Although the rise of Belagren and the Shadowdancers had seriously undermined Paige Halyn's authority, Belagren had been far too clever to cut herself off completely from the established religion of Senet. That was why she had suffered the indignity of being nominally subordinate to the Lord of the Suns all through her reign. Antonov was a devout man and would never have followed a breakaway religion, but a cult that—on the surface at least—enjoyed the tacit approval of his church was far easier to accept.
They gathered in the main temple of the Hall of Shadows for the reading, the ceremony restricted to Shadowdancers and the sizable contingent of Sundancers who had arrived from Bollow. Even Antonov was not permitted to attend. This was church business and out of his control. A messenger was standing by to deliver the news as soon as the new leader was acclaimed, but until then, the Lion of Senet was no more than another anxious parishioner, awaiting word of the decision like everyone else.
The atmosphere in the Hall of Shadows was one of contained excitement. Somehow, the rumor had spread that Madalan was to be the new Lady of the Suns, and there was an air of gleeful expectancy among the Shadowdancers as they waited for one of their own to finally occupy the ultimate position of power in their church.
Dirk had greeted the delegation from Bollow personally. He did not trust Marqel with anything so delicate. The senior Sundancer who led the delegation was a man named Claudio Varell. He was almost as withered and old as Paige Halyn had been, but he had bright, alert eyes and had been the Lord of the Suns' closest aide for longer than Dirk had been alive.
Dirk greeted him on the steps of the hall with a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Hall of Shadows, my lord. You and your Sundancers are welcome here.”
“That would have to be a first,” the old man replied testily. “Who are you?”
“I am Dirk Provin, the right hand of the High Priestess.”
“You don't wear the robes of a Shadowdancer,” he said, looking over Dirk's somber outfit with a frown.
“But I am one, nonetheless, my lord,” Dirk assured him. “My duties are varied, and the High Priestess understands our robes of office sometimes prevent truly harmonious dealings with outsiders when they are constantly being reminded of our closeness to the Goddess.”
“You've a slick tongue, too,” Lord Varell remarked with a scowl.
“Eloquence is not a skill restricted to the elderly, my lord,” Dirk replied with a faint smile. “Shall we proceed? The High Priestess and the rest of the Shadowdancers are waiting for you in the temple. Do you have the will?”
Claudio pointed to a heavily bound wooden chest carried by two Sundancers, who, despite their yellow robes, looked burly enough to be hired guards. Dirk nodded and turned to lead the way through the Hall of Shadows with Lord Varell, the locked chest containing the will, and the fifty or more Sundancers he had brought with him following in his wake. Their number surprised Dirk a little. He didn't think there were that many Sundancers left.
They walked in silence past the exquisite tapestries, past the gilded vases filled with fresh flowers, past all the blatant evidence of the Shadowdancers' wealth. The mood of the Sundancers in his wake grew increasingly morose as they neared the temple. They all knew the Sundancers had been impoverished to keep the Shadowdancers in such a manner. Dirk stopped when they reached the doors leading into the temple and turned to Lord Varell before he opened them.
“Whatever happens today, my lord,” he said, “I want to assure you I will do everything in my power to see the Lord of the Suns' last wishes are carried out.”
“This ceremony shouldn't even be happening here in Avacas,” Varell complained. “The traditional place for the reading of the Lord of the Suns' will is the temple in Bollow.”
“But I'm sure you'll agree that with the death of the High Priestess and the unfortunate circumstances of Lord Halyn's death, expedience is more important than tradition.”
When Varell did not reply, Dirk turned to open the door.
“Lord Provin.”
He glanced back at the old man. “Yes?”
“If things … if things should go against us in there… would you see to it my people get out? Alive.”
Dirk looked at him curiously for a moment and then nodded. He decided he liked Claudio Varell. The old man was a realist.
“I don't think it will come to that, my lord. In fact, you may find the Goddess is watching over your people far better than you imagine.”
