The Lion of Senet
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Epigraph
Praise
Acknowledgments
PART ONE - OMENS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
PART TWO - TOUCH OF VENGEANCE
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
PART THREE - THE HERESY OF LOGIC
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
PART FOUR - THE BUTCHER OF ELCAST
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
PART FIVE - A CHOICE OF EVILS
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
PART SIX - THE DEATHBRINGER
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
CHARACTER LIST
THE EYE OF THE LABYRINTH
About the Author
Copyright Page
For Amanda,
and as always, Adele Robinson
For in and out, above, about, below,
Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show,
Play’d in a Box whose Candle is the Sun,
Round which we Phantom figures come and go.
THE RUBÁIYÁT OF OMAR KHÁYYAM (translation by Edward J. Fitzgerald, 1859)
Praise for THE LION OF SENET
“The Lion of Senet is one of those rare hybrids, an SF plot compounded with the in-depth characterization of a good fantasy tale. It is a book that recognizes the old saw, any sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic, and makes good use of the premise. Jennifer Fallon mines the rich borderland between fantasy and SF to produce a tale of deception and ambition in a battle between science and religion. Well-rounded characters and conflicts that are ethical as well as adventurous make for an intriguing read.”
—Robin Hobb
“In The Lion of Senet Jennifer Fallon has created a fast-moving and exciting fantasy saga of betrayal and deceit, peopled by an engaging cast of characters. I can’t wait to see what new twists she will bring to the plot in Book Two!”
—Sarah Ash, author of Lord of Snow and Shadows and Prisoner of the Iron Tower
AcKnowledgments
We have some interesting discussions in my house, usually late at night and frequently incomprehensible to the casual observer. We talk, argue and agonize over worlds that don’t exist and the people who populate them as if they are real. It is not possible to quantify the value of these discussions when it comes to populating the world of Ranadon.
I wish to thank my son David for the idea of diamond blades and for reminding me that sometimes you have to take a risk to change the world you live in. I cannot thank my daughters enough: Amanda, for being my sounding board and for providing so many bright ideas that it would be impossible to list them all; and TJ, for her constant reading of draft after draft of this series and for reminding me that some stories are too big to tell in a single volume.
I must also thank Peter Jackson for his help in defining the world of Ranadon, and Doug Standish for working out the physics of Ranadon’s solar system. If there are mistakes or inconsistencies, they are totally mine, because I kept rearranging the universe to suit my imagination instead of the other way round.
Special thanks must go to the gang from Kabana Kids Klub, especially Ella Sullivan for keeping me on the straight and narrow regarding the geology of Ranadon, and Erika Rockstorm, for her assistance in ironing out some details of this world. I must also thank Ryan Kelly for his advice, his mathematical prowess, and for helping Dirk appear so clever, and Stephanie Sullivan, Analee (Woodie) Wood, Fi Simpson and Alison Dijs for being such economically viable (it sounded better than cheap) proof-readers.
Once again, I have Dave English to thank for helping me look like I know something about ships and sailing, and my good friends John and Toni-Maree Elferink for knowing way too much about the human body and what happens when you do terrible things to it.
I would also like to acknowledge Fiona McLennan and the Phantophiles from the Voyager OnLine community for their enthusiasm and support, for keeping my spirits up and for providing quite a few of the names that crop up throughout the series.
Last but not least, I wish to thank Lyn Tranter for her help and support, and the staff at ALM for being so wonderfully patient with my eccentricities and Stephanie Smith for giving me so much leeway with the story, when all she wanted was for me to “tidy up the last chapter a bit...”
PART ONE
OMENS
Chapter 1
From the top of the cliffs the world appeared bathed in blood. The dawn was ruddy, stained crimson by the red sun as it began to set in the west, chased out of the sky by the larger, brighter, yellow sun on the eastern horizon. The scarlet clouds hung heavy and thick and tasted of ash. There had been an eruption somewhere, Tia realized, as she stopped to study the view. No wonder Neris had gone missing. Eruptions always had that effect on him.
The heat was oppressive, despite the overcast sky. On this world with two suns, it never truly cooled down.
Except during the Age of Shadows.
Tia wiped the sweat from her brow and looked down toward the river. From the cliff top the delta spread out before her; a confused network of channels and sandbars constantly shifting with the moods of the fickle Spakan River. The water was muddy and sluggish; it reminded her of a series of veins and arteries, bleeding into the lighter waters of the Bandera Straits. There was little vegetation. The line of smoking volcanoes that marred the northern horizon spewed out their smothering ash often enough to ensure that everything struggled to survive here in the Baenlands. To the west, Tia could just make out the patchwork fields where their few crops fought to thrive in the ash-choked soil, and beyond them the fields of Ranadon poppies, the only thing that grew around Mil with any enthusiasm.
