Chapter 17
From a purely material standpoint, Belagren somewhat regretted her impulsive decision to join Antonov on his journey to Elcast. No matter how much she might enjoy seeing Morna Provin squirm, or Johan Thorn brought down, the fact that she had been accommodated in the room belonging to the governor’s teenage son was only the first in a long list of complaints she had about Elcast Keep. She blamed Morna for it, of course. The Duchess of Elcast was bound to be taking great delight in the High Priestess’s discomfort.
There was no hot water piped into the rooms from underground springs as there was in Avacas. Taking a bath was a major expedition, involving an army of servants required to haul the hot water up four flights of insanely steep and dangerous stairs, which meant that it was already cool again by the time it reached her rooms. The chamber was small, poorly ventilated and, although she hadn’t seen any, she was certain it must be crawling with insects.
Belagren walked to the window and looked down with a frown. The room had only a view of the castle’s stables, not the ocean on the other side of the Keep. Being able to look out and see the water
might
have made the room bearable.
There was nothing to do here on this Goddess-forsaken island, either. Antonov had forbidden anyone to speak with Thorn, including her. When she challenged him, he had smiled cryptically, but refused to rescind the order, insisting that she trust him. There were some things Antonov could not be moved on, and Belagren could tell this was one of them, so she had amused herself by designing a new temple for Elcast that would take them several generations to pay for. Antonov would loan them the money, of course. With luck, the debt should be cleared by the time Morna Provin’s great-grandsons were grown ...
The feud between Belagren and her hostess went back a long way. They were enemies well before the war started. It had begun during the Age of Shadows, when Belagren had first caught the roving eye of the Lion of Senet. She was a Sundancer in those days, posted to court in Avacas because of her family connections.
Antonov was married to Princess Analee of Damita at the time, Morna’s older sister. Heavily pregnant with Misha, Princess Analee was bloated and unattractive, and it had taken little effort on Belagren’s part to coax Antonov into her bed. But Morna, in Avacas to visit with Analee during her sister’s confinement, had been furious when she realized what was going on. She had even threatened to expose the affair, thinking her position as the Lion of Senet’s sister-in-law gave her some sort of power.
Oh, how wrong you were, Morna,
Belagren thought with a vengeful smile.
How foolish to think you could threaten me. And
what a hypocrite you were! All the while condemning me for my affair with Antonov while you were making cow eyes at Johan
Thorn ...
Belagren could remember thinking at the time that perhaps she should have bedded the Dhevynian king, rather than the Lion of Senet. Johan was new to his throne then, still uncertain in his power, but some indefinable political instinct told her that the future lay with Antonov, not Johan. And she had been proved right a thousand times over.
Johan Thorn was a fugitive. Antonov ruled the world.
Those fateful weeks prior to Misha’s birth stuck in Belagren’s memory so clearly they might as well have happened yesterday. It was just over three years after the second sun had vanished and the whole world was in chaos. The temperature had plunged, the seas were retreating and earthquakes rocked the whole of Ranadon, seemingly on a daily basis. The main city of Nova on the island of Grannon Rock had been all but destroyed. A volcano had erupted near the northern Senetian city of Ultoma, burying it under tons of ash and lava. Thousands had been killed and those that were left were cold and hungry. Heavily reliant on trade, the islands of Dhevyn and the southern nation of Damita had been affected worse than Senet. Johan Thorn, the untried King of Dhevyn, had come to Avacas with Prince Oscon of Damita to beg Antonov’s aid.
Johan Thorn was a passionate young man in those days, new to his crown and desperately concerned for his people. And he had fallen instantly in love with the young princess from Damita. Morna had fallen just as hard for the dashing young king and, for a time, it seemed almost inevitable that Oscon would allow his younger daughter to marry the Dhevynian king.
Until Belagren decided otherwise. She didn’t like the idea of Analee’s obnoxious little sister married to the King of Dhevyn—or any king for that matter. It would give that insufferable little bitch far too much power, and that could well interfere with the plans that Belagren had for her own future.
It was Belagren who planted the idea in Antonov’s mind that Duke Wallin of Elcast would make an eminently suitable husband for the young Damitian princess; although Dhevynian, Wallin and Antonov had been friends since childhood. The marriage was surprisingly easy to arrange, and with the desperation of Oscon and Johan to secure aid for their starving nations, they were willing to grant Antonov anything he asked for.
