The Lion of Senet

by Jennifer Fallon

  “That’s understandable,” he conceded. “But right now, he’s the best chance we’ve got, Tia.”

  Dirk muttered something that sounded like a curse as he fetched their horses, who had wandered up the lane and were nosing around in the trash for vegetable remains thrown out by the tavern on their right. He gathered up the reins and led the horses back to where they were waiting.

  “How did you get here, anyway?” he asked.

  “We came by boat,” Reithan told him, far too readily in Tia’s opinion. “We landed in Paislee and traveled the rest of the way overland.”

  He thought for a moment and then nodded. “So if we can get to Paislee, we can make it back to Mil from there?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

  Reithan took the bridle of Tia’s horse and led it forward. He helped her mount, then swung into the saddle of his own horse. Dirk pulled Eryk up behind him and then, without asking her permission, took the reins of her horse and led them back out into the street.

  “Are you a man of your word?” Reithan asked Dirk suddenly.

  They had been riding in silence since they left the alley. They were several blocks from the palace, riding through Avacas as it came awake.

  Dirk looked startled that anyone had spoken. “Why?”

  “Because I need your word on something.”

  He shrugged. “Very well. You have my word.”

  Tia looked at him closely, but she couldn’t tell if Dirk was lying. Nor was she sure what Reithan was up to.

  “We have to make a detour before we leave Avacas,” Reithan said.

  “To where?”

  “Chandler Street. There’s something there I need to collect.”

  All their possessions, all Reithan’s gear, was still at Ivon’s house on Chandler Street. Tia wondered why Reithan didn’t just abandon it until she remembered that the marker proving ownership of the Wanderer was hidden among his gear. Without it, they would not be able to claim the boat back from the Brotherhood.

  “Are you sure about this, Reithan?”

  He glanced at her with a shrug. “We have to risk it. There’s no way to retrieve the Wanderer without that damn marker.”

  Dirk shrugged. “If you need to make a detour, then we will.”

  “And how do we know we can trust you?” Tia asked.

  “You don’t,” he told her bluntly.

  “The man who owns the house,” Reithan explained, with a frown in Tia’s direction. “He’s a corporal in Antonov’s Guard.”

  “And he was helping you and Tia?”

  He nodded.

  “No wonder you wanted my vow of silence.”

  “Will you keep it?” Tia demanded.

  “I said I would,” he replied, then he glanced at Reithan curiously. “I gather it’s no coincidence that you and the captain of Rainan’s Guard have the same name?”

  “We’re cousins,” he admitted. “My father was the Duke of Grannon Rock before the War of Shadows. He fought with Johan and was killed in the final battle.”

  “Then why aren’t you the Duke of Grannon Rock?”

  “Rainan was forced to disinherit my father after she took the throne. The duchy went to my uncle. Alexin is the current duke’s second son.”

  “That happened a lot, didn’t it?”

  He nodded. “Antonov made the queen disinherit all the noble families who sided with Johan.”

  “And when Alexin approached me at the ball with his cryptic comments about people needing my help, he was referring to you and your people in the Baenlands?”

  “I suppose.”

  Dirk looked at Tia for a moment, then turned back to Reithan. “Considering it was you and your cousin who asked me for help, you’d think some people would be a little more grateful for it, wouldn’t you?”

  Tia opened her mouth to object, but she caught the warning look in Reithan’s eye and thought better of it. Nobody said another word after that until they reached the cat-filled house in Chandler Street.

  Chapter 73

  The Calliope was gone by the time Kirsh reached the docks. He watched the ship’s sails billowing out as the wind caught her near the harbor entrance, watched Dirk slip through his fingers with a feeling of helpless fury. He should have listened to Marqel. She had warned him Dirk might outsmart him.

  “Where the hell is the harbormaster?” he demanded of nobody in particular.

  “I sent someone to find him,” the guard captain informed him.

  “He’d better have a damn good excuse for letting that ship sail.”

  “Your highness?”

