Rediscovery (26 page)

“I hate to ask,” she said hesitantly, “But you know by now that I’m insatiably

curious. What are the woods people like? Who and what are they, really?”

He shook his head, gently mocking her curiosity. “Ah, that’s a fine question. No one among the humans really knows, and I was too young to know myself when I was with them. In earlier times than this, it is said, they came often from their dwellings within the great forests. But now, since there has been much more logging in the woods near the human places, they have withdrawn into deeper forests and into the secret places of the mountains, and have less and less contact with men. I cannot remember when I last saw one whom I
knew
to be one…surely, it was when I was still a child.” He pondered that, his face thoughtful. “Felicia is also of that blood; that much I know. Old Darriell—one of Aldaran’s father’s paxmen, they say—got her on one of the
chieri
women and a year later, so I remember, a babe lay at the forest’s edge near his house.

Darriell had no other children, and took her gladly. Felicia fit into this society in a way I cannot. I think Felicia’s first child is of Aldaran blood; may even be Kermiac’s own. But she is a half-blood, and I am somewhat less than that; I remain restless. She has enough human in her to be quite content here.”

“She looks like you,” Elizabeth observed. “I thought perhaps you were kin.”

Kadarin shrugged, and laughed. “You are not the first to think so. We have known each other long enough to think each of the other as sister and brother. Neither of us, after all, has other kinfolk.”

Interesting. Elizabeth had rather assumed that Felicia was Aldaran’s mistress,

although the woman gave herself no great airs. Lady Aldaran was not often seen;

Elizabeth had the feeling that she was not of robust health. She had seen Felicia’s little dark-haired daughter, with the same strange, golden eyes as her mother.

The idea of Felicia being a kind of official mistress didn’t shock her; that sort of arrangement was common enough in Terra’s past, when the marriage was one of dynasty and power, and the wife did not much mind where her husband took his pleasures. Even in some of the old Terran folk songs, there were instances of wife and mistress getting along—though not often. Probably because one or the other trying to kill her rival made a better song.

“So Felicia is more or less your nearest kin?” she asked.

“More or less,” Kadarin replied. “She has never thought of herself as anything but of
chieri
blood though she was not raised among them. I think she is truly more human than I am. Strangeness can be very wearying. I know who and what I am, but not what my true relatives, my kinfolk, are. Of my families, I know only that they did not want me. I suppose that should be all I need to know about them.” The bitterness in his voice was very strong now. “To know you would never have been born except for a Ghost

Wind—”

“A Ghost Wind?” she asked, puzzled. “What have ghosts to do with anything?”

“You’ve mentioned that before,” said Evans from behind her, startling her into

jumping a little. “Something about the pollen from those flowers.”

Kadarin nodded. “Yes, the ones that I showed you.
Kireseth.
The plant in bloom is called
cleindori
and releases the pollen, and the wind picks it up and carries it off—the pollen brings —a form of—of madness, perhaps. In any case, it causes strange behaviors among men and animals. Among other things, it causes both men and beasts to mate out of season, passionately, without regard for niceties such as privacy.” He shrugged at Elizabeth. “The cause, you see, of both Felicia’s birth and mine. The plant is made into medicines for some illnesses, by fractionating and distillation. One of the products is known and shunned as an aphrodisiac. Another is more useful, for it has a special effect upon telepaths. That drug is called
kirian,
and it is used sometimes in the Towers and in testing of the young.”

Evans took in this information eagerly. “Now there’s something I’d like to check out. If the stuff’s a true aphrodisiac, it would be worth a fortune. There’s people on Vainwal who’d kill to get their hands on it. Not just impotent old men, either. Madams, for instance…what a help that would be in training!”

Elizabeth’s shock must have registered on her face, for he grinned at her in a

particularly nasty way. “I knew there had to be something on this godforsaken cold rock that would be worth shipping out! Don’t look so shattered, Lizzie, the people here have seen plenty of things they’d be willing to trade that pollen for. I bet before long they’ll think of more things they’d like from the Empire.”

