The Lion of Senet

by Jennifer Fallon

  Dirk saw his mother pale as she turned to the governor. “You made my son climb down the levee wall to rescue some shipwrecked sailor?”

  “Didn’t have to make him, my lady,” Tovin informed her cheerfully. “He volunteered.”

  Morna turned her steely gaze on Dirk. He suddenly felt five years old again. His father, he noticed with relief, was looking rather proud of him.

  “You volunteered, Dirk?”

  “I . . . well, somebody had to go, sir, and I didn’t think Master Helgin was really up to it.”

  “It was a noble thing you did, son,” Wallin declared, before his mother could offer her opinion. But to placate his wife, he added, “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

  “No, sir.”

  Dirk took his place beside Morna, deliberately avoiding her disapproving gaze.

  “And how is our miraculous survivor, Dirk?” Tovin asked as the servants began serving the soup.

  “He’s still unconscious, my lord, but Master Helgin thinks he’ll live.”

  “I must check on him after dinner. I’ve never seen anything so remarkable. He must be well favored by the Goddess to have been spared.”

  “It sounds rather more like he was well favored by the timely arrival of my son,” Duchess Morna suggested tartly.

  Tovin glanced at the duchess and smiled. “Then you should feel honored that the Goddess chose your son as her instrument, my lady.”

  Dirk inwardly cringed, praying silently that his mother would not speak anything further on the subject. Morna Provin made little secret of her dislike for both Senet and their religion, and it was common knowledge that Tovin had been sent to Elcast to replace the former governor, Aris Lokin, because he was considered lax in his duties. Dirk had quite liked old Lord Aris and was sorry to see him recalled to the mainland.

  “So, Wallin, what arrangements have you made for the Landfall Festival?” Tovin asked, when Morna’s frosty silence became uncomfortable.

  His father frowned warily before answering. “The same as we always do, my lord. You’ll be heading back to Avacas for the Landfall Feast, I suppose. I doubt our provincial fair would entertain you much.”

  Tovin Rill laughed. “Don’t be absurd, man! I can’t leave Elcast before the Landfall Festival! Besides, the Shadowdancers should be here any day. It would be most unseemly for me to up and leave before they get here.”

  Stillness fell over the head table that even the servants noticed. Wallin glanced at Morna, then turned to face the governor.

  “Brahm Halyn, Elcast’s Sundancer, is usually the only representative of the Church who attends our Landfall Feast, my lord.”

  Tovin’s eyes narrowed. “For your own sake, I hope you’re going to tell me it’s for no more sinister reason than the unseasonable weather we’re having for this time of year, Wallin.”

  “As I’m sure you know, my lord, our temple was destroyed during the Age of Shadows,” Wallin began. “So we’ve not had a permanent representative of the other aspect of the Goddess on the island since then, but—”

  “Yes, I’m aware of that, Wallin. It’s one of the first things I intend to redress, now that I’m governor. Why haven’t you made any attempt to rebuild the temple?”

  “Elcast is not a rich island, my lord.”

  “I’m sure you could have found the coin if you wanted to,” Tovin remarked with a scowl at Lady Morna.

  The duke did not reply, but Dirk’s mother did. “We do not countenance the Shadowdancers, or that thinly disguised orgy they call their Landfall Festival, in Elcast, my lord. We have no need for them, their drugs or their rituals. I’ll not have my sons perverted by them.” Her tone worried Dirk. It was openly hostile.

  Tovin’s expression was dangerous. “I see now why the Goddess struck down your fields last night, my lady. It was a warning. One that you would do well to heed. Have you forgotten what the Age of Shadows was like?”

  “I recall very well what the Age of Shadows was like.”

  “Yet you encourage the very behavior that made the Goddess turn from us. You deny her worship and hope you can continue to enjoy her bounty. Did that time of darkness teach you nothing? It is people like you that caused the Age of Shadows, Lady Morna.”

  Dirk gasped, unable to believe that the governor would accuse his mother of such a dreadful thing. His father frowned, warning him to silence with a look.

