Heritage Of Hastur

Young Lawton bowed. He had flaming red hair and a look of the Comyn about him. I remembered hearing that his mother had been a woman of the Ardais clan. I wondered if Dyan recognized his kinsman and what he thought about it.

It was strange to think that young Lawton might well have been standing here among the honor guard. My thoughts were wandering; I commanded them back as Hastur spoke.

“I have come to you, Legate, to draw your attention to a grave breach of the Compact on Darkover. It has been brought to my notice that, back in the mountains near Aldaran, a variety of contraband weapons is being openly bought and sold. Not only within the Trade City boundaries there, where your agreement with us allows your citizens to carry what weapons they will, but in the old city of Caer Do

It took all my self-control to keep the impassive face suitable for an honor guard, whose perfect model is a child’s carved toy soldier, neither hearing nor seeing. Would even the Terrans dare to breach the Compact?

I knew now why my father had wanted to be certain no hint of gossip got out. Since the Ages of Chaos, the Darkovan Compact has ba

The Legate’s face betrayed nothing, yet something, some infinitesimal tightening of his eyes and mouth, told me this was no news to him.

“It is not our business to enforce the Compact on Darkover, Lord Hastur. The policy of the Empire is to maintain a completely neutral posture in regard to local disputes. Our dealings in Caer Do

Hastur said with a snap of his jaw, “Aldaran has not been a Comyn Domain for many years, Mr. Ramsay. Nevertheless, the Compact can hardly be called a local decision. While Aldaran is not under our law—”

“So I myself believed, sir,” the Legate said, “and therefore—”

“Forgive me, Mr. Ramsay, I had not yet finished.” Hastur was angry. I tried to keep myself barriered, as any telepath would in a crowd this size, but I couldn’t shut out everything. Hastur’s calm, stern face did not alter a muscle, but his anger was like the distant glow of a forest fire against the horizon. Not yet a danger, but a faraway menace. He said, “Correct me if I am wrong, Mr. Ramsay, but is it not true that when the Empire negotiated to have Darkover given status as a Class D Closed World”—the technical language sounded strange on his tongue, and he seemed to speak it with distaste—“that one condition of the use and lease of the spaceport and the establishment of the cities of Port Chicago, Caer Do

Ramsay said, “We did and we do enforce it in the Comyn Domains and under Comyn law, my lord, at considerable trouble and expense to ourselves. Need I remind you that one of our men was threatened with murder, not long ago, because he was unweaponed and defenseless in a society which expects every man to fight and protect himself?”

Dyan Ardais said harshly, “The episode you mention was u

Reade Andrusson said, “They do not chooseto go weaponless, Lord Ardais. We are forced by the Compact to deprive them of their accustomed weapons.”

Dyan said, “They are allowed by our laws to carry whatever ethical weapons they choose. They ca

The Legate, turning his eyes consideringly on Dyan, said, ‘Their defenselessness, Lord Ardais, is in obedience to our laws. We have a very distinct bias, which our laws reflect, against carving people up with swords and knives.”

Hastur said harshly, “Is it your contention, sir, that a man is somehow less dead if he is shot down from a safe distance without visible bloodshed? Is death cleaner when it comes to you from a killer safely out of reach of his own death?” Even through my own barriers, his pain was so violent, so palpable that it was like a long wail of anguish; I knew he was thinking of his own son, blown to fragments by smuggled contraband weapons, killed by a man whose face he never saw! So intense was that cry of agony that I saw Danilo, impassive behind Lord Edric, flinch and tighten his hands into white-knuckled fists at his sides; my father looked white and shaken; Regis’ mouth moved and he blinked rapidly, and I wondered how even the Terrans could be unaware of so much pain. But Hastur’s voice was steady, betraying nothing to the aliens. “We ba

The Legate said, “That episode was settled long ago, Lord Regent, but I remind you we stood ready to prosecute our man for the killing of your Guardsman. We could not, however, expose him to challenges from the dead man’s family one after another, especially when it was abundantly clear that the Guardsman had first provoked the quarrel.”

“Any man who found provocation in such a trivial occurrence should expect to be challenged,” said Dyan, “but your men hide behind your laws and surrender their own personal responsibility! Murder is a private affair and nothing for the laws!”

The Legate surveyed him with what would have been open dislike, had he been a little less controlled. “Our laws are made by agreement and consensus, and whether you approve of them or not, Lord Ardais, they are unlikely to be amended to make murder a matter of private vendetta and individual duels. But this is not the matter at issue.”

I admired his control, the firm way in which he cut Dyan off. My own barriers, thi

I got my barriers together a little while Hastur silenced Dyan again and reminded him that the incident in question had been settled long since. “Not settled,” Dyan half snarled, “hidden from,” but Hastur firmly cut him off, insisting that there was a more important matter to be settled. By the time I caught up with the discussion again, the Legate was saying:

“Lord Hastur, this is an ethical question, not a legal one at all. We enforce Comyn laws within the jurisdiction of the Comyn. In Caer Do