  Kirsh looked down to find the harbormaster hurrying toward him, wringing his hands anxiously, and a guard with his hand resting threateningly on the hilt of his sword behind him. A small crowd had gathered to watch the commotion, but they dispersed quickly when the captain glared at them. It was never a good idea to invite the attention of the Palace Guard. Or an irate member of the royal family.

  “Who authorized the Calliope’s departure?”

  “Lord Provin, your highness,” the harbormaster assured him. “The queen had all the correct documentation. I mean... truly, there was nothing amiss...”

  Kirsh glared at the man, not realizing how much he looked like his father, or the effect the resemblance had on people. “Nothing amiss? Since when do you let the Lion of Senet’s ship sail on the orders of the son of a Dhevynian duke who has no formal rank or position in my father’s court?”

  “But Lord Provin is ... well, I mean, everyone knows—”

  “Just what does everyone know, exactly?” Kirsh asked.

  When the harbormaster couldn’t answer him, Kirsh turned to the guard captain. “What is he talking about, Sergey?”

  “I think your highness, he’s referring to Dirk Provin’s rather colorful reputation,” the captain replied.

  The answer surprised Kirsh. “You mean people actually take that Butcher of Elcast nonsense seriously?”

  “Seriously enough that the Avacas harbormaster would rather let the Calliope sail than defy him, so it would seem.”

  “That’s not only insane, it’s bordering on treasonous,” Kirsh declared. “Goddess, when I get my hands on that treacherous little bastard...” He sighed, realizing how childish his threat sounded. “Is there any point in pursuing them?”

  “Not much,” Sergey replied. “The Calliope can outsail anything else in the harbor.”

  “I’m not letting that Dhevynian brute get away with what he’s done.”

  The harbormaster looked confused. “Your highness, if you mean Lord Provin, then he didn’t sail with the Queen of Dhevyn.”

  “He’s not on the ship?”

  “No, your highness. He wasn’t with the queen’s party at all.”

  “Then where the hell is he?” Kirsh asked. Nobody was able to provide an answer. He turned to Sergey. “Captain.”

  “Your highness?”

  “Seal the city.”

  Sergey frowned. “That’s not going to be easy, Kirsh.”

  Kirshov stared at him coldly. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, Captain. I gave you an order.”

  The guard captain debated the issue for a moment, then bowed apologetically when he realized that not only had Kirsh pulled rank on him, he was deadly serious.

  “I’m sorry, your highness, I didn’t mean to question your orders. I simply meant that Avacas is not a walled city. We can block the roads, but there are any number of other ways to escape.”

  “One of which Dirk Provin is undoubtedly taking advantage of while you sit here arguing about it, Captain.”

  “Of course, your highness,” Sergey said, bowing again respectfully, before turning to issue the required orders to his men.

  Kirsh returned his attention to the harbormaster. “As for you, sir, you may consider yourself under arrest.”

  “But, your highness!” the man objected, as the guard standing behind him moved to restrain him. “Everything was in
order! The documents were marked with your father’s seal!”

  “He used the Lion of Senet’s seal?”

  “I would never have let the Calliope leave the harbor without it, your highness. Captain Clegg would never have sailed without the correct orders, either!”

  Kirsh realized the man was right. If Dirk was smart enough to forge the Calliope’s sailing orders, then it was hardly the harbormaster’s fault. And if the orders had been authenticated with the Lion of Senet’s own seal, then technically they weren’t even forgeries. But to back down now and admit that he was wrong would make him look indecisive. His father had often told him that the secret to being thought of as a leader was to act as if you knew you were right, even if it turned out later that you were wrong.

  “Take him to the Prefect,” Kirsh ordered the guard holding the harbormaster back. “If he can convince Barin Welacin that he’s blameless, then he might keep most of his fingers.”

  With the harbormaster’s protestations of innocence ringing in his ears, Kirsh wheeled his horse around and headed back to the palace.

  Antonov was in his study, standing by the window staring thoughtfully out over the gardens when Kirsh returned to the palace. The Lion of Senet was unshaved and bleary eyed. He looked like he’d been up all night.