Behind her, a few faint wisps of thin smoke from the houses of the settlement drifted upward
, hanging motionless in the still air for a moment before being swallowed by the cumbrous clouds.
The silence was complete. Even the wind that normally howled through the delta had taken a moment to catch its breath. Tia looked along the rim of the cliff to her left. In the distance she could just make out Neris, perched perilously close to the edge.
With a sigh, she began to walk toward him, making no attempt to hide her approach. She didn’t want to startle him.
It took her nearly half an hour’s walk over the rough, stony ground to reach the man perched on the edge of the precipice. The solitary figure did not move as she neared. His hair hung long and untended down his back, and it looked like he’d been wearing the same shirt for a month. For a brief, irreverent moment, Tia was glad that there was no breeze. He wasn’t a pleasant creature to be downwind of when he was like this. He was sitting cross-legged on the cliff top as if he was carved from the rock itself.
Neris knew she was there. He was mad, but he wasn’t deaf.
“Have you ever noticed,” the madman remarked as she came up behind him, “that the only time we get truly spectacular sunrises is when there’s been trouble somewhere? There’s a moral in that, I think.”
“What do you mean?” Tia asked cautiously. Although he sounded rational, she knew him too well to be fooled.
“It’s like life,” he mused. “If nothing bad ever happened, you would have perfect skies every day, and you’d be bored witless. But this...” he said, waving his arm to encompass the magnificent, fiery skies, “this comes from a disaster. Somewhere out there, the Goddess has spoken.”
Tia halted in her approach. It was never a good sign when Neris began to speak of the Goddess. “It’s just a volcano, Neris.”
“The Goddess has spoken.”
“You don’t believe that.”
The madman shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter whether I believe it or not. Millions of people all over the world will climb out of bed this morning and look at this sky and think the Goddess is trying to tell them something.”
He was right, Tia knew, but she didn’t want him dwelling on it. That line of thought was just a step away from Neris recalling his own contribution to what people believed about the Goddess and that was an extremely dangerous thing, particularly as he was sitting on the edge of a cliff with a drop of some eight hundred feet below him.
“People choose to believe or not believe,” she shrugged. “If they want to have faith in a stupid myth, that’s their problem, not yours.”
Neris turned to look at her. Dark hollow circles ringed his eyes, his pupils were contracted, his eyes unnaturally bright. He was high on poppy-dust, she realized, which meant he might stay calm for a while, or he might fall into the depths of depression, or he might suddenly launch himself off the cliff in the mistaken belief that he could fly.
For a fleeting moment, she wished she’d thought to bring Reithan along. Reithan was much better at dealing with Neris than she was. Tia was too impatient, too angry.
“What is faith?” Neris asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Which is why you’ll never understand the power of the Goddess and her minions.”
“Neris . . .” she began, feeling helpless to divert the conversation from such a dangerous topic. “You mustn’t keep blaming yourself...”
“Then who should I blame, Tia?”
“Antonov Latanya,” she replied without hesitating. “And that evil bitch Belagren.”
Neris smiled. “I wish I was like you, Tia.”
“Why?”
“Because you still have hope. You still believe there’s a chance you can set the world aright. Even Johan doesn’t believe that anymore. We old men have lost our faith.”
“Faith is for fools,” she scoffed. “Faith is for the idiots who believe what the High Priestess tells them. Faith is for monsters like the Lion of Senet, a man who murders in the name of the Goddess.”
“Yet you believe that somehow you can make it better. You and Reithan and the other young people here in Mil. Deep in your hearts, despite a wealth of evidence and experience to the contrary, you all truly believe that given half a chance, you could make everything better. What’s that, if not blind, foolish faith?”
Tia bit back the retort that leapt to mind. He was sucking her into his argument. That was the danger with Neris. He was insane beyond redemption and hopelessly lost to his addiction, but he was still the smartest man who had ever lived, and it was foolish in the extreme to argue with him.
“Lexie’s making blincakes for breakfast,” she said, deciding to change the subject rather than fight a losing battle.
“Is she making them the proper way?” he asked, with the sudden eagerness of a child.
“Of course.”
Neris was quite adamant about the recipe for the thick, chewy blincakes that he loved, and would refuse to eat them if the ingredients weren’t added in exactly the right quantities and exactly the right order.
