CHAPTER I


EARLY FROST IN CASTELMOER




The pearly texture of the sky over Castelmoer brought the
message that the first snow of the Small Eclipse Season was
coming early. It was also known as the Season of One Shadow
as the Smaller Face of the HeliĆ was concealed behind the
Greater and would remain concealed for four cextra, 160
days, which this grim season consisted of instead of the
usual two cextra with thirty-seven days each. The breath of
Frost would persist across the Northern Cap until the
dubious Season of Joining when the HeliĆ would become Two
again and the Clime would vacillate between a choice to
freeze further or a choice to thaw. Occasionally a mild thaw
would settle in during the ensuing Great Eclipse Season with
spells of warm weather but more often than not the frost in
the North would hold sway until the blossoming of a New
Cycle with Tyro Season.

For now, the cold was consolidating in Castelmoer and for
Eirini sitting pensively at a table in the roadside
brasserie the early coming of the grim season was a
harbinger of unsettling days. She had not touched her glass
of wine and her thoughts were far away in a world of their
own, her emotions a tug of war between hope and doubt.

It felt as if epochs had passed since she last saw Eugene.
Theirs was a friendship that had started off at a time when
they were studying together at the Academia of Complex
Computer Language, fellow students finding pleasure in each
other's company and fostering a relationship that had
gradually burgeoned into affection, at times sparkling but
never really going deeper and beyond. A caress with the
hand, a tender word had made what they had between them so
worthwhile, but then all of a sudden all fancies had run dry
and enchantment had shrivelled up like a disease-ridden
plant. Over the cycles they had only seen each other at
sporadic intervals, encounters becoming few and far between
as time lengthened and at a certain point every line of
communication had tapered off into a complete blank.

Still Eirini was expecting his call, a call that never came.
Eugene was hardly a nondescript personality and through
business enterprise channels she could easily follow his
exploits and new ventures into unexplored lands. He seemed
to keep himself frightfully busy, a Mining Councillor with
so many things on his mind, and nearly always absent from
Phylee-Patre. Nonetheless, his mother still lived in their
old Blue Villa on the edge of the meadows, a charming
cottage that Eirini avoided at all costs. To say that Dama
Anjelie frowned on their relationship was an understatement.

Still Eirini had kept her faith with Eugene, thinking only
of his warm eyes and his kind smile and so shaping her in
the course of time into a person of strength but who was
often alone, with no shoulder to lean on, not even her own
father's.

If it were not for her father, Eirini would have left
Castelmoer long ago and spread her wings far and wide.
Indecisive Cestor Vrillenar, who could not bring himself
even to choose a fulfilling profession and break away from
the meaningless drudgery as Assembler of computer parts,
meaningless only in his daughter's eyes who was of the
opinion that his talents would achieve far more elsewhere.
As time went by, Cestor Vrillenar clung to his daily tasks
and when he went into early retirement because of ill
health, he clung to his daughter to provide him with his
daily demands. Demands that were quite insignificant in his
eyes; his favourite pastries at breakfast, a bottle of good
wine at dinnertime and gourmet meals on special days.

But, events beyond their reckoning disrupted the monotony of
their lifestyle in a most dramatic way. First, Eirini made
the disturbing discovery that the Sharys Villa had been
deserted, all curtains drawn during the day, not a single
light burning at night, and the little garden wilting to an
uncared waste. Like her son, Dama Anjelie had gone to shores
unknown. Then, the catastrophic storm that had struck Myaron
made headlines all over Phylee-Patre and beyond. In between
the news lines also came the announcement of Eugene's true
identity. Before Eirini had the time to reflect what this
change in Eugene's social status might do to their
friendship, her own life was rocked by a sudden, dizzying
change. And if that was not enough, Eugene reappeared as
abruptly as he had vanished.

Eirini now awaited his arrival at the brasserie with a
fluttering heart and her mind far removed from her
surroundings. This first meeting with him after more than a
cycle of separation was like pleasant surprise on one part
but a bad omen on the other. When Eugene finally appeared,
he flashed his usual charming smile from the doorway and
quickly came upon her before she found the time to gather
her wits.

"Eirini, dear," he said and warmly steepened fingers.
Speechlessly she took his hands as he sat down and looked at
his face. He appeared healthy and vigorous but paler than
she remembered.