To this day, the look on Johan Thorn’s face as he stood in the Sundancers’ Temple in Avacas, watching his heartbroken seventeen-year-old lover marry a man more than twice her age she barely knew, brought a smile to Belagren’s face.
Things had settled down for a while after that. Although the planet had continued to rage, venting its frustration at the loss of its second sun, Antonov’s aid had relieved the immediate problems in Dhevyn. Belagren continued her affair with Antonov and heard later that Morna had delivered a son to Wallin Provin on Elcast. Belagren took great delight in sending a carefully worded letter of congratulations to the new Duchess of Elcast, and was just sorry she’d not been there to watch Morna read it.
Analee eventually gave birth to a second son, this one whole and healthy, unlike her firstborn, who had suffered a stroke while still a baby, which left him deformed and sickly, but Senet was suffering from the forced darkness, too. Searching for anything that might help them, the Lord of the Suns ordered Belagren north to Omaxin with several other Sundancers to seek answers.
Belagren was furious. In her mind, there was nothing useful in the ancient ruins that might help stem the tide of disasters that plagued their world. She wanted to stay in Avacas. Since Kirshov’s birth, Analee’s position had become almost unassailable. Antonov was thrilled to have a healthy son, and he doted on the child ... and the child’s mother.
But in those days she wasn’t powerful enough to defy a direct order from the leader of her Church, so she had begrudgingly gone north with Madalan, Ella and Paige Halyn’s latest protégé, the young Sundancer Neris Veran.
When she returned to Avacas, she had the power to change the world.
Although they had discussed their plans any number of times on the way back from Omaxin, it wasn’t until she arrived back in Avacas and saw Analee, pregnant with yet another son, proudly leaning on her adoring husband’s arm, that Belagren decided how to proceed.
Analee had to go. And so did her sons.
Misha wasn’t really a problem. The boy was weak and deformed, his left side withered and repulsive. It was all Antonov could do to look at the boy. She could do nothing about Kirshov, either. In Antonov’s eyes, the child was perfect, and to harm him would have been to risk death.
But Belagren was damned if she was going to allow another son to cement Analee’s place in her husband’s affections ...
A knock at the door interrupted Belagren’s musings. She turned and called permission to enter. The door opened and the Sundancer Brahm Halyn limped into the room. He bowed awkwardly, uncomfortable in her presence. He was the brother of the Lord of the Suns, and in Belagren’s opinion shared both his brother’s weak-chinned features and his spineless character.
“You sent for me, my lady?”
“I have some questions for you, Brahm. Regarding Elcast.”
“I will answer as best I can, my lady.”
Belagren walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, not offering Brahm a seat. Not that there was a seat to offer him in this poky room. This audience should be taking place somewhere with a podium, so that she could look down on him, not here in this child’s nursery...
“How long have you been here, Brahm?”
“Since the end of the Age of Shadows, my lady. Seventeen years.”
“And in all that time, it never occurred to you to press Duke Wallin for a new temple?”
Brahm looked down at his feet. “There were other, more urgent matters ...”
“More urgent than giving thanks to the Goddess?”
“There was the rebuilding ...”
“Elcast seems fine to me. It’s as if the Age of Shadows never happened here. Are you telling me that reconstruction was only completed recently?”
“Well, no, my lady, of course not, but—”
“So what’s the problem, Brahm?”
“I ... I couldn’t really say, my lady.”
“But you are a Sundancer! You are the spiritual leader on Elcast. It is your responsibility to ensure that the Goddess is given her due! What have you been doing for the last two decades?”
The Sundancer didn’t answer, probably realizing that he had no answer that could satisfy her. And in truth, he was not answerable to the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers in any case. He was answerable to the Lord of the Suns, his own brother, and that ineffectual fool probably hadn’t even bothered to inquire about what was happening on Elcast since he sent Brahm here all those years ago.
“You seem quite comfortable here,” she remarked, deciding not to pursue the issue of the temple for the time being. She didn’t need Brahm for that anyway.
“I have served Duke Wallin faithfully, my lady.”
Belagren frowned. “I was under the impression that you were supposed to be serving the Goddess.”
