Exile's Song (54 page)

A lad in a russet tunic led Dorilys out of the stable, and Mikhail followed behind. The mare was fairly dancing on the stones, clearly looking forward to the expedition as much as Margaret was herself. She approached the horse and let Dorilys take her scent, speaking to her in a low voice which made the animal prick up her ears and snort, pawing the paving stones impatiently.

Another groom led out Mikhail’s horse, a fine bay with a white star between its eyes and two white socks on its fore feet. Her cousin came to her, to help her mount. As he reached for her hand, Gabriel appeared from within the stable, his face sullen. He pushed Mikhail roughly aside, grabbed Margaret’s arm, and said, “Be off with you, Mik. It isn’t your place to show Marguerida around.”
He won’t take my place!

Margaret pulled away from his touch. “I prefer to mount myself, thank you,” she said coldly. “And my plan was to go riding with Mikhail, not with you.”

She could feel Mikhail seething before his brother’s abrupt dismissal, and she realized there was something more going on. Margaret caught a wisp of thought from the younger man.
I never thought I would want anyone so much. No woman has ever . . . I might as well wish for the moons! I can never have what I want, neither woman nor kingdom. Though just now I’d forgo the kingdom for . . . it doesn’t bear thinking of.

“I don’t care what your plans are, cousin. I and no one else will show you Armida! Take Dorilys back into the pasture, Asa. You must be mad, Mik, thinking of putting a mere woman on her. She’s too . . .”

“Gabe, your manners are shameful.” Mikhail spoke quietly, but his voice echoed against the stones. There was a kind of authority in his tone, a sureness she had not heard before, something of his mother or his uncle

Regis. She was startled at this, and pleased. She began to suspect that Mikhail Hastur was much more his own man than anyone imagined, and thought it was a dreadful shame he was the youngest son and not the eldest.

“I wish to ride Dorilys,” Margaret said, before either brother had a chance to speak. They were sure to get into a fight if she did not prevent it, and she had had quite enough of exalted tempers for one day. She wondered how they managed, with everyone being so touchy all the time. “Mikhail has said I may, and, if I understand it, she is his to give.”

Gabriel sulked and glared at his brother. “She is too much horse for anyone, let alone a softy like you, cousin.
I
know best. You must trust to my judgment. As for Mikhail, he is interfering where he has no business.”

“You know nothing about me, Gabriel, nothing whatever.” With that, Margaret set her foot into the stirrup and mounted the dancing Dorilys, and looked down at the two brothers. The horse nickered with pleasure and tossed her head merrily.

Gabriel looked ready to explode. Instead, he shoved Mikhail aside with a great push, knocking him to the stones of the court, and mounted the bay horse. “You had better learn to do as you are told, cousin!” He bellowed at her in rage, and Margaret could feel his roiling emotions as she turned the horse away.

Margaret was so angry she wanted to scream. Why couldn’t she be left alone, to have a little peace and quiet. She had been looking forward to seeing Armida with Mikhail, and Gabriel had spoiled everything. Then she felt the horse respond to her emotions and decided that she had better calm down. She breathed deeply and slowly, and let Dorilys have her head a little. The mare broke into a trot and whickered with delight. The black mane tossed.

Margaret could hear the sound of hooves from the horse following her, but she ignored them. Gabriel was swearing at his mount, and she turned and looked over her shoulder. The bay was fighting his rider, and seemed reluctant to catch up with her. Did
laran
apply to animals? Or did the big bay merely dislike his rider?

She came to an earthen trail that led across wide pastures toward the hills, and she could see the clouds gathering above them. It was beautiful. The air was clean and fresh, and even the distant threat of thunder did not lessen her delight in the freedom of the open country. She could see thick stands of trees beyond the cultivated fields of pasture and grain. This was rich land, fertile and well cared for by her Uncle Gabriel. He might be formal and much too full of himself for her taste, but she was reminded, yet again, that he knew how to manage the land. He obviously took his responsibilities quite seriously.

