Poul Anderson by Mirkheim

Author:Mirkheim
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2011-11-24T13:25:54+00:00

Sandra’s eastbound flight kept her near the Palomino River, which shone like a saber drawn across the lowlands. They were an agrarian property of the Runeberg domain. At the present season, the summer green of pastures was fading; but even from her altitude, the herds that grazed them were majestic. Opulent grainfields mingled with orchards and groves. Houses belonging to Follower families in charge of various sections stood snug beneath their red tiles, amidst their gardens. Afar she glimpsed the mansion of the Runebergs themselves. She had visited there and remembered well its gracious rooms, ancestral portraits, immensity of tradition, and children’s laughter for a sign that new life was ever bubbling up from beneath these things.

Not for the first time, a moment’s wistfulness touched her. To be born into the Kindred, the thousand families who headed the domains … Her descent went back as far as theirs; her forebears had also been among the first passengers from Earth. It was almost an accident that the early-Tamarins had not founded a corporation to tame a particular part of this world. Instead, they had mostly been scientists, technicians, consultants, explorers, teachers: freelances.

Too late to change, she thought. When the constitution of an independent Hermes was written, it specified that the chief executives would be of Tamarin birth but that the Tamarins should have no domain: a lonely glory.

could have refused election, she recalled. Why didn’t I? Well, pride, and … and Pete was there, my consort, to help me. But supposing he ‘d not been … well, had I refused, I’d have become like any other Tamarin who’s not made Grand Duke or Duchess, I’d have had my living to earn as best I could—a Traver in all but name and, yes, in having a vote. Defensively, as if an accuser from that class confronted her in yet another public debate: And what’s so bad about Traver status? Comes the word not simply from travailleur, worker, descendant of latecomers, a hireling or an unaffiliated businessman ?p>

I might have joined a family of the Kindred by marrying into it. That would have been best. She could have gotten the in-between degree of Follower in the same way, merging her bloodline with one that held entailed shares making it a junior partner in a domain. But she would always have been embarrassed to address with certain courtesies the high-ranking people who had been her childhood playmates. To be of the Kindred, though not necessarily serene on a landed estate; quite likely in some other of the industrial, scientific, cultural, or public service undertakings of a corporation—yes, thus she could strike roots deep into her planet, and know how securely her children would belong.

The car phone projected Eric’s image. “Mother!” he cried. “You’ve heard … Listen, I just have, and—”

“Get off the circuit,” she interrupted. “Baird may be calling me at any minute.” Because he was betrothed and she hoped for grandchildren, she took time to add: “You might make sure Lorna gets to a safe place.

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