Brahm met her eyes for the first time. Was that a spark of anger she saw hidden in their watery depths?
Have you finally
grown a backbone after all these years, Brahm Halyn?
“Tell me about the family.”
“My lady?”
“Tell me about the Provins of Elcast, Brahm. You claim to have served them well, so I assume you know them equally well.”
“I’m not sure what my lady wishes to know.”
“Tell me about Duchess Morna. Is she diligent in her observance of the Goddess’s rites?”
“Of course!”
“Yet at last year’s Landfall Feast I hear they sacrificed a pig. Did you not object to such an outrageous insult?”
“Traditionally, a pig was always sacrificed, my lady, before—” He didn’t finish the sentence. He didn’t need to. She knew what he wanted to say.
Before you came along.
“And what of her sons?” she asked, knowing that the sudden change of subject would rattle him. She’d learned that trick from Antonov.
“They are fine boys, my lady,” Brahm declared. “And diligent, too,” he added hurriedly.
“Rees seems poured from the same mold as his father,” she agreed. “But the younger boy has much of his mother in him, I fear.”
“Dirk is a fine young man, my lady,” he rushed to assure her. “He’s training to be a physician.”
“An odd choice of profession for a duke’s son, even a second son. Particularly one of royal blood.”
“I believe Duke Wallin simply wanted to make the most of the boy’s potential,” Brahm said defensively. “He’s very bright, my lady. Remarkably so.”
Belagren stared at the Sundancer thoughtfully. “What do you mean
very bright
?”
“Just that, my lady,” he shrugged, uncertain what she was driving at. “I’ve no doubt the lad could have gained entrance to Nova University on Grannon Rock when he was no more than thirteen. Even Avacas University would be glad to have him. I believe the decision to allow him to study as a physician was prompted by Duchess Morna’s concerns that he was too young to attend university so far from home.”
Was that really your reason, Morna?
she wondered.
“And have you seen any signs of this supposed vast intellect in the boy?”
A fond smile flickered over the Sundancer’s lips. “I gave up trying to keep up with Dirk Provin many years ago, my lady. He has a truly remarkable mind. I’ve not seen one like it since...” Brahm faltered for a moment and then shrugged. “For a long time.”
“I see,” Belagren replied, drawing out the silence to give her time to think. Was it possible? Was the solution to her dilemma, the key to the Labyrinth here in Elcast, right under her nose? She wanted to laugh aloud at the irony. Morna Provin’s son! The Goddess truly did have a sense of humor.
“I think I’d like to see this remarkable mind at work.”
“Dirk is ... uncomfortable with being singled out, my lady. I’m not sure he would appreciate—”
“I am not in the least concerned about Dirk Provin’s tender feelings, Brahm.”
The Sundancer bowed uncomfortably. “I’ll see what I can arrange, my lady.”
Chapter 18
Dirk was too troubled by his discussion with Alenor to join the others after breakfast. Instead, he went looking for his father. Wallin Provin was a moderate man and a loyal Dhevynian and, in Dirk’s experience, had never bothered much with religion. They had their rituals, certainly. Brahm Halyn, the Sundancer attached to the Elcast court, was quite meticulous in his observance of the customs and devotions of the Goddess. But even after the war, they had never embraced Belagren’s cult of Shadowdancers on the island. Dirk could not believe his father would stand back and allow the sacrifice of a human being—just to please the High Priestess of what, in his opinion, was a rather small and somewhat ineffectual cult. He was willing to accept the notion that they should give thanks to the Goddess. He was even willing to concede that the High Priestess had been instrumental in bringing back the second sun, but Dirk wasn’t ready to accept the idea that the taking of a human life was a necessary part of worshipping
any
deity.
Balonan told Dirk he could find his father in the Library. He was hesitant about approaching his old schoolroom. He didn’t want to bump into Prince Antonov. As he rounded the stairs on the first floor, he saw Antonov on the second-floor landing with Ella, the Shadowdancer who attended Misha. He waited until the prince and the red-robed Sundancer were out of sight before taking the rest of the stairs two at a time, then turning into the corridor on the third floor.