"You have been ill," she said with an underlying tone of
reproach. "Why didn't you get in touch with me?"

"Yes, I haven't been too well but I am all right now," he
confirmed a bit brusquely and continued, "There was no way
of giving you word, Eirini. So many things have happened,
numerous changes have taken place. We are no longer what we
once were."

"I know," Eirini said with slight bitterness, "you are now
Lar Eugene Trevarthen."

Eugene squeezed her hands. "Eirini, listen, even if I am
changed, and that is to say that I have changed my name and
title only, my feelings towards you have not, but we have to
be patient. I need more time. You do agree, don't you, that
to wait a little longer is the best for both of us. And I
have missed you, I really do. Have you missed me?"

He fondly stroked her cheek and she smiled, a little sad.
"Eugene, need I say it? Yes, I have missed you, I have
missed you so much."

He smiled gently back at her. "I feel so sorry that I was
not able to get to you earlier but there were so many
arrangements I have to make and things to attend to."

Eirini understood the impact of this metamorphosis socially
and individually; one could not just become Lar Trevarthen
with a mere whimper. There must have been dramatic turning
points indeed. 'He must have known all along,' she thought
with a sudden twist of the heart. 'He never told me and I
wasn't there to share it with him.' Steeling herself with a
smile, she said. "Tell me what happened."

A frown on his brow darkened his eyes that had hitherto
shone with so much vitality. He said with a trace of
reluctance: "So much has happened that it is impossible to
tell you all the details within a day. And there are some
things I cannot let you know, not just yet. Later, when the
time comes, I will tell you all there is to tell but for
now, there are so many mysteries in this world that
sometimes it is better not to know too much about it. Can
you understand?"

"Yes, I can. I am only thankful that you came out of it
alive and well."

He observed her closely. "I have been selfish. You look so
tired yourself and a lot thinner. How is your father?"

Her wide, dark green on pale gold eyes brightened and she
said, "And I have a story to tell too, but I don't know how
to begin. Did I ever tell that my mother wedded my father
against the wishes of her family? If I haven't then here is
our history, short and sweet. Mother who came from a grand,
old family wedded father without the approval of her elder,
reigning sister and consequently all ties with her kin was
cut off. However, my aunt seemed to have relented and when
she passed away it came to light that she named my mother in
her will and because my mother is dead, a small inheritance
has come my way."

"Eirini, that is marvellous news!"

"Wait, you haven't heard the juiciest part of it. There is a
condition attached to the terms of the will. I have to move
into the castle of my mother's family before I can claim
title to the funds my aunt has left me behind. My cousin, my
aunt's eldest son, as soon as he became aware of our
existence, promptly decided that it has to be just as his
mother willed it. He has left no stone unturned in making
arrangements so that my father and I can live on his estate
for the rest of our lives, if we so wish."

Eirini heaved a sigh and leant back in her chair. "That is
the end of my fairy-tale and here I am, neither rich nor
poor, but living in a grand old castle with fabulous musical
fireplaces and automatic doors!"

"And yet," Eugene said, gazing at her thoughtfully, "you are
not happy. How is your cousin treating you?"

"Oh no, don't blame my cousin. He has been very kind and
very honourable, but there are one or two members of his
household that are a bit queer indeed. What's more, I still
can't believe everything that has happened is for real, that
it is just a dream of some sort and both father and me can
find ourselves back in our old villa in no time."

"I presume that your cousin is a man of very ample means."

"Certainly he is. I forgot to mention that he is the present
Lar Protector of Castelmoer, Huigo Moritz."

Eugene jerked around in his chair. His face grew sombre.
There was even a brief expression of anger but he said
nothing. Eirini put a hand on his arm but he looked away and
stared out of the window. They did not speak for some time.

He turned to face her again, looking weary and a little
paler but he said with a smile that was a bit forced, she
thought, "All in all, I am so happy that things have turned
out so well for you, and for your father. I only wish you
needn't live in Casteltheyne."

Eirini said softly: "Father couldn't be happier elsewhere."

Eugene sighed: "That is to be expected, you cannot trust
anybody anymore nowadays."

"What is it, Eugene? What is troubling you? Please tell me!"