  “The Queen of Dhevyn stole the Calliope,” Kirsh announced, slamming the study door behind him.

  His father glanced over his shoulder at him. “So Barin informs me.”

  “We should go after them!”

  “I think not.” Antonov shrugged, turning away from the window. “Besides, it’s not as if we don’t know where they’re going. And I don’t think Rainan has actually stolen my ship. I’m sure we’ll get it back in a few days, none the worse for the wear.”

  Kirsh stared at his father suspiciously. “You’re taking this awfully well.”

  “The temporary loss of my ship is the least of my concerns right now, son. Have you seen Dirk?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I was expecting him to be here.” His father hesitated, suddenly concerned. “He didn’t sail with Rainan, did he?”

  “Not according to the harbormaster.”

  Antonov smiled, looking very relieved. “Then he’s still in Avacas.”

  “I ordered Sergey to seal the city. He won’t get far.”

  Antonov smiled. “That won’t be necessary.”

  “Sir?”

  “Dirk isn’t going anywhere, Kirsh,” Antonov assured him. “I have plans for him.”

  “You can’t be serious! He raped a Shadowdancer! He killed Johan Thorn and he rode out of the palace this morning with those two Baenlander spies Barin arrested at the ball. Do you honestly think he’s just gone off for a few days of sightseeing? He’s running as far and as fast as he can.”

  “Dirk knows that his future lies with me.”

  His father’s words cut Kirsh to the core. Marqel was right. Antonov wanted Dirk. He was the son neither Kirsh, nor his crippled brother, Misha, were cut out to be.

  “And if he doesn’t decide that you’re his future?” Kirsh asked bitterly.

  “Then I will eradicate him,” his father replied calmly.

  “You have to find him first.”

  “It’s been a traumatic few days for him. He just needs time to adjust. I’m confident he’ll come to me in his own good time.”

  Kirsh couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “So that’s it? You’re going to do nothing?”

  “Not at all. I’ve got plenty to do, the first of which is to arrange your marriage to Alenor.”

  “I hardly think we need worry about that yet, Father. Alenor doesn’t even come of age for another four years.”

  “Four years?” Antonov asked. “I’ve no intention of waiting that long, Kirsh. You’ll marry Alenor as soon as I can arrange it, and rule Dhevyn as regent when Rainan abdicates.”

  Kirsh was speechless. With those few words his whole life had been reordered to suit his father’s whim. And he hadn’t even been consulted.

  “What’s the matter? I thought you were quite fond of Alenor?”

  “I am, sir, but that doesn’t mean I want to ... marry her ... not right away, at least. I thought I’d have years yet.”

  “Well, you don’t,” his father informed him. “You have a couple of weeks at best, so if you’re planning to sow any wild oats, you’d better get it done soon.”

  Kirsh still couldn’t believe it. “Did Rainan really agree to abdicate in favor of Alenor?”

  Antonov pointed at the parchment laid out on his desk bearing the queen’s signature. “Signed and sealed and as binding as I can legally make it.”

  “Does Alenor know about this?”

  “I imagine she does by now.”

  Kirsh wanted to shout, You can’t do this to me! but he knew how futile it was to rage against his father’s will.

  “What about the Queen’s Guard?” he asked, doing his best to sound composed and accepting of the situation. “They’re waiting for me.”

  “The Dhevynian Queen’s Guard will just have to muddle by without you, Kirsh. I have far more important things for you to do in Dhevyn than play toy soldiers for Rove Elan.”

  “But I want to join the guard,” he objected, unable to contain his disappointment any longer. “I don’t want to rule Dhevyn.”

  Kirsh regretted the words as soon as he uttered them. That was the problem, he realized now. He didn’t have his father’s burning ambition. Perhaps that was what Antonov saw in Dirk. Perhaps that was why he was prepared to, quite literally, let him get away with murder.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way, Kirsh, but I’m afraid the matter is not open for discussion.”

  Kirsh felt cheated. Everything he had been dreaming of— all his plans, all his aspirations—had just been smothered by the blanket of his father’s territorial ambition.

