none

Dezi, so I suppose it is not impossible, but if I have, their mothers haveneglected to inform me of their existence. But I would have welcomed a son, bastard or no.” Abruptly hismind touched Dezi’s; drunkenly, the boy had failed to barricade himself, and in the flood of bitterness Damon understood the one relevant thing, realizing for the first time what lay at the core of Dezi’sbitterness.
    The boy believed himself to be Dom   Esteban’s son, and never acknowledged. But would Esteban havedone that to any son of his, however begotten? Damon wondered. He recalled that Dezi had   laran   .

    Later, when he mentioned this to Domenic the other said, “I don’t believe it. My father is a just man. Heacknowledged his   nedestro   sons by Larissa d’Asturien, and has settled property on them. He has beenas kind to Dezi as to any kinsman, but if Dezi had been his son, he would surely have said so.”
    “He sent him to Arilinn,” Damon argued, “and you know that no one except those of the pure Comyn
    blood may come there. It is not so at the other Towers, but Arilinn—”
    Domenic hesitated. “I will not discuss my father’s doings behind his back,” he said at last, firmly. “Comeand ask him.”
    “Is this the time for such a question?”
    “A wedding is the time for settling questions of legitimacy,” Domenic said firmly, and Damon followed him, thinking that this was very like Domenic, to have such a question settled as soon as it was raised.
    Dom Esteban was sitting on the sidelines, talking to a painfully polite young couple who slipped away todance as his son approached. Domenic asked it bluntly:
    “Father, is Dezi our brother or not?”

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    Esteban Lanart looked down at the wolfskin covering his knees. He said, “It might well be so, my boy.”
    Domenic demanded fiercely, “Why, then, is he not acknowledged?”
    “Domenic, you don’t understand these things, lad. His mother—”
    “A common whore?” Domenic demanded in dismay and disgust.
    “What do you take me for? No, of course not. She was one of my kinswomen. But she…” Oddly, the
    rough old man colored in embarrassment. He said at last, “Well, the poor lass is dead now and cannot be
    shamed further. It was Midwinter festival, and we were all drunk, and she lay that night with me—and
    not with me alone, but with four or five of my cousins. So when she proved to be with child, none of us
    was willing to acknowledge the boy. I’ve done what I could for him, and it’s obvious to look at him that
    he has Comyn blood, but he could have been mine, or Gabriel’s, or Gwynn’s—”
    Domenic’s face was red, but he persisted. “Still, a Comyn son should have been acknowledged.”
    Esteban looked uncomfortable. “Gwynn always said he meant to, but he died before he got around to it. I have hesitated to tell Dezi that story, because I think it would hurt his pride worse than simple bastardy. I do not think he has been ill-used,” he said, defending himself. “I have had him here to live, I sent him to Arilinn. He has had everything of a   nedestro   heir save formal acknowledgment.”
    Damon thought that over as he went back to the dancing. No wonder Dezi was touchy, troubled; heobviously sensed some disgrace which bastardy alone would not have given. It was disgraceful for a girlof good family to be promiscuous that way. He knew Ellemir had had lovers, but she had chosen themdiscreetly and one, at least, had been her sister’s husband, which was long-established custom. Therehad been no scandal. Nor had she risked bearing a child no man would acknowledge.
    When Damon and Domenic had left him, Andrew went moodily to get another drink. He thought, with acertain grimness, that considering what lay ahead of him this night, he might do well to get himself asdrunk as possible. Between the country customs Damon thought so much of a joke, and the knowledgethat he and Callista could not consummate their marriage yet, it was