“Hey! That's mine!”
“That should cover the first year's expenses,” he said, as Claudio fumbled to catch it. “I'll arrange to have an inventory taken in the Hall of Shadows. There's a vase in the High Priestess's suite that should pay for the second year. You will have the resources, my lord, I assure you of that.”
“I won't let you bankrupt the Shadowdancers to keep a bunch of whining old men and women happy,” Marqel declared, jumping to her feet. She might not care about the morality of Dirk's plans, but she was damn sure who the Shadowdancers' wealth belonged to. “You can't touch the Hall of Shadows or anything in it.”
“Actually, I can. It's in the charter of the Shadowdancers. Clause three hundred and twenty-something. I checked.”
“That was remarkably foresighted of you, my lord,” Claudio observed. He was still angry, but he was enjoying seeing Marqel even angrier than he was at this unexpected turn of events.
“I'm a remarkably foresighted person,” Dirk told him. “It would pay to remember that, my lord.”
“This is intolerable!”
Dirk turned on Madalan impatiently. “Shut up, Madalan. I just handed your Shadowdancers a chance to consolidate their power for an eternity. After the eclipse, there won't be a soul on Ranadon who doubts the High Priestess speaks for the Goddess. You'll be able to burn whole villages down at Landfall if that's what you want. If I choose to throw a bone to the Sundancers to keep them happy, then that's my concern, not yours. Be grateful for what I've given you, or when I finish going through those notes from Omaxin and I work out when the next Age of Shadows is due, the first person I tell about it will be a Sun dancer.”
“It was you?” Claudio gasped, as he realized what Dirk was implying. “You're the one who worked out when the eclipse was due?”
“One of my many talents, my lord,” Dirk agreed.
“But why tell them?” he asked indicating Madalan and Marqel. “If you'd only come to us …”
“You would have ignored my advice, the same way Paige Halyn ignored Neris when he told him what Belagren was up to during the Age of Shadows until it was too late.”
“So rather than expose the truth, you'd perpetrate the lies?” he concluded bitterly. “You'll actively aid this conspiracy of evil?”
“Gladly,” Dirk told him, without a hint of remorse. He turned back to Madalan. “If it's any consolation, my lady, you can have your old job back. You are once again the right hand of the High Priestess. I suggest you keep it firmly around her throat.”
“You can't do that,” Marqel objected. “If you're leaving, I want to pick my own right hand.”
“You'll do exactly what you're told, Marqel,” he ordered. “Or would you prefer it if I went to Antonov and told him about some of your other … misdemeanors?”
Marqel took the hint and crossed her arms sulkily. She wasn't going to endanger her newfound power by letting Dirk tell Antonov about what she'd done to Alenor.
Madalan looked at the two of them with a suspicious frown. “What was all that about? What have you got on her?”
“Nothing you need concern yourself with, Madalan. You are her right hand, which means you are effectively running the Shadowdancers. Leave her at the palace to amuse Antonov, and do what you're best at. Trust me, Marqel is doing what she's best at.”
“You're up to something, Dirk Provin,” Madalan said.
“Of course I'm up to something,” Dirk laughed disparagingly. “I was born with a gift only one other man on Ranadon has ever been afflicted with, and I saw what happened to him. I'm protecting myself, Madalan, on a scale you can't even comprehend.”
“So what will you do now?” Claudio asked.
“The first thing I'm going to do is pay Antonov a visit and break the news to him. Then I'm going to Bollow to get ready for the eclipse.”
“You're not going anywhere until I know every detail about this damned eclipse,” Madalan declared. “I want to know down to the last minute. I want to know when, I want to know where and I want to know how long it will last. Give me that, and I'll play along with you. Deny me and I'll destroy you, Dirk Provin, even if it means destroying the Shadowdancers along with you.”
He shrugged. “The announcement's been made now, so there's no harm in sharing the details. Did you want to know them, too, Lord Varell?”
He glared at Dirk and then shook his head. “I want no part of this abomination.”
