Lord of the Shadows (6 page)

“You're my friend, Alexin, and I hold your opinion in high regard. But when it comes down to it, you're nothing more than an officer under my command and that puts you a long way below
my brother on the list of those I care about. Give me your word, or suffer the same fate as Sonja.”

Kirsh was afraid Alexin would call his bluff. He was fairly certain he didn't have the will to order a captain in Alenor's guard killed. Even if he could command a friend's death, he was certain the political consequences of such a foolish order would be devastating. But Kirsh had a reputation for not thinking about the consequences of anything he did, and he was relying on that as much as his manner to convince Alexin he meant what he said.

The captain debated the issue for a painfully long time before he nodded slowly. “You have my word.”

“Thank you, Alexin.”

“Don't thank me, your highness,” Alexin said with icy disapproval. “I'm doing you no favor, believe me. And don't expect me to be a party to it, either. You may have my silence on this matter, but not my sword. If you want to go around murdering innocent people to protect your brother's reputation, you can do it without any help from me.”

Fed up with the Dhevynian captain's condemnation and the guilt it was forcing him to confront, Kirsh turned back to the list of names in front of him.

“Bring the next witness in,” he ordered coldly.

“Should I ask them what they'd like for their last meal first, your highness?”

“Don't push it, Alexin.”

The captain looked like he might say something further but in the end, Alexin simply walked to the door to call in the basket maker's wife who'd claimed she'd been hired by parties unknown to act as chaperone for Lady Natasha Orlando.

acinta D'Orlon used the excuse of a shopping trip into the city to meet with Porl Isingrin, the captain of the Baenlander ship the
Makuan
. The Kalarada markets were busy this morning, and with her escort of only one Guardsman, she was able to make her way through the markets to the tavern without attracting any undue attention. The Guardsman at her side was Pavel Darenelle, the second son of the Baron of Lakeside on the island of Bryton and a good friend of her brother's. He was also a member of the growing underground among the Dhevynian nobility who were trying to undermine the Senetian occupation of Dhevyn, which was why Jacinta had chosen him for this expedition.

The inn where they arranged to meet was near the markets, a rather expensive establishment that offered private dining rooms; it was a favored resting place for visiting nobility not important enough to rate accommodation in the palace. Jacinta was met by the innkeeper, who showed her to the room where Porl was waiting for her. Pavel took up guard outside the door as she slipped inside.

“My lady,” Porl Isingrin said with a bow, as she closed and locked the door behind her.

“It's good to see you safe, Captain,” she replied. “With everything going on, I feared the worst for you and your people in Mil.”

“The worst is yet to come, my lady,” he warned. “It's the reason I'm here. We need your help.”

“What can I do? With Alenor away in Avacas, my power is limited to hiding the royal seal so those Senetian lechers infesting the palace can't issue any new laws in her name.”

Porl smiled, making him look quite fierce. “You're involved in a dangerous game, my lady.”

“No more dangerous than the game you're playing.” Jacinta didn't feel terribly brave or noble for hiding the seal. Mostly, she
felt powerless and she didn't like the feeling very much, at all. “How can I help you, Captain?”

“I have a ship full of refugees, my lady. I need somewhere safe for them to hide.”

“How many are there?”

“About eighty. The
Orlando
is in Mil collecting another load even as we speak.”

“Why are you evacuating Mil? Surely the delta is protection enough for your people?”

Porl shook his head. “Antonov has been given the route through the delta. Or at least he will have it very soon. Mil is no longer the safe haven it once was.”

“By whom?” Jacinta asked, her eyes narrowing with anger. “Who betrayed you?”

“Dirk Provin.”

“Duke Wallin's second son?”

Jacinta had studied the Dhevynian noble families in some detail, mostly to keep one step ahead of her mother in her never-ending quest to find a suitable husband for her only daughter. Being the right age and of an impeccable lineage (he was descended from the Damitian royal house on his mother's side and was related by marriage to the Lion of Senet), Dirk Provin had been quite high on the list, she recalled, until he vanished from Avacas a wanted man. Lady Sofia had struck him off rather forcefully after that.

“Aye,” Porl agreed heavily. “But here's something you may not know about him. He's not Wallin Provin's son. He's Johan Thorn's bastard.”

That news left her speechless.

“He spent two years with us in Mil,” Porl added. “After Morna Provin was executed we sent him to Omaxin to see if he could learn anything about the next Age of Shadows. He betrayed us to Belagren, joined the Shadowdancers and bought himself the position of Lord of the Shadows and right hand of the High Priestess with what he knows about us. Then the arrogant little prick even sent a message boasting he was going to tell Antonov the route through the delta.”

“He sent you a message?” she asked with a frown. “Why would he do that?”

