Lord of the Shadows

by Jennifer Fallon

  “What's he up to, do you think?”

  “Dirk Provin?” Dimitri asked. “I have no idea, my lady, but I'll tell you this much. Whatever it is, it doesn't look good for Dhevyn.”

  “Alenor clings to the hope he's on our side.”

  Dimitri frowned. “She also clings to the hope that somehow she and Alexin Seranov will one day find happiness.” When he saw Jacinta's shocked expression, he smiled sadly. “Oh yes, I know all about it. And have no fear, I would never betray my queen, but she is hoping for a miracle when there are none to be had. She has your heart, but not your head, I'm afraid. You must let her down gently when you break it to her that her hopes and dreams lack substance.”

  “You say when, not if,” Jacinta pointed out. “Don't you allow for even the remote possibility some good may come of this?”

  He shook his head, a weary and disillusioned old man. “Nothing good ever comes of dealing with Senet and the Church of the Suns, my lady, and it can only get worse if it involves Dirk Provin. You mark my words.”

  fter several more nights of cramps and shivering, of sweats and chills, Misha was looking particularly haggard. Tia was worried about him, although Master Helgin seemed quite pleased with his progress. He also seemed a little surprised Misha had come this far and not given in to the call of the poppy-dust.

  Tia found the old physician in the kitchen carefully measuring out Misha's next dose. It had been another long night and neither she nor Misha had slept much. Rubbing her eyes, she sat down, and then folded her arms on the table, put her head down and closed her eyes.

  “You should have woken me,” Helgin scolded.

  “Why?” she mumbled. “It's not like you could have done anything. Misha just needs someone to hold his hand to help him get through the night. We just talk most of the time.”

  “Well, your hand is far more pleasant to hold than mine,” he remarked with a smile in his voice.

  “What's that supposed to mean?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “Just that if I had a choice between sitting up all night with a crusty old physician or a beautiful young woman, I'd know which one I'd choose.”

  “It's not like that.”

  “I wasn't implying it was like anything, Tia. In fact, I'm very glad you're here. I don't have your stamina anymore. I can't get by on two hours’ sleep at my age.”

  “I'm not too thrilled about it at my age, either,” she said, stifling a yawn.

  “It was never my intention to force you to share my suffering, Tia.”

  She looked to the door as Misha limped into the kitchen. Despite the ravages of withdrawal, he could walk without the crutch now and if you looked at him when he was dressed and standing still, you couldn't even tell he was crippled. It was only when he walked and his limp betrayed him, or he tried to lift anything with his left arm, you noticed there was something wrong.

  “You're not forcing me,” she assured him with a wan smile. “I get a kick out of seeing how long I can go without sleep.”

  Misha sat down heavily on the bench opposite Tia and looked up at Helgin.

  “How much longer, Master Helgin?”

  “It will be ready soon,” Helgin said, stirring the dust carefully into the cup.

  “I meant before I'm free of the poppy-dust.”

  “Another few months at least.”

  Misha shook his head. “I can't do this for another few months.”

  “You can't quit now!” Tia urged. “You're almost there!”

  “But that's exactly what I intend to do, Tia. Quit. Completely. Master Helgin, what will happen if I simply stop taking the poppy-dust?”

  “I wouldn't recommend—”

  “I didn't ask for your recommendation, Helgin, I asked what would happen to me.”

  “Well, you're down to considerably less of the drug than you were taking when you first came to Mil. But the symptoms you suffer now would become much worse. You may even start to have fits again. And the cravings will be unbearable.”

  “How long will it last?”

  “If you survive them, the acute symptoms may go on for two or three days. But only, I stress—if you survive them. Simply stopping the dust could kill you, Misha.”

  “I can't keep this up for months, Helgin. I'm exhausted and so is everyone else. I can't put myself through it and I won't put Tia through it with me.”

  “Misha, I was only joking about not getting any sleep,” Tia hurried to assure him, thinking she was responsible for his sudden decision to do this dangerous thing.

