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Authors: Marion Zimmer Bradley
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the dignity of your position― folk would look at it and know that you were Duchess of Hammerfell."
"What, If" Erminie could not help laughing at the thought, but then she saw her son's face and realized that she had hurt his feelings.
"I need no such dignities, my boy. It is quite enough for me to be a Tower worker, a technician; do you even know what that means?" she asked with a touch of aggravation.
And again she remembered her dream; why, if he was all but devoid of laran, should she see him again and again in dreams that way? Was Valentine right? Was she keeping him too close to her skirts―unhealthily close? But no, she had encouraged him to live his own life, and saw little of him from one week's beginning to the next. She recalled the time a year ago, when he had told her he had been refused for Tower
training; it was only then that Erminie had told him he had been born with a twin brother who had perished in the flames that burned Hammerfell, and that he was evidently the twin with lesser ability. He had said then with anger that he could not regret having lost a brother "who robbed me of my share of an ability which means so much to you, Mother."
"You should not begrudge your brother that," she had told him, "since the title of Duke and Heirship of Hammerfell came to you who were first-born, he needed to have
something special as well." Then she drew his attention for the first time to the small and inconspicuous tattoo of Hammerfell which marked his shoulder.
"This was set here to distinguish you from your twin; it proclaims you everywhere as the rightly born Heir to the Great House and estate of Hammerfell, true Duke of that line,"
she had told him.
The group of brightly dressed nobles made their way through the crowd thronging the square. Erminie, as a Tower technician, was known to most of them, and the young
Duke of Hammerfell was well-known, too. There were bows and curtsies, and the
commoners surrounding the square hoping for entrance to the performance―for, by
long custom, none of the common seats could be sold until all the nobles were
placed―watched the high-born gentry, and called out to them.
As one of the young women passed, Alastair tugged unobtrusively at his mother's sleeve.
"Mother, do you see the fair-haired young woman in the white robe?" he whispered, and Erminie sought with her eyes for the girl he pointed out.
"I do know her, she said softly in surprise.
"You do?" " He was equally surprised; he had no idea who she was, but knew that he had to meet her―she was the loveliest girl he had ever seen.
"Why, yes; and so do you, my son; she is your cousin Floria. When you were children, you played together almost every day."
"Floria!" he said in astonishment, "I remember chasing her around the garden with a snake, and teasing her―I would never have known her! She is beautiful!"
"It was for that Edric came to the house today," Erminie said. "He wishes me to chaperone her during Council season."
"I would willingly assume that task myself!" Alastair said, laughing. "I have heard that the plainest girls grow up to be the most beautiful! But my cousin Floria!" He looked stunned, completely disbelieving.
"She is the daughter of our Keeper and thus is not allowed to work within his circle; she went to Neskaya for training, but now she has returned to her father's house, awaiting a place in one of the other circles here."
"If she were a milkmaid, or a silk-weaver, I would still think her the most beautiful woman I have ever known," he declared. "Floria," he repeated the name almost reverently. "I doubt that Cassilda of the legends, who was loved by Hastur, could have been any more beautiful than she."
"She is young still, but in a year or two Edric will probably be entertaining offers for her hand."
"Hmm," Alastair murmured. "I must be the luckiest man alive! She is available, kin to us, and she has
laran. Do you think she will remember me, Mother? Do you think I have a
"What, If" Erminie could not help laughing at the thought, but then she saw her son's face and realized that she had hurt his feelings.
"I need no such dignities, my boy. It is quite enough for me to be a Tower worker, a technician; do you even know what that means?" she asked with a touch of aggravation.
And again she remembered her dream; why, if he was all but devoid of laran, should she see him again and again in dreams that way? Was Valentine right? Was she keeping him too close to her skirts―unhealthily close? But no, she had encouraged him to live his own life, and saw little of him from one week's beginning to the next. She recalled the time a year ago, when he had told her he had been refused for Tower
training; it was only then that Erminie had told him he had been born with a twin brother who had perished in the flames that burned Hammerfell, and that he was evidently the twin with lesser ability. He had said then with anger that he could not regret having lost a brother "who robbed me of my share of an ability which means so much to you, Mother."
"You should not begrudge your brother that," she had told him, "since the title of Duke and Heirship of Hammerfell came to you who were first-born, he needed to have
something special as well." Then she drew his attention for the first time to the small and inconspicuous tattoo of Hammerfell which marked his shoulder.
"This was set here to distinguish you from your twin; it proclaims you everywhere as the rightly born Heir to the Great House and estate of Hammerfell, true Duke of that line,"
she had told him.
The group of brightly dressed nobles made their way through the crowd thronging the square. Erminie, as a Tower technician, was known to most of them, and the young
Duke of Hammerfell was well-known, too. There were bows and curtsies, and the
commoners surrounding the square hoping for entrance to the performance―for, by
long custom, none of the common seats could be sold until all the nobles were
placed―watched the high-born gentry, and called out to them.
As one of the young women passed, Alastair tugged unobtrusively at his mother's sleeve.
"Mother, do you see the fair-haired young woman in the white robe?" he whispered, and Erminie sought with her eyes for the girl he pointed out.
"I do know her, she said softly in surprise.
"You do?" " He was equally surprised; he had no idea who she was, but knew that he had to meet her―she was the loveliest girl he had ever seen.
"Why, yes; and so do you, my son; she is your cousin Floria. When you were children, you played together almost every day."
"Floria!" he said in astonishment, "I remember chasing her around the garden with a snake, and teasing her―I would never have known her! She is beautiful!"
"It was for that Edric came to the house today," Erminie said. "He wishes me to chaperone her during Council season."
"I would willingly assume that task myself!" Alastair said, laughing. "I have heard that the plainest girls grow up to be the most beautiful! But my cousin Floria!" He looked stunned, completely disbelieving.
"She is the daughter of our Keeper and thus is not allowed to work within his circle; she went to Neskaya for training, but now she has returned to her father's house, awaiting a place in one of the other circles here."
"If she were a milkmaid, or a silk-weaver, I would still think her the most beautiful woman I have ever known," he declared. "Floria," he repeated the name almost reverently. "I doubt that Cassilda of the legends, who was loved by Hastur, could have been any more beautiful than she."
"She is young still, but in a year or two Edric will probably be entertaining offers for her hand."
"Hmm," Alastair murmured. "I must be the luckiest man alive! She is available, kin to us, and she has
laran. Do you think she will remember me, Mother? Do you think I have a
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