“I've no idea, my lady. The consensus is that he wanted to make certain we knew who had betrayed us. But he won't gloat for long. We've hired the Brotherhood to take care of him.”

“You paid for a Brotherhood assassin? I'm surprised you're not here asking me for money. I dread to think what that will cost.”

“It's worth every dorn, my lady.”

Jacinta fell silent, wondering what was really going on in Avacas. She would find out soon enough, she supposed. Alenor had sent for her and she was due to leave for the mainland the following morning. In fact, Porl Isingrin was lucky she had been in Kalarada at all.

“These people you need to hide,” she told Porl. “Take them to Bryton. My family has estates near Oakridge. They are orchards mostly and the fruit-pickers’ cottages will be empty at this time of year. The caretaker's name is Lon Selorna. He's a loyal Dhevynian and he'll help you if you tell him I sent you. Your people can hide there until it's safe to return.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

“It's little enough help, Captain,” she lamented. “I wish I could do more.”

“Keep our queen safe,” he suggested. “Bring her home to Kalarada.”

“I'll do my best. But the news we have is not good. She's been desperately ill since losing the baby.”

“I'd never wish her harm,” Porl said, “but I can't bring myself to mourn the loss of a child that might one day inherit both Senet and Dhevyn.”

Jacinta nodded sympathetically and said nothing. Only she, Alenor, Alexin and—by now—Kirshov Latanya knew Alenor's lost baby had not been the Lion of Senet's grandchild.

“I mustn't keep you, my lady,” Porl added. “I've no wish to endanger you.”

“Don't fear for me, Captain. I can take care of myself.”

“We won't forget your aid, my lady.”

Jacinta smiled thinly. “If you ever get caught, Captain, the
nicest thing you could do for me would be to forget you even know my name.”

Jacinta spent the rest of the morning shopping, loading Pavel up with so many packages he had to send for a cart to return them all to the palace. She then took a detour on her way home to the barracks of the Queen's Guard, on the pretext of visiting Alenor's colt, which she had promised the queen she would keep an eye on in her absence.

The Lord Marshal was busy with Dargin Otmar and a new batch of recruits when she arrived, so she was able to slip down to the stables without having to deal with either of them. Pavel left her with the colt and vanished for a time, returning with Tael Gordonov. The captain bowed as he stopped by the railing, and then glanced over his shoulder to make certain they were alone.

“We got word this morning Kirshov has taken Alexin and his guard to Tolace with him,” he told her. “I've been placed in command of the guard going with you to Avacas to replace them.”

“Why Tolace?”

“Haven't you heard? The Baenlanders abducted Prince Misha. Avacas is a very dangerous place to be a Dhevynian, right now.”

“And by involving the Queen's Guard and Dhevyn's regent, Antonov manages to make it appear we're complicit in whatever tyranny he chooses to inflict as a punishment,” Jacinta concluded with a frown. “Did you know they're evacuating Mil?”

He shook his head. “Why?”

“Antonov knows the way through the delta. It seems Dirk Provin has changed sides.”

Tael swore under his breath. “I warned Alexin to be wary of him.”

“Do you know him?”

“I know
of
him. They say he's as smart as Neris Veran was.”

That was something Jacinta hadn't known. And it puzzled her. Why would someone as smart as Neris Veran betray the Baenlanders and then destroy the element of surprise by warning them of his intentions? That wasn't smart. It was stupid.

“Will you ask someone to keep an eye on Alenor's colt while I'm away?”

“Of course, my lady.”

“And can you make certain the men you take with us to Avacas are trustworthy?”

He smiled. “There is no other kind in the Queen's Guard, my lady.”

Jacinta had one other thing to take care of before she left for Avacas to join Alenor. She waited until long after first sunrise before making her way through the labyrinthine halls of Kalarada Palace to the rooms occupied by the Palace Seneschal, Dimitri Bayel. She hoped nobody saw her making such a strange late-night visit to his rooms. Jacinta seriously doubted anyone would believe she was sneaking into the old man's bedroom this late for a lover's tryst.

Dimitri opened the door himself, dressed in his nightshirt.

“I'm leaving for Avacas in the morning, my lord,” she said as she slipped inside. “I wanted to speak to you before I left and beg you to watch over things while I'm gone.”

Dimitri shrugged forlornly. “How can I stop the Senetians doing whatever they please, my lady?”

“Not letting them get their grubby paws on this would be a good start,” she suggested as she reached under her skirt and produced the heavy seal of Dhevyn Alenor had entrusted to her care before she left for Avacas.

The old man stared at it in shock. “Lady Jacinta! They've been turning the palace inside out looking for that!”

“I know,” she said with a smile. “I can't risk taking it with me. Will you keep it safe until Alenor returns?”

He accepted the seal with a solemn nod. “Of course. I will guard it with my life. They've already searched my rooms twice, so it should be safe enough here.”

