The Shadow Matrix (36 page)

sound of voices, Mikhail asked himself why he had not contacted his uncle during the

journey. After a few minutes of thought, he decided he was still deeply ashamed of his

apparent failure at Halyn House. Nothing Marguerida or Liriel said made any

difference to him on that subject.

When Mikhail Hastur rode into the Stable Court of Comyn Castle, with a sea crow

riding on the pommel of his saddle, and a bleak mood dampening his spirits, he was

not sure what to expect. But in the torchlight flickering on the swept stones of the

courtyard, he saw not only grooms and servants waiting to care for them, but Regis

himself, standing at the top of a low set of steps, his head uncovered in spite of the

cold, his white hair shining in the ruddy light of the torches. Danilo Syrtis-Ardais stood

a few steps behind his master, alert as always, but with the hint of a smile gracing his

mouth.

Mikhail dismounted, threw the reins to the closest groom, and climbed the steps to

meet his uncle. Behind him he could hear the voices of the children, the two girls

particularly, and Liriel hushing them as she climbed down from the carriage. When he

reached Regis, he found himself tongue-tied. He had not felt this anxious in years.

But his uncle embraced him in a warm hug, his face so

filled with obvious joy at their reunion, that Mikhail's fear's vanished. They stood in

the chilly afternoon, not speaking, but only savoring the moment.

Then there was a nutter of dark wings, and the crow alighted on Mikhail's shoulder,

giving Regis a red-eyed look that made the older man draw back quickly. "I promised I

would present him at court, and he seems eager for the honor," Mikhail said, finding

his tongue with relief. Regis' welcome was too genuine for him to continue feeling

uneasy.

Regis laughed. "You always were the most unorthodox boy, Mikhail, and I see that you

are still capable of surprising me. But I don't know what Lady Linnea is going to think

of a crow in her dining room!"

"Oh, I don't think we'll have to worry about him. He prefers to remain outdoors and

scrounge scraps from the kitchen. I hope you are not disappointed to see me return

with all of the children, Uncle."

"I am never disappointed in you, Mikhail. And when you sent for Liriel, I rather

anticipated that something was amiss. Come. Let's get inside." I
don't want to arouse

any more gossip than I must.

Of course, Uncle. And I am sorry I made such a mess of everything.

Nonsense! I pitchforked you into an impossible situation. In hindsight, I regret it.
He

smiled at Mikhail.

What do you know?

Only what Liriel has told me, which is a great deal. More to your credit than mine.

Why didn't you ask for help sooner?

I couldn't.

Mikhail turned and looked toward his sister, who was coming up the stairs, holding the

girls' hands tightly. She had not told him that she had contacted Regis, and he felt both

relieved and somewhat betrayed. Her intention had been to protect him; still, he felt a

little annoyed at sheltering behind her voluminous skirts, then angry at himself for

being ungenerous.

Two servants were lifting Alain onto a stretcher, while Emun watched them with round

eyes. He took his brother's limp hand and patted it, and Vincent stood beside him, quiet

again, although he had had several sudden bouts of

fury during the journey. They had been at a loss as to what to do, for to have given the

young man a sleeping draught might have been disastrous. He seemed to be able to

answer questions, though he complained of headache, and started at noises and bright

lights.

Emun, looking much older than his fourteen years, herded Vincent up the stairs,

following the men with the stretcher. Mikhail reflected on what a good lad he was, to

treat Vincent with such kindness after all the bullying he had endured.

They proceeded into the castle, a straggle of weary travelers. As they passed the door,

the crow flew off with a caw, no doubt heading for the kitchens. Mikhail took off his

damp cloak, shook it, and handed it to a servant who was close by. Then he stamped

his cold feet and looked toward his uncle again.

Regis caught his glance, smiled, then shrugged. "I think that hot baths and clean

clothing are the first orders of business."

Mikhail caught the guarded tone in his uncle's words, and studied him for a moment.

There was something different about Regis, though he could not quite put a name to

the change. He seemed much older, grayer somehow. But he was too tired to untangle

that puzzle now. "I think you are right."

At that moment, Valenta released her grip on Liriel's hand and approached the two

men. She looked very hard at Regis, her dark eyes sparkling. "Are we going to live

here now?" she demanded.

Regis leaned down, so that he was at eye level with the younger girl. His expression

was mild, the way it had been with his own children, and with Mikhail. "Would you

like that?"

"I don't know. It's nice and warm here. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Do you know who I am?"

>«;

"Of course! With that white hair you must be Regis-Rafael Felix Alar Hastur y

Elhalyn, and you are my cousin."

"You have the advantage of me, knowing all my names, which, truthfully, I rarely even

think of."

"I am Valenta Felicia Stephanie Elhalyn. Now . . . where is that bath you mentioned?"

What a resilient young woman! Mikhail, is she always so . . . brash?

She has been since we left Halyn House. Even before that she demonstrated a lively

mind. She and her sister are going to be remarkable
—
it's the boys who are the

problem.

Yes. We will discuss it later.

"I am very pleased to have met you at last." ,He took Valenta's hand and bowed his

head over it gracefully, considering his present posture, and then smiled at her. He

stood up slowly, and looked at the other girl.

Miralys did not sparkle like her sister, but stood back a little, still clinging to Liriel’s

hand. The death of her mother had shaken her more than it had Valenta, and she had

lost some of her calm assurance. Still, she looked Regis Hastur in the eye, swallowed

hard, and made a small bob of a curtsy. There was great dignity in her stance, as if she

were much older than her years. Mikhail experienced a rush of sadness that she had

never had a real childhood. He knew what that was like, since he felt that he had not

had one himself.