Dirk loved the Library. If left alone and undisturbed, he could lose himself in it for hours. Morna often had to send a servant to find him come dinnertime, and they always checked the Library first. It smelled of old leather and furniture wax. There was a long table down the center of the room that glowed softly from years of careful polishing, which reflected the diamond-paned windows in its dark surface. The walls were lined with shelves that offered the promise of untapped wealth. There were books on history and science and mathematics and a thousand other subjects. But there were gaps on the shelves, too. He suspected there had been more books here once, but nobody was able to explain their disappearance.
The high ceiling was crisscrossed with huge wooden beams, from which a large candelabrum hung. It had not been lit in years. There was no need. Day and night were defined by either the bright light of the second sun or the scarlet light of the first sun. Wallin was standing at the far end of the table looking over a stack of papers. He glanced up as the door clicked closed behind Dirk and smiled when he saw his youngest son.
“What’s the matter, lad? Missing your studies? I thought you’d be glad of the break.”
“May I ask you a question, sir? About the Landfall Festival?”
Wallin’s expression clouded. “What did you want to know?”
“Princess Alenor told me . . . she says you’re going to allow them to sacrifice someone as part of the ritual.”
Wallin sighed and put down the page he was reading. “Alenor told you that, did she?”
“Yes, sir. But I’m sure she was mistaken.”
“Come here, Dirk.”
Wallin had not laughed off Alenor’s claims. That worried Dirk a great deal. When he reached his father’s side, Wallin put his arm around him.
“Son, there are a lot of things that happen in this world that you will find unpleasant. You’ve been lucky here on Elcast. Your mother and I have been able to protect you and your brother from most of them. But things ... happen, sometimes ... and they don’t always make sense. People do things because they believe they are right, even if to others they seem horribly wrong.”
“Then she was right? You really are going to let this happen?”
“It’s... tradition, son.”
“We’ve gotten along just fine without this
tradition
so far.”
“Yet our crops were destroyed. The Goddess sent us a warning, Dirk, and it’s one we would be foolish to ignore.”
“That wasn’t the act of the Goddess, Father. That was the result of a tidal wave, caused by an erupting volcano. It was a perfectly natural occurrence that just happened to have serious consequences for us, because we had the misfortune to be in its path.”
Wallin shook his head, frowning. “Helgin’s been filling your head with nonsense, I fear.”
“My head
would
be filled with nonsense if I believed burning a man alive had any effect on the natural order of the world.”
Before Wallin could reply, the door opened and Antonov stepped into the room. Although Dirk wasn’t exactly afraid of the Lion of Senet, he was enough in awe of him that his mouth went dry on the few occasions that Antonov deigned to notice him.
“What’s this about the natural order of the world?” the prince asked.
“I was just asking about the custom of murdering sacrificial victims on Landfall Night, your highness,” Dirk informed him. He heard a faint hiss of disapproval from his father beside him.
“
Murder,
Dirk? That’s a bit harsh.” Antonov smiled benevolently. “The souls of Landfall Festival are given as a gift to the Goddess, Dirk. It was the sacrifice of a child of royal blood that brought back the Age of Light. The lives we give to the Goddess now are so that we may remain in it.”
“What child?” Dirk asked. He felt his father’s arm tighten warningly around his shoulder, but it was too late. He had already done the damage.
Prince Antonov’s eyes grew bleak. “It was my youngest son, Dirk.”
Dirk wished the floor would open up and swallow him, but Antonov no longer seemed to notice his presence. He turned his leonine head toward Wallin. Even his father cowered a little under his scrutiny.
“It appalls me that your son should have to ask such a question. What have you been teaching him, Wallin? Or rather, what have you
neglected
to teach him?”
“His education is not being neglected,” the duke assured him.
Antonov turned his golden-eyed gaze on Dirk. “Perhaps,” the prince agreed ominously.
“Dirk is a very bright boy, your highness. His mathematical ability, in particular, is quite astounding. I confess we have gone to such pains to foster that talent that perhaps a few other ... subjects ... have not received the attention they deserved.”
Antonov frowned. “That’s certainly clear enough. So, you’re a mathematician, are you, Dirk?”
“I’m apprenticed to be a physician, your highness.”
“Indeed, but one wonders if you’ve been offered an alternative.”
Dirk glanced at his father with a puzzled look. “I’m not sure I understand, your highness.”