“Thank you.” Impulsively, she hugged him.

“You favor your uncle, you know,” he remarked, a little uncomfortable with her embrace.

“My uncle?”

“Fredrak D'Orlon. Alenor's father. I often wonder if Antonov would have been so keen to put Rainan on the Eagle Throne after Johan fled, had her husband still been alive to advise her, just as I often wonder if the hunting accident that killed him was really an accident.”

“The Senetians have much to atone for, my lord,” she agreed. “But one day we'll be free of them. I promise.”

Dimitri sighed wistfully. “Ah, the eternal optimism of youth. I can remember thinking as you do once, my lady. I hope you are not disillusioned too savagely when you get to Avacas and you begin to fully appreciate what we're up against.”

Jacinta smiled mischievously. “You should be more worried about the people in Avacas, my lord. They haven't met me yet. It's the Lion of Senet who doesn't fully appreciate what he's up against.”

he walk down to see Kirsh off exhausted Alenor so she kept to her room for the next few days. It was good to have such an excuse. With news of the High Priestess's death so close on the heels of the news about Misha, the Queen of Dhevyn was more than happy to stay hidden in her room, out of the way of the hysterics that were undoubtedly going on in the rest of the Avacas palace.

Her confinement had a downside, though. She had no idea what was really happening, no reliable source of information and no way to sort the truth from the rumors. She trusted nothing Dorra, her lady-in-waiting, told her and with Alexin gone, there was nobody else she could turn to—except, perhaps, her cousin Dirk Provin. But he was playing his own games, and she
wasn't sure any longer how much she could rely on him, or if she could rely on him at all.

Alenor sent for him, however, as he was still the closest thing she had to a friend in Avacas. It took him four days to answer her summons, which concerned her a great deal. Was Dirk busy with other things, or was she so low in his estimation he could simply ignore her?

When he arrived, he left his guards at the door and crossed the room to her. She was out of bed, dressed and sitting on the settee by the unlit fireplace, looking much better than she felt. Dirk bent down and kissed her cheek with a smile, but she was in no mood to be friendly.

“I sent for you days ago.”

“I've been busy.” He turned to Dorra then and waved his arm carelessly. “You may go.”

Her lady-in-waiting bowed and left the apartment without so much as a whimper of protest. Alenor watched her leave in shock and then turned to Dirk. “How did you manage that? I can barely force her to leave me alone to use a chamber pot!”

“She probably knows by now I was the one who arranged to have her removed from your service,” he shrugged. “Maybe she doesn't want to antagonize me.”

Alenor's eyes narrowed. “What are you up to, Dirk? A few weeks ago, you were under house arrest. Now you're acting like you own the place.”

“I'm still under house arrest,” he informed her. “Didn't you see my escort?”

“I saw them. But they act like a bodyguard, not your jailers.”

“Perhaps Antonov thinks I need both.”

Alenor shook her head with a frown. “Tell me what's happening while I've been shut up in here.”

“The weather's been nice,” Dirk told her, taking the seat opposite. “Although it did rain yesterday, and that put a bit of a damper on—”

“Dirk!”

“Oh, did you want to know something else?”

“What's the matter with you? Of course I want to know! What's happening out there? What did Belagren die of?”

“A stroke.”

“What's Antonov going to do now that his precious Voice of the Goddess is no longer with us?”

“I believe the Goddess has chosen a new mouthpiece,” Dirk told her.

“Who? Madalan?”

“Marqel.” Dirk smiled at her stunned expression. “Not what Antonov was expecting, I can tell you. Poor Kirsh is in for a bit of a shock, though, when he gets back and learns his mistress has moved on to bigger and better things.”

“Dirk… did
you
have anything to do with this?” She couldn't imagine it happening any other way. Alenor knew exactly how Belagren had fooled the world into believing she was the Voice of the Goddess. “Did
you
kill Belagren?”

He looked rather irritated by the question. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? No! I did
not
murder the High Priestess. She died of a stroke, Alenor, and Marqel now speaks for the Goddess. That's all you need to know. Or believe.”

“Why are you helping Marqel?”

“Who says I'm helping her?”

“If you're supporting her contention that she speaks for the Goddess, what else do you call it?”

“I call it surviving,” he said. “That's all. I'm the right hand of the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers. I'm
supposed
to believe all this shit.”

“And how long can you keep up the lie, Dirk?” she asked with concern. “Listen to yourself! You call it shit, yet you expect everyone in Avacas to believe you're one of them.”

“They believe, Alenor, and provided you don't tell them anything to the contrary, they'll keep on believing.”

“What did Belagren really die from, Dirk?”

“A stroke,” he insisted, rising to his feet. “Was that all you wanted to know?”

