Lord of the Shadows (56 page)

He smiled. It was the first genuine smile she'd seen from him in quite a while. “I thought about it.”

“I wonder what the army would have thought about that, if they'd caught you at it?”

“I suspect it would have merely reinforced their opinion I'm a boy trying to do a job better left in the hands of a real man.”

“You're man enough for this job, Dirk.”

“Let's hope you still think that after the battle call is sounded,” he said.

he army Dirk had gathered outside the ruins of Omaxin surprised Kirsh. He was alarmed by the size of it and stunned that Misha had reacted to his letter by sending an army to confront him. He'd gone to great pains to explain the oath he'd given their father. He was hurt and more than a little angry with Misha's unsympathetic response.

Didn't his brother understand the bind Kirsh was in? Didn't Misha realize he had no choice? That his oath, once given, was irrevocable?

It would have been much simpler if Dirk had come alone, not with Misha's army at his back. If only he could have convinced Dirk he must support Marqel; that he must forget any ambitions he might have for his half-sister and support the Shadowdancers and their High Priestess, because that was what Antonov wanted. It was his dying wish. And that was what Kirsh had sworn to Antonov he would do.

“How many men do you estimate they have?” he asked Rees. They had climbed to the top of a ruined building near the edge of the old city to view the forces sent against them. But it was hard to calculate how many were out there. Most of the army was concealed by the fold of the hills.

“Easily as many as we have,” the Duke of Elcast estimated. “Two thousand or so. There could be a lot more. It's hard to tell with the way they've set up the camp.”

“Misha's pulled some of the troops out of Dhevyn, then,” Kirsh remarked, thinking that was the only way his brother could have raised an army so large in such a short time.

“He's pulled
most
of them out, I'd wager,” Rees suggested. “To send this many men against you.”

“Do you think they really intend to fight, or is Misha bluffing?”

“He's your brother, Kirsh. You can answer that question more easily than I.”

There was little chance of it reaching a negotiated settlement, Kirsh thought. Misha wanted the Shadowdancers destroyed as much as Dirk did. And even if Dirk had been inclined to compromise, Misha was in no mood to be generous after what had been done to him.

“It's your brother in command down there, Rees. What do you think he'll do?”

Rees shrugged. “I've never been able to read Dirk well. Even when we were children. He was always so … different.”

“You don't have to stay,” Kirsh offered. “It's bad enough that I'm at odds with Misha. You don't have to take sides against your brother, too. If you want to leave …”

“My
brother
,” Rees said, his voice heavy with bitterness. Kirsh looked at him curiously. “He was always her favorite, you know.”

Kirsh didn't offer a reply. He supposed Rees was talking about Morna.

“I never really understood why,” Rees continued, “until your father told me Dirk was Johan Thorn's bastard. It all made sense after that. Why she always doted on him. Why she was so protective of him. Even after he left, she still wouldn't tolerate a bad word said about him. She poisoned Faralan with her attitude, too. Or maybe it was Dirk. I don't know. I found them together, you know. The day before Dirk left Elcast. They were talking about me. At least, I think they were. The truth is, I don't know what he said to her—Faralan would never tell me—but she was different after that. It's wrong for a woman to keep secrets from her husband, don't you think? Anyway, whatever he said to her, Faralan was almost as bad as Morna after that. Disagreeable. Snide. Always making comments about the Landfall Festival being barbaric. Questioning her beliefs. Doubting things … Goddess, she even helped Dirk get away the night Morna was …” Rees's voice trailed off unhappily. “Dirk has a talent for ruining other people's lives.”

Rees's rambling soliloquy surprised Kirsh. He had thought himself to be the only one suffering because of Dirk. It never occurred
to him Rees might harbor such bitterness. Or that he would have such good cause.

“Why do you suppose Misha sent Dirk to lead the army?”

“Because he's the Lord of the Suns. That makes it a religious war now, not a civil war.”

“It's brother against brother, Rees. That's a civil war in my book.”

“What do the prophecies say?”

“They say we'll win.”

