“Dirk is working so fast because he's no longer burdened by all the things that slow decent people down, like morals or conscience, Misha. There's no magic involved.”
“Perhaps …” He shrugged, not entirely convinced. “One thing is certain. When all this is over, I'd very much like to have a talk with that young man.”
“You'll have to get in line, I'm afraid,” she warned. “And there wouldn't be much point because the first few dozen ahead of you will probably kill him.”
“Your assassin has had no luck then?”
Tia shook her head. She couldn't understand that either. “We'll know more when Reithan gets here, I suppose.”
When Misha didn't answer her, she glanced at him in concern.
“Are you all right?”
He held out his hands. He was visibly trembling.
“It's going to be another long night, I fear,” he said, trying to mask the pain with a smile.
“Can I get you something?”
“The only thing I want is the last thing I need, Tia. Dear Goddess, this gets harder and harder.”
“Master Helgin says you're doing very well.”
“He also uses that delightfully tempting phrase: manageable addiction. On nights like this, I start to think about that. A lot.”
“You've come so far, Misha. Don't give in now.”
He forced a smile. “How easy it is for you to sit there and be sympathetic. Not that I don't appreciate it, mind you. It's just …” He stopped to take a deep breath. “It's just that it doesn't really help much to be told how well I'm doing by someone who's fit and whole and has no concept of what this feels like.”
“I can go if you want to be alone,” she offered, a little hurt.
“No, don't go. I'd like you to stay.” He closed his eyes and took another few deep breaths to try to control the shivering. “I need you to stay. Talk to me.”
“About what?”
“Anything. Just give me something else to think about.”
“Well … Oscon is teaching Mellie to ride,” she told him, a little worried. Sweat beaded his forehead and he had wrapped his arms around his body as if he was suddenly chilled.
“I'll bet … she's enjoying that.”
“So is Oscon. He blusters around a lot and pretends to be a grumpy old man, but I think it's mostly for show. Either that, or Mellie's worn him down. He's really quite fond of her.”
“It's those big brown eyes,” Misha said, forcing a laugh.
“They're irresistible.”
“I never really noticed.”
“Trust me, Tia. Melliandra Thorn is destined to break quite a few hearts before she's done.”
Tia didn't like the sound of that. “Misha, I hope you're not thinking that perhaps you and Mellie? …”
He was rocking back and forth concentrating on anything but the pain. “Me and Mellie? Goddess! What a … terrifying thought!”
“Why is it terrifying? She's a princess. You're a prince…”
“I'm also … twelve years her senior and a crippled… drug addict, Tia. I wouldn't inflict myself … on her, even if she wanted me, which she doesn't.” He hesitated for a moment, almost doubled over with the pain. Then he forced a weak smile. “Besides, fond…of her as I am, she's not…my type.”
“And what exactly is your type?” Tia asked, starting to wonder if she should fetch Master Helgin. She'd not seen him this bad before.
“I find myself growing quite attached to … Oh Goddess!” he suddenly cried out.
“What's wrong?”
“My leg …” he gasped. The muscles contracted violently and his left leg jerked involuntarily. It was as if some invisible hand was testing his reflexes with a sledgehammer. Tia jumped from the step and knelt on the sand in front of him. She pushed up the loose cotton trouser leg and began to massage his calf, trying to stretch the muscles out, which brought another howl of pain from him.
“Your cures are worse … than what you're trying to cure,” he rasped. “Are you… sure you can't do it any harder? There must…be…at least one spot you… missed turning into…a bruise.”
“You're doing fine if you can still complain about it, Misha.” She kept massaging until she was certain the jerking was under control and then knelt back on her heels in the sand and looked up at him with a frown. “I think I should fetch Master Helgin.”
Misha shook his head. “There's nothing he can do for me you're not already … doing. Unless you'd rather not stay.”
“I don't mind staying.”
Misha smiled at her weakly. “I'd have given in long ago if not for you.”
“I haven't done anything special. All this has been your doing, Misha.”
“You believe in me. Even when I don't believe in myself. Dirk's an idiot.”
“What's Dirk Provin got to do with it?” she asked with a scowl.
“He's an idiot for not realizing what he had in you, Tia. And he's a damned fool for throwing it away.”
Tia didn't know how to answer him.
“I'm sorry,” he said, suddenly contrite. “I shouldn't have brought Dirk up. I know how much it hurts you.”
She shook her head. “No, you don't.”
“Perhaps I don't,” he conceded, shivering as if caught in a blizzard. “But I do think you're getting over him.”
“I got over him about two seconds after he handed me over to Belagren, Misha.”
“Really?” he asked with a raised brow.
“Really,” she repeated, with a surprising amount of confidence. When he still looked skeptical, she shrugged. “The rest of it was mostly anger at myself for being so stupid. I've been thinking about what you said, you know—about becoming a bitter old woman. You're right. He shouldn't be allowed to do that to me. I refuse to let him.”
“So you're not in love with him anymore?”
“I don't know if I ever was, Misha,” she admitted, surprised at how much better it made her feel to finally share it with someone. “I think I was in love with the idea of Dirk Provin, not who he really is. He's Johan's son. Even after everything I saw him do, I still wanted to believe there was something of Johan in him.”