“Dirk…”

“Don't start on me, Alenor,” he warned. “I'm not the only one around here living a lie. Instead of worrying about what
I'm up to, you might like to spare a thought for your husband and your lover, both of whom are in Tolace as we speak, indulging in a spot of mindless slaughter to scare the townsfolk into telling them what really happened to Misha.”

That was news she'd heard nothing of. It didn't seem possible. “I don't believe you!”

“Kirsh has executed a Shadowdancer, three Senetian Guardsmen and an herbalist so far, and from what I can tell from the reports he's sending his father, he's just warming up. Your boyfriend is right there alongside him. Sergey's doing the actual killing, I hear, but then, Kirsh always was good at getting somebody else to do his dirty work for him.”

Tears filled Alenor's eyes, as much from Dirk's harsh tone as from his words. “Alexin would never allow—”

“Alexin has no choice, Alenor,” he reminded her. “He can't argue with Kirsh, he can't disagree with him. He can't do the slightest thing to betray
you
. I warned you to send him away. And what do you think will happen when they get to Mil? Suppose in the heat of battle Kirsh's life hangs in the balance and it falls to Alexin to save him? What do you think will be going through his mind, Alenor?”

“I never thought about …”

“You never thought about anything,” he accused.

Alenor struggled to maintain her queenly composure. “Are you going with them to Mil?”

Dirk sat down again, as if he no longer had the energy to be angry at her. “Maybe. Antonov is convinced I'm the only one who'll be able to warn him if Marqel is lying. But I should be able to talk him out of it.”

“Marqel? What has
she
to do with invading Mil?”

“The Goddess gave her the instructions to get through the Spakan River delta.”

“But you told Alexin you would—” She stopped abruptly as she realized what his words meant. “Goddess! You told Marqel, didn't you? You told Alexin you were going to give Antonov the information, but you gave it to Marqel instead! Do you realize what you've done! You've made it seem as if the Goddess …”

“The Goddess
has
spoken to Marqel, Alenor,” he insisted. “And if you have any brains at all you'll never even hint you suspect any different.”

“Are you really going to do this, Dirk?” she asked, stunned by the depth of his treachery. “Are you really going to stand in the bow of a Senetian ship and lead Antonov into Mil to destroy your…
our
… friends?”

“Yes.”

“But you told them they had weeks to evacuate! They'll be trapped.”

“At the time, I thought they
would
have time to get away. Misha's kidnapping forced a change of plans. I'm sorry, but it's unavoidable.”

“Can't you get another message to them?”

“Alexin is in Tolace with Kirsh and the rest of your guard. What do you suggest I do, Alenor? Issue a general bulletin asking if any Baenlander spies currently in the palace could please make an appointment with me to learn something to their advantage?”

“Why are you being so cruel?”

“I'm not being cruel. I'm being practical, which is more than I can say for you.”

“You're supposed to be my friend.”

“I am your friend, Allie,” he sighed. “But the one piece of good advice I offered, you ignored.”

She wiped away unshed tears and looked down at her hands. “I know. You were right. I should have sent Alexin back to Kalarada.” She looked at him, searching his eyes for an answer she knew would not be there. “What am I going to do, Dirk?”

“Get well, Alenor,” he advised. “As fast as you possibly can. Then get the hell out of Avacas. You're not safe here. Your guard isn't even here to protect you; they're off in Tolace helping Kirsh with his little reign of terror. As soon as your own people get here from Avacas, start making arrangements to go home.”

“But Antonov won't let me leave. I asked him about it yesterday
and he gave me some excuse about caring for my health. I'm starting to fear I'm a prisoner here, Dirk.”

“He'll be gone by the time your people get here, heading for Mil. I'll make sure nobody else in the palace stands in your way.”

“Can you do that?” she asked doubtfully. “Have you that much power, Dirk?”

He smiled wanly. “I got rid of Dorra for you, didn't I?”

Alenor looked for some hint he spoke the truth, but she had no more chance of reading his thoughts than anybody else. “Dirk, promise me that what you're doing isn't going to hurt Dhevyn.”

“I promise, Allie. You just have to trust me.”

“Nobody else does.”

“That doesn't matter if
you
still believe in me.”

Alenor smiled faintly. She did trust him, and with good reason. He hadn't betrayed her secret. If Dirk had meant to do her or Dhevyn harm, he could have destroyed her weeks ago. He certainly had enough ammunition to ruin her. “I believe in you, Dirk. I just wish you'd make it a little easier for me.”

“I wish I could make it a little easier for all of us,” he sighed.

“Be careful.”

“You're a great one to talk.” He rose to his feet and looked down at her with concern. “
You
be careful, Allie. Go home and keep Dhevyn safe.”

“And what will you be doing in the meantime?”

“Trying to stay alive,” he said with an unconvincing laugh.

Alenor would have laughed, too, but she understood all too well that Dirk wasn't joking.