“That’s so damn clever, I almost wish I
had
thought of it,” he remarked, trusting that his denial would further strengthen Dirk’s argument.
“Why?” Antonov demanded with a frown. “What would you hope to achieve by such a ruse?”
“Because it keeps you occupied,” Dirk answered before Johan could. “If you want proof, your highness, it’s all around you. If Neris Veran really did know when the next Age of Shadows was due, don’t you think the first person he’d tell would be Johan Thorn? And if Thorn knew something that important, he wouldn’t be here now, your highness, he’d have been shouting it from every rooftop in Senet and Dhevyn for the past fifteen odd years.”
“You expect me to believe that Johan Thorn would be willing to die, rather than reveal his lie?”
“You sacrificed your son because you believed in your cause, your highness,” Dirk reminded him. “Why is it so hard to believe that Johan Thorn is prepared to die for his?”
Antonov seemed dumbfounded by Dirk’s logic. Johan glanced at Reithan and Tia, who were staring at Dirk in confusion.
“Do you believe in the Goddess, Dirk?” Antonov asked him suddenly.
“I believe Johan Thorn doesn’t have the information you want, your highness, because it doesn’t exist.”
Antonov turned to face Johan. His expression was thoughtful. “Dirk argues a compelling case, don’t you think?”
“I think it’s nonsense,” Johan scoffed. “He’s been around you too long. He’s imagining plots that couldn’t possibly exist.”
“Are you so cunning, Johan, that you would think up such a plan?”
“If I were that smart, Anton, I’d have figured out a way to rid Dhevyn of you,” Johan retorted pleasantly.
He watched Antonov pace the terrace, trying to hide the terror he felt. He didn’t know if what Dirk had said had made any impact on Antonov, and suspected that it hadn’t. The Lion of Senet had his own plans, and all the clever manipulation of the facts weren’t likely to alter them.
“So, Dirk, should I kill them? If what you claim is true, will killing them aid or hinder their cause?”
“Eryk is innocent, your highness. It’s unlikely he’s even heard of Neris Veran, so killing him would be pointless.”
“Or he could be a clever plant, sent to Avacas by your mother, to coordinate her treasonous activities with Johan’s allies. It was Lady Morna, after all, who suggested you bring the boy to Senet as your servant.”
Dirk looked genuinely amused. “
Eryk?
Your highness, even you can’t believe that.”
Antonov shrugged. “It’s hard to know what to believe when dealing with such accomplished liars. For now, let’s assume I believe your servant is nothing more than an innocent bystander, but what of the others?”
“Killing the girl would be foolish,” he replied without hesitation. “If she is Neris Veran’s daughter and he’s already dead, her death won’t achieve anything. But if he’s alive, you’ll just drive him farther underground. You’ve already said Neris was spineless, so he doesn’t sound the type to come roaring into Avacas to avenge his daughter’s death. And as I said before, for all you know, she could be some bit of fluff Seranov picked up in his travels.”
“And what of Thorn? And Seranov?”
“Kill them and you’ll turn them into martyrs.”
“I think I’m prepared to risk that.”
“There’s no need. Have Alenor do it. Then their blood will be on Dhevyn’s hands, not Senet’s.”
The soon-to-be-deposed Queen of Dhevyn gasped at the suggestion. Reithan had obviously heard all he could stand and tried to lunge at the young man, but was clubbed down with brutal efficiency by the guard standing on Barin’s left.
Johan stared at the boy, wondering if he had misjudged him.
Maybe he’s not trying to help us at all,
he realized with despair.
The little bastard is actually advising Antonov, and doing it
well. Oh, Morna, you would die if you realized your son had come
to this. Did you know? Is that why you let him leave Elcast? Becauseyou knew he was beyond redemption? Was he like this as a
child, or is this malicious gift something that only Antonov saw in
him?
“Alenor couldn’t bear to have her pony put down, Dirk,” Antonov was saying. “What makes you think I could make her order the execution of her uncle?”