“If your talent lies in the area of mathematics, I’m surprised that you haven’t been offered a chance to pursue it in a more stimulating environment.”
“You mean at the university on Grannon Rock?”
“No, Dirk, I mean at the university in Avacas.”
“I wasn’t aware they accepted students from outside Senet, sire.”
“There’s a great deal you don’t seem to be aware of, Dirk Provin.”
“Anton—” Wallin began.
The Lion of Senet held up his hand, warning the duke to silence. “No! I’ll hear none of your excuses, Wallin. I can easily imagine how this boy’s education came to be so sadly neglected. And who is responsible for it.”
“I’m sure we can correct any—”
“Oh, you can trust me that the gaps in this boy’s education will be corrected. I intend to do something about that myself.” Antonov turned on his heel, letting the door slam shut behind him.
Dirk looked at his father with concern. “Father?”
“Don’t worry about it, son.”
“But what did he mean?”
“I said, don’t worry about it. Go join your friends.”
“But—”
“Go, Dirk.”
With the subject so firmly closed, Dirk had no choice but to obey his father.
As he slowly descended the stairs, he thought over what Antonov had said. He was almost afraid to learn what the Lion of Senet meant by “doing something” about his education.
He had always had excellent tutors, the best his father could afford. Although Elcast was counted as one of the larger islands, they were on the western edge of the kingdom and far removed from the queen’s court on Kalarada. Elcast was not wealthy, like Grannon Rock or Bryton, but even with the crippling taxes owed to Senet each year, they managed to get by, and the Elcast court was known to be a pleasant place to serve. Dirk had always believed that was the reason they acquired staff who could have earned much more in a wealthier court. Some people preferred the slower pace of life here, Wallin often boasted.
Dirk had never questioned their good fortune until now. He thought people like Master Kedron, whose ability was so legendary that he actually owned a diamond-bladed dagger, and Master Helgin, who had studied in the university at Grannon Rock and had reputedly served in the royal household, had come to Elcast for their health.
Now he wondered if there was another reason.
If Prince Antonov was concerned enough about the Queen of Dhevyn’s court to take Alenor away from it, it wasn’t hard to imagine that a mere physician might find his position uncomfortable there—particularly if he held opinions at odds with someone as powerful as the Lion of Senet. Was Helgin here on Elcast because he disagreed with the Lion of Senet? Because he taught science, rather than the approved religious version of events? Or did it go deeper than that?
Is there some connection
between Master Helgin and Johan Thorn?
Perhaps Helgin had served not in Queen Rainan’s court on Kalarada, but in King Johan’s.
Dirk found the whole situation rather puzzling. His father was an old friend of Antonov’s, he knew, and had fought with him in the War of the Shadows. But other than the fact that there had been a war against the faithful led by a heretic, he realized now that he’d been told nothing about it at all. Nobody mentioned that the heretic had been Johan Thorn. Neither had they mentioned that he wasn’t just a heretic, but the King of Dhevyn.
Looking back, Dirk recalled Helgin’s reluctance to teach him recent history, claiming he had too many other things to learn. Perhaps they were some of the books that were missing? He remembered asking questions about it when he was younger that had spurred Helgin into suddenly overloading him with other work, so that his curiosity was diverted. Recently, he’d been so wrapped up in his studies as an apprentice physician, that history barely rated a mention.
And nobody had ever talked about what Morna had done during that time. Dirk had always assumed that she had stayed home like a dutiful wife and administered the Duchy, while her husband was off fighting the heretics who wanted to prevent the return of the Age of Light.
When he thought about it, he realized that he knew nothing of his parents’ history with the Lion of Senet—only that Morna was prone to making snide remarks about him and the High Priestess, and Wallin was always warning her to silence on the matter.
By the time he reached the ground floor, Dirk’s natural curiosity was starting to get the better of him. There had to be someone he could trust to tell him what really happened. There was no point asking his parents or Master Helgin. It was obvious they had done their best to discourage scrutiny of the past. He didn’t want to ask Alenor, afraid to expose his ignorance, and he doubted Kirsh or Lanon cared enough about history to have more than a fleeting acquaintance with it.
Then he smiled, as it occurred to him that there was one person on Elcast at present who might be able to tell him the truth. One person who knew
exactly
what had happened.
He needed to find a way to get in to see Johan Thorn.