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word to the cadet-master. That was how sure he was, Regis realized. He had been manipulated, neatly mouse-trapped into doing just exactly what was expected of a Hastur. And he had maneuvered himself into promising three years of it!

CHAPTER FOUR
    (Lew Alton’s narrative)
    The room was bright with daylight. I had slept for hours on the stone seat by the fireplace, cold and cramped. Marius, barefoot and in his nightshirt, was shaking me. He said, “I heard something on the stairs. Listen!” He ran toward the door; I followed more slowly, as the door was flung open and a pair of Guards carried my father into the room. One of them caught sight of me and said, “Where can we take him, Captain?”
    I said, “Bring him in here,” and helped Andres lay him on his own bed. “What happened?” I demanded, staring in dread at his pale, unconscious face.
    â€œHe fell down the stone stairs near the Guard hall,” one of the men said. “I’ve been trying to get those stairs fixed all winter; your father could have broken his neck. So could any of us.”
    Marius came to the bedside, white and terrified. “Is he dead?”
    â€œNothing like it, sonny,” said the Guardsman. “I think the Commander’s broken a couple of ribs and done something to his arm and shoulder, but unless he starts vomiting blood later he’ll be all right. I wanted Master Raimon to attend to him down there, but he made us carry him up here.”
    Between anger and relief, I bent over him. What a time for him to be hurt. The very first day of Council season! As if my tumbling thoughts could reach him—and perhaps they could—he groaned and opened his eyes. His mouth contracted in a spasm of pain.
    â€œLew?”
    â€œI’m here, Father.”
    â€œYou must take call-over in my place. . . .”
    â€œFather, no. There are a dozen others with better right.”
    His face hardened. I could see, and feel, that he was struggling against the pain. “Damn you, you’ll go! I’ve fought . . . whole Council . . . for years. You’re not going to throw away all my work . . . because I take a damn silly tumble. You have a right to deputize for me and, damn you, you’re going to!”
    His pain tore at me; I was wide open to it. Through the clawing pain I could feel his emotions, fury and a fierce determination, thrusting his will on me. “You will !”
    I’m not Alton for nothing. Swiftly I thrust back, fighting his attempt to force agreement. “There’s no need for that, Father. I’m not your puppet!”
    â€œBut you’re my son,” he said violently, and it was like a storm, as his will pressed hard on me. “My son and my second in command, and no one, no one is going to question that!”
    His agitation was growing so great, that I realized I could argue no further without harming him seriously.
    I had to calm him somehow. I met his enraged eyes squarely and said, “There’s no reason to shout at me. I’ll do what you like, for now at least. We’ll argue it out later.”
    His eyes fell shut, whether with exhaustion or pain I could not tell. Master Raimon, the hospital-officer of the Guards, came into the room, moving swiftly to his side. I made room for him. Anger, fatigue and loss of sleep made my head pound. Damn him! Father knew perfectly well how I felt! And he didn’t give a damn!
    Marius was still standing, frozen, watching in horror as Master Raimon began to cut away my father’s shirt. I saw great, purple, blood-darkened bruises before I drew Marius firmly away. “There’s nothing much wrong with him,” I said. “He couldn’t shout that loud if he was dying. Go get dressed, and keep out of the way.”
    The child went obediently and I stood in the outer room, rubbing my fists over my face in dismay and confusion. What time was it? How long had I slept? Where was Regis?