Claudio shrugged, his expression resigned. Obviously, he thought Madalan's first order as Lady of the Suns would be the destruction of what remained of the Sundancers. He also seemed to be of the opinion his Sundancers would (quite understandably) object, and the result would be a bloodbath. There was no way to assure him he was wrong. No way to tell Varell that the Lord of the Suns' successor was a lot more sympathetic to the Sundancers' cause than he imagined.
Like everybody else gathered in the temple to hear the will read, Lord Varell would just have to wait and see.
The first part of Paige Halyn's will dealt with the personal bequests he wished to make to friends and family. He freed the debtor slaves who had been in his service and bestowed modest endowments on a number of other faithful retainers. He bequeathed his personal belongings to his niece, and his journals to the Sundancers' archives in Bollow. The list was long and comprehensive, and it bored everyone to tears.
When Claudio Varell came to the next part, however, the entire temple suddenly seemed to be holding its breath. The hall was packed with every Shadowdancer who had been within traveling distance of Avacas, as well as a number of Sundancers additional to those Varell had brought from Bollow. The numbers were not as uneven as Dirk thought they might be. The Sundancers were a dying breed, he thought, but they were a long way from being extinct.
“As to my successor,” Lord Varell read in a voice noticeably shaking, “this is a matter to which I have given a great deal of thought. In my time as Lord of the Suns, I have witnessed many changes. I have seen the Age of Shadows come and go. I have watched the rise of the Shadowdancers and the perversion of our beliefs, and have been powerless to stop them …”
A murmur of uneasiness rippled through the hall, mostly from the Shadowdancers.
“I cannot, however, alter the winds of change,” Lord Varell continued reading. “If I believe everything happens as the Goddess wills it, then I must believe the changes that have come upon us since the second sun returned are also her doing. I must therefore bow to the inevitable, and appoint a successor who can guide both the Sundancers and the Shadowdancers through the turbulent times ahead.”
Lord Varell hesitated for a moment. Dirk didn't think he was doing it for dramatic effect. He had probably read on a little further and was disturbed by what he saw. Madalan was smiling, unable to contain her glee. Marqel looked resplendent in her red robes and what Dirk was sure must have been every piece of jewelry Belagren had owned, but she had a bored look on her face. This was a show where she was not the main attraction, so she wasn't terribly interested in it. The only pleasure she took from the proceedings was probably the thought that very soon she would no longer have to put up with Madalan Tirov dictating her every move.
“I name my successor as the one who stands at the right hand of the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers,” Varell read. “Let the man or woman who occupies this position at the time of my death become the Lord or Lady of the Suns. Let this person do his or her utmost to do what I have failed to do and restore Ranadon to the Goddess.”
The Hall erupted as Madalan stepped forward. She had composed her expression into one of humble acceptance. The Shadowdancers were cheering. The Sundancers were muttering among themselves unhappily.
Varell looked up from the document as Madalan approached.
“My lady?” he asked, sounding a little puzzled. “Do you wish to challenge the will?”
“Of course not, my lord. I am honored to accept the position.”
“Accept it? But the wi
ll doesn't name you, my lady. It names the right hand of the High Priestess …”
As the truth dawned on her, Madalan's pious smile turned to a snarl of helpless fury as she looked across the podium to where the High Priestess stood with Dirk and a number of other senior Shadowdancers.
Dirk smiled at her serenely and stepped forward.
“That would be me,” he said.
Dirk had a bad habit of running scenarios through his mind in advance, trying to imagine what people would do and say, trying to think up ways to counter them, even before they knew themselves what they would do. As he turned to face the Shadowdancers and the Sundancers gathered to witness the appointment of the next Lord of the Suns, he promised himself he would stop doing it.
Nothing was ever the way he imagined it, and it just complicated things hoping they would be.
“The will is invalid!” somebody called, probably a Sun-dancer. “The Lord of the Suns was assassinated!”
