The Lion of Senet

by Jennifer Fallon

  Wallin had to physically restrain Morna, who looked set to leap across the table and claw Antonov’s eyes out.

  “And what happened to the last great mind you discovered? ” Morna demanded. “Look what you did to Neris Veran! You’ll not destroy my son the same way you did that poor—”

  “This is not the place to discuss Neris, or Dirk,” Wallin warned, holding Morna tightly. “I beg you, your highness, may we discuss this later? When we’re alone?”

  Antonov glanced around the Hall, as if he’d only just noticed the people standing there, silently watching them. He nodded. “That would be best, I think. Perhaps your wife would prefer to eat in her rooms?”

  Morna shook herself free of Wallin and drew herself up proudly. “Don’t speak about me as if I’m not here, Antonov. And yes, I would prefer to eat in my rooms. I’ll not share a meal with her,” she declared, pointing an accusing finger at Belagren, “or with a man as duplicitous as you.”

  Morna left the table and strode the length of the Hall toward the stairs with her head held high. Dirk watched her leave, wishing he could run after her. He knew there was nothing he could do to ease his mother’s pain, but he wanted to hug her, to tell her that it would be all right. He wanted to tell her that Alenor had promised to put an end to all this when she was queen. And he was curious about Neris Veran. Dirk had never heard of him before, but his fate, whatever it was, obviously distressed his mother.

  “How about some music, Wallin?” Antonov said, in the dreadful silence that followed the departure of the duchess. Wallin nodded and waved to the musicians in the corner. They began to play, but it was a quiet melody, more suited to a funeral than a dinner. Belagren reached forward and placed her hand on Dirk’s shoulder. Her grip was like a vice.

  “As there seems to be room at the High Table now, why don’t you join us, Dirk?”

  “Excellent idea,” Antonov agreed, before his father could object.

  With a great deal of reluctance, Dirk took his mother’s place between the younger Shadowdancer, Olena, and Rees. Belagren sat next to his father and Ella next to Tovin Rill. Rees would not look at him, although Faralan spared him a sympathetic smile. He looked down at the table where Kirsh, Lanon and Alenor were watching the proceedings with interest, wishing he was with them, rather than stuck up here for all to gawk at.

  Dirk was served his meal and ate it mechanically, not tasting a bite. Rees pushed the food around his plate with determination and said nothing. The Shadowdancer Olena paid him no attention, either, too engrossed in whatever the prince was saying. Dirk wished the meal were over.

  “Rees!” Antonov called suddenly, jerking his brother out of his miserable silence. “Show the Shadowdancers my Landfall gift.” He smiled and added to Tovin Rill, “I had it made for Misha, actually, but I thought young Rees might have more use for it.”

  Rees nodded, and reached down to his belt. Not finding what he was looking for, he glanced up with a curse.

  “Damn!” Dirk heard him mutter.

  “You’ve not lost it already, have you, Rees?”

  “What did you give him, your highness?” Olena asked.

  “A diamond-bladed dagger,” Antonov told her. “Cost a small fortune, too, so you’d better not have lost it, young Rees.”

  “No, sire,” Rees said. “I haven’t lost it. That urchin . . . the one that helped me back to the Keep. I think she stole it.”

  Chapter 29

  Reithan’s sloop, the Wanderer, was painted dark red. In the bright light of the second sun, it seemed an odd color for a ship used primarily for smuggling. But at night, when the first sun bathed Ranadon in light that turned the sea the color of blood, it was almost impossible to see the small, sleek sailing boat. As the sun began to change the color of the sky, Tia climbed up the companion ladder balancing the bowls she carried in one hand. She clambered inelegantly over the deck toward the stern where Reithan sat, steering the small boat with his bare foot resting on the tiller.

  He smiled when he saw her. “Ah, this is the life. I forgot how nice it is to have someone else do the cooking.”

  She handed him his dinner. “Well, don’t get too used to it. It’s your turn tomorrow.”

  “By tomorrow we should be in Kalarada,” he told her, examining the contents of his bowl rather suspiciously. “What is this?”