“You can't really avoid it, my lord,” Dirk warned. “Because this time, it won't just be a sacrifice held overlooking a battlefield marking the Goddess's miracle. It'll be the biggest celebration ever witnessed on Ranadon. It's a long time until the next eclipse, so we're going to make the most of it.”
“I'm not sure what's worse—your gift for deception or your cynicism.”
“You haven't even seen close to my worst, Lord Varell,” Dirk assured him. “And now, if you don't mind, I wish to be left in peace for a while. I still have to face Antonov today, and I'd like some time to prepare for it.”
“This isn't over,” Madalan warned. “You've been named as Paige Halyn's successor, Dirk, but that's a world away from being confirmed in the position. I'll find a way to prevent you ever being sworn in.”
“Then you'd better get to it, my lady, because the swearing-in will take place just as soon as I can arrange it.”
When they were gone, he locked the door behind them and sank down to the floor with his back against the door, his legs trembling so hard they could no longer hold him. He hadn't won yet, but their arguments were stalled for the time being.
Dirk put his head between his knees to stop the dizziness, and forced himself to breathe deeply and evenly. Then he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
This is never going to work! he told himself unhappily. They'll slip a knife in my ribs the minute I step out of this door, or the Brotherhood will get me on the way back to the palace, or Antonov will slit my throat when he hears the news …
The list of his enemies was growing in direct proportion to the number of friends he had lost. And things could only get worse.
“Why did I ever listen to you?” Dirk asked aloud.
Not unexpectedly, there was no answer. He smiled faintly, thinking if he had heard a voice answering his question, he would be as crazy as the maniac who had suggested this.
till smarting over Dirk's high-handed manner, Marqel sulked all the way back to the palace, trying to decide what Dirk's elevation to Lord of the Suns meant to her. The job itself had no interest for her and at best, all it meant was Dirk would soon be out of her way. Hadn't Paige Halyn hidden up in Bollow for years doing nothing? She was a little relieved, in fact, to realize he'd had his eye on the position of Lord of the Suns all along. It had always worried her that Dirk seemed content to be the right hand of the High Priestess. For someone with his ambition, the role was far too menial to please him for long. She understood now. He'd obviously been working toward this right from the beginning. Somehow he had known what was in Paige Halyn's will. That's why he had been content to let Marqel become the High Priestess. He'd had his eye on bigger and better things.
But why had he given Madalan her old job back? If Marqel had her way, that interfering old bitch would be put out to pasture like the broken-down nag she was. Perhaps, once Dirk left Avacas, she could do something about that …
Then again, it might be better to leave her in the job. With Madalan taking care of all the finicky little details back at the Hall of Shadows, Marqel could stay at the palace with Antonov, which was much more to her liking. Antonov was no great lover, but for Marqel, it wasn't about that. Sex was something she did to get what she wanted. She cared little for it in reality. With the possible exception of Kirshov, no man had ever tried to make it pleasurable for her. She allowed Antonov the use of her body because in return she got wealth, power and respect. If all it took was to smile and moan and look like she was enjoying it, then it was a small price to pay. It was better than doing it for a
few silver dorns, or worse, pledging your life and your body to some idiot just to keep a roof over your head and food in your belly, which was Marqel's definition of marriage.
Dirk rode in the carriage with her but she might as well have been back at the Hall of Shadows for all the notice he paid her. He stared thoughtfully out of the window at the city as the carriage clattered over the cobblestones toward the palace.
I wonder what sort of lover Dirk Provin is when he's not out of his mind with the Milk of the Goddess? She tried to imagine those cold eyes inflamed with passion, but it was beyond her. He should be grateful I gave him that stuff, she decided. It was probably the only time he's ever been laid …
Dirk continued to stare out of the carriage, oblivious to Marqel or the direction of her thoughts.
“What's Antonov going to say?” she asked.
“Hmmm?” Dirk replied, as if he hadn't heard the question.
“I asked you what Antonov's going to think about you becoming the Lord of the Suns. Do you think he'll be angry?”
“I hope not.”
“You must have some idea.”