She frowned, and he laughed at her. “Elizabeth, I thought being married to David would cure you of being such a prude! There’s nothing saying we can’t sell drugs to places where there’s not an interdict on them!”

“No,” Elizabeth protested, “Only basic ethics and morality.”

“I might have expected that from you, I guess,” Evans replied sarcastically. “God knows you’re the biggest Puritan on the ship except her Holy Highness the Vestal Virgin Ysaye; you’re two of a kind, and I’m not surprised you’re friends. I’m a bit more broad-minded than that. If there are people who are willing to enjoy themselves and call it legal and moral, it’s legal and moral enough for me.”

“What about addiction?” she persisted. “What about places where they use these

drugs to keep people enslaved?”

“That’s their problem, not mine,” Evans replied carelessly. “They got themselves into trouble, that’s their lookout.”

“I happen not to agree with you,” Elizabeth said hotly, “And what’s more, neither will Captain Gibbons.”

Ryan Evans flushed with anger. “I don’t give a damn about what Gibbons’

personal morals are; he has no right to impose them on me. Neither do you, and that’s the
law,
Lizzie. If you people want to go live in a self-restricted colony, you’ve got the right, but you can’t take the crew in there with you, or impose your standards on anyone else. So I export a recreational drug, and an aphrodisiac. Big deal. So someone misuses it; that’s their problem, karma, or whatever you want to call it. Not mine. And I might as well be the one to get their money, since somebody will, no matter what.”

He turned and headed for the HQ Building. Elizabeth rubbed the back of her neck, and looked at Kadarin, who only shrugged, and followed him.

But what else did she expect him to do? Kadarin was Evans’ friend—and this was,

in the abstract, a private dispute about morals. She should not have expected Kadarin to support her, particularly not if he had already agreed to be Evans’ business partner in this venture.

But she was very troubled as she went to find David.

When Leonie came down the stairs from the relay chamber, Fiora called softly to

her from the little room at the foot of the staircase.

Leonie had never been in this room before, but it was a comfortable place, well-

shielded by thick stone walls, lit and warmed by a tiny fireplace. There was no window, but then, she supposed, Fiora would have little need of one. Here, she would literally be at the heart of Dalereuth Tower.

“Leonie,” Fiora said, when the girl entered her room, “What would you think if I said you were to leave us here at Dalereuth?”

Leonie took the seat she indicated, on a bench softened and cushioned by a thick sheepskin. Many possibilities went through Leonie’s mind, but some of them were

unlikely. She did not think that she had displeased Fiora—she was not being
sent
away.

She did not think that Fiora knew anything about her contact with the star woman’s mind, and if she did, she could not know the details. She did not think that Fiora knew Leonie’s part in having her twin sent to Aldaran in the first place. And it was not likely that Fiora had, at this late date, taken exception to Leonie’s assertion that the strangers had come from off their world.

So it did not seem likely that Leonie herself was in trouble. At least, not yet.

The first question in her mind was—where was she being sent?

“Arilinn has asked for you,” Fiora said, answering the thought before she could

voice it. “You remember, I told you that we cannot have siblings in the same Tower?

Well, events have speeded what we would have needed to do anyway. Your brother is being sent here to be trained, and so you must go elsewhere. The Keeper at Arilinn has been tracking your progress and would very much like you to go there. I have given you the early training, and you have excelled; now you are ready to go somewhere where you can be trained in the proper isolation.”

Leonie blinked, surprised. Not only the
where
of where she was being sent surprised her, but the
why.
She had not thought that the Keeper of the most prominent Tower in the Domains would have been monitoring her progress, not after Flora’s

repeated assertions that she was still a bare beginner in Keeper training. “The Keeper of Arilinn said that to you, and talked about me?”

“Yes,” Fiora said, simply. “She has taken a great interest in you since I put you on such intensive training; she has been advising me at my request on what I should be doing with you. She told me to make things as difficult for you as I possibly could. She said that you would either break beneath the strain—or make a really remarkable

Keeper. You have come very late to the training, after all, and there was some doubt that you would get this far. But you have done remarkably, and now she wants you at

Arilinn.”

