Zandru's Forge (5 page)

After the preliminary exercises, Cerriana brought out a collection of objects—feathers, thin silver coins, small cubes and dowels of wood—and distributed them to the students. Using their starstones, the students were to focus their minds upon the object with the goal of either lifting or sliding it across the table.

Carolin, as a beginner, was still working with feathers. The task, which had seemed all but impossible when he first attempted it, now began to make sense, although he had not as yet had any luck in producing so much as a quiver in the feather. He’d made the mistake of looking directly at it, as if by sheer force of will he could cause it to rise. Now he gazed at it only long enough to fix its features in his mind, its size and color, the curve of the quill, the curl of the down. Then he looked deep into his starstone, building a mental picture of the feather. He tried to imagine the air beneath it rising like the waves of heat above a summer field.

The feather quivered, tilted. He sensed tiny currents of air pressing against its weight. This time, he decided to keep his attention on the air as it swirled upward.

Let the feather go where it wills,
he told himself.

The air felt hot, exciting. He thought of storm clouds, mountains of gray-white, billowing to fill the sky. A taste and flash like lightning flickered across his senses.

“Carolin!”

He jumped, his vision leaping into focus. The feather sat on the table just as before. Then it burst into flame.

Without thinking, Carolin grabbed the feather. The fire went out immediately, but not before it had singed his fingers. He yelped and clutched his hand. His starstone went rolling across the table. Cerriana caught it just before it tumbled off the edge.

Fire erupted inside Carolin’s skull. He could no longer feel his burned hand. For an awful moment, his lungs locked, unable to draw in air. He heard confused voices in the distance.

The next instant, something small and cool was pressed into his hand. He could breathe again. His vision seeped back and he looked into Cerriana’s eyes. They were dark with concern. Her hand overlaid his, curling his fingers around his starstone.

“What—”
What happened to me?

“I touched your starstone. I must now monitor you to make sure you have taken no harm from it”

Carolin’s eyes stung and he felt shaken to his bones. He was grateful when Cerriana dismissed the class. All he wanted was to be left alone. He clenched the starstone, pressing it to his heart. His fingers throbbed where he’d touched the burning feather. The muscles of his belly quivered. But he was Hastur, heir to the throne, and it was not proper that he behave like a whimpering child.

Only a moment had passed. Cerriana still waited for the answer to her request. As an Arilinn-trained monitor, she scrupulously observed the formalities of permission. This was not an emergency; she would not enter the energy fields of his body against his will. Finally, he lifted his head and gestured to Cerriana that he was ready.

As she worked, relief and a sense of well-being spread throughout his body. Frayed nerves relaxed and the burns on his fingers cooled. His heartbeat steadied and his breathing came more freely.

A short time later, she announced with a smile that he had not been damaged by either the fire or the accidental contact with his starstone.

“I don’t understand,” Carolin said. Although he felt physically well enough, except for the fading heat on his palms, he couldn’t think straight. His skull seemed to be packed with feathers. “Other people have handled my stone before—Hanna at home, you and Fidelis and Auster here. I’ve never had a reaction like this.”

“It’s usually safe enough at this stage,” Cerriana answered. “Few of the novices have keyed into their stones strongly enough to carry any risk in a trained monitor handling them. You certainly hadn‘t, not at the beginning of our session. Whatever you were doing must have accelerated the process.” She looked thoughtful. “Sometimes there’s a plateau in
laran
development and then a cascading effect. Contact with a catalyst telepath will do it, too.”

She sat back, still studying him with renewed composure. “Listen, Carolin. This is very important. Now that you have attuned with your matrix, you must never let anyone touch it except a Keeper, and then it should be only your own Keeper. I cannot emphasize this strongly enough. Even though I am trained to oversee the physical and psychic well-being of those entrusted to my care, I am only a monitor. With all the best intentions, I could have seriously injured you. The only reason I did not is that I held your stone for only a moment. Do you understand?”

“Oh,” he said with a wry smile, “I have no intention of repeating
that
experience.” With hands that still trembled a little, he folded the starstone back into its pouch of insulating silk.

She nodded gravely. “I don’t think you have the aptitude for psychokinesis. The question remains whether you have a separate talent for creating fire or whether this—” she gestured at the few bits of charred feather on the table, “—was due simply to the energies generated by keying into your starstone.”

“Well,” Carolin said with his usual levity, “at least it’ll be better than staring at those damned feathers.”

The next morning, Carolin and Eduin passed beneath the arch-ways of the Tower on their way into Arilinn City, headed for the morning marketplace accompanied by one of the
kyrri.
Since only nonhumans and
Comyn
could pass the Veil, everyone took turns with daily household tasks, even the youngest novices. The autumn day was crisp. Last night’s rain had washed any hint of dust from the air and the city sparkled. Beyond it loomed the Twin Peaks, their pinnacles shimmering.

Carolin paused at the place where the Ridenow boy had stood. Although no visible trace remained, no stain or mark on the age-smoothed stone, Carolin felt a sense of lingering presence so strong he could have sworn there was indeed someone there. Images flashed through his mind, half memory, half something else. He pictured the boy, not as young as he’d first supposed, only thin and undersized, his face pale and very serious.

