Read Online A World Divided by Marion Zimmer Bradley - Free Book Online Page B

Hastur came and looked over his shoulder, then turned away and began examining the darts. He drew back his arm and tossed one accurately into the target. Valdir put the book down and looked up at Larry.
    “I was sure that you would be able to come today.”
    “I wanted to. But I may not be able to come again,” Larry said.
    Valdir’s eyes were narrowed, curious: “Too dangerous?”
    “No,” said Larry, “that doesn’t bother me. It’s that my father would rather I didn’t.” He stopped; he didn’t want to discuss his father, or seem to complain about his father’s unreasonableness. That was something between his father and himself, not to be shared with outsiders. The conflict touched him again with sadness. He liked Kennard so much better than any of the friends he had made in Quarters, and yet this friendship must be given up almost before it had a chance to be explored. He took up one of the darts and turned it, end for end, in his hand; then flung it at the target board, missing his aim. Lorill Hastur turned and faced him again.
    “How is it that you were willing to risk trouble and even punishment to come today, Larry?”
    It did not occur to Larry to wonder—not until much later—how the Elder had known his name, or the inner conflict that had forced a choice on him. Just then it seemed natural that this old man with the searching eyes knew everything about him. But he still wasn’t ready to sound disloyal.
    “I didn’t have a chance to make him understand. He would have realized why I had to come.”
    “And breaking your word would have been an insult,” Lorill Hastur said gravely. “It is part of the code of a man to make his own choices.”
    He smiled at the boys, and turned, without formal leavetaking. Valdir took a step to follow him, turned back to Larry.
    “You are welcome here at any time.”
    “Thank you, sir. But I’m afraid I won’t be able to come again. Not that I wouldn’t like to.”
    Valdir smiled. “I respect your choice. But I have a feeling we’ll meet again.” He followed Lorill Hastur out of the room.
    Alone with Kennard, Larry found room for wonder. “How did he know so much about me?”
    “The Hastur-Lord? He’s a telepath, of course. What else?” Kennard said, matter-of-factly, his face buried in a book of views taken in deep space. “What sort of camera do they use for this? I never have been able to understand how a camera works?”
    And Larry, explaining the principle of sensitized film to Kennard, felt an amused, ironic surprise. Telepath, of course! And to Kennard this was the commonplace and something like a camera was exotic and strange. It was all in the point of view.
    Far too soon, the declining sun told him it was time to go. He refused Kennard’s urgings to stay longer. He did not want his father to be frightened at his absence. Also, at the back of his mind, was a memory like a threat—if he was missing, might his father set the machinery of the Terran Empire into motion to locate him, bring down trouble on his friends? Kennard went a little way with him, and at the corner of the street paused, looking at him rather sadly.
    “I don’t like to say goodbye, Larry,” he said. “I like you. I wish—”
    Larry nodded, a little embarrassed, but sharing the emotion. “Maybe we’ll see each other again,” he said, and held out his hand. Kennard hesitated, long enough for Larry to feel first offended, then worried for fear he had committed some breach of Darkovan manners; then, deliberately, the Darkovan boy reached both hands and took Larry’s between them. Larry did not know for years how rare a gesture this was in the Darkovan caste to which the Altons belonged. Kennard said softly, “I won’t say good-bye. Just—good luck.”
    He turned swiftly and walked away without looking back.
    Larry turned his steps toward home, in the lowering mist. As he moved between the dark canyons of the streets, his feet steadying themselves automatically on