Margaret saw a wider track and turned Dorilys onto it, still refusing to acknowledge Gabriel’s pursuit. She found the rhythm of the horse and matched it as they moved into a good canter. Dorilys was well-gaited, a smooth, light-mouthed filly, though Margaret knew she had a mind of her own. Still, they were moving together, as one, and after the horrors of the morning, that was all she asked.

She was so deeply involved in the pleasure of the ride that she was startled when a strong hand seized the reins and yanked. Margaret heard the protest from the horse, and matched it with her own. “Stop that!” Dorilys reared slightly, and she turned on Gabriel. “If you have cut her mouth, I will . . .”

“What?” He was breathing heavily, and his eyes were glaring. “What do you think you can do to me, you little cat!”

“Get your hand off the reins!”

“You had better get used to doing as I say, cousin. It will make our marriage much less difficult.”

“Marriage? If you were the last man in the known universe, I wouldn’t have you.”

“You won’t have any choice,” he answered smugly.

“Mother and Father have decided that you will marry me. I can’t say I really like the idea any more than you do, frankly. I don’t want a woman who doesn’t obey orders. But I know my duty, and you will learn yours.”
It’s the only way to keep Armida!

Margaret wrenched the reins out of his hand, and her horse capered away, giving a nervous whinny. She set her heels into the horse, and Dorilys leaped forward like a bolt. In a moment they were galloping along the packed trail, heading for the closest stand of trees. Margaret leaned forward across the horse’s neck and smelled the warm scent of the animal. Not too far behind, she could hear Gabriel swearing and cursing, trying to catch up with the flying hooves of the pewter mare.

She rode into the trees, and she could tell that Dorilys knew her way. The branches were high enough to pass above her head easily, and the horse turned this way and that. Clearly the little mare thought this was a fine game, and was determined to have the best of it.

The light between the trees turned from gold to silver quite suddenly, and Margaret looked up toward the sky. The clouds she had seen over the hills had moved, and the sky was dark and threatening. She could smell electricity in the air, and a moment later she heard the ominous boom of thunder. She was going to get soaked, but just then she did not care. If she caught Rafaella’s cold, she could go to bed and avoid the entire family!

A flash of lightning brightened the sky for an instant, and she heard the pounding of Gabriel’s horse nearby. Dorilys whinnied and flickered her sharp ears, but she did not seem much disturbed by the storm. Still, she slowed to a trot, and Margaret stroked her neck. What a wonderful animal!

Gabriel, puffing and snorting, drew up beside her. “That was a stupid thing to do! You might have broken your neck.”

“That would be very convenient for everyone, wouldn’t it?”

“Is that what you think of me—of me and my parents? You must be as mad as your father! Not to mention your mother!”

“You leave the Senator out of this! And keep your hands off this horse. I won’t be ordered by you, Gabriel. And I certainly will not marry you.” She ignored the reference to Thyra, but it upset her more than a little. She was damned if she was going to argue with this man, this stupid man! How dare he!

“You don’t understand. You have to. You don’t have any choice.”

“No, it is
you
who doesn’t understand. I am not a piece of property to be handed around. I belong to myself, not to you or your stupid parents, or Armida or anything else.” For an instant she had an image of coupling with Gabriel, and it was so revolting she nearly jerked the reins against the bit. Better to die a maiden than to have him touch her.

Gabriel gripped her arm painfully, almost as if he were hearing her thoughts, and dug his strong fingers into the muscles. Margaret gave a small yelp. “You see,” he gloated. “You don’t really have the power to deny me.”
And I will get what I want, at last! I will best my sneaky little brother and have Armida for my own!

Margaret turned and looked at his triumphant expression in disbelief as rain began to pour down on them. “So what are you planning? Are you going to try to rape me?” She could not keep the disdain from her voice, nor the anger. If she had been on foot, she would have used the self-defense techniques she had learned at University, but horseback was no place for that. She struggled to contain her emotions. Dorilys tossed her head and danced, jerking away so that Gabriel lost his hold on Margaret’s arm.

The man gave a gasp, and all the color faded from his face. “Of course not.” He looked horrified, as if he had just realized how his actions might be construed.

“Good. Because I really wouldn’t want to test my
laran
on you.”