His hazel eyes attentively searched her face and he said in
a slow, serious voice: "Listen well, Eirini, I cannot tell
you what is bothering me but if you should have any problems
or find yourself in peril in Casteltheyne, go immediately to
Ermizgarth. Do not hesitate to ask for Trajan Schurell, the
present Lar Ermiz. He has helped me tremendously and he will
help you. Do not forget his name, my dear and beautiful
Eirini. Time is short, I have to go."

Through a mist of tears Eirini observed Eugene pushing back
his chair and swiftly standing up. He reached out with his
hand and stroked her cheek with a caressing finger, and
without saying another word he was gone.

Eirini remained seated, feeling a great emptiness within.
Nothing that Eugene said or did had reassured her or put
misgivings to rest. True to his nature, he was attentive and
gentle as always, but also true to habit he had stopped
there and not overstepped his self-imposed emotional
boundary. Then why this meeting, breezing in and breezing
out like a fickle Sunder wind in the Small Eclipse. What had
been said that would have made it all a difference? Nothing
new, except that Eugene had mentioned a name--Trajan
Schurell, Lar Ermiz.

She started when she felt someone near her elbow. "Is there
anything more I can do for you, youngslady?" the pronageress
asked kindly, "would you like me to program a fruit pie for
you, the best of the house?"

Eirini darted a glance at her chronodisc, shocked to find
the time so late. She mumbled an excuse and headed towards
the door, struggling into her coat on the doorsteps of the
brasserie. She shook the waves of her shoulder-length hair
in exasperation.

"Only three minutes left to catch the last unit of the Trans
Satellite Express to Larkae," she scolded herself, "how can
I ever make it?"

"Ahhah!" a voice boomed near her ear, "so that is where the
little lady goes for secret rendezvous with her lover. And a
very worthy lover indeed. It would be fun finding out
whether he thinks as much of you as you of him."

"Vitor!" Eirini rapped out, racing down the pavement. "What
are you doing here?"

Vitor sped after her and overtook her, twisting his lean
face into a grimace. "My dear Eirini, if your destination is
the terminal, you should turn back right now."

Eirini ground her heels to a stop, nearly tumbling forwards
and swinging round she retraced her steps to the brasserie.
Behind, Vitor's heavy breathing pursued her and she felt his
hand closing around her arm.

"Slow down a bit, will you. Even if you possess the speed of
spitsoars, you cannot possibly arrive at the terminal in
time."

They eyed each other in the dwindling light of the dusk,
Eirini, breathless with indignation and Vitor, his face
stormy and clouded with some secret frustration.

"Look," he sounded earnest, "I have my aero parked in the
village. Let me float you back unless my lady prefers to
spend the night here."

Eirini shrugged and buried her hands deep into the pockets
of her coat.

Vitor muttered: "I assume that's a 'yes'." He grinned and
offered Eirini his arm. "Come," he coaxed, "drop that
funeral look off your face and be pleasant for once to the
hero who has come to the rescue of a beautiful lady in
distress."

"Vitor, you are impossible!" Eirini cried out but she took
his invitation, permitting him to lead her to where he had
parked his modest, two-seater Skidder aero. In a minute or
so they were up in the air and did not speak to each other.
One hand nonchalantly touching the control panel and the
other lightly resting on the open window Vitor watched his
Skidder swallowing span after span of the trans-county
flytrajectory.

"I don't like your spying on me like this!"

Vitor pursed his lips. "You do have a suspicious mind. I'm
just worried about you."

"Then you admit that you have been following me!" Eirini
lashed out at him.

Vitor, not for once lifting his eyes from the trajectory
before him, answered tonelessly: "I haven't been following
you and nor was I spying on you. The stark fact is that I
perceived an exquisite Affra Supreme parked near my dingy
toy and naturally I had to ask the ultimate question: who is
that illustriousness visiting a drab, little village? I
wasn't at all surprised to observe His Larship leaving the
brasserie but it gave me quite a jolt when you next
appeared."

"Did you really?" Eirini twitched her lips in amusement and
Vitor scowled. "Do you love him, Eirini?"

"It is none of your business, Vitor."

"You have not answered my question."

"I don't intend to."

Vitor hunched his shoulders, rivetting his eyes on an
imaginary target in front of the aero, which shot through
the darkness like a yellow streak. No further words were
exchanged between them during the remainder of the float and
Eirini breathed in relief when the white gravel path leading
to the castle finally glimmered in the distance.

