking about it, something he had never done before and did not consciously know how to do; he dropped into rapport with Dyan, sensing the man’s strength and his exasperation at the way this put Beltran into a position of power.