  “And you, Wallin? Do you hold with your wife’s views?”

  The silence was heavy as everyone waited for the duke’s answer. “Elcast serves the Goddess, my lord.”

  The governor nodded slowly. “In that case, we shall celebrate the Landfall Festival in the correct manner. You are a married woman and have no need to take part yourself, my lady, and Dirk and Lanon are too young in any case, but Rees will take part, as befits his rank as heir.”

  Dirk glanced at his older brother. Rees looked horrified.

  “Have the Landfall Festival if you must, Tovin,” Morna conceded with barely concealed disgust. “But at least let me take my sons from here. They have no need to witness that foul ritual . . .”

  “No!” Tovin declared. “The Lion of Senet will not tolerate these atheist leanings in Dhevyn, my lady, and as his representative on Elcast, I will ensure that you do your duty to the Goddess, and you will see to it that your children do theirs.”

  His mother bowed her head in defeat. Wallin looked distinctly uncomfortable. With a wave of his hand, Tovin ordered the servants to refill his wine cup and the meal progressed in awkward silence.

  Dirk studied his mother out of the corner of his eye, understanding why she was so upset. The Landfall Festival was something she had been trying to discourage for years. With only one Sundancer in attendance, the Elcast Landfall Festival was usually little more than a country fair. Thanks to his mother’s determination, the rituals practiced by the Shadowdancers had never reached their island. Dirk had heard about them, though—rumors of human sacrifice, of wild orgies, of foul rites and strange magicks.

  He glanced down the table at his brother. Rees caught his eye and shook his head, warning him to say nothing, ask nothing.

  It was neither the time nor the place to talk of such things.

  Chapter 6

  Morna Provin’s icy silence was not, as Lord Tovin suspected, caused by her distress at the news that he was planning to rebuild the temple, or that there would be a proper Landfall Festival this year. In truth, Tovin’s news did not surprise her. She had expected as much when she learned who Antonov was sending to replace Lord Aris.

  No, it was not the Landfall Feast that concerned her.

  It was Dirk.

  The Duchess of Elcast had watched her second son standing before the High Table, watched him take his seat beside her. She watched him answer Tovin Rill’s questions. Watched him frown when she so foolishly challenged Tovin on the issue of the Landfall Feast.

  She was always watching him.

  He had filled out these past few months, and was taller now than both Wallin and Rees. His eyes were gray, like hers, which was a fortunate thing, his hair dark and wavy. Everyone remarked how much his eyes were like hers. She was grateful for that. It took their attention away from his other features that were no more hers than they were Wallin Provin’s. Morna was constantly looking for some sign that would betray her secret. In more than sixteen years, she had never known a moment’s peace for fear of it being discovered.

  And the older he gets, the more chance someone else will see it, too.

  Morna angrily chided herself for the thought. It was one she could not allow herself to dwell on. Wallin is Dirk’s father in every sense of the word, she reminded herself. In all the time they had been married, he had never even hinted that he thought Dirk was not his child. He had never once raised the subject, although he must have suspected the truth. Perhaps he denied it to himself. Morna wasn’t sure, and it was certainly something she could never ask him. Wallin had accepted her back after the war, and had never referred to her i
nfidelity again. He had never asked what she’d done and never demanded an explanation. All he wanted or expected was for Morna to be his wife and act in a manner befitting the Duchess of Elcast. She had done that much willingly. Wallin was her security. He was her sons’ security. Without her patient and forgiving husband, she would be dead. But she didn’t love Wallin Provin, not the way she had loved . . .

  Stop it! she told herself sternly. There is no point to this! It is ancient history!

  But was it really ancient history? Years of relative obscurity and peace had been shattered with the appointment of Tovin Rill as Governor of Elcast. Would he see the resemblance? Morna picked at her meal and finally waved to a servant to take her barely touched plate away, glancing surreptitiously at the Senetian Governor. Had the Lion of Senet sent Tovin Rill here for that reason? Did he know or suspect the truth? The danger to Dirk if the Senetians ever discovered who had fathered him kept Morna awake some nights trembling with fear.

