Heritage and Exile
Marion Zimmer Bradley
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO - (Lewis-Kennard Montray-Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO - (Lew Alton’s narrative)
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR - (Lew Alton’s narrative concluded)
SHARRA’S EXILE
BOOK ONE - The Exile
BOOK TWO: - The Form of Fire
BOOK THREE - The Hastur Gift
EPILOGUE
The Critics Hail Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover Novels:
“A rich and highly colored tale of politics and magic, courage and pressure . . . Topflight adventure in every way!”
—Lester Del Rey for Analog (for THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR)
“May well be [Bradley’s] masterpiece.”
—New York Newsday (for THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR)
“Literate and exciting.”
—New York Times Book Review (for CITY OF SORCERY)
“Suspenseful, powerfully written, and deeply moving.”
—Library Journal (for STORMQUEEN!)
“A warm, shrewd portrait of women from different backgrounds working together under adverse conditions.”
—Publishers Weekly (for CITY OF SORCERY)
“I don’t think any series novels have succeeded for me the way Marion Zimmer Bradley’s Darkover novels did.”
—Locus (general)
“Delightful . . . a fascinating world and a great read.”
—Locus (for EXILE’S SONG)
“Darkover is the essence, the quintessence, my most personal and best-loved work.”
—Marion Zimmer Bradley
A Reader’s Guide to the Novels of Darkover
THE FOUNDING
A “lost ship” of Terran origin, in the pre-empire colonizing days, lands on a planet with a dim red star, later to be called Darkover.
DARKOVER LANDFALL
THE AGES OF CHAOS
A thousand years after the original landfall settlement, society has returned to the feudal level. The Darkovans, their Terran technology renounced or forgotten, have turned instead to freewheeling, out-of-control matrix technology, psi powers and terrible psi weapons. The populace lives under the domination of the Towers and a tyrannical breeding program to staff the Towers with unnaturally powerful, inbred gifts of laran.
STORMQUEEN!
HAWKMISTRESS!
THE HUNDRED KINGDOMS
An age of war and strife retaining many of the decimating and disastrous effects of the Ages of Chaos. The lands which are later to become the Seven Domains are divided by continuous border conflicts into a multitude of small, belligerent kingdoms, named for convenience “The Hundred Kingdoms.” The close of this era is heralded by the adoption of the Compact, instituted by Varzil the Good. A landmark and turning point in the history of Darkover, the Compact bans all distance weapons, making it a matter of honor that one who seeks to kill must himself face equal risk of death.
TWO TO CONQUER
THE HEIRS OF HAMMERFELL
THE FALL OF NESKAYA
THE RENUNCIATES
During the Ages of Chaos and the time of the Hundred Kingdoms, there were two orders of women who set themselves apart from the patriarchal nature of Darkovan feudal society: the priestesses of Avarra, and the warriors of the Sisterhood of the Sword. Eventually these two independent groups merged to form the powerful and legally chartered Order of Renunciates or Free Amazons, a guild of women bound only by oath as a sisterhood of mutual responsibility. Their primary allegiance is to each other rather than to family, clan, caste or any man save a temporary employer. Alone among Darkovan women, they are exempt from the usual legal restrictions and protections. Their reason for existence is to provide the women of Darkover an alternative to their socially restricted lives.
THE SHATTERED CHAIN
THENDARA HOUSE
CITY OF SORCERY
AGAINST THE TERRANS —THE FIRST AGE (Recontact)
After the Hastur Wars, the Hundred Kingdoms are consolidated into the Seven Domains, and ruled by a hereditary aristocracy of seven families, called the Comyn, allegedly descended from the legendary Hastur, Lord of Light. It is during this era that the Terran Empire, really a form of confederacy, rediscovers Darkover, which they know as the fourth planet of the Cottman star system. The fact that Darkover is a lost colony of the Empire is not easily or readily acknowledged by Darkovans and their Comyn overlords.
REDISCOVERY (with Mercedes Lackey)
THE SPELL SWORD
THE FORBIDDEN TOWER
STAR OF DANGER
THE WINDS OF DARKOVER
AGAINST THE TERRANS —THE SECOND AGE (After the Comyn)
With the initial shock of recontact beginning to wear off, and the Terran spaceport a permanent establishment on the outskirts of the city of Thendara, the younger and less traditional elements of Darkovan society begin the first real exchange of knowledge with the Terrans—learning Terran science and technology and teaching Darkovan matrix technology in turn. Eventually Regis Hastur, the young Comyn lord most active in these exchanges, becomes Regent in a provisional government allied to the Terrans. Darkover is once again reunited with its founding Empire.