The vehicle slowly glided to a halt in front of the stately
marble staircase of the castle and with quick thrust at the
door Eirini scrambled out. With an even quicker push of his
slim body Vitor slammed his door and was beside her in two
strides. He roughly grabbed her by the arms as if an
uncontrollable desire of Giving had taken hold of him.
Eirini staggered, gasping and he brusquely released her. He
was breathing heavily, his dark hair an untidy mop and his
face grimaced more bitterly than ever.

"I hope, for your sake, that Lar Eugene loves you as much as
you think. I'm only wondering why he couldn't just come and
visit you like any other normal Praecel. Is he ashamed of
you now that he has become Lar Trevarthen?"

"You--," Eirini began, shaking with anger, but Vitor had
already fled into his aero and with a quiet breeze the aero
whipped off into the sanctuary of the night.

* * *

Out of vast Casteltheyne Lar Moritz had allocated to them a
two-storey guesthouse located at the western wing of his
ever-expanding domain. Everything was thrown into their lap
like a neat wrapped-up surprise package of presents; the
small private garden, the none too cheap furniture, the
almost thrust upon comfort and their own domestic assistant
who tended to all their household chores.

"Providence has not been blind to us after all," her father
had beamed. "The inherent kindness of Iucarians has wrought
this small miracle. Let us be thankful to Lar Moritz."

"I am grateful, father," Eirini had dutifully acknowledged,
"especially for you." 'Only for you,' she thought, 'only for
you. Personally I can do without this miracle, this
kindness, this--charity.'

Waking up from a restless night, she kept thinking about
their first days of luxury in Casteltheyne that had felt
like walking in a dream. But the dream had solidified into
reality and the surrounding opulence had not after all burst
like a bubble of illusion. She wished she could feel less
guilty about not feeling more appropriately ecstatic about
their present riches. The servo-controlled Anima-bedsheets
still clung to her body with voluptuous softness but they
gave no consolation and only fostered the loneliness in her
heart.

Finally she stepped out of her bed and the bedroom windows
slid apart upon her touch to let the morning light in.
Voices floated up from the garden below and slightly leaning
over she saw her father enjoying his breakfast under the
morning shine. There was a glimpse of Huigo's curly dark
head bending over his grey one.

She descended the stairs in a dark blue trouser suit, with
her head held high and her lips an unsmiling curve of
pinkness.

"There you are!" her father greeted her. "We thought you
would never come."

"Shine and good health, Huigo," Eirini greeted her cousin.
"You haven't grace us too often with early morning visits."

Her father quickly explained: "Huigo has come over
especially to invite us for dinner tonight with the whole
family."

Eirini picked up a bunch of silver-green crystalcrest grapes
from the fruit basket and hold it indecisively in her hand,
painfully aware how Huigo observed her while he waited for
her response, his eyes brown on light-blue, troubled eyes
that strove to hide his thinking. "That is very kind," she
said non-committally.

"Not at all," Huigo said. "My estate is fast becoming an
overgrown territory with members of the family scattered to
far obscure corners and now and then I feel it necessary to
gather them together. Lunch or dinner is always a perfect
occasion and since I have guests to entertain tonight, it
appears that dinner would be in order this time. Can we
expect you tonight, Eirini?"

Eirini raised her chin. "Yes, you can."

"Splendid! Please bear in mind it is rather a formal
occasion."

Huigo took leave with a gracious bow and as soon as he had
disappeared behind the hedgerow of saffronflush bushes,
Cestor Vrillenar chuckled: "Your cousin is very handsome,
and he has taken a liking to you."

"Nonsense!" Eirini retorted, perhaps a bit sharper than she
would have liked. "Lars like him usually have their sight on
noble-blooded ladies and he is not my type."

"Eirini," her father said playfully, "I don't think you mean
it!"

If her father were somebody else, Eirini would have told him
what she really meant but she only started nibbling away at
her bunch of crystalcrests whose potent juices nearly made
her cough. But her father had not laughed in such a joyful
manner for a long time and she was happy for him, his
happiness that she had to pay with her freedom of choice.

