Lord of the Shadows Page 6

  “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.

  irk's visit with Alenor disturbed him more than he let her know. It was dangerous for her in Avacas, but not for the reasons she imagined. Alenor feared Antonov would learn her secret. She was frightened Kirsh might tell his father the child she lost was not his. But that danger paled into insignificance against how close Marqel had come to killing Alenor. And Dirk was still worried Marqel would try something else to harm her. The Shadowdancer's jealousy had already cost Alenor her child.

  Dirk could do little to solve the problem, however, other than warn Alenor to be on her guard, and keep Marqel confined. The latter was becoming increasingly difficult as Antonov demanded an answer to whether or not the Goddess had truly spoken to her.

  Dirk walked down the stairs to the third floor, where Marqel's room was located, thinking he would have to speak to Antonov soon. Belagren's funeral would take place the day after tomorrow. Antonov had to know by then if the Goddess had taken Belagren from him so Marqel could step into her place. Or if another, more sinister hand had intervened.

  Dirk was still furious that Marqel had killed Belagren, but made a point of not letting Marqel realize it. His only lapse had been on the morning Belagren died, when he had slapped that thoughtless, murderous little bitch for what she'd done. He'd never hit a woman before; never even wanted to. But for Marqel, he found himself willing to make an exception. It was hit her or strangle the breath out of her, so in his view she'd actually gotten the better part of the deal.

  Marqel still had no concept of what she'd done. No inkling of how close to ruining everything she was. Dirk's whole plan relied on Belagren's disgrace. He needed to prove she was human, flawed and culpable. All Marqel had done was raise the late High Priestess to the status of a deity. It was going to be next to impossible to destroy that image in Antonov's mind. Were it not for the fact that killing Marqel now might bestow on her the same divine aura, he might have been tempted to give in to his desire to strangle her after all.

  The guards on Marqel's room admitted him without question. She was reclining on the bed when he entered, her hand held by a servant who was polishing her nails while Marqel relaxed against the pillows with slices of cucumber over her eyes. When she heard the door close, she lifted one of the slices wi
th her free hand and glared at him with one eye.

  “Oh, it's you.”

  “Leave us,” Dirk ordered the servant.

  The woman put down her towel and file and hurried out of the room. Marqel removed the cucumber slices and sat up, not at all pleased she had been disturbed.

  “You can't just come in here and order my servants about,” she complained.

  “Actually, Marqel, I can,” he reminded her. “And they're not your servants. Not yet, anyway.”

  “Have you spoken to Antonov?”

  “Tomorrow. I want Madalan there when I tell him we believe your visions are genuine.”

  “I still can't believe you got that old hag to agree to this.”

  “I told Madalan it was Belagren's idea,” he explained, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The rooms on the third floor were much less grand than the royal apartments on the floor above.

  Marqel smiled. “Then it's a good thing Belagren's not around to disagree with you, isn't it?”

  She was constantly seeking reassurance that what she had done was for the best. Dirk doubted it was because she felt any guilt about committing murder. It seemed more likely she was just trying to convince herself she knew better than he did. Dirk was beginning to suspect Marqel was not entirely sane. She wasn't insane the way Neris was. But there was something missing, however; some attribute of decency or conscience others possessed simply didn't exist in Marqel. It made her dangerous and unpredictable. Both were traits he could ill afford now.

  “I also told her the reason Belagren chose you was because you were disposable,” he added, taking a degree of malicious satisfaction from her shocked expression. “You have no family to protect you. Nobody to object if you suddenly disappear. That's what she found so easy to believe, Marqel. For all I know, Madalan's already grooming your replacement. Just remember that before you start getting creative again.”

  “That's not fair!”

  “Maybe not,” he shrugged. “But it wouldn't have been a problem if you'd done what you were told. You'd have Belagren protecting you. Now you're going to be constantly fending off Madalan's attempts to remove you.”