The Heirs of Hammerfell (7 page)

Does it mean as much as that to you, Erminie?"

"I am not sure this dream is as simple as that,' she said, "for when I woke, my starstone was glowing as if it had been touched―"

"I cannot see what else it could mean," said Edric thoughtfully.

Before any more could be said, the dog stirred again and bounded toward the gate.

Erminie rose, "It is my son returning; I should go and greet him."

Valentine looked up at her. "You are too protective of him, my dear."

"No doubt you are right," Erminie said, "but I cannot forget that night when I lost my other son because I let them out of my sight for only a few minutes. I know it has been a long time, but I am still fearful whenever he is beyond my eyes' reach."

"I cannot fault you for being a careful mother," Valentine said, "but I beg you to remember that he is no longer a child; he must in the very course of nature cease to need his mother's constant concern. And if he is to recover his heritage, he must begin to strive for himself. But you know, Erminie, that I think it might be far better to let this feud burn itself out for lack of fuel―to wait for another generation."

"You will have no luck with that line of reasoning, cousin," interrupted Edric, "I have said all this to her before. She will not hear sense."

"And let my son live always in exile, a landless man?" she countered indignantly. To Valentine she seemed very beautiful, with her eyes glowing with determination; he only wished the subject were more worthy. "Should I let my husband lie restless in his grave with his ghost unavenged haunting the ruins of Hammerfell?"

Shocked, Valentine asked, "Do you truly believe that, kinswoman―that the dead keep their grudges and old grievances against the living?"

But he could see in her eyes that she did believe this, and could not imagine how to change her mind. . The dog sprang up and bounded across the garden, coming back with prancing leaps and frisking around the feet of the tall young man.

"Mother," he said, "I knew not that you were en-

tertaining guests." He bowed gracefully to her, and inclined his head respectfully to the Hastur-lord, and then to Lord Edric. "Good evening, sir. Good evening, cousin."

"Not guests, but our kinsmen," said Erminie. "Will you remain and dine with us? Both of you?"

"It would be a pleasure; unfortunately, I am expected elsewhere," Valentine said in civil excuse, and took his leave, bowing over Erminie's hand.

Edric hesitated, then said, "I think not tonight; but I will see you at the concert later this evening."

Erminie watched him go, standing with her arm round her tall son's waist.

"What did he want with you, Mother? Is that man sniffing round to get you to marry him?"

"Would that displease you so much, my son―if I were to marry again?"

"You cannot expect me to be pleased," said Alastair, "if my mother marries some lowlander to whom Hammerfell is less than nothing. When we are restored, and you are again in our rightful place at Hammerfell―then if he would like to come wooing, I will consider what answer I will give him."

Erminie smiled gently, "I am a Tower technician, my son; I do not need the permission of any guardian to marry. You cannot even make the excuse that I have not yet arrived at years of discretion.

"Oh, come, Mother, you're still young and pretty―"

"I am truly glad you think so, my son; but even so, if I wish to marry, I may consult with you, but I shall not ask your leave." Her voice was very gentle and held no trace of reproach, but the young man lowered his eyes and blushed anyway.

"Among our people in the mountains, men show

more courtesy; they come properly to a woman's male kinsmen and ask leave to pay

court to her."

Well, she could not blame him; she had brought him up to the habits and customs of their mountain kinsmen, and bade him never forget that he was Duke of Hammerfell. If this was what he now thought himself, it was the product of her own teaching.

"Night is falling; we should go in," she said.

"The dew is falling; shall I fetch your shawl, Mother?"

"I am not yet so old as that!" she said, exasperated, as he took her arm. "Whatever you think of him, my son, Valentine said one thing which made sense."

"And what was that, Mother?"

"He said that you were a man, and that if you wished to recover Hammerfell, you would somehow have to recover it for yourself."