“She’ll do anything Kirsh asks her to do. He’s going to be the Regent of Dhevyn. Tell
him
to make Alenor do it.”
Antonov turned to study him for a moment, as if debating something in his own mind, then he walked across the terrace and placed his arm around Dirk’s shoulder.
“You know, I shall enjoy keeping this boy close to me. Don’t you think he makes a promising student? He’s so much more suited to rule than either of my boys. Misha is too sickly and Kirsh is... well, let’s just say that Kirsh has too much of his mother in him ever to be truly ruthless. But this boy! He’s everything a man could want in a son. Don’t you think so, Johan?”
Johan glared at Dirk for a moment, then shook his head sadly. “I think if he was my son, I’d die of shame that I’d spawned such a monster.”
Antonov smiled happily. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Johan, because you see, that’s the tragedy of it. He
is
your son.”
Chapter 65
You don’t look surprised, Dirk,” Antonov gloated, his arm still draped around his shoulder. “Your father, on the other hand, looks like he wishes I had killed him.”
I should have known,
Dirk told himself angrily.
I should
have realized that Antonov knew the truth. I should have anticipated this. I should have known that he would find a way to use this
against Johan. The sick, evil bastard is positively enjoying it, too.
He tried to catch Johan’s eye, but the pirate refused to look at him.
“You’re lying, Anton,” Johan accused, although his statement lacked conviction.
“You know I’m not,” Antonov replied cheerily. “The lad was born less than six months after Morna Provin returned to Elcast. He’s your son, Johan.”
Dirk stared at his father, trying to hide his despair. His life, Eryk’s life,
all
their lives, depended on getting through this nightmare in one piece.
I was trying to buy you time!
he wanted to cry out.
Nothing
anybody said to her could ever make Alenor order your execution!
But the words wouldn’t come, couldn’t come. He almost had Antonov convinced. One wrong word, one sympathetic look, and everything would be ruined. He looked away, unable to bear the accusation in Johan’s eyes, but when he did, he found himself looking at the serving girl who had helped Misha when he’d had that seizure. The look Tia Veran gave him was one of undiluted hatred.
“Aren’t you proud of your boy, Johan?” Antonov asked, twisting the knife with glee. “I mean, look at him! He’s got Morna’s eyes, don’t you think? A strapping young man, good looking ... and smart? You wouldn’t believe how smart he is. As clever as Neris, they claim. Now isn’t that proof that there
is
a Goddess? She delivered to us another Neris Veran, spawned from the unholy alliance between you and that treacherous bitch, Morna Provin.”
“Even if he is my son, what’s the point in telling me about him now?”
“Why now? Because he’s
mine,
Johan.”
Dirk glanced at Antonov and, feeling like hot lead had been poured into his stomach, he realized what the Lion of Senet had in mind. He truly
had
just been playing games until now. It was clear now why Antonov had been so anxious to throw them together. Did he expect them to have developed some sort of friendship? Johan Thorn might have been able to resist watching innocent strangers die, but did he have the strength to stand back and watch Antonov torture and kill his son? The son that he’d only just begun to know?
Or his daughter?
Dirk recalled his conversation on the
Calliope
with Johan when he’d told him of the child he had stolen from the Hall of Shadows.
I raised her as my own child,
he’d said. Would Johan be able to hold his tongue if Barin Welacin used his talent for causing pain on Tia Veran?
In a sudden moment of clarity, Dirk understood why Johan had asked him to help him die.
He isn’t a coward. He was
trying to cheat Antonov of his entertainment.
“Antonov, what are you trying to prove?”
“That I’m right,” Antonov snapped. “And so help me, before this night is over, I’ll
know
if Neris Veran lives. You
will
have denounced your heresy, Thorn,
and
admitted that there truly is a Goddess. Prefect Welacin!”