THE BLOODY SUN
HERITAGE OF HASTUR
THE PLANET SAVERS
SHARRA’S EXILE
WORLD WRECKERS
EXILE’S SONG
THE SHADOW MATRIX
TRAITOR’S SUN
THE DARKOVER ANTHOLOGIES
These volumes of stories edited by Marion Zimmer Bradley strive to “fill in the blanks” of Darkovan history, and elaborate on the eras, tales and characters which have captured readers’ imaginations.
THE KEEPER’S PRICE
SWORD OF CHAOS
FREE AMAZONS OF DARKOVER
THE OTHER SIDE OF THE MIRROR
RED SUN OF DARKOVER
FOUR MOONS OF DARKOVER
DOMAINS OF DARKOVER
RENUNCIATES OF DARKOVER
LERONI OF DARKOVER
TOWERS OF DARKOVER
MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY’S DARKOVER
SNOWS OF DARKOVER
DARKOVER NOVELS IN OMNIBUS EDITIONS
HERITAGE AND EXILE
omnibus:
The Heritage of Hastur / Sharra’s Exile
THE AGES OF CHAOS1
omnibus:
Stormqueen! / Hawkmistress!
THE SAGA OF THE RENUNCIATES1
omnibus:
The Shattered Chain / Thendara House / City of Sorcery
THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR
Copyright © 1975 by Marion Zimmer Bradley
SHARRA’S EXILE
Copyright © 1981 by Marion Zimmer Bradley
Chapter Two of Book One of SHARRA’S EXILE appeared in a
slightly different form, as a short story ent
itiled “Blood Will
Tell” in THE KEEPER’S PRICE, edited by
Marion Zimmer Bradley, DAW 1980.
HERITAGE AND EXILE
Copyright © 2002 by The Marion Zimmer Bradley
Literary Works Trust
All Rights Reserved.
DAW Book Collectors No. 1220.
DAW Books are distributed by Penguin Putnam Inc.
All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
First Paperback Printing, April
DAW TRADEMARK REGISTERED U.S. PAT. OFF. AND FOREIGN COUNTRIES —MARCA REGISTRADA
eISBN : 978-1-101-15749-7
HECHO EN U.S.A.
S.A.
http://us.penguingroup.com
THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR
For Jaqueline Lichtenberg Who convinced me that this book could and should be written, and kept after me until (and while) I wrote it.
SHARRA’S EXILE
To Walter Breen, whose extensive knowledge of the Darkover Universe is “extensive and peculiar” and to our son Patrick Breen, who read this page by page as it emerged from the typewriter, sometimes actually reading it over my shoulder as I wrote, in his eagerness to find out what happened next.
Thanks!
THE HERITAGE OF HASTUR
A Note From The Author
To the faithful followers of the chronicles of Darkover, whose greatest delight seems to be discovering even the most minute inconsistencies from book to book:
This book tells a story which a great many of the friends of Darkover have asked me to tell—the story of the early life of Regis Hastur, and of the Sharra rising, and of Lew Alton’s first encounter with Marjorie Scott and the man who called himself Kadarin.
The faithful followers mentioned above will discover a very few minute inconsistencies between the account herein, and the story as Lew Alton told it later. I make no apology for these. The only explanation I can make is that in the years which elapsed between the events in this book, and the later novel dealing with the final destruction of the Sharra matrix, Lew’s memories of these events may have altered his perceptions. Or, as I myself believe, the telepaths of the Arilinn Tower may have mercifully blurred his memories, to save his reason.
MARION ZIMMER BRADLEY
CHAPTER ONE
As the riders came up over the pass which led down into Thendara, they could see beyond the old city to the Terran spaceport. Huge and sprawling, ugly and unfamiliar to their eyes, it spread like some strange growth below them. And all around it, ringing it like a scab, were the tightly clustered buildings of the Trade City which had grown between old Thendara and the spaceport.
Regis Hastur, riding slowly between his escorts, thought that it was not as ugly as they had told him in Nevarsin. It had its own beauty, an austere beauty of steel towers and stark white buildings, each for some alien and unknown purpose. It was not a cancer on the face of Darkover, but a strange and not unbeautiful garment.
The central tower of the new headquarters building faced the Comyn Castle, which stood across the valley, with an unfortunate aspect. It appeared to Regis that the tall sky-scraper and the old stone castle were squared off and facing one another like two giants armed for combat.
But he knew that was ridiculous. There had been peace between the Terran Empire and the Domains all of his lifetime. The Hasturs made sure of it.
But the thought brought him no comfort. He was not much of a Hastur, he considered, but he was the last. They would make the best of him even though he was a damned poor substitute for his father, and everyone knew it. They’d never let him forget it for a minute.