  “Stew.”

  “Stewed what exactly?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  Shaking his head doubtfully, he dipped his fingers into the bowl and picked up a piece of meat. He chewed on it for a moment and then grimaced. “You found my old boots, didn’t you?”

  “If you don’t like it, you shouldn’t keep asking me to cook.” She shrugged.

  “It’s my duty as your friend to ensure you have all the skills required to make some poor, unsuspecting sod a good wife one day.”

  Tia pulled a face at him. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not going to marry anyone. Not ever.”

  “You say that now,” Reithan agreed sagely. “But one day, some young stud with more balls than brains will sweep you off your feet. Then you’ll be singing a different tune.”

  “I know plenty of young studs with more balls than brains,” she told him. “Mil is full of them. Perhaps if I ever meet someone with more brains than balls I might change my mind, but I doubt it.”

  “How did you ever become such a cynic at your age, Tia?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it comes from hanging around with people like you.”

  Reithan smiled and kept eating. Tia ate her own meal doggedly, determined not to let Reithan know she thought it tasted exactly like stewed old boots. It was supposed to be pork.

  “How do we sneak into Kalarada?” she asked, as she chewed on a piece of meat that would probably take several days to digest.

  “We’re not sneaking anywhere. I don’t think there’s a customs official in Dhevyn that the Brotherhood doesn’t own.”

  The Brotherhood was a strange organization to pin down, Tia knew. Elusive and secretive, they had flourished since the return of the Age of Light, and spread their tentacles into Senet as well, until they effectively controlled all crime in both countries. The fugitives in Mil were forced to deal with them on a regular basis. Nobody else had the network of contacts to dispose of the goods they acquired raiding ships in the Bandera Straits. And nobody else was willing to pay what the Brotherhood could pay for their shipments of illicit poppy-dust.

  “So we have to bribe someone?” she asked, knowing that all dealings with the Brotherhood came at a price.

  Reithan shook his head. “Not this time. We’re expected.”

  “And then what?”

  “We’ll meet with Videon, hand over the merchandise and collect our money. But before that, we have to go shopping.”

  “For what?”

  “To buy you a dress.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we need to speak to Alexin.”

  “What has speaking to Alexin got to do with buying me a dress?” Tia had a feeling this was another part of Reithan’s devious making-Tia-into-a-good-wife plan.

  He sighed patiently. “The easiest and least suspicious way of making contact with Alexin is for you to do it. I can’t send you into a tavern full of Queen’s Guards dressed like a damn pirate, Tia, so you’re going to have to be very brave and wear a dress.”

  “Why can’t we just send him a message or something? Tell him to meet us somewhere?”

  “We are. And you’re the messenger.”

  “But why me?”

  “You’re cheap,” he told her with a grin, then added hastily, “and I trust you.”

  “You’re lucky you added that last bit,” she said.

  Reithan adjusted the tiller a fraction before he answered her. “Seriously, Tia, it’s dangerous for Alexin to have any contact with us, even when he’s at home on Grannon Rock. On Kalarada, it’s suicidal. I don’t want to do anything that is likely to throw suspicion on him.”
<
br />   “How do you know you can trust him?”

  “He’s my cousin.”

  “You’re related to half the damn noble families of Dhevyn, Reithan, and most of them would sell you to the Lion of Senet for the price of a good sniff of brandy. If you don’t believe me, just ask Johan what family ties among the nobility are worth.”

  “Alexin won’t betray us.”

  “He’d better not,” she warned.

  He studied her for a moment in the changing light. “I’m starting to wonder if it was such a good idea to let you come.”

  “Why?”

  “The object of this little adventure is to find out where Johan is being held prisoner, Tia. It’s not to get revenge. You do understand that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Because if you start acting like some dread avenger, I’ll tie you up, throw you below, and leave you there until this is done.”

  Tia tossed the rest of her meal overboard and met Reithan’s eye. “I promise I won’t do anything that will endanger you or me. Or even your damn cousin.”

