The World Wreckers Read Free Page A

Edric dead from a strange dirk; Lord Jerome of the Elhalyns dead in his own study and no man's footprints in the snow; three of
    the Aillard women dead in mishandled childbirth and the midwives dying of poison before they could be
    questioned; and—the gods deal with me for speaking of it—your two children."
    Regis' face, hard before, was bleak now, for although he had fathered the children without any love for
    their mothers, as a sworn duty to his caste, he had cared deeply for the two sons found dead in their cribs
    —from sudden illness, they said—not three months ago. He said, and the terrible control in his voice
    was worse than tears, "What can I do, Dani? Must I see a murderer's hand or the hand of conspiracy in every blow of fate?"
    "It will be worse for you if you don't than if you do, Lord Regis," said Danilo, but the deep compassion in his voice belied the harshness of the words. He added, still harshly, "You've had a shock. You'd better get along home. Your mourning at Lord Edric's funeral, such mourning as anyone could summon up for
    such as he, won't do his memory half as much good as you guarding your life to look after his
    womenfolk and people!"
    Regis' mouth thinned. "I doubt if they have spare murderers in reserve on one day," was all he said. But he went with Danilo, not protesting further.
    So it was a war, then, a complex conspiracy against the telepath caste.
    But who was the enemy, and why?
    Isolated incidents like this had never been uncommon on Darkover, although it was more common for
    an assassin to file what was known as an intent-to-murder; this placed it nominally under the age-old
    duello code of Darkover and the slayer enjoyed immunity; a slaying in fair duel was no murder.
    His lip curled faintly. He had carefully avoided embroiling himself in any of the warring alignments and
    factions on Darkover ever since he knew that Derik Elhalyn, nearest heir to the rulership of Comyn
    Council, was mad and could not take office.
    Thus, no living man on Darkover could justly claim that Regis Hastur of Hastur had wronged him.
    Furthermore, as Danilo had reminded him, there were few who could match him in the use of any legal
    dueling weapons.
    Who, then? Some of their own people who wanted the Comyn, with its complex hierarchy of telepaths
    and psi talents, out of the way?
    Or, the Terrans?
    Well, that he could verify at once.
    Shortly after he had assumed the position as chief liaison man between the Terrans and his own people,
    he had come to live in a house near the edge of the Terran Zone. It was a compromise and he hated it;
    neither a Terran residence, which, although boxy and cramped, had at least comfort and convenience,
    nor a Darkovan one, with space and air and the absence of separating walls, though essentially
    comfortless. It was further still from anything like the feel of Castle Hastur where he had spent most of his childhood.
    He detested, with a loathing so completely culture bound that it was almost inborn, almost all of the
    artifacts of Terran Empire technology and using them daily was one of the most suffocating handicaps
    of his liaison position. Making an average visiphone call was a process made lengthier by the need for
    overcoming his revulsion and he made it as brief as he could.
    "Trade City Headquarters; Section Eight, Medical Research."
    When the screen had cleared he requested, "Department of Alien Anthropology," and when that went through he asked for Doctor Jason Allison, and finally the face of a young man, restrained but pleasant,
    took form before him.
    "Lord Regis. An unexpected pleasure. What can I do for you?"
    "Forget the formalities, for one thing," Regis said. "You've known me too long for that. But can you come and see me here?"
    He could have asked his question easily enough on the screen and been answered. But Regis was a
    telepath and had learned young to rely, not on the words of an answer or the face of the speaker, but on
    the "feel" of the answer.