Unaccountably, his shoulders suddenly slumped, and he hunched over, hugging his thin arms around his body. “I’m not hungry.”
“But you love Lexie’s blincakes.”
“I love nothing,” Neris corrected miserably.
Tia knew her father too well to be upset by his declaration. She sighed and took a cautious step closer to him. “Neris...”
“Why don’t you ever call me Father?” he demanded suddenly. “You never call me Father.”
“The last time I called you Father, you told me not to. You said you didn’t deserve it.”
“Did I really say that? I wonder why?”
Tia knew why, but she had no intention of getting into that discussion either.
“If I promise to call you Father, will you come down?”
“I shouldn’t be your father. Johan’s a much better father than me. You should go live with him and Lexie.”
I already live with Johan and Lexie, she wanted to say. If they’d left me in your tender care I’d never have made it past my second birthday.
“Johan’s not here,” she reminded him instead. “He’s gone to find Hari and the others, remember? You’ll just have to keep being my father until he gets back.”
Neris didn’t answer her. He stared out over the delta as Tia tried to calculate how fast she could get to him should he decide to jump.
A noise behind her made her turn sharply, then a wave of relief swept through her as she saw Reithan climbing up the rocks behind her.
Reithan was twenty-eight, dark-haired and brown-eyed, like all the Seranovs of Grannon Rock. He was a cunning fighter, an experienced smuggler and Tia’s best friend. He was also an old hand when it came to dealing with Neris.
The madman turned at the sound, too, and smiled thinly as Reithan came to stand beside Tia. “Ah! That’s cheating. You’ve brought reinforcements!”
“Neris, what are you doing?” Reithan demanded impatiently.
“Contemplating the nature of faith.”
“Well, how about you do it somewhere a little less dangerous?” he suggested.
“Are you afraid I’ll jump?” Neris teased.
“You won’t jump,” Reithan replied with conviction. “If you jump, you’ll die, and that would mean you’d have to stop torturing yourself.”
Neris stared at Reithan for a long time, as if savoring his words before digesting them. Then, without warning, he grinned and scrambled to his feet. Loose pebbles tumbled over the edge. Tia stifled a gasp.
“I never thought of it like that,” he announced. “Torturing myself. Yes, I like that.”
“Neris—” Tia began, holding her hand out to him. The madman teetered on the edge of the precipice, grinning like a fool.
Reithan was quicker. He lunged forward and grabbed at Neris’s tattered sleeve. Although he looked as if he would struggle, Neris was wasted and thin from a lifelong addiction to poppy-dust, and had no hope of defeating Reithan’s size or strength. The younger man pulled Neris away from the edge
and shoved him past Tia, placing himself between Neris and the cliff.
“If I truly wanted to die, you couldn’t stop me,” Neris warned as he regained his footing. His bright eyes were glistening with amusement. Tia could have throttled him. She hated it when he was like this.
“If you ever truly want to die, just let me know,” Reithan suggested sourly. “I’ll happily put you out of your misery, old man.”
“You know, Reithan, I believe you would,” Neris replied with a suddenly lucid glare. Then he turned to Tia as if nothing untoward had occurred. “Blincakes, did you say? Lexie is far too good to me. We shouldn’t keep her waiting, you know. Come, come. She’ll get angry if we let them go cold . . . what you’re doing up here at this time of the morning is beyond me. Truly, Reithan, you’re a bad influence on Tia.”
Neris turned and began to pick his way down the rough goat track that led toward the village. He chattered to himself as he walked, as if Reithan and Tia were beside him, listening to every word. “She’s never going to catch a husband if you insist on leading her astray . . . perhaps I should see about introducing her at court. I was a nobleman once, I think. Or was it her mother? I can’t remember... Johan will know... or Lexie. Lexie makes excellent blincakes...”
Tia started a little as Reithan came up behind her and placed a brotherly hand on her shoulder.
“Are you all right?”
She nodded. “He just scares me when he’s like this.”
“I know. But you can’t watch him all the time.”
“He was talking about the Goddess again.”
Reithan glanced up at the sky with a frown. “He won’t be the only one talking about the Goddess this morning,” he predicted grimly.
“You don’t believe there’s a Goddess, do you, Reithan?”
“Of course not, but a lot of people do. And you can wager your right eye that Belagren is plotting a way to make this look like a divine event, even as we speak.”
Tia knew he was right. “We’d better get to Lexie before Neris does. I made up that bit about the blincakes.”
“Come on, then,” Reithan said. “And next time you go charging off to rescue Neris, come and get me first. If he’d decided to jump, you’d never have been able to stop him.”
“I just thought—”