Lord of the Shadows

by Jennifer Fallon

  The prince shook his head. “No. Nothing's the matter, Eryk. I'm just surprised, that's all.”

  Rees looked at Kirsh with concern. “Dirk never mentioned Johan had another child?”

  Kirsh shook his head. “Misha never mentioned it, either.”

  “Can I really come to Omaxin with you, Prince Kirsh?”

  Kirsh nodded distractedly. “Why don't you run along, Eryk, and get your gear packed. We're leaving before second sunrise tomorrow.”

  “You won't be sorry you let me come, Prince Kirsh,” Eryk promised.

  “I'm sure I won't be,” Kirsh agreed.

  Eryk sketched a hasty bow and fled the room excitedly. He couldn't wait to tell Caterina he was going to Omaxin with Prince Kirsh and Lord Rees; he couldn't wait to see Marqel again.

  irsh's arrival in Omaxin, without Dirk Provin, was more than Marqel could have hoped for. She had spent a great deal of time and effort since her arrival in the ruins composing ever more elaborate prophecies she supposedly read from the walls of the cavern at the end of the labyrinth. It would have all been wasted if Dirk turned up and exposed her.

  Antonov believed Dirk Provin could read the cavern walls as well as she could so he wouldn't even have to call her a liar to expose her fraud. All he had to do was disagree with her, even on a minor point, to throw her whole plan into disarray. As it was, Rudi Kalenkov was extremely suspicious. He kept trying to pin her down on what part of the wall she had read particular passages from, but Marqel refused to be drawn. She fobbed him off with a few barely adequate excuses. Antonov believed her and that was all that really mattered.

  The Lion of Senet was feverish with anticipation when he learned Kirsh was on his way. The army he had gathered in the ruins was also delighted, and more than a little relieved by the news. The troops brought north were bored with nothing to do and nobody to fight. No one had seen so much as a glimpse of a Sidorian raider for months. Their idleness was turning to discontent. They had no idea why they were here. There was no enemy to face and they had been taken from a city perched on the brink of chaos where their presence had actually been of some use. Marqel couldn't risk Antonov addressing the troops to reassure them. His ranting would alarm them and she would have no hope of controlling them if they realized he was insane.

  Kirsh was her salvation. The army would follow him without question. And Antonov would probably cede command of it to his favorite son without resistance, provided he believed that was what the Goddess wanted.

  Of course, she had to convince Kirsh yet that his duty lay in taking Senet back for the Goddess. That might have proved an insurmountable hurdle if Dirk Provin had been around to counter her arguments, but Kirsh had left him back in Avacas.

  Sometimes, things really did go according to plan.

  Marqel was in the cavern with Antonov—who was praying again—when she got word the prince had arrived, just after first sunrise. She hurried out to meet him before Antonov realized Kirsh was here. It was too risky to let him speak to his son before she had a chance to prepare him.

  Kirsh smiled wearily when he spied her.

  “You're safe,” he said by way of greeting.

  “Of course I'm safe,” she replied. “That's why you sent me here, isn't it?”

  Kirsh nodded, aware everyone was looking at them and every word they said to each other would be the subject of rumor and speculation.

  “You look tired, your highness. Come. I'll show you to the tent set aside for you. Dismiss your escort. I'm sure they deserve a rest.”

  Turning to Sergey, Kirsh gave the order, and then turned to follow Marqel. It was then that Marqel realized that among the escort was Dirk's brother, Rees Provin.

  “My lord,” she said, with a small bow. “What brings you to Omaxin?”

  Rees dismounted, handing his reins to Sergey. “Boredom, mostly, my lady. A trip north to see the legendary ruins of Omaxin seemed far more interesting than waiting around in Bollow for Faralan to give birth.”

  Typical male, she thought. Get your woman knocked up and then abandon her to deal with the agony of childbirth alone, while you go off sightseeing. Rees Provin's presence in Omaxin simply reinforced Marquel's belief pregnancy and childbirth were a curse.

  “I'm sure you'll find them fascinating, my lord,” she replied with a noncommittal shrug. In truth, she cared little about Rees Provin. He could do whatever he wanted, provided he didn't get in her way.