“Against a force so large? I wonder what the Goddess knows that she's not telling us?”

“Don't you believe the High Priestess?”

“I admit to being a tad doubtful at the outset,” Rees admitted. “But when she told us about the Thorn girl … well, how could she have known about that if the Goddess hadn't told her?”

“Perhaps if you speak to Dirk?”

“I doubt it would make a difference,” Rees warned. “Besides, what would I say to him, Kirsh? I'm taking your side because my brother is the false redeemer? I don't think that tactic would work too well.”

Kirsh shrugged. “Still, we have one more advantage. Dirk doesn't know the first thing about fighting a battle.”

“But the men advising him will know,” Rees warned. “And Dirk is smart enough to heed good advice when he hears it. I'd not count on his inexperience to aid us.”

“Why do you think he asked for a meeting?”

“He probably doesn't want to fight. Dirk hasn't the heart for it. Knowing my brother, he'd rather talk his way out of it. He's good at that.”

Very good at it
, Kirsh agreed silently, thinking of how often Dirk's quick tongue saved him in the past. “Do you think there's a chance he'll back down?”

Rees shook his head. “He's probably trying to give
you
a chance to back down.”

“I won't,” Kirsh said.

“Then let's meet with the Lord of the Suns, your highness, and find out if he's bluffing.”

When Kirsh returned to the camp, Marqel was nowhere to be seen, but Rudi Kalenkov was waiting for him. He'd been trying to get Kirsh alone ever since Antonov's funeral, but Kirsh was in no mood to be bothered with him. He had too many other things to deal with to bother listening to the Shadowdancer's complaints about the interruption a battle might cause to their work.

“Your highness! I must speak to you,” the Shadowdancer said, clutching Kirsh's bridle as they rode back in to the camp.

“Not now, Rudi, I'm busy.” Kirsh dismounted, jerked the bridle from the Shadowdancer's grasp and handed the reins of his mount to Sergey, who led both horses away toward the corrals.

“But I really
must
speak with you, sire.”

“I don't have the time,” he snapped. “In case you haven't noticed, we're about to go to war.”

“This is very important, your highness.”

“We have a different definition of important, Rudi.”

He turned his back on the Shadowdancer and strode toward his tent.

“It's about the prophecies, sire,” Rudi called after him.

Kirsh stopped and looked back at him. “What about them.”

“Come to the cavern with me. I have something to show you.”

Kirsh had spent very little time in the cavern since he'd been in Omaxin. The huge hall oppressed him and the golden eye in the center of the floor seemed to follow him wherever he went. Their footsteps echoed through the chamber as Rudi led him across the torchlit hall to a section of wall where several other Shadowdancers were working, assiduously copying down every sign and sigil on the walls.

“This is where the High Priestess claims she read the prophecy regarding the false redeemer,” Rudi told him, pointing
to a panel that looked no different to Kirsh than any other part of the wall.

“So?”

“Well, it doesn't make sense.”

“That's why
she's
the High Priestess and you're not,” Kirsh pointed out frostily. “Only Marqel can read the Goddess's writings.”

“That's not what I mean, sire.” Rudi took a sheet of parchment from one of his workers and held it up for Kirsh to see. “You see, we have the translation the High Priestess provided. And now we know where she read it from, we should be able to use her translation to aid us in working out the rest of it.”

“I see,” Kirsh agreed, a little doubtfully. He really had no idea what Rudi was driving at.

“Certain words reoccur frequently in any written language,” Rudi explained in a rather lecturing tone. “Even simple words like
and
or
the
can be enough to provide us with the key to translation. Just as we always write those words the same way, the symbols for those words in another language should be consistent. We should see them repeated over and over. And there
are
many symbols that are repeated on these walls, which implies this writing forms a language which has its own, not unfamiliar, rules of structure and grammar, if only we could understand them.”

“Then what's the problem?”

“They're not there, your highness. The words of the prophecies as told to us by the High Priestess cannot be reconciled with the writing she claims to have translated it from.”

Kirsh glared at him in the flickering torchlight. “Are you suggesting the High Priestess is wrong?”