  Morna found herself running through the mental list of people who knew the truth. Some of them, like Master Helgin, she knew she could trust. Others she was not so sure about. Wallin might know, for all that he kept silent on the matter. Antonov Latanya, the Lion of Senet, might suspect something, but he had never met Dirk and never would, if Morna had any say in the matter. Rove Elan, the Lord Marshal of Dhevyn, might guess; he was the one who had brought her home to Elcast. Belagren, the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers and Antonov’s mistress, had no idea, she was certain of that. The queen suspected nothing either, Morna was sure. Then again, Morna wondered if Rainan would care even if she did know the truth. The Queen of Dhevyn had her own problems.

  “Mother!” Dirk hissed impatiently.

  She turned to Dirk. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

  “Can I be excused?” Dirk spoke barely louder than a whisper, but it was loud enough that Tovin heard him.

  “Leaving so soon, Dirk?” the Senetian asked as he leaned back in his seat with his wine cup cradled comfortably in his left hand. “It’s bad for the digestion to rush off so soon after eating.”

  “I mean no offense, my lord,” Dirk said with a disarming smile. “I’ve some studying to catch up on. Master Helgin is a hard taskmaster.”

  “Your father tells me you’re an excellent student, Dirk. Even Lanon claims you are something of a mathematical prodigy.”

  “I’m sure they exaggerate, my lord.”

  “Perhaps. But one would think that if you excel in the area of mathematics, you would be more inclined to choose a future as an engineer, not a physician. We always have need of good engineers in Senet.” The governor turned to Wallin and chuckled. “The Goddess and her earthquake keep them well supplied with work.”

  “He says he likes helping people,” Lanon announced with a grin at Dirk.

  Morna saw Rees cover his smile with his wine cup. There was no animosity and little rivalry between her sons, and although she disapproved of the friendship, Dirk had become firm friends with Lanon Rill since his arrival on Elcast several months ago. Perhaps she should be grateful for that. In years to come, her sons would need powerful friends in Avacas.

  “You’d help many more people by becoming an engineer than you would taking on a life as a physician, Dirk.”

  “But I would prefer to be a physician, my lord,” Dirk replied calmly.

  Tovin looked as if he was losing patience with the boy. “In Senet, a son takes the path appointed by his father.”

  “But this is Dhevyn, my lord, not Senet.”

  “You may go, Dirk,” Wallin announced abruptly, before his youngest son could add anything further. Morna looked at Dirk, trying to will him to heed the caution in Wallin’s voice.

  “Thank you, Father,” Dirk said, taking the hint. Rising to his feet he bowed to the governor, just low enough not to be disrespectful. “Mother. My lord.”

  Tovin watched Dirk’s retreating back thoughtfully as he left the Hall. “I see your hand in the boy’s upbringing, my lady.”

  “He is my son, my lord.”

  “That much is patently obvious,” Tovin remarked sourly.

  Morna caught Wallin’s warning look and bit back the caustic reply that leapt to mind. Instead, she rose to her feet. “If my lords don’t mind, I, too, wish to be excused. I must see if Master Helgin has everything he requires to treat our miraculous survivor.”

  Wallin looked mightily relieved that she was leaving. He nodded briefly and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She left the High Table and walked the long length of the Hall, feeling the eyes of everyone on her.

  Damn them, she thought defiantly. Damn them all.

  Morna had used the excuse of the shipwreck survivor merely to escape the Hall. She didn’t think she could stand another evening filled with Tovin regaling them with his droll anecdotes about the Lion of Senet’s court. She breathed a sigh of relief as the massive bronze doors of the Hall boomed shut behind her.

  Then it occurred to her that she really should see to it that Master Helgin had everything he needed. She was the Duchess of Elcast, after all. It was her duty.

  The evening was mild as she stepped out into the courtyard; Ranadon’s evening sun bathed the castle in its familiar ruby light. The earlier clouds were beginning to break up, but the air still tasted of ash, spewed forth by the distant volcano. It was generally agreed that the eruption must have been somewhere between Elcast and the mainland, maybe in the Bandera Straits. Morna thought it too much to hope that it had been close to Avacas, the Senetian capital.