Barin had been waiting for his cue. He grabbed Tia by the arm and dragged her across the terrace until she was only a few feet from Johan. Reithan Seranov, still groggy from his last attempt at defiance, was beaten down again, just for good measure, as Barin motioned two of the guards forward. They grabbed Tia’s arms, holding her immobile. Barin reached down and took hold of Tia’s left hand. He then produced a pair of pliers from the pocket in his coat like those the farriers used to trim horseshoe nails.
“How much damage are we going to have to do to this pretty young thing before you see reason, Johan?”
Tia struggled against the guards as Barin positioned the pliers over the top knuckle on the little finger of her left hand.
“Don’t tell them anything, Johan!” she cried out defiantly.
“That’s the spirit, dear,” Antonov said. “Be brave.”
“For the Goddess’s sake, Anton!” Rainan begged. “You can’t do this!”
“That’s entirely up to your brother, Rainan.”
When Johan didn’t answer immediately, Antonov nodded to Barin. The Prefect squeezed the pliers closed on Tia’s finger. Her scream tore through Dirk like a white-hot sword, but it wasn’t enough to cover the sound of breaking bones. Dirk was afraid he was going to be sick. Eryk was crying uncontrollably, held in the grip of one of Barin’s guards.
Then he glanced across at Ella Geon. She was a physician
and
Tia’s mother, if Dirk understood things correctly. Yet she watched the proceedings with a stony expression that did not change. She did not move while her daughter knelt on the terrace, sobbing with agony, blood pouring from the stump of her amputated finger.
“Perhaps another finger, Barin,” Antonov suggested.
Johan Thorn stared at the Lion of Senet in horror.
Don’t
give in,
Dirk found himself silently hoping.
Don’t let Antonov
break you.
He felt desperately sorry for Tia Veran, but somehow he understood that the only thing that made her suffering meaningful was that Johan’s secrets remained safe.
Tia screamed again, as Barin crushed the bones in her fourth finger.
“Enough!” Dirk cried before he could stop himself.
Antonov turned to stare at him, clearly surprised and disappointed that Dirk didn’t have the stomach for this sort of thing. “
Enough,
did you say? Surely you’re not sickened by the sight of a bit of blood, Dirk? And you ... such a dedicated physician?”
Everyone was staring at him. Dirk realized with dismay that his protest had achieved nothing but to delay Tia’s torment for a moment or two, and to expose his own vulnerability.
“It seems he’s not quite so firmly in your camp as you thought, Antonov,” Johan remarked. His face was pale and sheened with sweat.
“You want proof, Johan?” Antonov reached into his belt and drew out his dagger. It was a diamond-bladed weapon— rare, valuable and wickedly sharp. “Let’s see who Dirk belongs to, shall we?” For the first time, Dirk saw anger glinting in the prince’s eyes. “Take it!”
With a great deal of trepidation, Dirk did as Antonov demanded. The blade was heavy in his hand.
“Kill her.”
“What?”
“No!” Rainan cried. Her guardsmen stepped forward to restrain her. Their job was to protect their queen, and at that moment, she was in more danger trying to intervene than by being a spectator. The Shadowdancer Ella Geon’s expression still did not change. Neither did Barin Welacin’s.
“Kill her, Dirk,” Antonov repeated. “Kill the girl.”
“Now?”
“Of course, now! What, isn’t the audience large enough for you?”
Dirk stared at Antonov in horror.
“What’s the matter, Dirk? Have you suddenly discovered you don’t have the strength of your convictions?” He laughed sourly. “It’s so much easier to
order
people to do things, isn’t it? Come now, lad! You’re more than happy to make Kirshov or Alenor order an execution, and they’re your friends. But suddenly you find yourself unable to perform the same deed in person? You disappoint me, son.”
I can’t do this.
Dirk looked around the terrace and realized there was nobody who would help him, nobody who could offer him a way out of this. His mind was suddenly blank, his thoughts drowned out by the horror of what Antonov wanted him to do.
The Lion of Senet watched him for a moment, then turned to one of the guards and asked for his sword. The man complied immediately, unsheathing his blade and handing it to Antonov with a short bow. Antonov accepted the blade and took a step back from Dirk. He raised the sword, aiming it at Eryk’s left eye.