“I'm suggesting you might want to allow for the possibility she is mistaken,” Rudi said carefully. “Particularly before you embark upon a battle against a significantly larger force than our own, with only the words of the High Priestess's prophecy to assure you of victory.”

Kirsh began to feel as if the whole world was against him. First Misha sent an army against him and now Marqel's own
Shadowdancers were beginning to doubt her. “What you are suggesting is heresy, my lord.”

“Only if I'm wrong, sire,” Rudi retorted.

“Have you told anybody else of your theory?”

“No, your highness. I thought you should be first to know.”

“Then you are to repeat your heretical nonsense to no one. In fact I want your people out of this cavern altogether. We're about to go to war, Rudi. I'll need your Shadowdancers to help the wounded. I don't have time for them to sit in here, poring over something they don't understand, trying to prove the High Priestess is a liar.”

“That wasn't my intention, your highness,” Rudi objected. “I was merely trying to point out that—”

Kirsh glared at him. “Get your people out of the cavern. I don't want anyone in here without my permission from now on.”

“As you wish, your highness,” Rudi reluctantly agreed, but there was a gleam of malicious satisfaction in his eyes.

Or maybe it was the torchlight that made Kirsh wonder if Rudi was deliberately trying to destroy his belief that Marqel spoke the truth.

irk met Kirsh and Rees in the no-man's-land between the ruins and the vast camp of Misha's army. Although accompanied by their captains, they rode out alone to talk on the open ground between them, out of earshot of their escorts. The second sun beat down mercilessly, glittering off Lake Ruska in the distance, making it almost too bright to look upon.

Dirk reined in first and waited for Kirsh and his brother to reach him. He hadn't seen Rees since the day of the eclipse ceremony, and by the scowl his brother wore, he guessed there was little hope of reason from that quarter. Kirsh looked tired and
careworn as he trotted across the broken ground, as if the strain of the past months had aged him far beyond his years.

“So now you're a general,” Rees remarked icily as he and the prince reined in to confront Dirk.

“Not by choice.”

“You say that a lot, you know,” Kirsh remarked. “
I didn't mean it. I didn't plan for it to work out this way.
It's always somebody else's fault.”

Dirk shrugged, prepared to acknowledge a certain amount of truth in Kirsh's accusation. “I'm quite willing to accept the blame, Kirsh. But my mistake was making Marqel High Priestess and I'll probably regret that deed as long as I live.”

“So now it's
her
fault?”

Dirk shook his head. “We're equally to blame, Kirsh. We both put ideas in her head that she could be more than she should have been.”

“All I ever did was love her, Dirk.”

“And you think that wasn't a dream beyond imagining for a Landfall bastard picked up out of a traveling show? I'll admit I should never have set her up as the Voice of the Goddess, but be honest enough to admit your own contribution.”

“What do you mean,
you
set her up as the Voice of the Goddess?” Rees demanded, obviously confused.

“I told her what to say,” Dirk informed him, “just as Neris Veran told Belagren what to say when he discovered when the Age of Shadows was due to end.”

“You took advantage of her,” Kirsh accused, angrily. “You manipulated something that should have been sacred and used it to your own ends.”

“She never spoke to the Goddess, Kirsh.
I
told Marqel how to get through the delta. It took me weeks to get her to memorize the instructions. Nobody has
ever
spoken to the Goddess. Not Belagren, and certainly not Marqel.”

“You're lying.”

“I've no need to lie. I have an army at my back three times the size of yours and don't think for a moment I'm going to try to lead it myself. I have no interest in seeking glory in battle.”

“With your limited experience, there won't be much glory to speak of,” Rees suggested with a contemptuous sneer.

“My experience or lack of it isn't the issue, Rees. I've got plenty of experienced campaigners among my staff. I'm more than happy to let them decide the best way to annihilate your forces in the most efficient way possible.”

Rees glared at him. “Then why did you ask for this meeting? If that's what you think, go back to your staff of experienced campaigners, little brother, and sound the attack.”