  Now that truly would be a sign from the Goddess, she thought, if Antonov Latanya and his whole damn city were consumedby lava.

  She was a little surprised to find the infirmary closed and no sign of Helgin or his patient. The yard was all but deserted, so she turned back toward the Keep, thinking that perhaps the physician had installed the survivor in his rooms. It was not like Helgin to do that, but if he felt the man needed constant attention, he might prefer the comfort of his quarters to the bare functionality of the converted storehouse that Morna had designated the infirmary.

  Tovin and Wallin were deep in conversation and did not notice her return as she climbed the broad granite stairs that circled the interior of the Keep. Dirk was always asking who had built the Keep, but she had never been able to answer him. Like the levee wall and a number of other scattered buildings both on the mainland and around the islands of Dhevyn, the massive structures had stood for as long as anyone could remember. They were the only structures that had withstood centuries of constant earthquakes, and none of them was built close enough to a volcano to be endangered by the lava flows. Fortunately, Elcast’s volcano had been long dormant, but it must have been active once, or there would have been no need for such a building.

  If only we still had the knowledge to build so well, she silently lamented. On that one point she was actually in agreement with Tovin Rill. Dirk really would be wasted as a physician. His mathematical ability was astounding and he probably could divine the engineering secrets of the ancients if he set his mind to it. But living things fascinated Dirk. He had no interest in studying inanimate objects.

  Besides, studying under Master Helgin meant Dirk could stay here on Elcast. For that reason alone she would have championed his choice of career, even if he’d wanted to be a pig herder. Dirk’s curiosity and hunger for knowledge were quite legendary in Elcast, and they were the reasons her husband, somewhat reluctantly, had agreed to let Master Helgin take Dirk on as an apprentice last year. Normally, as the second son of a ruling duke, his future would be tied closely with his family estates. In the old days, Morna thought wistfully, as a second son, he would have been sworn to serve in the Queen’s Guard. That custom had died out since the return of the last Age of Shadows.

  Dirk was both surprised and quite delighted when his mother had championed his cause and convinced his father that he should become an apprentice physician. The downside of the arrangement was that it meant he would not be abl
e to go to Nova on the island of Grannon Rock to study at the university there. Morna had managed to convince her son (and herself) that there were few men in Dhevyn who could teach him as much as Helgin.

  She reached the third-floor landing, turned down the hall to the apartment where Helgin lived and knocked on his door. When nobody answered, she waited for a moment longer, then tried the latch, surprised to find it locked.

  “Who’s there?” Even through the thick door Helgin’s muffled voice sounded quite anxious.

  “It’s me. Morna.”

  The lock rattled and after a moment the door opened a fraction. “Are you alone?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’d better come in, my lady.”

  He stood back to let Morna enter the room and then locked the door behind her. She looked at the physician curiously. He leaned against the closed door. He was sweating profusely and seemed as nervous as a sheep in a slaughterhouse.

  “What’s the matter, Helgin? Why the locks? You’re acting like a fugitive.” She smiled at him. “Did you say something to offend Tovin Rill? If you have, he showed no sign of concern at dinner.”

  “I’ve not offended Lord Tovin, my lady. No more than I usually do.”

  “Then why are you behaving so oddly?”

  Helgin said nothing for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You’ll not think my behavior odd, my lady, when you learn who it is that I have locked in this room.”

  “The sailor?” Morna’s gaze flew to the closed door that led to Helgin’s bedroom. “Who is he?”

  The physician pointed to the door. “See for yourself.”

  With a frown, Morna crossed the cluttered sitting room to the bedroom door. She turned the latch and opened the door. The unconscious survivor lay on the large four-poster bed covered by a sheet. He was swathed in splints and bandages. A line of neat stitches stretched across his forehead from above his left eye up into his hairline. Morna moved into the room to get a closer look at him. She realized who it was just as Helgin stepped up beside her. Suddenly faint, she clutched at him for support, her eyes filled with tears.