  “Good girl.”

  “Can I ask you something, though? About Alexin?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why is he helping us? His father sold out to Senet, left your father to die and then took his lands and his title.”

  Reithan shrugged. “I guess he feels guilty about it.”

  “You guess? If we’re trusting our lives to this man, shouldn’t you be a little more certain of his motives?”

  “All right, if it makes you happy, I know that’s what he thinks. A lot of the Queen’s Guard feel the same way.”

  “Then why don’t they do something about it?”

  “I’m sure they would, given half a chance, but with the heir to Dhevyn’s throne a hostage in Avacas, they’re not going to do anything to incur the wrath of Senet.”

  Tia was silent for a moment. “Do you remember your father, Reithan?”

  “A little,” he admitted. “The last time I saw him I was only about nine. It was just before he and Johan left for the last battle.”

  “And he never came back.”

  Reithan shook his head. “I remember when Johan came back, though. There were so few of them that escaped. It seems like the only sound I heard for days afterward was women wailing with grief.”

  “I don’t remember any of it.”

  “You weren’t there. In fact, I don’t think you were even born yet. Johan didn’t bring you to Mil until much later.”

  “I don’t remember that, either. Not coming to Mil, or leaving the Hall of the Shadows. Not even my mother.”

  Reithan smiled. “Trust me, I don’t think that’s any great loss.”

  “I wonder what I’d do if I ever met her?” she mused.

  “Well, as she’s currently a member of the Lion of Senet’s household, let’s pray that happy circumstance never arises.”

  “Do you think Johan is with Morna Provin?”

  “Do you think you could stay on the same subject for more than three sentences?”

  Tia grinned at him. “My father says that the ability to discuss multiple subjects simultaneously is a sign of great intelligence.”

  “He also says that the walls talk to him,” he reminded her.

  Tia decided she couldn’t win that argument, so she was better off not pursuing it. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think he’s with Morna Provin?”

  “If he’s on Elcast, he might be.”

  “Do you think he still loves her?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You’re his friend.”

  “I’m also his stepson, Tia. If he’s still in love with Morna Provin, he’s not likely to confide that fact to the son of the woman he’s now married to.”

  “Do you mind that he married your mother?”

  “No. Why should I?”

  “I don’t know. I just thought maybe you . . . I just wondered, that’s all.”

  Reithan was silent for a moment before he answered. “I don’t think Lexie loves Johan the same way she did my father, any more than Johan loves her the way he once loved Morna. But they’re happy together and they have Mellie.”

  “I don’t think Morna Provin really loved Johan.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Well, didn’t she give Wallin Provin another son less than a year after she left Johan? That’s not the actions of a woman pining away for her lost lover.”

  “You, of all people, should know how little love has to do with producing a child.”

  Tia didn’t really feel the need to be reminded of that right now. “I still don’t think she loved him. She’d never have left him if she did.”

  “You know, for someone who professes to be such a hard-hearted cynic, when it comes to matters of the heart, you spend an inordinate amount of time dwelling on other people’s love affairs.”

  “I don’t dwell on them. I’m just curious, that’s all.”

  “You need to fall in love a few times, my girl. Then you won’t need to worry about what everyone else is up to.”

  “Have you ever been in love?”

  Reithan wiped his plate clean and handed it to her. “At least eight times, the last time I counted. Happens to me frequently.”

  “So how come you never married any of them?”

  “Because if I get married, the next thing you know, I’ll have children. With my luck I’d have a daughter who grows up to be just like you, and being forced to deal with two Tia Verans in the same lifetime is more than any man should be asked to bear.”

  Chapter 30

  With the prospect of an invitation to Senet, it was a happy troupe that gathered around the cook fire on the common once the larger sun had set and the smaller red sun had taken its place. Kalleen was in a rare mood. Not only had Marqel extracted a promise from the young Prince of Senet for an invitation, but her quick thinking had earned them another purse and no doubt a great deal more gratitude.