“I'm guessing he'll be delighted.”
Marqel frowned. “Why? Doesn't he want you to be King of Dhevyn or something?”
“He wants me to help him bring Dhevyn to the Goddess,” Dirk corrected. “It's a small but important distinction.”
“I thought he just wanted to conquer it?”
“But that's why he wants to conquer Dhevyn, Marqel,” Dirk explained. “He believes the only way to ensure the whole world pays the Goddess the respect she's due is for him to rule it.”
“I still don't see how you being the Lord of the Suns helps.”
“It helps because with the whole Church supporting him, not just the Shadowdancers, he has a much better chance of forcing the will of the Goddess on Dhevyn.”
That made sense. “You'd better tell me about this eclipse before we get back,” she reminded him. “That's the first thing Antonov is going to ask me.”
“The ninth hour on the ninth day of Ezenor in the year ten thousand, two hundred and forty-one.”
“That date sounds familiar.”
“It's the twentieth anniversary of the day Antonov sacrificed his son, so don't get it wrong.”
“That's a bit odd, isn't it?”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean it happening exactly twenty years later.”
“The Goddess likes symmetry,” Dirk replied unhelpfully.
“The ninth hour on the ninth day of Ezenor in the year ten thousand, two hundred and forty-one,” she repeated, to make certain she remembered it. “Do I need to tell him anything else?”
“Tell him the occasion needs to be marked by great pomp and ceremony. Tell him he must gather every leader of note in Bollow for the eclipse.”
“Why Bollow? Why not Avacas?”
“Bollow is much higher above sea level than Avacas. You'll be able to see the eclipse better there.”
She smiled. “It's going to be quite a memorable party, isn't it?”
Dirk glanced at her and returned her smile briefly. “You have no idea how memorable, Marqel.”
There was something in his smile that chilled her. “Does that mean you're leaving Avacas?”
He nodded. “As soon as I can get away.”
That news pleased Marqel so much she didn't think to ask what Dirk meant by memorable.
Antonov waited for them on the terrace outside his study, the place he always preferred to meet with Dirk. As soon as they stepped onto the flagstones she could tell he'd already heard the news. His expression was expectant, even a little awestruck, Marqel thought.
“So,” he said as Dirk and Marqel halted before him, “the Goddess begins to reveal her true design. Congratulations, Dirk.”
“Your congratulations may be a little premature, your highness,” Dirk replied humbly. “Being named and being sworn in as Lord of the Suns are two different things. The decision is not a popular one. Someone is bound to challenge me.”
“Then I will see they don't,” Antonov promised. “It is clear to me now your return, Lord Halyn's death—everything that has happened recently—has been for no other purpose than to place you in a position to bring your countrymen back to the Goddess. I always assumed the only way to do that was to put you on your father's throne. I should have known better than to try and second-guess the Goddess.”
“I didn't ask for this honor, your highness.”
Marqel frowned, thinking that an outright lie. The way he'd been throwing his weight around in the Hall of Shadows, you'd think he'd been planning it for months.
“That in itself is encouraging,” Antonov agreed. Then he turned to Marqel. “And you, my lady? Were you planning to keep the Goddess's latest revelation to yourself?”
Marqel smiled and crossed the terrace to him. “No, your highness. I merely wanted the Lord of the Suns to be remembered properly.”
“The message I received mentioned a sign?”
“The Goddess is sending us an eclipse, your highness,” Dirk answered before Marqel could. “She told the High Priestess she would give Ranadon a moment of darkness to remind the world what the Age of Shadows was like. Once the world has witnessed her power, there should be little resistance to accepting her will, even from the most intransigent heretic.”
Antonov nodded in agreement. “Do you remember, Dirk, the day Johan Thorn was washed up on Elcast? I recall watching the ash clouds stain the sky that day, thinking the Goddess had something momentous planned. That eruption in the Bandera Straits led us to this moment. Johan Thorn was captured, which led me to Elcast, where I found both you and the new High Priestess. And now, as the High Priestess Belagren always promised me, the Goddess has revealed her plans to bring the whole of Ranadon to her bosom.”