As Carolin watched, Varzil’s features shifted into those of an older boy, then to a mature man. He was still slender, but held himself with a quiet confidence Carolin had seen in expert swordsmen. Silver glinted in his hair and lines bracketed his eyes and mouth. An expression of compassion touched with sadness lay upon his face. He wore a dark, loosely belted robe, but Carolin could not make out the color, red or brown, as the vision began to fade. Varzil raised one hand in greeting and a gemset ring flashed white.

The sense of prescience lifted, and Carolin stood with his market basket in hand.

“Let’s get on with it, Carlo,” Eduin said. He used the familiar nickname, although they didn’t know each other well. Carolin had only been at Arilinn a few months, whereas Eduin had begun his training there four years ago. That had been long enough for Eduin to know his own worth. He had a life in the Towers and would certainly make a skillful matrix mechanic or technician, perhaps even a Keeper if he could accept the discipline.

Carolin hung back. He had no doubt of what he’d seen. He was no
laranzu,
but he was of the true
Comyn
blood. The powers of the mind were every bit as real as what he could lift and handle. And he himself could not go on with the mundane tasks of the morning, as if nothing had happened.

“Go on,” he said absently. “I’ll be along shortly.”

“But, Carlo, we’re already late—the best sweet-gourds will be gone—”

“Not if we get them first!”

Eduin sauntered off, the
kyrri
scurrying in his wake. A few minutes later, Carolin strode down the corridor to the Keeper’s chambers. Two of the senior technicians were just about to enter. One was Gavin Elhalyn, second only to Auster in position in the Tower. He was also Carolin’s distant kinsman.

“I must speak with Auster,” Carolin said. “It’s important.”

Gavin frowned, clearly torn between his responsibility and his blood relationship to Carolin. He was
Comyn
and
laranzu,
but Carolin would someday be King.

Lerrys moved into the breach. “Whatever it is can wait, lad. Auster himself summoned us.”

Carolin held back a retort, realizing too late how useless that was. This was, after all, a Tower, where people spoke with their minds as freely as they did with their mouths. He was coming to understand why he had been sent here to Arilinn. It was not just to cultivate his modest
laran,
but to groom him for the exacting demands of kingship. At home, he had learned to speak with care; here in the Tower, he would learn to guard his very thoughts.

“It’s all right.” Auster swung the door open. His face looked drained, but not the light in his eyes. “Carlo will only pester us until he has his say. It’s a family trait. The Hasturs have never backed down easily. Come in, all of you, and in a moment I’ll hear the boy out.”

Auster returned to his usual place, a padded armchair. The two other men took up positions inside the door, as if awaiting orders.

As long as he’d thought of Auster as the second cousin of his aunt Ramona Castamir, Carolin had no doubts of success. But now, Auster’s formal crimson robes glowed in the reflected firelight, the remains of a small blaze laid in against the autumn night chill. Carolin remembered this was one of the most powerful men on Darkover, and within these walls, his word was absolute.

There is more than one kind of power,
Carolin told himself,
just as there is more than one kind of truth.

A fourth man waited inside the chambers, shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Carolin did not recognize him, only the subtle richness of his garb, a padded velvet jacket edged with fur, thick woolen breeches above boots of buttery-soft leather, the fine lace at his cuffs and throat, the chain of gold-and-copper links about his neck. Carolin instantly recognized his air of authority.

In a blink, the man’s gaze took him in. Something whis-, pered through Carolin’s mind, wordless. The man’s expression did not change, yet Carolin felt the shift in him, could almost catch his thought,
So this is Hastur’s cub.

Carolin, stung by the undercurrent of animosity, took a moment to study the older man’s face. Was this man an enemy? His tutors had always made it a great point to remember both names and appearances. But no, he could not detect even a hint of familiarity.

In that instant, he picked up a surge of tightly controlled anger.

Neither Auster nor Gavin gave any sign they’d read the man’s thoughts, though the room vibrated with tension.

“It is just as I told you,” the older man said. “My son came on his own accord, without my knowledge or approval.”
And only Aldones knows what trouble will come from this!
“Nothing you can say will alter my decision.”

“You—you are the father of the boy who came to seek admission to the Tower this morning,” Carolin said.

The man inclined his head and answered politely, “I am Felix Ridenow.”

“We thank you for the courtesy of your visit,” Auster said. “And we will, of course, consider all the factors involved in this case.”

“There is nothing to consider,
vai tenerézu.
My son’s ill-considered adventure is over. He returns home with me as planned. I bid you good day.”

Gavin and Lerrys escorted
Dom
Felix from the room with impeccable courtesy and equally unmistakable suspicion.

What was going on here? With a shiver, Carolin knew.

Carolin had been brought up on court intrigue, but had always believed the Towers above those petty maneuverings. The unfairness rankled like poison beneath his skin.

Varzil had been so filled with passion. Even from his perch on the balcony, Carolin had felt it. Varzil had passed the Veil, thus proving his pure Comyn blood, and the kyrri had answered him. They didn’t often do that. And now, for Auster to dismiss his potential, his dedication, to question this dignified man who was his father, all from political motives! It was not just. More than that, it was not honorable.

Auster shifted, gesturing for Carolin to sit. “You are concerned about the Ridenow boy.”

Sitting, Carolin nodded. “I know it’s not my place to question your decisions, but it‘s—it’s wrong to send him away.”

“Wrong?” One eyebrow arched upward, but not in anger.

Carolin, knowing Auster would pick up the emotion behind his thought, if not the exact meaning, lifted his eyes in a direct gaze. “What I mean is—it isn’t fair to not even give him a chance because of his family.”