  “I know you were, Tia, and in truth, concern for your sleeping habits is not my only reason for this.”

  “I would think you'd need an excellent reason for attempting such a foolish and dangerous course of action,” Master Helgin said.

  “This has got something to do with Dirk, hasn't it?” Tia asked.

  He nodded. “I know you think I'm imagining things, Tia, but I can't believe Dirk Provin is now Lord of the Suns by some strange set of circumstances that placed him in the right place at the right time. And with this eclipse the Goddess—or rather, if I am to believe your version of events, Dirk Provin—has predicted, then the logical assumption is that he's planning something to coincide with it. As he already appears to have removed Belagren, I can only conclude my father is his next target. Either way, I need to be there, either to protect my father or to step up and take his place if Dirk succeeds.”

  “You want us to help you protect the Lion of Senet?” Tia snorted. “You're asking a bit much, don't you think?”

  “My offer still stands, Tia,” he promised. “I will withdraw the Senetians from Dhevyn as soon as I have the power to do so. Saving my father from Dirk Provin will give me that power almost as certainly as assuming the throne myself.”

  “If you survive,” Helgin warned.

  “I'm not going to go on like this for the rest of my life. And I'll not listen to your logical arguments about a manageable addiction. I'll either be free of this or I will die trying and I have neither the time nor the will to take the safe road in doing it.”

  “What if you die?” Tia asked bluntly. “Have you thought about that?”

  “If I don't survive it, Tia, it will make little difference to anyone. My father probably thinks I'm already dead. He may even be hoping I am.”

  “It would make a difference to me,” she objected. “I haven't sat by you for all these weeks just so you can throw it away on a noble gesture, Misha.”

  “I wish it was noble, Tia,” he sighed. “But I fear I'm driven by cowardice more than courage. I've had enough. I can't even bear the thought of this going on for another week, let alone months. I would rather suffer a few days of unbearable agony and be done with it, one way or another.”

  Master Helgin held out the cup to Misha with a sympathetic smile. “Take this, your highness. Once you've stabilized, you'll be able to think about it more clearly.”

  Misha held out his trembling hands for them to see. “Look at me, Helgin. I'm a wreck. I would rather risk death than keep on like this.”

  “Then we'll start tomorrow,” Helgin suggested, offering him the poppy-dust again.

  Misha slapped the cup from his hand, spilling the precious drug on the floor. “No! We do it now. While I still have the strength to deny it. Don't offer it to me again, Helgin. Get rid of what you have stashed away. I'm done with it, even if it kills me.”

  Without waiting for their response, Misha pushed himself to his feet and limped from the kitchen. Tia watched him leave, torn between admiration for what he was attempting and fear for what it would do to him.

  Helgin turned to Tia, desperately worried. “Talk to him, Tia. Tell him how foolish this is.”

  She shook her head slowly. “I think he's right, Helgin.”

  “You can't be serious!”

  “He can't take much more of this. Maybe it's better this way.”

  “He'll die! Do you want that?”

  “Of course I don't want him to die,”
she said. “But he has a point. Would you want to go on living as he is?”

  “The point is would I want to go on living,” the old man retorted. “Why not just give him a blade and let him slit his wrists? It would be kinder than what he's proposing.”

  Tia climbed wearily to her feet. “Maybe it will come to that, Helgin, but in the end, it's Misha's choice, not ours.”

  Later that day, she found Misha sitting on the beach, staring out over the water. He looked up with a frown as she approached.

  “Save your breath, Tia. I am determined to do this and lecturing me won't help.”

  “I didn't come to lecture you,” she said as she sat down beside him. “I think you may be doing the right thing.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Will you still think that tomorrow when I'm foaming at the mouth?”

  “My father was an addict, Misha. I've seen the worst poppy-dust can do to a man. That doesn't frighten me.”

  “It frightens me.”

  “Then you'll just have to find a way to deal with it. If this works, in a few days, you'll be a free man.”

  “And if it doesn't, I'll be dead, and that will be a release in itself.”