Alastair nodded. He said, "This has been much on my mind, Mother, these last three years. Yet I hardly know where to start. I cannot, after all, ride to Storn Heights and ask old Lord Storn, or whoever sits in his place these days, to give me the keys. Yet if these Hastur-lords truly value justice as they say, it occurs to me that they might be willing to lend me armed men to recapture it; or at least they might be willing to make public acknowledgment that Hammerfell is mine and Storn holds it unlawfully. Do you think our kinsman Valentine could get me an audience with the king?"

"I am quite sure of it," Erminie said; she was glad to know that her son had been thinking on the matter. So far there was not much of a plan; but if he was willing to seek counsel of older and wiser heads, at least that was a good beginning.

"Surely you remember we have a concert to attend this evening, Mother?"

"Of course," she replied. But for some reason, she did not wish to mention why this evening's plans had particular significance for her.

As Erminie went to her rooms to summon her lady-companion to dress her for the

concert, she felt a curious foreboding, as if this evening would be fateful, and she could not imagine why.

When she was dressed in a gown of rust-colored satin that set off her shining hair to perfection, a garland of green jewels at her slender throat, she went down to join her son.

"How fine you look tonight, Mother," he said. "I was afraid you would insist on wearing your Tower robes; but you have dressed as is fitting to our station and I am proud of you."

"Are you, indeed? Then I am glad of the trouble I have taken to dress tonight." Alastair himself was wearing a laced tunic and knee breeches of gold satin, set off with dark yellow sleeves and black lacings; around his neck he wore a pendant of gleaming carved amber. His red hair was curled elaborately just above his shoulders; he looked so much like her childhood playmate Alaric that even after so many years, Erminie felt a lump rise in her throat. Well, he was, after all, Alaric's half-brother; this tie to her long-dead kinsman was among the reasons, though not the primary one, which had impelled her to marry Rascard of Hammerfell.

"You, too, are handsome tonight, my dear son," she said, and thought, It will not be long that he is content to escort his mother to such events; I should enjoy his companionship while I still have it. Alastair went to

summon his mother a sedan chair, the commonest public conveyance in the streets of Thendara, and rode beside her chair toward the palatial building which had been

constructed last year for concerts and such performances in the great public market of Thendara.

The great square was crowded with sedan chairs, mostly the drab black public

conveyances, but a few richly hung and decorated brilliantly with embroidered or

jeweled coats of arms.

Alastair, giving his horse to one of the grooms of the public stable, assisted his mother to alight, and said, "We should have our own chair, Mother; you should not have to summon a common chair whenever you wish to go abroad; we should have one made

with the arms of Hammerfell. It would be much more fitting to the dignity of your position― folk would look at it and know that you were Duchess of Hammerfell."

"What, If" Erminie could not help laughing at the thought, but then she saw her son's face and realized that she had hurt his feelings.

"I need no such dignities, my boy. It is quite enough for me to be a Tower worker, a technician; do you even know what that means?" she asked with a touch of aggravation.

And again she remembered her dream; why, if he was all but devoid of laran, should she see him again and again in dreams that way? Was Valentine right? Was she keeping him too close to her skirts―unhealthily close? But no, she had encouraged him to live his own life, and saw little of him from one week's beginning to the next. She recalled the time a year ago, when he had told her he had been refused for Tower

training; it was only then that Erminie had told him he had been born with a twin brother who had perished in the flames that burned Hammerfell, and that he was evidently the twin with lesser ability. He had said then with anger that he could not regret having lost a brother "who robbed me of my share of an ability which means so much to you, Mother."

"You should not begrudge your brother that," she had told him, "since the title of Duke and Heirship of Hammerfell came to you who were first-born, he needed to have

something special as well." Then she drew his attention for the first time to the small and inconspicuous tattoo of Hammerfell which marked his shoulder.

"This was set here to distinguish you from your twin; it proclaims you everywhere as the rightly born Heir to the Great House and estate of Hammerfell, true Duke of that line,"

she had told him.