“There must be an election!” somebody else shouted angrily.
The gathering seemed in total agreement in their disapproval. Probably for the first time in history, the two sects of the Church of the Suns were united.
“The will is legal,” Lord Varell responded unhappily. “The Lord of the Suns died sixty-one days after being wounded. By law, he died of an infection. There is nothing we can do.”
Dirk let the hubbub wash over him, wishing there had been a way to do this without having to address several hundred angry members of the Church, who at that moment were probably imagining how much better he would look with his throat slit.
“I will not accept this honor,” he shouted over the ruckus, which brought the entire hall to a standstill. If his shout had gotten their attention, his words stunned them into silence, when he added, in a much more reasonable tone, “Unless you agree to my terms.”
He waited, but nobody said a word.
“I will not preside over a divided Church,” he announced. “Nor will I tolerate those who would elevate one arm of the Church over the other.” He cast his eyes over the crowd, unaware of how indomitable his gaze appeared. “I will be Lord of the Suns only if you believe me when I say I will not abide dishonesty. I will not stand for any behavior that might bring the Goddess or her Church into disrepute. If I accept this role, I will expel any member of the Church, Sundancer or Shadowdancer, who thinks they are here for any other reason than to bring the truth to the people of Ranadon!” He hesitated for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Is there anybody here who objects to my terms? Is there anyone among you who takes issue with the Sundancers and Shadowdancers being free of corruption?”
As Dirk was expecting, nobody uttered a word in protest. There was not a man or woman in the hall prepared to stand up and declare themselves opposed to being ethical or just.
“Then I accept the position of Lord of the Suns,” he declared into the shocked silence. “And I will begin my reign with an announcement of great importance!”
Dirk turned and held out his hand, beckoning Marqel forward. She complied hesitantly, looking confused. It would take a little time before the full implications of Dirk's new position truly sank in to her rather self-absorbed consciousness.
“Out of respect for my predecessor, the High Priestess begged me not to mention this today, but last night, the Goddess spoke to her again.”
Another murmur rippled through the crowd, but this one was more curious than angry. Dirk noticed the slight shift in the mood of the gathering and knew he had judged their reaction well. They would get over their shock soon enough. He was going to give them something else to worry about, more important even than the appointment of a new Lord of the Suns whose nickname was the Butcher of Elcast.
“The Goddess told the High Priestess of a miraculous event! There will be an eclipse. The Goddess is sending us a moment of darkness all the world will witness!”
Marqel stared at him in bewilderment. He had said nothing to her about the eclipse since he returned from the Baenlands.
“It is a sign!” he yelled over the panicked murmuring of the crowd. “A sign of both her bounty and her wrath! The High Priestess has assured me the Goddess will speak to all of us! I charge you now to go forth and bring this wondrous news to your people. Let everyone from the Sidorian wastes to the Galina islands witness the power of the Goddess and remove once and for all any doubt that the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers is the Voice of the Goddess!”
In the chaos that followed his announcement, Dirk turned to face the others standing on the podium. Madalan looked set to murder him. Claudio Varell wore a look of quiet horror. Marqel appeared to be rather put out that she'd been upstaged.
“We need to talk,” he said to them.
And so began the reign of the new Lord of the Suns.
irk was the last to enter the anteroom off the main temple where they gathered to object to his sudden and unexpected ascension to the position of Lord of the Suns. Marqel still appeared a little bemused by the whole thing, but neither Claudio nor Madalan were under any illusions about what it meant.
What none of them could figure out was how he had managed it.
“You can't possibly mean to do this,” Madalan cried as soon as he closed the door behind him.
“Why not?”
“Paige Halyn never meant for you to be his successor. He named me! He told me he did!”
“I believe, when you spoke to him, my lady, you were the right hand of the High Priestess. It was the holder of that position he nominated, not you. It was reasonable to assume it was you who would succeed him, but I don't believe he ever said he named you specifically.”