“Let me put it another way, Dirk. Kill Tia Veran now, and prove you are my friend, or refuse and prove you are your father’s son.”
When Dirk still hesitated, Antonov began to grow impatient. “Can I make it any clearer, boy? Kill her, or I will kill them both. Either way, she is going to die. It’s up to you whether young Eryk dies with her or not.”
The boy could not understand what was happening. Still kneeling on the flagstones beside Reithan Seranov, the Lion of Senet’s blade hovering inches from his face, he turned his gaze on Dirk, eyes wide with fear. “Lord Dirk? ...”
Dirk thought his heart might shatter into a million pieces. There was so much trust in Eryk’s dull, fear-filled eyes.
“Do it, son,” Johan said quietly.
Dirk stared at Johan in shock. He couldn’t believe what he’d heard. “You can’t be serious!”
Johan shrugged philosophically. “We’re all going to die tonight, Dirk. Our deaths might be inevitable, but there’s no reason for you or your servant to share our fate.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this,” Dirk finally admitted. He turned to Antonov and held out the dagger to him. “I was training to be a physician, your highness. I’m sworn to do no harm.”
“Too bad,” Antonov replied unsympathetically. “Anyway, you’ve taken no oath. Physicians don’t take their oath until their fourth year of training. You never even completed your first year, if I’m not mistaken.”
Dirk was running out of excuses. Running out of time.
Maybe if I place the knife right and she can fake it
... he wondered, knowing as he thought of it that it was a hopeless plan. Eryk was crying, silent tears running down his face. Dirk took a step forward.
I won’t do this!
“We don’t have all night, Dirk,” Antonov prompted impatiently.
Dirk covered the remaining distance between himself and Tia in a daze. Her feet were shackled. She would not be able to escape. Tia was hunched over, sobbing uncontrollably, holding her bleeding hand against her chest, as the blood pooled on the flagstones of the terrace.
“Rainan, you might like to warn your guardsmen not to try anything heroic,” Antonov said behind him. For a moment, all eyes turned to the queen and her guardsmen.
“I’m sorry,” Dirk whispered to Johan, while everyone was momentarily distracted. Then he added, “Father.”
It was the best he could do. The only way he could tell Johan what he’d been trying to do. The only chance he had for forgiveness.
“Do it now, Dirk,” he whispered urgently. “There’ll never be a better chance. If it’s any consolation, it’s what Tia and Reithan came here to do.”
At the mention of her name, Tia looked up. “Johan,
no
!”
“I
won’t
—” Dirk cried in a desperate whisper. “I’m not a murderer.”
“Then you’re playing in the wrong game, son. Now
do
it, and for the Goddess’s sake, do it cleanly. You’re a physician. You know where to place the blade to make it quick.”
Dirk glanced down at the dagger. It felt like a lead weight in his hand.
“I
can’t
—”
“If you don’t, then you’ll die too,” Johan hissed urgently, “and the only cause that will serve is Antonov’s. You can’t help me, Dirk, but you
can
save the others.”
“Anton, this is cold-blooded murder!” Rainan protested. Dirk glanced over his shoulder. Antonov’s back was turned as he faced the queen.
“Avenge me, Dirk,” Johan commanded softly. “And promise me you’ll save Tia and Reithan if you can.”
“I promise,” he replied, so softly only Johan heard him.
The exiled king smiled. “Give my love to your mother.”
Dirk stared at Johan for a long moment. Then, with a two-handed grip and a wordless cry of despair, he plunged the dagger, not into Tia’s exposed back, but into Johan’s throat as hard as he could, driving the blade up into his brain, killing him instantly. Warm blood spilled over his hands as the life vanished from Johan’s eyes. He heard a woman scream, but he wasn’t sure if it was Rainan or Tia.
Dirk jerked the blade free as a terrible silence descended over the terrace and Johan Thorn crumpled to the ground at his feet.