The group of brightly dressed nobles made their way through the crowd thronging the square. Erminie, as a Tower technician, was known to most of them, and the young

Duke of Hammerfell was well-known, too. There were bows and curtsies, and the

commoners surrounding the square hoping for entrance to the performance―for, by

long custom, none of the common seats could be sold until all the nobles were

placed―watched the high-born gentry, and called out to them.

As one of the young women passed, Alastair tugged unobtrusively at his mother's sleeve.

"Mother, do you see the fair-haired young woman in the white robe?" he whispered, and Erminie sought with her eyes for the girl he pointed out.

"I do know her, she said softly in surprise.

"You do?" " He was equally surprised; he had no idea who she was, but knew that he had to meet her―she was the loveliest girl he had ever seen.

"Why, yes; and so do you, my son; she is your cousin Floria. When you were children, you played together almost every day."

"Floria!" he said in astonishment, "I remember chasing her around the garden with a snake, and teasing her―I would never have known her! She is beautiful!"

"It was for that Edric came to the house today," Erminie said. "He wishes me to chaperone her during Council season."

"I would willingly assume that task myself!" Alastair said, laughing. "I have heard that the plainest girls grow up to be the most beautiful! But my cousin Floria!" He looked stunned, completely disbelieving.

"She is the daughter of our Keeper and thus is not allowed to work within his circle; she went to Neskaya for training, but now she has returned to her father's house, awaiting a place in one of the other circles here."

"If she were a milkmaid, or a silk-weaver, I would still think her the most beautiful woman I have ever known," he declared. "Floria," he repeated the name almost reverently. "I doubt that Cassilda of the legends, who was loved by Hastur, could have been any more beautiful than she."

"She is young still, but in a year or two Edric will probably be entertaining offers for her hand."

"Hmm," Alastair murmured. "I must be the luckiest man alive! She is available, kin to us, and she has

laran. Do you think she will remember me, Mother? Do you think I have a chance?"

The mellow tone of a chime, the warning signal that they should seek their seals, interrupted his musings, and mother and son passed under the arched entrance and

through the great doors. In the box seat on the first balcony which she had reserved for this performance, they took two of the upholstered chairs and Alastair dutifully draped his mother with her fur-lined cloak and adjusted a padded footstool under her feet before looking around the ring of boxes, seeking the young woman on whom his fancy had

alighted.

"There, I see her," he whispered. "In the box decorated with the Elhalyn coat of arms."

Then he murmured in surprise, "I see the royal box is occupied, too." King Aidan was not known to be fond of music, and the royal box was seldom occupied these days.

"No doubt it is Queen Antonella," said Erminie. "It was her generous gift and love of music which rebuilt this house after the fire last year. She is old, very fat, and now quite deaf as well; but she can still enjoy the high tones of her favorite singers."

"I heard a story about that," Alastair interrupted, "when I was singing with the Mountain Choir last year; they said she had commissioned Dom Gavin Delleray to write a cantata for sopranos and violins only, since her hearing loss was fairly selective; she can hear high notes better than low ones."

"So I hear tell," said Erminie, looking over toward the royal box, where the elderly queen, very short and stout in an unbecoming dress of a singularly unlovely shade of blue, sat munching candied fruit,

her lame leg propped up on a footstool. Despite her age, she was accompanied in the box by an elderly woman in the dress of a chaperone, and Alastair smothered a snicker.

At her age the lady can hardly need a chaperone," he whispered, stifling laughter in his sleeve.

"Oh, hush!" implored Erminie. "No doubt the kind old lady is giving a treat to one of her ladies-in-waiting who loves music."

Alastair had noticed that Floria Elhalyn was accompanied in her box only by her father, dispensing with any form of female companionship. He asked, "At the first intermission, will you introduce me?"

"Certainly, my dear boy; it will be a pleasure," Erminie promised, and they settled back to the ripple of applause that greeted the orchestra and choral singers. The nobles all having been seated, the commoners surged into the lower hall, and the performance began.

The cantata was a fine one, featuring as conductor and chief performer the young

composer himself, Dom Gavin Delleray, a handsome young man who sang several solo