  “What about me, Prince Kirsh?”

  They looked back at Eryk, who stood alone and rather forlorn, a little aside from the rest of Kirsh's escort.

  What is that pathetic little moron doing here?

  “Eryk!” she cried with a beaming smile. “Goodness, what are you doing here?”

  “I'm Prince Kirsh and Lord Rees's servant until we get back to Avacas,” he explained.

  “Well, then we'll have to find you a special tent of your own.” Because there is no way in hell you're going to sleep on a pallet in Kirsh's tent and get in my way, you disgusting little creep. She turned to one of Rudi's Shadowdancers who was standing around watching the arrival of the prince. “You there! See to it young Eryk is given his own tent. And make sure he gets fed, too. He's a very good friend of mine. Be sure you look after him.”

  Eryk smiled with relief, delighted Marqel was so obviously concerned for his welfare. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “You take your rest, Eryk,” she ordered. “I'm sure you must be exhausted after such a long ride. I'll take care of Prince Kirshov tonight.”

  Eryk trotted off happily in the wake of the Shadowdancer. Marqel led Kirsh through the camp to the tent set up next to hers and led him inside.

  As soon as they were out of sight of the rest of the camp, she threw herself at him. Kirsh kissed her with fervor.

  “Marqel …”

  “Shh …” she said, slipping the robe from her shoulders. “We can talk later. Afterward.”

  She knew Kirsh so very, very well. He did as she bid and said nothing for a long time after that, other than to whisper her name as if it were a cry of ecstasy.

  Antonov was pacing his tent anxiously when Marqel finally led Kirsh into his presence the following morning. Kirsh was obviously concerned when he saw him. Antonov's determination to spend almost every waking moment in prayer meant he wasn't eating, and he had lost weight since coming to Omaxin. His once powerful frame was wasted and thin and his clothes hung on him as if made for a much larger man.

  “Kirsh!” he cried. “You're here at last! Why isn't Dirk with you?”

  Marqel bit back a private little smile at the pain Antonov's question caused Kirsh.

  “He had some things to take care of in Avacas.”

  “He knows I want him here, doesn't he?”

  “Yes, sir, but—”

  “He's not defying me again, is he?”

  “I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”

  “My meaning's clear enough, Kirsh. I've heard some disturbing things since I've been in Omaxin. News of riots and temples being burned. The prophecies speak of a false redeemer, you know.”

  “What prophecies?” Kirsh asked.

  Antonov kept pacing as if Kirsh hadn't spoken. “The more I hear of them, the more I fear they mean Dirk. Since I learned Marqel is able to read the Goddess's writings, things have become very confused. Very confused, indeed. The prophecies speak of a time of great trouble if the false redeemer is allowed to prevail. But I'm taking precautions. If he proves himself false, I'll deal with it. We'll deal with it.”

  “Father…”

  “I want your oath, Kirsh.”

  “My oath on what?”

  “That you will always follow the Goddess. That you will defend her to the death.”

  “You know I would.”

  “Your oath!” Antonov insisted. “You're my only heir, Kirsh.”

  “Well, actually, that's not—”

  Antonov wasn't listening to him. “When I die, the task will fall to you. Swear to me now you
will see this through. That you will make certain no false redeemer is allowed to turn Senet from the teachings of the High Priestess.”

  “Father, there's something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Are you refusing to swear it, Kirsh?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then I want your oath.”

  Marqel nodded encouragingly. “Go on, Kirsh.” Dirk's advice about Antonov had never proved so useful. Make his faith work for you. It's Antonov's one great strength and his one great weakness. He'll do anything you want, believe anything you want, if he believes it is the will of the Goddess.

  Kirsh sighed heavily. “You have my oath.”

  Antonov smiled with relief. “Then I can die content.”

  “You're not dying, Father.”

  “No. But my days are numbered,” he informed Kirsh, seemingly undisturbed by the thought. “The prophecies say I shall not live to see this through. That's why it's so important I have your oath. I can go to the Goddess with a clear conscience, knowing I have done all I could to defend her.”