  Tia said nothing for a time, just sat with him on the warm white sand, listening to the soothing wash of the ocean.

  “Will you promise me something?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  “No matter how bad it gets. No matter how much I beg, cajole or threaten you, don't give in to me. Don't let me take any more; not out of pity. If it kills me, that's the price I'm willing to pay. If I'm alive, then you must assume I can bear the pain, even if you can't bear watching it.”

  “If you want.”

  “Swear it, Tia,” he insisted. “I've barely got the strength to do this once. If you give in to me out of pity or compassion or even anger, then I'll never have the courage to try again. Swear to me you'll let me die rather than give me more poppy-dust to relieve my suffering.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then I swear it,” she promised. “But I have a bad feeling you're going to hate me for that oath before this is over.”

  He smiled at her and placed his trembling hand over hers. “Not as much as I'd hate you if I awoke to discover I was still an addict because you pitied me.”

  “I don't pity you, Misha.”

  He looked at her closely. He had to force his eyes to focus on her. It wouldn't be much longer now, she guessed, before he began to wish he'd not refused the poppy-dust Helgin had offered him.

  “I'm not sure I've done anything to deserve much else.”

  “Pity is something you give to helpless creatures with no control over their fate.” His hand was still resting on hers. The palm was sweating and she could feel him shaking.

  “And you think I have control … over my fate?”

  “You've made the choice to live or die the way you choose, Misha. That's not the action of a helpless creature.”

  “No, it's the action of a desperate one.” He forced a thin smile, but his forehead glistened with sweat and the trembling was getting worse. He was long overdue for his next dose of poppy-dust.

  She smiled, hoping the conversation was distracting him. “Well, just don't tell anybody how desperate you are, and nobody will ever know.”

  “I read about an ancient cult once that believed one kept coming back after each life to pay for the previous one.” He smiled shakily. Tia wondered if he was trying to drag up any old memory he could find to keep the present at bay. “Ella had a fit when she found me reading the book and confiscated it before my eternal soul could be endangered. But it was an interesting idea. And if it's true, then I must have done something very good in a previous life to deserve a friend like you in this one.”

  “I'm more interested in what you're planning to do in this life, Misha.”

  “Ah!” he said. “That's what this … is all about, isn't it? You don't care … about me at all. You're only interested in freeing… Dhevyn.”

  “And taking down Dirk Provin,” she added with a grin. “You forgot that bit.”

  “How silly of me. I think I should—” He doubled over suddenly, clutching his stomach, unable to speak.

  “Misha!”

  “Get me… back to the … house …” he gasped.

  Tia hauled him to his feet and forced him to walk with her back along the sand, although he was shivering so hard she could barely hold him upright. But she could no longer carry him. He had gained a considerable amount of muscle since she'd freed him from the Hospice in Tolace. Mellie was emerging from the house as they approached. When she saw them, she ran down to see what was wrong.

  “Fetch Helgin,” Tia ordered.

  “What's the matter with Misha?” she asked worriedly.

  “He's in withdrawal.”

  Misha groaned in her arms. Franco heard the ruckus and emerged on to the veranda. He took one look at them and hurried to take some of Misha's weight from Tia. Between them, they managed to get him up the steps.

  Mellie stared at them with concern. “But he's been in withdrawal for weeks, and he's never been—”

  “Just get Helgin, Mellie!” she shouted. “Now!”

  “What shall I tell him?”

  “Tell him it's begun,” she said, as Misha cried out weakly and collapsed against her. “Just tell him it's begun.”

  y the time Jacinta arrived in Avacas, the Lord of the Suns had already left for Bollow. She had traveled to Senet in unexpected luxury in the Lion of Senet's own cabin on the Tsarina, which was headed back to Avacas after delivering Kirsh to Kalarada. Kirsh offered her passage on the ship. Jacinta suspected Alenor's husband was so delighted by the idea she would not be around to irritate him, he had offered her a berth to ensure she really did leave. They had never really gotten along, Jacinta and Kirshov. The prince considered her a bad influence on Alenor and often accused her of interfering with things that were none of her concern.