Leonie thought that over, carefully, for all that was implied, but not stated. “The best Keepers are trained at Arilinn, are they not?”

“They are,” Fiora told her, nodding. “I was there for five years until I was needed at Dalereuth. Only the very best go to Arilinn for training.”

And only the best remain there to be Keepers,
she thought, but did not say.
She
knew what was in Marelie of Arilinn’s mind, though she would never reveal it to Leonie, lest the girl’s already formidable pride become unbearable. Marelie had it in mind to train Leonie as
her
own successor. The Keeper of Arilinn Tower; the height of any Keeper’s ambition. And Leonie was certainly ambitious. Power the equivalent of any Comyn lord, and a seat in the Council in her own right would be hers if she succeeded.

“And if I wanted to stay here?” Leonie asked. “If I thought it might be better to remain with the same teacher I started with?”

Fiora considered that, her hands folded carefully in her lap. An interesting

question, and one she thought almost too perceptive from the girl. She wondered if it indicated fear of the unknown, or a certain laziness, or simply a reluctance to change. Or was it just idle curiosity, to see what other options were available? “I would be the first to tell you that I am not the best teacher for you. I am not at all certain I could keep you challenged enough to bring out your full potential. But if that were what you truly wished, perhaps your brother would simply be sent to Neskaya instead.”

Leonie shook her head. “No, I do want to go to Arilinn. I simply wanted to know, Fiora. I have a great deal more respect for you now than when I came here. You have been just, and more than fair, even when I was being terribly obnoxious. I did not want you to think I was ungrateful. But I—oh, I
do
want to go to Arilinn!”

Fiora raised her sightless eyes and smiled. So, it
was
only curiosity. Just as well, for the girl would have a great deal of work, pain, and sacrifice ahead of her. “Thank you, Leonie. I think you will do very, very well at Arilinn. In fact, I think that you will make a most remarkable Keeper. How soon can you be ready to go?”

Leonie rose eagerly. She wished she were there now! “As soon as you like.”

Fiora picked at the wool of the sheepskin on her own bench, feeling the curly

fibers in her sensitive fingers. “You must say your last farewells to the younger girls, for after this you will not be allowed to see any friends or any kin until your training is almost complete—perhaps for years.”

“I shall be sorry to say good-bye to you, Fiora,” Leonie looked down at her hands.

Fiora smiled again, warmly. “Thank you for saying so, Leonie; I shall miss you as well, my dear. You have kept
me
well-challenged, I assure you! But you are too gifted—

and too valuable to us in the Towers—to be spoiled by having any but the best of teachers.” She stroked the folds of her robe, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. “You will leave at daybreak under guard from Arilinn, and travel with them. The Keeper at Arilinn is Marelie—she is one of your kinswomen, even though you have never met her; she is a Hastur, too. She will personally see to your education as a Keeper. I must warn you that this training will be even harder than you think; she is by nature stricter than I, and she feels that at your age, you should already have been in isolation for at least four years. You will have a great deal to make up, and it will certainly be very hard for you. I remember my own training very vividly, and I came to it at the proper age. I cannot imagine what Marelie has in store for you.”

“Truly, Fiora, it does not matter,” the young girl replied, with a firmness that did not exactly match her years or her occasional impulsiveness. “This is what I have wanted for so long—I—I hardly know what to say.”

Fiora smiled to herself, realizing that she had succeeded in shocking Leonie to

speechlessness, perhaps for the first time in the girl’s life.

Yes, well, she will be even more speechless when Marelie takes charge of her. I
doubt that the Keeper of Arilinn will think well of anyone meddling with the weather
without permission in her Tower. And I doubt she will be amused by it, or by Leonie’s
audaciousness in venturing into the overworld unwatched.

“There is no reason for you to say anything,” Fiora replied firmly. “But I must

warn you, too. You have been treated very gently until now, and perhaps wrongly