He swelled up again. “Do you mean to tell me you would actually . . . that is disgusting! You bitch! You misbegotten, underbred bitch! I am going to break you, and I am going to enjoy it!”
I could kill you!

Margaret had no idea what was driving the man, what forces in his past had made him lose control like this. She tried to think of some way to calm him, but nothing came to mind. The tension in her chest was almost unendurable, and it found release in laughter, much to her astonishment and shame. “How? You are a fool, Gabriel. I am sure that a well-mannered telepath would never think of defending herself with her Gift, but I am not constrained by your rules. Do you think you can beat me into submission? Are you really so blind that you imagine you could?”

Gabriel’s hand whipped out and slapped her face. Her skin stung, and Margaret felt something arise within her, something strong and previously unknown. Her temples pounded, and the distant thunder seemed to roll along her bones. She wanted to kill him for touching her, for striking her.

There was a flash of lightning and the vision vanished. Ancient rage warred within her for a second, and then she turned Dorilys aside, putting a little distance between them. The rain roared down, and the thunder boomed. “If you ever touch me again, I’ll burn your brain to cinders!” She had no idea if she could actually accomplish such a terrible thing, but she was so furious she almost imagined that she could.

The man flinched. “I’m sorry, Marguerida. I must have been mad.” The rain flattened his hair against his skull, and he looked utterly miserable. “I was going to be nice, and ask you nicely to marry me. I don’t know what got into me.”
Mikhail! This is all his fault, the little swine. Pushing in where he doesn’t belong! I have to fix this, somehow, or Mother will be furious. She has to choose me, because she has already rejected Rafael, and there isn’t anyone else.

“It wouldn’t have done any good, Gabriel. You could have been the nicest man on Darkover, and I still wouldn’t have said yes.”
And you aren’t, by a long piece,
she thought .

“Why are you being so stubborn? Don’t you see that you already belong to me, by right. Why can’t you stop being so damn . . . do you really think we are going to let you do what you please? If he must, my father will go to the Comyn Cortes and have you declared his ward, and then you will find out that you can’t do as you wish, but only as you are told. You are much too independent, and you don’t know what is good for you. I do. I am older than you are, and wiser. It will be much easier if you just do as you are told, and stop trying to avoid your duty.”

Margaret wondered if he might be right about that. The laws of Darkover might force her into marriage no matter what. “Gabriel, you don’t have enough wisdom to fill a thimble. You can’t threaten me in one breath and then tell me you know what is best for me in the next.”

Another flash of light illuminated Gabriel’s face, and she realized that he thought just that. There was a look in his eyes, an inward gaze, that suggested to her that he rarely listened to anyone but himself. She had seen this sort of solipcism before, in academics enamored of some pet theory or other, but never in a healthy, strong male. There was something more, too. Margaret sensed something unstable, a kind of willfulness that denied anything which did not agree with what he imagined was correct. He was not as stupid as she had thought, she realized, but like his sister Ariel there was something amiss within. Whether it was too much inbreeding for too many centuries or just a dreadful narcissism, she could not guess. All she could be sure of was that he was not a man who could accept her rejection mildly. Sitting astride Dorilys in the rain, Margaret sensed a whiff of desperate madness in Gabriel. It was in his eyes, and in the way he bent toward her as if nothing had happened, as if he had not threatened her and she had not spoken at all.

“Listen to me, Marguerida.” His voice was loud above the roar of the storm. “I am going to be your husband, and you had better accept it. I’ll have you and I’ll have Armida, and that is that!” He was shouting above the storm, and the bay shifted restlessly beneath him.

“I’ll see you in hell first!” Lightning struck a tree not a hundred paces away, and Dorilys decided she had had enough. She reared slightly, then started through the trees, sending clods of mud flying in all directions. Margaret clung to the reins and coiled her left hand into the mane, leaning forward against the neck of the animal. The mare bolted as the trees became fewer, and she hung on, pressing her chilled knees into the horse. She had no further thought for her unhappy cousin, but could only focus on staying in the saddle as the horse almost scraped her off beneath a low-hanging branch, then raced into the open.