  It had been a good Festival all round, Kalleen declared, blithely ignoring the fact that she had sold Marqel not long ago, claiming they were on the verge of destitution. But with the arrival of the Senetian ship and the unusually generous crowds, things were definitely looking up. The purses Marqel had received from Prince Kirshov and then the seneschal at the castle were an unexpected bonus and now, best of all, they were on their way to Senet. The takings in Avacas would be ten times what they could earn on a small island like Elcast. Even Lanatyne, despite the black eye, agreed that things couldn’t have gone much better.

  Marqel was enjoying the rare circumstance of being the center of attention and basking in it. She earned the appreciation of her audiences easily enough, but as the youngest member of the troupe, and an orphaned Landfall bastard to boot, whenever the troupe turned their collective attention toward her, it usually meant she was in trouble.

  “We’ll get a bigger marquee when we get to Avacas,” Kalleen announced, as she closed the lid and locked the small trunk where she kept their earnings. She tucked the trunk under her stool and moved her bulk around to a more comfortable position. “One with a proper roof. And new costumes, too.”

  “And some new equipment,” Vonril added. “I’ll be laughed off the stage in Avacas juggling wooden balls and batons. The audiences there expect much more.”

  “Then you’d better start practicing,” Lanatyne laughed. “They’ll probably expect you to catch them once in a while, too.”

  Vonril scowled at the young woman. “Then you’d better hone your skills, whore. The men in Senet will no doubt expect you to move underneath them, once in a while.”

  “When I’m under a real man, I do move,” Lanatyne retorted with a lewd wriggle.

  Marqel joined in the laughter at the expression on Vonril’s face.

  “Now there’s a thing, Vonril,” Sooter chuckled. “Maybe when we get to Senet, you can earn enough to pay someone to pretend they like you.”

  The roustabout laughed uproario
usly at his own joke. The others joined in, but Kalleen was starting to look annoyed. Vonril couldn’t see the funny side of it at all. He jumped to his feet, his thin face crimson with embarrassment.

  “You just mind your mouth, pig!” he warned. “Bully boys like you and your friend Murry there are a penny a packet in Avacas.”

  “We’re not in Senet yet,” Murry pointed out.

  “Not quite,” Kalleen remarked with a grin, pointing across the common. A troop of horsemen approached from the direction of the Keep. Riding in the lead was the distinctive figure of the Lion of Senet.

  “I don’t believe it!” Lanatyne laughed delightedly. Sooter helped Kalleen to her feet as Murry grabbed the trunk and shoved it into the nearest wagon. Lanatyne smoothed down her skirts, then turned to Marqel and made a futile attempt to tidy her hair. Marqel shook her off impatiently as they lined up to wait for the Lion of Senet to arrive.

  Antonov came with a full escort. Rees Provin rode on his right, his bandaged foot sitting gingerly in the stirrup. Kalleen stepped forward and curtsied as low as her bulk would allow.

  “Your highness. You do us a great honor.”

  Prince Antonov cast his unsmiling gaze over their small troupe. He did not answer Kalleen. Instead, he turned to the captain of his guard.

  “Search the wagons.”

  The soldiers dismounted, spread through the camp and began to tear the wagons apart. Kalleen wailed in protest as they threw out bedding, clothes, pots and pans, even Vonril’s juggling batons. Marqel watched them in shock, wondering what had brought about this sudden turn of events. She looked at Rees, hoping perhaps that he would remember her, but his face was grim and he would not meet her eye.

  “You can’t do this!” Kalleen cried, clutching at the prince’s stirrup. “What’s this about? We’ve done nothing!”

  “Sire!”

  Antonov ignored Kalleen and turned to the soldier who had called him. The man was standing on the back of the wagon she shared with Lanatyne. He jumped down to the ground and walked across the small camp to the prince. In one hand was the diamond-bladed dagger Lanatyne had stolen in the woods from the unconscious Rees Provin. In the other was Marqel’s secret hoard. She paled at the sight of it. Not only would she lose it now, but Kalleen would more than likely beat her senseless for holding out on her.