His father had died fifteen years ago, just a month before Regis had been born. Rafael Hastur had at thirty-five already shown signs of being a strong statesman and leader, deeply loved by his people, respected even by the Terrans. And he had been blown to bits in the Kilghard Hills, killed by contraband weapons smuggled from the Terran Empire. Cut off in the full strength of his youth and promise, he had left only an eleven-year-old daughter and a fragile, pregnant wife. Alanna Elhalyn-Hastur had nearly died of the shock of his death. She had clung fitfully to life only because she knew she was carrying the last of the Hasturs, the longed-for son of Rafael. She had lived, racked with grief, just long enough for Regis to be born alive; then, almost with relief, she had laid her life down.
And after losing his father, after all his mother went through, Regis thought, all they got was him, not the son they would have chosen. He was strong enough physically, even good-looking, but curiously handicapped for a son of the telepathic caste of the Domains, the Comyn. A nontelepath. At fifteen, if he had inherited laran power, he would have shown signs of it.
Behind him, he heard his bodyguards talking in low tones.
“I see they’ve finished their headquarters building. Hell of a place to put it, within a stone’s throw of Comyn Castle.”
“Well, they started to build it back in the Hellers, at Caer Donn. It was old Istvan Hastur, in my grandsire’s time, who made them move the spaceport to Thendara. He must have had his reasons.”
“Should have left it there, away from decent folk!”
“Oh, the Terrans aren’t all bad. My brother keeps a shop in the Trade City. Anyway, would you want the Terranan back in the hills, where those mountain bandits and the damned Aldarans could deal with them behind our backs?”
“Damned savages,” the second man said. “They don’t even observe the Compact back there. You see them in the Hellers, wearing their filthy cowards’ weapons.”
“What would you expect of the Aldarans?” They lowered their voices, and Regis sighed. He was used to it. He put constraint on everyone, just by being what he was: Comyn and Hastur. They probably thought he could read their minds. Most Comyn could.
“Lord Regis,” said one of his guards, “there’s a party of riders coming down the northward road carrying banners. They must be the party from Armida, with Lord Alton. Shall we wait for them and ride together?”
Regis had no particular desire to join another party of Comyn lords, but it would have been an unthinkable breach of manners to say so. At Council season all the Domains met together at Thendara; Regis was bound by the custom of generations to treat them all as kinsmen and brothers. And the Altons were his kinsmen.
They slackened pace and waited for the other riders. They were still high on the slopes, and he could see past Thendara to the spread-out spaceport itself. A great distant sound, like a faraway waterfall, made the ground vibrate like thunder, even where he stood. A tiny toylike form began to rise far out on the spaceport, slowly at first, then faster and faster. The sound peaked to a faint scream; the shape was a faraway streak, a dot, was gone.
Regis let his breath go. A starship of the Empire, outward bound for distant worlds, distant suns. . . . Regis realized his fists had clenched so tightly on the reins that his horse tossed its head, protesting. He slackened them and gave the horse an absentminded, apologetic pat on the neck. His eyes were still riveted on the spot in the sky where the starship had vanished.
Outward bound, free for the immeasurable immensities of space, the ship was headed to worlds whose wonders he, chained down here, could never guess. His throat felt tight. He wished he were not too old to cry, but the heir to Hastur could not make any display of unmanly emotion in public. He wondered why he was getting so worked up about this, but he knew the answer: that ship was going where he could never go.
The riders from the pass were nearer now; Regis could identify some of them. Next to his bannerman rode Kennard, Lord Alton, a stooped, heavy-set man with red hair going gray. Except for Danvan Hastur, Regent of the Comyn, Kennard was probably the most powerful man in the Seven Domains. Regis had known Kennard all his life; as a child, he had called him uncle. Behind him, among a whole assembly of kinsmen, servants, bodyguards and poor relations, he saw the banner of the Ardais Domain, so Lord Dyan must be with them.
“Old Kennard can face anything, and make Hastur like it,” returned the other man in a prison-yard mutter. “Anyway, young Lew’s not a bastard; Kennard got him legitimated so he could work in the Arilinn Tower. The younger one—” The guard saw Regis glance his way and he stiffened; the expression slid off his face as if a sponge had wiped it blank.
Damn it, Regis thought irritably, I can’t read your mind, man, I’ve just got good, normal ears. But in any case, he realized, he had overheard an insolent remark about a Comyn lord, and the guard would have been embarrassed about that. There was an old proverb: The mouse in the walls may look at a cat, but he is wise not to squeak about it.
Regis, of course, knew the old story. Kennard had done a shocking, even a shameful thing: he had taken, in honorable marriage, a half-Terran woman, kin to the renegade Domain of Aldaran. Comyn Council had never accepted the marriage or the sons. Not even for Kennard’s sake.
Kennard rode toward Regis. “Greetings, Lord Regis. Are you riding to Council?”
Regis felt exasperated at the obviousness of the question—where else would he be going, on this road, at this season?—until he realized that the formal words implied recognition as an adult. He replied, with equally formal courtesy, “Yes, kinsman, my grandsire has requested that I attend council this year.”