Eirini, with the excuse of catching up on correspondence,
did not accompany her father on his daily morning walk and
retreated to the sanctuary of her bedroom. In a depressive
mood she start fingering her microphraser. "Dear Eugene, why
can't you say what I want you to say with all my heart. Why
all this waiting and secrecy? Is it because you cannot face
up to your mother?"

Eirini sighed, blanked out the mini-screen and started anew:
"Dear Eugene, I am at a loss how to say it, but since we
have been going on for such a long time, don't you think the
time has come to do something definite about it? I cannot
wait any longer. I cannot bear this uncertainty. I believe,
I hope, that you know very well how I feel about you and you
have always held me in great affection, but I can only
assume so much. You have never even once expressed yourself
in clear-cut terms and I can only keep playing the game for
so long. Time is becoming desperately short. I have to know
now rather than later how we stand towards each other."

For a long time she stared at the screen, a long time of
sinking deeper in the satin laps of Casteltheyne, then she
erased the message.

* * *

Just before the antique Telltale downstairs chimed the hour
of the dinner, Eirini heard her father calling from the foot
of the stairs. "I'll be with you in a moment," she called
back, "I'm just putting my tiara on."

She glanced in the mirror and was satisfied. Huigo had
mentioned that it was going to be a formal occasion and she
made sure that she would make a formal appearance, in a
slender black gown, with no accentuating jewellery other
than her face, the green of her eyes and the stones of her
tiara in her auburn hair. She knew she had prepared herself
well when descending the staircase, the little hypocrite of
a domestic gave her one look and nearly dropped the tray she
was holding.

Cestor Vrillenar bubbled over with delight. "My dear, you
look marvellous! Isn't she marvellous?"

The little dom only fluttered her eyelashes once or twice
without speaking and before she could utter one of her snide
remarks, Eirini took her father's arm. "Come, frath, let's
go storm the party."

The Moritz household stood complete; another stark
indication, Eirini thought, of Huigo's iron rule flicking
the jigsaw pieces of his family into their proper places
with one summons for dinner. She detected Vitor in a
far-flung corner with arms crossed across his chest, leaning
morosely against a vestibule, and she made no attempt to
acknowledge him. Neither did he.

She felt relief when she found herself wedged between two
stately matriarchs, purportedly a pair of Huigo's numerous
aristocratic ladyfriends who were reasonably condescending
but refreshingly indifferent. Her father sat at an angle on
the opposite side of the dining table with Marth Olyn,
Vitor's uncle, as his irksome right-hand neighbour. Marth
Olyn sat beside Huigo's proud sister, Deycine and facing her
was Vitor who occasionally flashed her a sardonic leer that
did not seem to ruffle her noble stoic face in the least.
That summed up the immediate members of the Moritz House
besides the other, unknown noble and professional guests.

At dinnertime every seat was occupied except the host's
chair and two others next to it. Huigo appeared five minutes
later with two more of his dinner guests and he made cursory
introductions. Eirini already knew them by sight, the Phycel
was Ronen Wakren, Huigo's comnager and the Dama, Anjelie,
erstwhile Sharys, now Trevarthen.

Dama Anjelie, whose hair and eyes so painfully resembled
Eugene's. Eirini's eyes wandered to her cousin, Huigo,
reigning supreme at the head of the table and keeping the
assembly in control with his stern and well-proportioned
face.

'And yet,' Eirini contemplated, playing with her knife and
hardly enjoying her meal, 'he could be kind.' She still
remembered the day and the moment when he greeted father and
daughter at the foot of the marble stairs. A tall and
square-shouldered Praecel, his powerful stature and the
harshness of his visage had filled her with apprehension.
Then he had smiled and touched fingers with both of them
with unassuming warmth. He had looked happier.

The dinner drew to an end and the assembly breaking up in
small groups sauntered in the direction of the guest hall.
Eirini threw Vitor a tentative look, hoping for some
sympathy but he continued to treat her as air. She stood by
the tall windows that overlooked the garden, grateful that
her father was enjoying the talkativeness of younger guests
and happy for once that everybody was ignoring her.

All that surrounded her radiated wealth and computer
syntheses, the sparkling crystal, the radiant silver, the
magnificent animated tableaus of built-in Simu-fires, fusion
and fission doors and windows, and the mobile food modulars
serving refreshments. The guest hall was brilliantly
illuminated but outside in the garden the night was black
without stars. Affluence surrounded by shadows, that was the
essence of Casteltheyne.