  Kirsh looked to Marqel for help. She shrugged. It had taken her quite a while to convince Antonov he was about to die, even longer to get him to accept it. She wasn't about to say a word that might throw doubt on his beliefs now.

  “There are other things that have happened since you've been here in Omaxin, Father,” Kirsh began, a little hesitantly. “Things that might alter your assessment of the situation.”

  Marqel looked at Kirsh in alarm. What was he talking about? He hadn't warned her he was going to say anything like this.

  “Then perhaps you can tell your father about them after his morning prayers,” Marqel hurriedly suggested, desperate to put an end to this conversation until she found out what Kirsh was talking about.

  “I should pray,” Antonov agreed. “I must tell the Goddess I have your oath, Kirsh. That even if she takes me before the next sunrise, her truth will be protected.”

  Marqel glanced at Antonov for a moment, thinking that sounded like a fine idea. She was sick of his ranting, sick of his prayers and his desperation to prove himself innocent. Now Kirsh was here and had sworn to carry on his father's cause, she didn't really need him anyway.

  “Then we will leave you to pray,” Marqel assured him. “Prince Kirshov and I will return later and he can tell you the rest of his news.”

  Antonov was already on his knees, his head bowed, by the time they left the tent.

  Kirsh was not happy about it, though.

  “Marqel, I have to speak to him,” he insisted, stopping just outside the tent. “You don't know what's happened…”

  “It wouldn't matter to him if the next Age of Shadows had just started, Kirsh,” she warned. “He's only interested in saving Ranadon from the false redeemer.”

  “Do you believe it's Dirk?”

  “It's easier to believe he's a false redeemer than the Goddess's instrument.”

  The prince nodded unhappily. “I must speak with him, Marqel.”

  “What's so urgent that it can't wait a few more minutes?”

  “Misha is back.”

  “Back?”

  “In Avacas.”

  Marqel stilled warily. “Is he all right? Who rescued him?”

  “Nobody,” Kirsh shrugged. “He came back on his own. Sort of. But it's not as simple as whether or not he's none the worse for the experience, Marqel. He's well. Better than he's ever been. Barely even limping.”

  “You mean the Baenlanders cured him?” she asked in astonishment.

  “They helped him shake off a poppy-dust addiction,” Kirsh told her heavily. “He claims Belagren was deliberately poisoning him.”

  Marqel was so shocked that Belagren's scheme had been exposed that she didn't have to fake her reaction at all. “Goddess! You can't be serious, Kirsh? That's … that's dreadful!”

  “So you can see why it's so important that I speak to my father. Goddess knows what his reaction is going to be.”

  “Of course,” she agreed, relieved beyond words that she'd not allowed Kirsh to say anything to Antonov about this. This news would undermine everything she had been working toward. Everything she had achieved would be thrown into doubt.

  She would not allow that to happen. Not while she still had some hope of redeeming the situation.

  “You must tell him about this immediately, Kirsh. But it would be best to wait until after he's said his prayers,” she advised. “You won't get any sense out of him until then, anyway.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Go and get some breakfast,” Marqel suggested considerately. “I'll call you as soon as he's finished praying.”

  Kirsh reluctantly did as she recommended and headed off toward the cook tent. Marqel bit her bottom lip, torn with indecision. It took her too long to get Antonov to believe her way of thinking to risk everything now. There was really only one thing she could do. But she didn't want to risk implicating herself…

  Then across the camp she spied Eryk making his way toward her, smiling with eagerness.

  “Good morning, Eryk,” she said cheerily, as he approached. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Really good, Marqel. Have you seen Prince Kirsh? I went to his tent but he wasn't there.”

  “He's having breakfast, I think.”

  “I should go find him and see what he wants me to do.”

  “Would you do me a favor first, Eryk?”

  “Of course,” he agreed willingly.

  “Prince Antonov is praying at the moment, but he sometimes forgets himself. If I make some tea, would you take it to him for me?”

  He nodded gladly. “I could get him some from the cook tent, if you like,” Eryk offered. “To save you the trouble of making it.”