  Her new position as the envoy of the Queen of Dhevyn gave Jacinta an unexpected amount of freedom. Her mother would never have countenanced her traveling alone to Senet, even with the escort of Queen's Guardsmen Alenor sent along with her. But as Alenor's envoy, she was—for the time being, at least—free from her mother's protective and smothering domination. With luck, Lady Sofia might even give up on the idea of marrying her off for a while. There's probably more chance of the Age of Shadows returning tomorrow, Jacinta thought with a sigh as the carriage rattled along Avacas's cobbled streets, but one can hope …

  All she had to do now was prove herself worthy of the trust Alenor had placed in her by discovering what Dirk Provin was up to.

  Jacinta didn't like her chances. Alenor's cousin had managed to keep everyone in the dark and she doubted he would confide in a stranger when he'd pointedly refused to tell Alenor what was going on. But the challenge intrigued her.

  And so did Dirk Provin.

  She had a mental image of him in her mind. He would have the same overpowering aura as Antonov Latanya, she imagined. The same hypnotic charisma. Jacinta couldn't imagine him being able to achieve the rank of Lord of the Suns at the tender age of nineteen any other way. Dirk Provin was the wrong age, the wrong nationality, even the wrong parentage, to logically be thought of as Paige Halyn's successor. Maybe it was that which fascinated her most. If the bastard son of Johan Thorn and Morna Provin could achieve the rank of Lord of the Suns, then nothing was impossible. If he could do that, then maybe the only daughter of an important Dhevynian duke could avoid a future filled with a husband she didn't want, babies she didn't need and a mindless existence filled with nothing more meaningful than tomorrow night's banquet menu.

  When Jacinta presented herself at the Hall of Shadows she was served tea and politely but firmly told that if she wished to meet with the Lord of the Suns she would have to find her way to Bollow on her own. More than a little put out, Jacinta then made her way to Avacas palace with the intention of seeking an
audience with the High Priestess.

  To her relief, Marqel agreed to see her without delay, and she was led to a small, tastelessly—to her eye—furnished chamber on the ground floor of the palace. The Lion of Senet was not in. He had gone to the horse auctions in Arkona for the day, Lord Ezry, the Palace Seneschal, informed her, and wasn't expected back until later that evening. Jacinta was rather glad of the news. Antonov Latanya scared her a little, and if she could avoid dealing with him, she would. Anyway, she wasn't here to see the Lion of Senet. She was here to find out what Dirk Provin was up to.

  Marqel breezed into the room a few moments later, dripping with gold bracelets and diamond rings, as if trying to remind everyone of her newfound wealth by wearing it all at once. Jacinta rose and curtsied politely to her, guessing Marqel would like the gesture. Commoners elevated to high office always delighted in seeing those born to rank paying them homage. The Mayor of Oakridge, the town where the bulk of her family's estates were located on the island of Bryton, was just as easily impressed. He'd been a bookbinder before being raised to the exalted position of mayor and he almost slobbered with glee whenever Jacinta had acknowledged him in public.

  “Lady Jacinta! What a pleasant surprise!”

  “The pleasure is all mine, my lady,” Jacinta assured her. “I must say, the role of High Priestess seems to suit you. You're looking very well.”

  “It's an honor I do my best to be worthy of,” Marqel replied, with entirely false modesty. “But please, be seated and tell me to what I owe this unexpected pleasure.”

  Jacinta resumed her seat as Marqel took the chair opposite, forcing herself not to smile at Marqel's wordy turn of phrase. “I come to Avacas as the envoy of the Queen of Dhevyn, my lady. I was hoping to meet with the Lord of the Suns.”

  A fleeting frown flickered over Marqel's face, which Jacinta thought rather interesting. “He's not here. He's gone to Bollow.”

  “So I understand. I'm rather put out by the news, actually. I didn't come prepared to traipse halfway across Senet to meet with him.”