Marqel smiled, rather relieved he was able to interpret everything that had happened so conveniently. She wondered for a moment if it was just a good guess, or if Dirk had really known what Antonov's reaction would be. If the Lion of Senet had reacted any other way, both Dirk and Marqel would be heading for the garrison and Barin Welacin's torture racks by now.
“And when is this sign from the Goddess due, Marqel?”
“The ninth hour on the ninth day of Ezenor in the year ten thousand, two hundred and forty-one,” she told him solemnly.
Antonov was silent for a long time.
“The Goddess likes symmetry,” she added, not sure what the words meant, but they had sounded profound when Dirk said them in the carriage.
The Lion of Senet nodded slowly. “Then she will require a sacrifice.”
Marqel glanced at Dirk worriedly. He hadn't said anything about a sacrifice.
“She will, your highness,” Dirk agreed.
“Did she say who?”
Marqel didn't know how to answer him. She looked over her shoulder at Dirk again, but if he kept on answering for her, the whole charade would fall apart. He said nothing, did nothing, to help her out.
“The Goddess… she said she would reveal who should be sacrificed … when the time is right,” Marqel stammered uncertainly.
Antonov seemed content with that. “Then let us pray that her sacrifice this time is not as difficult as the last sacrifice she asked for.”
Marqel thought he must be talking about his baby son. Even now, the child's death still pained him. What would he do if he ever realized Belagren had made the whole thing up?
Probably the same thing he'd do to me if he ever realized I'm making the whole thing up, too …
he news that Dirk Provin was now the Lord of the Suns upset Tia less than she thought it might—partly because she was so busy with Misha, and partly because she had reached the point where nothing Dirk did surprised her anymore. She felt numb when she heard the news, although Misha was quite intrigued by it. That Dirk had somehow managed to get himself appointed Lord of the Suns only strengthened Misha's belief that Dirk's ultimate aim was the destruction of the
Church of the Suns.
Tia believed quite the opposite. He wasn't trying to destroy it; he was trying to take it over and was doing it at a speed that defied belief—it was less than a year since Dirk had handed her over to Belagren in return for a place in the Shadowdancers.
Misha's condition varied from day to day, and some days were better than others. He was down to about two-thirds of the dose of poppy-dust he'd been taking when they arrived, but the withdrawal was ravaging his body. He kept fighting it, though, even when Tia felt like simply giving in and offering him more poppy-dust to relieve his pain.
He would often pace the house at night, limping endlessly up and down the hall as he did his best to get through the night without giving in. Other nights she could hear him across the hall, thrashing about restlessly in his bed, unable to sleep or even to rest while every cell in his body cried out for the one thing he refused it.
Tia had grown accustomed to listening for him during the night. Although he shared his room with Master Helgin, Tia would wake when she heard him stir and often sat with him on the wide veranda, listening to the noises of the red night and the soothing lap of the sea, talking about anything and everything to distract him from the pain and the unbearable cravings he was suffering.
Hearing the familiar snick of the door opposite followed by the sound of uneven footsteps in the hall, Tia threw back the covers and tiptoed to the door, careful not to wake Mellie. She walked through the silent house and found Misha sitting on the steps of the veranda, gazing out over the blood-washed sea.
“I didn't wake you, did I?” he asked without turning around.
Tia sat beside him on the step, shaking her head. “I wasn't asleep.”
“Still thinking about Dirk?”
“No.”
“I was.”
“It's getting harder and harder to justify what he's doing, isn't it?” she asked. It sounded better than just saying: I told you so.
“Justifying what he's done isn't the problem,” Misha replied thoughtfully. “It's trying to imagine how he's done it that gives me a headache. And it's not just his political machinations that leave me gasping. He's only nineteen years old, Tia. Most boys his age are only interested in girls. Are you sure he didn't discover some magical talisman up there in Omaxin he's using to bend the world to his will? It doesn't seem possible he's doing it without some sort of supernatural intervention.”
Lord of the Shadows Page 23