  “It's all right, Eryk, I don't mind,” she assured him with a selfless smile. “Besides, his highness needs a bit of a boost. I thought he'd like some peppermint tea.”

  isha planned to convene a formal tribunal to try Ella Geon, Yuri Daranski and Madalan Tirov for attempted murder. Tia was all for summarily executing the three of them, but Misha knew the value of a public trial and Dirk supported his decision. The more public outcry about the Shadowdancers and what they had done to the Crown Prince of Senet, the better chance their cult would eventually be eliminated. The Shadowdancers' credibility was severely shaken after Bollow, but with the High Priestess still at the Lion of Senet's side, Misha's options were limited. While Marqel remained at large, Dirk couldn't really disband the Shadowdancers. He could issue all the decrees to that effect he wanted, but they would have no meaning unless the Lion of Senet withdrew his support.

  So Misha decided on a public trial and as he was the key witness, he appointed the Lord of the Suns to preside over the case, which was the main reason he hadn't wanted Dirk to go to Omaxin. As he realized the very first day he returned to Avacas, having Dirk Provin in such a position of power was proving rather useful, and he intended to make the most of it.

  Tia remained skeptical. Despite the fact Dirk had given Misha his unstinting support since his return, Tia still harbored a great deal of mistrust for Dirk Provin. She was afraid he would do something to sabotage the trial. Or worse, rule in favor of the defendants.

  “There is nothing to worry about, Tia,” Misha assured Tia for the hundredth time since he'd told her of his decision to try Ella and her cohorts publicly. “Dirk will see that justice is done.”

  “Whose idea of justice?” she asked, as they walked along the graveled path away from the palace. Even now, Tia insisted he take a long walk each day to keep up his strength. Misha enjoyed the break and the chance to be alone with her, even if only for an hour or so. “Yours or Dirk's?”

  “He won't let Ella get away with what she's done, my love. He promised me.”

  “He promises you anything you want to hear, Misha.”

  “I don't know why you still think he can't be trusted. He's done nothing but help me since I got back.”

  “Only because it
's helping him.”

  Misha shook his head, at a loss as to how he could convince her. Then something else occurred to him that might account for her anger. “Tia, Dirk hasn't said or done anything…I mean he doesn't still think that you and he? …”

  “No, Misha,” she sighed. “Dirk hasn't said anything. Or done anything, either. He acts like we're little more than strangers, actually. In a way, that almost hurts more. You'd think he'd have some shred of guilt. Some glimmer of feeling in him.”

  “Is that what's causing you so much grief then?” he asked, carefully. “That he seems to be so… unaffected by your presence?”

  Tia looked at him for a moment, thoughtful rather than angry at his suggestion. “I don't know. Dirk made a rather halfhearted attempt to apologize in Bollow, but I'd just escaped being burned at the stake by him, so I wasn't really in the mood to listen to excuses. I never thought of it like that, though.” Then she shrugged, slipping her hand into his. “Nobody on Ranadon can tell what's going on inside that head of his, so for all I know, he's dying from unrequited love. I doubt it, mind you. That would imply he was capable of normal human emotions. But anything's possible.”

  “I can speak to him if you want,” he offered.

  “And tell him what, Misha?”

  “To leave you alone, perhaps? Or ask him to apologize?”

  “And let him think he meant something to me once? Don't you dare!”

  “I'd like to do something to resolve the situation,” Misha said, concerned by her obvious pain. “Like it or not, I'll be Lion of Senet someday. There is no way I can rule effectively without the support of the Lord of the Suns, particularly after what happened in Bollow. Dirk is going to be in our lives for a long time yet, my love, and I'd hate to think his presence causes you distress.”

  “In your life, Misha,” she corrected. “I have no idea what the future holds for me.”

  He stopped walking and stared at her in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

  “The future, Misha,” she said. “I can't just hang around the palace looking decorative forever, can I? Certainly not once your father and brother get back. And you'll have to get married someday and produce an heir and there'll be no place for me unless I want to be your mistress, and I don't think I could bear that. I suppose I could go to Kalarada with Mellie. I haven't really given it much thought.”