Free The Sword of Aldones by Marion Zimmer Bradley Page B

dissolve in my brother’s face, then the web of focused thought spread, gleamed, and wove together. Marius’ mind firmed, held, a tangible rock of strength, against my own.
    Alton! Terran blood in his veins—but true Alton, and my brother!
    My sigh of relief caught almost into a sob. There was no need of words, but I spoke anyhow. “All right, brother?”
    “Fine,” he said, and stared at the sword hilt in his hands. “How the hell did I get hold of this thing?”
    I handed him the Sharra matrix. I tensed in the familiar, breathless anticipation of anguish as his hands closed around it; but there was nothing but the familiar sense of rapport. I let my breath go.
    “That’s that,” I said. “Well, Hastur?”
    He made a brief, grave bow to Marius; a formal sign of recognition. Then he said quietly, “You’re in charge.”
    I looked around at the mounted men. “Some of the activated spots are near here,”
    I said, “and the sooner we break them up, the sooner we’re safe. But—” I paused. I’d been so intent on the horror that possessed me, I hadn’t thought to ask for a larger escort of mounted men. Besides the Hasturs, Dyan, Derik and the Ridenow brothers, there were only a scant half dozen guardsmen.
    I said, “Sometimes the trailmen come this close to the Hidden City—”
    “Not since the ‘Narr Campaign,” said Lerrys languidly. His unspoken thought was clear. You and your friends of Sharra stirred them up against us. Then you cleared out, but we did the fighting!
    “Just the same—” I looked up at the thick branches. Was it safe to ride so far with so few? Some of the Trailmen, far in the Hellers, are peaceful arboreal humanoids, no more harmful than so many monkeys. But those who have overflowed from the country around Aldaran, where every sort of human and half-human gathered, are a mixed breed—and dangerous.
    Finally I shrugged. “I’m not afraid if you’re not.”
    Dyan jeered, “You and your brother made a boast, Alton. Are you afraid someone will ask you to fulfil it?”
    Nothing, I knew, would have suited him better than for Marius to break under my mind, and die.
    I raised my eyes at Marius in question. He nodded, and we rode into the shadow of the trees.
    For hours we rode under hanging branches, my mind in acute subliminal concentration on the power spots we could sense through the live crystal. My body and mind were aching with uncomfortable awareness; I wasn’t used to this kind of prolonged mental strain any more—and what was more, I hadn’t been on a horse since I left Darkover. They talk about the power of mind over matter. It doesn’t work that way. A sore backside is just as effective an inhibitor of concentration as anything I know about.
    The red sun had begun to swing downward when I reined in beside Hastur.
    “Listen,” I said, low, “we’re being decoyed. I was fairly sure no one else on Darkover knew I had the matrix, but someone must. Someone’s taking power from the activated spots and drawing us.” He regarded me gravely. “Is that all?” ŽI don’t-“
    He beckoned to Regis; the boy rode up and said, “We’re being followed, Lew. I thought so before; now I’m sure of it. I’ve been in trailman country before this.”
    I glanced up at the thick branches, meeting overhead. Above there, I knew, old tree-roads wound in an endless labyrinth; but in these latitudes, I believed, they had been long deserted.
    “We’re in no shape to meet an armed attack,” the Regent said. He looked uneasily at Regis and Derik, and I followed his thought—my barriers were all down now.
    The whole power of the Comyn is here. One attack, now, could wipe us out. Why did I let them all come, unguarded? And then, a thought he could not conceal, Are these Altons leading us into a trap?
    I gave him a bleak smile, T don’t blame you,” I said. “As it happens, I’m not.
    But if anyone were around who really knew how to handle the Sharra power—I don’t