“I was hoping you'd both see reason.”

“This is not a question of reason,” Kirsh announced flatly. “I swore an oath to my father.”

“You swore an oath to a madman who was being manipulated by a murderous little slut with no thought for anything but her own ambition. She murdered Belagren. She almost killed Alenor out of jealousy and spite, and I have my suspicions about a few others who got in her way, too.”

“You're lying,” Kirsh insisted, growing angrier with every word Dirk uttered. “I've seen her speak to the Goddess. I have proof.”

“How did Antonov die, Kirsh?”

“The Goddess took him.”

Dirk snorted skeptically. “And who decided the cause of death?
Marqel?
”

“It makes no difference, Dirk. You're clutching at sunbeams. He wasn't murdered, and I wouldn't try to cover for his killer if he was. I'd burn the man myself before I let anybody get away with killing my father. Antonov was alone when he died. There is no question of foul play.”

“Doesn't it strike you as being just a tad convenient he died right after you swore an oath to see Marqel restored? He wasn't drinking peppermint tea, was he?”

“You think
Marqel
killed him?” Kirsh scoffed. “Don't be absurd! Anyway, she was with me when he died. The last person who saw Antonov alive was Eryk. Perhaps you think it was he that killed my father?”

Dirk was genuinely shocked by that news. “What is Eryk doing here?”

“Serving the Goddess,” Rees snapped.

“Send him back,” Dirk urged. “He'll be safer with me.”

“Only if we lose, Dirk.”

“There's no chance you can win, Rees.”

“The prophecies say we can.”

Dirk looked at him askance. “What prophecies?”

Kirsh smiled. “You didn't know about them, did you? Perhaps if you'd stayed longer in Omaxin you might have read them for yourself. Marqel has told me what they say and the Goddess has confirmed it. They foretold my father's death. They call you the false redeemer.”

“
Marqel
read your prophecies for you and foretold Antonov's demise?” Dirk laughed. “She can barely make out her own name, Kirsh. And I should know. I taught her how to read.”

“Are you jealous you're not the only one who can read the writings in the cavern?” Rees asked.

“I might be if I
could
read them,” he shrugged. “I really have no idea what they say, and neither does anybody else on Ranadon. Especially not an illiterate like Marqel.”

“But you claimed you
could
translate them,” Kirsh reminded him. “I was there when you read them to me.”

“I also said there'd be an eclipse, Kirsh. Do you remember that?”

Kirsh fell silent, his expression dark and brooding.

“Let it go, Kirsh,” Dirk urged. “Come back to Avacas with me and let's sort this out sensibly. There is nothing to be gained by going to war.”

“And if he did go back with you?” Rees asked. “What then? Has Misha had a change of heart? Have you? Have you decided to let the Shadowdancers remain? Will you support their High Priestess?”

“Even if I didn't intend to destroy the Shadowdancers, Rees, Misha won't stand for them. And Marqel cannot be allowed to remain High Priestess. She murdered Belagren and probably Antonov the moment he was of no further use to her. If you insist on supporting her, she'll be the death of you, too.”

“You offer nothing but lies, Dirk,” Kirsh said heavily.
“Everything you've done is a lie. You hold the rank of Lord of the Suns under false pretenses. You have no faith in the Goddess. You accuse Marqel of being evil for doing exactly what you have done. You claim she's lying about the prophecies, yet I stood there and watched you read them to me. You claim Marqel killed Belagren, yet you willingly admit you set her up to replace Belagren. And now you want us to believe the High Priestess he believed in so ardently killed my father.
You
drove him to insanity, Dirk, and what's more, I suspect you're proud of it.”

“You know why I lied, Kirsh. I've explained it to you a dozen times since Bollow.”

“And what about the things you haven't told me?”

“What things?”

“Like the existence of Johan Thorn's wife and daughter?” he asked. “What was the point of keeping them a secret, Dirk? Goddess, when I think about you standing there in Johan's house in Mil, claiming you didn't know who those women were …You didn't even blink when you saw them. I suppose there's no chance Alexin really killed them, is there? You were secretly allied with my father's enemies all along, weren't you? Does Misha know of your talent for playing both sides against the middle? How long does he have before you turn on him, too?”