  He nodded slowly, conceding defeat. “May I ask a favor then, sire?”

  “Of course.”

  “Let me find Dirk. Let me bring him back here to pay for what he’s done.”

  “Why? Because he got to your pet Shadowdancer before you did?” The Lion of Senet seemed more amused than concerned about what Dirk had done to Marqel.

  Kirsh forced himself not to rise to the taunt. It was important that he sound reasonable, important that he give the impression he had thought this through.

  “No, sir. He needs to be found because he’s Johan Thorn’s bastard, and if I’m going to rule Dhevyn, I don’t want Dirk Provin running loose and free to stir up trouble. The Goddess knows what he’ll get up to.”

  Antonov seemed surprised, and more than a little pleased, at Kirsh’s reasoning. “Do you really think Dirk wants the Eagle Throne? I offered it to him. He turned me down.”

  The news wounded Kirsh even more deeply as he realized he was his father’s second choice for Dhevyn’s ruler.

  “Dirk wouldn’t accept the Eagle Throne from your hand,” Kirsh pointed out. “He’s Dhevynian. But that doesn’t mean he won’t try to take it on his own. I’ll rule Dhevyn as regent if I must, sir, but I’d rather not have to fight a damn uprising while I’m doing it.”

  Antonov thought about it for a moment and then nodded. “I think you’re wrong, Kirsh. I spoke to him earlier this morning—”

  “And now he’s missing.”

  His father thought on that for a moment and then nodded, somewhat reluctantly. “Find him, then. And if he has fled, do whatever you must to stop him leaving the city. Just don’t kill him.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Kirsh turned to leave, but hesitated when he reached the door. “When I do find him, shall I hand him over to the High Priestess to deal with?”

  “The penalty for raping a Shadowdancer is death, Kirsh. It doesn’t suit my plans for Dirk Provin to die just yet.”

  “Then you’ll let him get away with rape as well as murder?”

  “I’m still not convinced he raped anyone, despite what your Shadowdancer claims.”r />
  “I believe her.”

  “I’m sure you do, son,” his father agreed, “but that doesn’t make Dirk a liar, or Marqel a victim.” Kirsh opened his mouth to object, but his father held up his hand to forestall his protests. “I know you like her, son, and Goddess knows she’s pretty enough, but that doesn’t mean she’s not bending the truth a little to suit her own purposes.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s Dhevynian, and I never met one of them who didn’t secretly despise us. Never forget that.” He smiled then, sensing some of Kirsh’s anger. “Have your fun, Kirsh. Keep her as a mistress if you want... hell... take a dozen of them for all I care! Just remember that you are marrying the nominal ruler of Dhevyn and I don’t want you jeopardizing the annexation of her kingdom because you can’t separate duty from lust.”

  “You’ve been sleeping with Belagren for as long as I can remember,” Kirsh retorted, annoyed that his father could so easily trivialize what he felt for Marqel with a few well-chosen words. “I didn’t notice you worry about doing your duty.”

  “Your ex-thief isn’t in the same league as the High Priestess, Kirsh. Belagren speaks directly with the Goddess.”

  “Then maybe she can ask the Goddess why you’re so determined to protect Dirk Provin, yet you’re willing to let Marqel suffer.”

  “Don’t let your desire for that girl get in the way of reason. She is a thief the High Priestess took in out of pity. She will never amount to anything. Dirk Provin is far more important to me than some nameless Landfall bastard you happen to be lusting after. He has the potential to hand us Dhevyn on a plate.”

  “When did Dirk become so important?”

  “The day he was born, Kirsh. He is the bastard son of the only man who has ever dared defy Senet, and I’ve been waiting for this moment since the end of the Age of Shadows. I let that treacherous bitch Morna Provin live, I suffered Rainan and her passive resistance, I raised Alenor under my own roof... all of it, waiting for the day that I could claim Dhevyn and return it to its rightful place as the jewel in Senet’s empire. With him willingly by my side, the whole kingdom will be mine for the taking.”