"Eirini Vrillenar," a rich voice sounded near her shoulder,
"we meet in living flesh at last."

Eirini whirled round, staring into Anjelie Trevarthen's
face, who studied her with Eugene's eyes, purposely and
coolly. The message of Anjelie's scrutiny was clear: 'A
pretty face, but what else does my son actually see in her?'

"Lar Huigo has told me so much about his newly acquired
protégés," Anjelie spoke, "he seems to think that you are
highly knowledgeable."

"Indeed," Eirini said.

"Yes, indeed. You are already a Complexor of computer
programming and his opinion is that you will make an
excellent Councillor of Computer Studies." Anjelie's lips
curved slightly at the corners. "Have you ever thought of a
career in that field, or for that matter any other career
worthy of pursuing instead of pursuing impossible dreams of
attaining nobility?"

"I am not pursuing impossible dreams, my Dama, only my right
to live my life and to be with someone I feel for deeply.
And I don't think I am fit to be a councillor."

The Dama narrowed her eyes. "Of course, you are. Don't sell
yourself too short and it is never too late to learn. You
look like an intelligent girl. Why waste your life hoping
and waiting for something which will never happen."

"What do you mean by that, my Dama?"

"I mean," Anjelie answered with a sweep of her hand, "here
you are, under the protection of a generous benefactor, who
means so well and will, as sure as fate, lend you a helping
hand to build up a new life and a career and you don't jump
to it. I would grasp every opportunity that has come my way,
if I were in your shoes and I would not be asking for the
stars, overstepping my social boundaries but stick to what I
have in the palm of my hand. Don't be so ungrateful, my
girl."

Anjelie had spoken lightly, almost amiably, but her eyes
glinted like hard stones and her words struck home with the
force of a blow. Eirini felt her blood rising and with
another careless, sweep Anjelie rested a hand on her
shoulder. The Dama shook her head and clucked her tongue.
"Pull yourself together. You are still young and there are
lots of other suitable young Phycels, or Praecels. Look
around you, there must be some amongst Lar Moritz's guests
who will find you attractive. Go and mingle, my girl! Find
yourself a proper friend, that is my advice and you'd better
heed it."

Anjelie turned with a rustle of her taffeta cape and left.
Eirini turned once again to the view of the garden and
hugged herself in misery, and in anger. Her eyes were
stinging with unbearable discomfort and without further
thought she fled through the parting picture windows into
the encompassing darkness.

It was a perfect night for getting lost, hiding away,
pouring out grief or disappearing for good. She could think
of nothing else. She kept on swiftly, her eyes staring ahead
but seeing nothing. Her shoes caught on to roots and kicked
up clouds of saffronflush blossoms and she walked on without
pausing until she pulled up before the tall, brick wall and
the steel gate at the other end of the garden.

Here her mind began to function again. She remembered how,
on a previous occasion exploring the garden, she had come
upon the same brick wall and was halted by two taciturn
Phycels who politely but firmly told her that no one was
permitted to go beyond the steel gate on the orders of Lar
Moritz. She did not feel inclined to cross the path of those
two again tonight and Eirini turned round.

She froze; a sudden chill crept down her spine as the gate
swung open and a hooded spectre shuffled forward with slow,
laborious steps. The gate closed with a dull thud and the
cloaked figure stopped for an instant, leaning on a cane,
lifting its head towards the sounds of laughter coming from
the castle. It was too dark to see the face.

Eirini remained hidden, holding her hand at her throat,
fearful that even her breathing would give her away, and
then followed the figure who hobbled slowly towards the
fringe of clematis shrubberies that swung around the castle.
Then it seemed to dissolve into the deep shadows of the
walls. For a while, Eirini stood bewildered; there was no
door or opening immediately in sight that could have let any
person into the castle.

The surrounding wood of perigreen trees hovered like square,
watchful phantoms and shivering she fled towards the lights.
She came upon the stone path that led to the Guesthouse and
she trudged up the stairs to her bedroom. Creeping in bed
she sensed neither anger nor sorrow, only a dull weariness
and a determination to find questions to answers tomorrow.
–'I wonder what this Lar Ermiz is like?'--