“Kirsh…”

“You always claimed you didn't want to be a king, and now I realize why. You don't need to be a king. You're much happier manipulating things from behind the throne. Misha's playing right into your hands, isn't he? How lucky for you he came back to Avacas a changed man. And what could be better for you than a little sister sitting on the Eagle Throne who'll do anything you tell her?”

“If you choose to believe such an idiotic scenario, Kirsh, then you're as mad as Antonov was.”

“I
have
no choice, if my choice is to pick one liar over another.”

“It's a question of motives, Kirsh.”

“And your motives are so much purer than ours, is that it?” Rees said.

Dirk stared at Rees, unsure what he'd done to engender such bitterness in his brother. “I did what I did because it was the right thing to do, Rees.”

“You did what you did because you wanted vengeance,” Kirsh corrected. “The fact that it had global consequences was just a convenient peg for you to hang your morals on. There is nothing noble in what you've done. You simply set out to get even with Belagren and my father and decided to bring the whole world along for the ride.”

“I exposed a lie, Kirsh. A lie that was driving the whole of Ranadon along a path to total barbarism.”

“And the end justifies the means? Who the hell set you up as the moral guardian of Ranadon? You don't believe in the Goddess, so where does your authority come from, Dirk? What gives you the right to decide the path the whole world should take?”

The question surprised Dirk, particularly when he realized he couldn't think of a satisfactory reply.

“Don't have an answer for that one? Funny, I thought you had an answer for everything.”

“Kirsh, this is getting us nowhere. Stand your troops down and come back to Avacas with me,” he pleaded. “Talk to Misha. However much you despise what I've done, you have no quarrel with him.”

“I
didn't
have a quarrel with him,” Kirsh pointed out coldly. “Until he sent an army against me with you at its head.”

“The people you're so determined to protect tried to kill him, Kirsh. Do you
blame
him for being upset?”

“I blame him for reacting like a prince, not like a brother.”

“He's the Lion of Senet now. Your father would have reacted in exactly the same way if he was in Misha's position.”

“But we'll never know that for certain, will we, Dirk? My father is dead.”

Dirk sighed, realizing they had done nothing but talk around in circles. He gathered up the reins of his mount and sat a little straighter in the saddle.

“You've got until second sunrise tomorrow, Kirsh. After that, the matter is out of my hands. There will be no quarter given.”

“And no quarter asked,” Kirsh replied.

Dirk stared at him, thinking that if anybody had suggested that he might one day face Kirsh over a battlefield, he would have laughed at him and called him mad. But then war was a particular type of madness. Especially one as unnecessary as this one.

“Kirsh…”

Kirsh didn't answer him. He turned his horse and cantered toward his escort. Rees watched him leave and then turned back to glare at Dirk.

“Mother would be proud of you.” It wasn't meant as a compliment. Rees's voice was bitter, almost petulant.

“I wonder what she'd think of
you
,” Dirk retorted, surprised at how angry Rees's taunt had made him. “Tell me, did you stay and watch your own mother burn or did you simply walk away once you'd issued the order to have her killed?”

“Morna deserved to die, Dirk. She was a traitor and a harlot.”

“She was our mother, Rees.”

“She was
your
mother, Dirk. She was never mine. Morna abandoned me. For you she gave up everything. Don't you dare sit there and try to make me feel guilty for seeing justice was done.”

“There was nothing just about burning your own mother alive, Rees.”

“And where is the justice in abandoning your husband and child to run off with a lover?” Rees asked resentfully. “You might hold Morna up as a paragon of virtue, Dirk, but to me she was nothing more than a treacherous whore who tried to raise her lover's bastard as another man's son.”

“You couldn't possibly remember her leaving Elcast, Rees. You were barely old enough to walk when she left you to join Johan.”

“I remember when she came back, though,” Rees said. “I
remember when you were born. And I remember spending the rest of my childhood being pushed aside for you.”