"This is Miralys, Regis," Liriel said. She looked down at the small girl. "I don't know

all her names, for we haven't talked about that yet."

"What a pretty name, to be sure. Welcome to Comyn Castle."

"Thank you," Mira said very softly. "It seems very grand."

"Anything would seem grand after Halyn House," Val interjected, grinning. "Now,

about that bath and some clean clothes."

"Of course. How rude of me to keep you waiting here." Regis gestured at a maid who

was standing patiently at the back of the entry way. "Please show the young ladies to

the Elhalyn Suite, and make them comfortable."

The maid, a woman in her twenties, came forward, took the two girls by the hands, and

led them away. Valenta cast a cheerful look over her shoulder as they went, and

Mikhail felt relieved that they, at least, appeared well enough. Miralys would recover

in time, and Valenta was clearly ready for anything—-even perhaps hoping for

adventures. After the events at Halyn House, Comyn Castle would, he hoped, be

blessedly dull.

Emun, who had been waiting silently in Liriel's shadow, still holding Vincent's hand,

stepped forward. He looked even whiter than before, as if he were afraid of Regis.

Vincent's face, by contrast, was empty of expression, and his cheeks were rosy. In the

light of the room, Vincent looked every inch a manly figure, like the king he had

planned to become. The glazed expression in his eyes, though, marred the effect

somewhat.

Making a stiff bow, Emun stood before Regis Hastur, as if awaiting judgment, and

expecting to be found wanting. His pale red hair, slack and brittle fell across his

narrow brow. "I am Emun-Estavan Mikhail Elhalyn, and this is my brother Vincent-

Regis Duvic Elhalyn y Elhalyn. I hope you will not be offended if he doesn't say

anything—he is riot himself just now." The quaver in his voice was near to a squeak.

Regis' face did not register any shock, but Mikhail knew he was startled by Vincent's

name. He saw his uncle glance quickly at Danilo Ardais, then turn back. Mikhail

himself was rattled by the name—Elhalyn y Elhalyn! If only he had managed to find

out the full names of all the children earlier—why hadn't he asked? But they likely

would not have told him. Even on his earlier visit, none of the children had mentioned

their entire names, and he suspected that their mother had given them very strict

instructions about it. But Derik had died long before Vincent had been conceived, so it

was impossible that he was Vincent's father. Still, claiming Elhalyn y Elhalyn would

make the lad's certainty that he would be the king more comprehensible. It was a

shame that Priscilla had taken her secrets to the grave.

Regis glanced around, but none of the servants was standing close enough to hear

Emun's quiet introduction. Who was Vincent's father, to make him claim such a name

—unless he was some
nedestro
half brother of Priscil-la's? And what would the Comyn

Council make of it, if Regis ever let the knowledge be made public? He did not know

if Vincent would ever be of sound mind again, or as sound as he had been, but it was

clear that with such a scandalous heritage, he would never be acceptable as king.

Mikhail could not decide if he felt more sorry or relieved. Certainly he was very sad

about Vincent's present condi-

tion, but since he had given up any real hope that the young man could ever take the

throne, even as a puppet to the Hasturs, he was slightly relieved that circumstances had

conspired to make that impossible. It left him with only Emun as a suitable candidate,

and the lad was so frail and thin that Mikhail was not certain he would live to

adulthood.

Mikhail ignored the rush of despair that swelled in his chest. He was going to be stuck

with a throne he did not want, and he might as well resign himself to the idea. The

anger which had been absent during the trip stirred, and with it a deep resentment.

Then a bleak mood began to darken his mind. Gods, he was tired! The only good he

could see coming out of it was that some of the opposition to a potential match with

Marguerida might vanish, since the Elhalyn throne had no real power, and therefore

might not upset the balance between the Domains. But even that seemed dubious.

"I understand, and I have a healer waiting to see to Vincent, and to your other

brother . . . Alain, is it?"

"Yes,
dom!"
Emun was trembling now, looking ready to cry. Mikhail could not guess

what was troubling the lad, nor why he appeared to be so terrified as he stood before

Regis Hastur.

"You must be tired from the journey," Regis answered calmly.

"The carriage bumped a lot."

Liriel snorted. "Emun is being very tactful. I now know every rock between here and

the coast intimately, having passed over them twice in a tenday. My bones will never

forget them. Mikhail and the men had it easy."

Emun turned and looked over his slender shoulder at Liriel, giving her a look of

enormous gratitude which lit his haggard young face and made him look like the child

that he still was. She flashed Emun a brief conspiratorial grin, and Mikhail realized

that his sister had a gift with these children that he had failed to notice before. Then

Emun glanced toward Mikhail, as if seeking guidance for what he should do. He was

clearly frightened, though Mikhail could not imagine why. There was nothing

threatening about Regis Hastur, or even about Danilo Ardais, standing behind him.

I
guess he isn't going to throw me into a dungeon, like Mother always said he would.

Emun's thought startled him, and he could tell that Regis had caught it as well. His

uncle looked very perturbed, but before Mikhail had time to wonder what it meant, two

manservants moved toward the boys, took them in hand, and bustled them out of the

entry. When they were gone, everyone remaining breathed a sigh of relief.

Mikhail, what did he mean by that?

I am not sure, Uncle, but Priscilla had the children terrified, and she seemed to have

the idea that you were going to snatch her children away and do terrible things to

them.

I see. I wonder where she got that notion?

Mikhail had a good idea that Derik Elhalyn's ghost might be the perpetrator,

remembering what it had said during the séance, but he was not ready to discuss it.