She glared at him suspiciously. “How did you know what was in his will?”
“I didn't know. Lord Varell can confirm that. Nobody knew for certain but Paige Halyn.”
Claudio nodded unhappily. “The will was sealed in my presence, Lady Madalan. Dirk Provin could not possibly have known its contents.”
“Then you must refuse the position,” she insisted. “You must go out there and announce you've changed your mind.”
“I don't think so.”
Madalan turned to Claudio for support. “Are you going to let him get away with this?”
“Of course he's going to let me get away with it,” Dirk told her with quiet confidence. “The alternative is to let you have the job, Madalan, and he would rather disband the Sundancers himself than see that happen.”
Claudio stared at them for a moment, and then looked across at Marqel, who had sat herself down on the small settee and was staring at the three of them with cautious eyes. Marqel might not be the smartest person in the room, but she had a natural sort of animal cunning that served her well when she was faced with uncertainty.
“The High Priestess is remarkably silent on the affair.”
“That's because she has nothing to do with this,” Madalan snapped. “You cannot allow this to happen, Claudio!”
“Why should I object? The lad is right. If he refuses the position, then you'll find a way to take it for yourself, or we go to an election. The only way you can win an election is if my Sundancers start meeting with unfortunate accidents. Either way, the Sundancers are doomed. You have a Shadowdancer as Lord of the Suns, my lady. Be thankful for it!” He turned to Dirk then, but his anger was just as firmly directed at him. “As for you, young man. Have you any notion of what you've unleashed by announcing that eclipse?”
“I know exactly what I've unleashed,” Dirk assured him.
“I seriously doubt that! You have signed the death warrant for the Sundancers. Another episode as dramatic and miraculous as the return of the second sun will see the end of the only shred of decency left in the Church. There will be no more Sundancers. There will be nothing but the barbaric practices of a wicked, self-serving cult founded on drugs and lies.”
“I have a responsibility to the Shadowdancers, too, my lord. I just announced how I intend to rule—without fear or favor. I'm sorry you do
n't like it, but I won't pretend the Goddess didn't speak to the High Priestess just to keep your Sundancers happy.”
“The Goddess never spoke to anyone,” he scoffed. “Who is it, Madalan? What poor fool with more brains than sense have you found to browbeat into submission this time? Or did you find Neris Veran in the Baenlands and torture the information out of him?”
“Neris Veran is dead,” Dirk told him.
“But his legacy of lies lives on,” Claudio snorted. “And what is to become of my people? You have made them redundant.”
“Oh, I don't know.” Dirk shrugged. “Perhaps we can find something else for them to do.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Have you considered education?”
“What?”
“Schools, my lord. I understand it was Paige Halyn's fondest wish to establish schools in every village in Senet. I intend to honor that wish and establish a legacy in his name. We'll make them free, which should encourage attendance. And it'll give your Sundancers something to do. As you say, once the eclipse has happened, there won't be much of a role for your lot in the pastoral side of things.”
“It's a stupid idea,” Madalan snapped at him. “Even if the Sundancers could afford it, aren't you aware of the dangers of educating people above their station? That path leads to social collapse.”
“It's ignorance that leads to people standing around cheering a man being burned alive, Madalan,” Claudio retorted. He was clearly surprised and wary of Dirk's suggestion, but seemed cautiously willing to go along with it. For that matter, he would have been cautiously willing to go along with anything that did not involve the disbanding of the Sundancers entirely.
“But Madalan has a point. How will we fund such a massive project?” Claudio asked. “The reason Paige Halyn was never able to do anything about setting up schools was the lack of resources. All our funds were drained by the establishment of the Shadowdancers.”
“Then it's about time the Shadowdancers returned the favor.” Dirk walked across the room to where Marqel was reclining on the couch, watching him warily. He reached down to the diamond choker she wore, snatched it from her throat and tossed it to Claudio.
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