“And there isn't?”
“If there is anything of his father in him, it's all the bad bits I never saw Johan display. And then we spent all that time alone together, and he seemed so anxious to find out when the next Age of Shadows was due … well, he was anxious, I suppose, but not for the reasons I imagined.”
Misha was silent for a time as he fought off another wave of pain. “Can I ask you something?” he said, when he was recovered enough to speak.
“If you must.”
“Suppose someday you find out Dirk really didn't betray you, Tia? Suppose you discovered he was really just doing all these terrible things to destroy the Church. What would you do then?”
“That's your delusion, Misha, not mine.”
“Humor me. Suppose my delusion isn't a delusion? What would you do?”
“Drop dead from the shock,” she replied with a thin smile.
“Would you go back to him?”
“The last time I saw Dirk Provin, I put an arrow in him, Misha. Even if your wild hypothesis were true—which it isn't, I hasten to add—I don't think there's much of a chance Dirk and I will ever be friends again, let alone anything else.”
Oddly enough, her answer seemed to please him. “Well, in a way, I'm glad. I'd probably be dead by now if I hadn't met you at the Hospice in Tolace.”
“Keep bringing the subject of Dirk Provin up and you will be,” she warned, smiling to take the sting from her words.
“Are you afraid of nothing?”
“Nobody's afraid of nothing unless they're a complete fool.”
“Tell me what you're afraid of, then.”
“Why?”
“Because right now I'm afraid I won't make it through the night. I need to know I'm not alone.”
“I'm scared of the dark,” she admitted with a shrug, not sure
how such an admission would help him.
“I can't imagine that.”
“And yet you can imagine Dirk is doing something noble. What a strange imagination you have.”
He smiled, but Tia could tell it took an effort. “You wouldn't believe … some of the strange things …I daydream about.”
“Are you sure you don't want me to fetch Helgin?” she asked with concern.
He shook his head and held out his trembling hands to her. “Stay with me.”
“I will, Misha,” she promised, humbled by his quiet courage. She took his hands and squeezed them encouragingly. “Always.”
acinta delivered the news that the Tsarina was heading into port while Alenor was still having breakfast in her room. The little queen sat propped up in bed with a tray on her lap that almost groaned under the weight of food. Alenor ate doggedly, obviously unenthusiastic about the task. Sitting beside her on the bed was a plump gray cat, eyeing the contents of her plate with a hopeful expression.
“Do you think it's Kirsh?” she asked through a mouthful of toast, looking rather alarmed by the prospect.
Alenor had been home just for long enough to start taking control of things. Her seal remained lost, so she was able to delay signing the alarming number of laws and proclamations that Kirsh's Senetian advisers had drawn up in her absence. The stalling tactic had proved very effective but it would mean nothing if the regent had returned. He had his own seal and until Alenor came of age, it far outweighed her authority.
“I've a bad feeling it might be,” Jacinta said, walking to the window. She looked down over the sea crashing against the cliffs far below them, but the harbor wasn't visible from the palace.
“But that means his guard will be with him. Alexin is coming home.”
“Yes,” Jacinta sighed. “Alexin will be coming home. And if you've any sense at all, Allie, you'll post him to the other side of Dhevyn for a while. Kirsh will still be on the lookout. You can't risk so much as a sideways glance at him.”
Alenor nodded in reluctant agreement. “What are we going to do?”
“Well, the first thing we're going to do is not panic,” Jacinta declared, turning back to Alenor. “The second thing you're going to do is finish your breakfast. And the third thing you're going to do is get up and get dressed and greet your husband as if you're actually glad to see him.”
“He won't believe that,” the queen scoffed.
“No, but it's important his advisers do.”
“You know, Jacinta,” Alenor noted with a slight frown, “I think you actually enjoy all this dastardly intrigue and court politics.”
“Well, it's more interesting than fending off unwanted husbands,” she replied with a smile. “Eat the sausage, too, Allie. Red meat is good for you.”
“I should find you a husband,” Alenor threatened. “Someone old and ugly and warty with a lecherous drool and scabby skin and a really foul body odor.”
“None of which would bother me in the slightest if he had half a brain,” Jacinta announced airily, sitting on the bed beside her. “Now finish your breakfast or I'll have you force fed. And don't let me catch you feeding that damned cat, either. You spoil her shamelessly.”
“You're worse than Dorra,” the queen accused through a mouthful of eggs. “If I keep eating like this I'll get fat.”
“You could do with some fat on you,” Jacinta told her. “You're nothing but skin and bones. I don't know what Alexin sees in you.”
“Jacinta!” Alenor hissed. “Don't say such things.”
“We're alone, Allie. Nobody can hear us.”
“That's not the point. If you keep making comments like that, one day somebody will hear you, and then where will you be?”
“I'll be fine,” she shrugged. “It's your scrawny little neck on the line, my queen, not mine.”
“You are truly the most terrible person I know, Jacinta D'Orlon,” she said with a grin. “No wonder nobody wants to marry you.”
Jacinta smiled at her cousin, glad to see she had eaten most of the eggs.
“That's just the way I like it, too,” she agreed. “Finish your toast.”
“You're a bossy old cow,” Alenor grumbled as she took a bite.
“And don't you forget it,” Jacinta warned as she rose to her feet to answer a knock at the door. She opened it to find Dimitri Bayel standing outside.
“The queen really isn't ready to receive visitors, my lord.”
“This can't wait, my lady.”
She stood back to let him enter, knowing the Seneschal would never intrude upon Alenor in her rooms so early if it wasn't important.
“We've already had word about the Tsarina docking this morning,” she informed him as she closed the door.
“A minor inconvenience in light of the news I bring, my lady. Good morning, your majesty.”
“Good morning, Dimitri,” Alenor replied. “You haven't come to bully me about how much I eat, have you?”
“I wish that was the only concern I have, your majesty. I would undertake the task gladly. The news I bring is much graver. I've just received a bird from Avacas. They have appointed the new Lord of the Suns.”
“Lord of the Suns?” Jacinta asked. “I thought we were expecting a Lady of the Suns?”
“We were, my lady. The new Lord of the Suns is Dirk Provin.”
“That's ridiculous,” Alenor laughed. “Who sent you that message, Dimitri? They are pulling your leg, I'm certain.”
“No, your majesty, I fear the message is genuine.”
“How did that happen?” Jacinta asked with a frown.
“Paige Halyn's will named the man or woman holding the position of right hand to the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers as his successor. Dirk Provin is, or was, the holder of that position at the time of Lord Halyn's death.”
“But the Lord of the Suns was assassinated. Surely the appointment of the new prelate should have been done by election?”
Dimitri seemed surprised Jacinta had known that. “He died more than sixty days after he was wounded, my lady.”
Jacinta looked at Alenor, who had gone very quiet. “He's quite a piece of work, this cousin of yours, Allie.”
“What do you mean?” Alenor asked in a small voice.
“I mean we have a Dhevynian ruling the Church of the Suns for the first time in history,” she explained.
“Dirk Provin's nationality does not seem to have influenced his actions thus far,” Dimitri pointed out. “I don't see he has much concern for our needs.”
“This can't be an accident,” she concluded. “The coincidences that would imply defy logic.”
“Which makes his appointment all the more disturbing, my lady.”
“What should we do?” Alenor asked. The news seemed to have rocked her to the core.
“You'll have to send an envoy, Allie. To officially extend your congratulations and assure the new Lord of the Suns of your undying loyalty to the Church.”
“The Lady Jacinta is right, your majesty,” Dimitri agreed. “You must send someone. And the sooner the better.”
“Who?”
“I'll go,” Jacinta volunteered.
“But I need you here.”
“You need to find out what Dirk Provin is up to more than you need me standing over you to make sure you eat breakfast, Alenor.”
“Once again, the Lady Jacinta speaks the truth, your majesty. And I'm inclined to support her suggestion she represent you. She is your cousin, and as such has sufficient rank to do so without insult, and she, at least, can be trusted not to be corrupted by the taint that surrounds Dirk Provin.”
“Why, thank you, Lord Bayel,” Jacinta said graciously. “That was very kind of you to say. Not to mention very dramatic. The taint that surrounds him? I do believe adversity brings out the poet in you.”
Dimitri smiled sourly. “In truth, my lady, I fear it usually brings out my gout. But I do think you are the best person for this job. From what little I know of Johan Thorn's b
astard, he's neither easily fooled nor easily thwarted, but in you, I think, he may meet his match.”
Jacinta wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not.
“I wish you wouldn't call him that, Dimitri,” Alenor said. “You make him sound so … evil.”
“Perhaps he is, your majesty. I suggest we won't know until the Lady Jacinta has seen him at work.”
“Please let me go, Allie,” Jacinta begged. “I want to do this for you.”
“You want to run out on me just when I need you the most,” Alenor objected. “Kirsh is sailing into Kalarada Harbor as we speak.”
“You can handle Kirshov Latanya,” she assured the queen. “Besides, you've been ill. You can get away with swooning and fainting for months if you have to, whenever you don't want to deal with him.”
Alenor thought about it for a moment and then shrugged. “All right, you can go, I suppose. I think we'd better find out what Dirk is up to and there's no way I can go myself. I was away far too long the last time and I refuse to leave Kirsh in Kalarada on his own. But I have one condition.”
“What's that?”
“That you find me another lady-in-waiting before you leave.” The queen smiled and added, “One that isn't a bully like you.”
Jacinta was relieved it was the only thing Alenor asked for. “I'll see what I can do,” she promised.
Jacinta saw Dimitri to the door, stepping outside with him when she noticed the expression on his face.
“There's something else I didn't mention,” he told her in a low voice. “The High Priestess announced the Goddess has spoken to her again.”
“What did the Goddess have to say this time?”
“There's to be an eclipse. It's supposed to be a sign.”
“A sign of what?” Jacinta asked skeptically.
“I don't know, my lady, but if it's true, even the most cynical nonbeliever will start to wonder at the power of the Shadowdancers.”
Lord of the Shadows Page 24
