“Is he still there?”
“As far as I know, although it’s rumored he’s to be taken to Avacas soon.”
“Not here?”
Alexin shook his head. “Rainan wasn’t even officially advised that they’d caught him. I understand there is a sternly worded letter on its way to Antonov regarding the matter.”
“Oh, well, that should frighten the shit out of him. There’s nothing scarier than a sternly worded letter.”
Alexin smiled ruefully. “I wish I could tell you more, cousin. All I know is that they have him and that Antonov is already in Elcast. Even if you leave tonight, he could be gone by the time you get there.”
“They’ll take him back to Avacas then,” Reithan concluded.
“More than likely.”
“Then that’s where we’ll go.”
Alexin shook his head.
“What do you think you can do, Reithan? You won’t be able to get anywhere near him.”
“I’m not sure.” Reithan shrugged. “Maybe an opportunity will present itself.”
“Well, if you’re planning to get your little friend here to pretend she’s a whore again, I suggest she gets in a bit of practice in between here and the mainland.”
Tia scowled at him. “Wilim fell for my ruse.”
“Wilim thinks anything in a skirt is on the make,” Alexin pointed out, then turned to Reithan. “I wish I could be more help.”
“You’ve confirmed what we needed to know. That’s help enough at this point.”
“If you leave now, you’ll get to Avacas in time for Kirshov Latanya’s birthday.”
“Why does that matter?” Tia asked.
“The Lion of Senet has pledged his second son to the Queen’s Guard, as a token of his esteem for Dhevyn. Prince Kirshov is eighteen this year, although it’s not certain he’ll take up his commission yet. Senet considers a man not come of age until he’s twenty.”
“I’ll bet you just can’t wait to have a Latanya in the guard.”
“Actually, I feel a bit sorry for the poor boy. I’m sure he has no idea what he’s letting himself in for.”
“He deserves everything that’s coming to him,” Tia said unsympathetically.
“And then some,” Alexin agreed. He glanced at her then and grinned broadly. “I don’t suppose you’re interested in making this rendezvous believable?”
“And just exactly what do you mean by that?”
“Never mind, just a thought.” He looked at Reithan and frowned. “He’ll make a real spectacle of this, you know that, don’t you? Antonov won’t let Johan Thorn die before he’s made it quite clear to the whole world what happens to anyone foolish enough to defy him.”
“I’m counting on it. The more the Lion of Senet wants to gloat, the longer Johan lives. And while he lives, there’s still hope.”
“Then provided the Shadowdancers don’t take a hand in his fate, you might have a chance at saving him.”
“What have the Shadowdancers got to do with it?” Tia asked.
“Johan is a heretic, Tia,” Alexin explained. “He denounced the Goddess and cast doubt on the validity of the High Priestess’s visions. Belagren will want to make an example of him, even more than Antonov.”
“Then they could take him to the Hall of Shadows?” Tia asked.
“They could,” Alexin agreed. “But I suspect Belagren and Antonov have differing opinions as to the fate of Johan Thorn.”
“That could work to our advantage,” Reithan remarked.
Alexin shook his head sadly. “Antonov has Johan in his power for the first time since the war. It’s going to take a miracle to save him.”
Reithan smiled. “Well, that’s a relief. For a moment there I was worried you were going to tell me it was impossible.”
Chapter 33
News that the thief had been arrested reached the boys not long after the Lion of Senet and his party was spotted heading back to the Keep. They ran down to the courtyard to watch her being brought in. Alenor wanted to see Marqel in chains, because, for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t like her. Dirk was curious, but seemed unsurprised that Marqel had turned out to be a thief. Lanon wanted another look at her, too, perhaps in the hope that she would be dressed in as little as she wore during her performance.
Kirsh couldn’t explain why he wanted to see Marqel again. He just knew that he did.
They rode into the courtyard, Marqel sitting in front of Captain Ateway’s saddle. He lowered her to the ground, where several other guards took her into custody. The acrobat looked around, but she didn’t look frightened, just annoyed.
“Look at her,” Alenor said. “She doesn’t look the least bit sorry.”
“What do you expect?” Lanon shrugged. “She’s a Landfall bastard.”
“What will happen to her?” Kirsh asked as Marqel was roughly marched toward the gatehouse. There were no dungeons in the Elcast castle. She would be held there until tomorrow when his father and the duke would decide what to do with her. “What do you normally do with thieves on Elcast, Dirk?”
“Depends on what they stole. I imagine for something as valuable as a diamond-bladed dagger, she’ll get a lashing at the very least.”
Kirsh frowned. The idea of the lash scarring Marqel’s creamy skin made him ill. He could still see her climbing out of that pool; still remember the way she looked at him. It made him ache just to think about it.
“Isn’t there some way we can save her?”
They all turned to look at him. It was Dirk who asked the question the others were obviously thinking. “Even if there was, Kirsh, why on Ranadon would you want to save her?”
“It just doesn’t seem fair . . .”
“She stole Rees’s dagger,” Alenor pointed out. “What’s fair about that?”
“But she’s just... well, maybe she didn’t know any better.”
“She knows,” Alenor assured him confidently. “That girl may be just a Landfall bastard, but she knows exactly what she’s doing.”
“You’re being very uncharitable, Alenor.”
“I’m being honest,” the princess corrected, “which is more than you can say for Marqel the Magnificent.”
With the aid of one of the Guards, Rees had dismounted and hopped toward the steps where they were watching the proceedings. Grooms rushed out to lead the horses back into the stables as Antonov gave Captain Ateway directions about what to do with the thief.
“So she definitely stole it, then?” Dirk asked Rees as he painfully climbed the steps toward them.
Rees stopped and looked up at them with a nod. “She had a whole hoard of stolen coin. She’s probably been stealing everything on Elcast that wasn’t nailed down since she got here.”
Dirk glared at Marqel across the yard as she disappeared inside the gatehouse. “Even the coin Derwn blamed Eryk for stealing?” Rees nodded and Dirk glanced at Kirsh, his expression distinctly unsympathetic. “Then I hope they lash her to within an inch of her miserable life.”
“That wasn’t Marqel’s fault, Dirk . . .”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dirk demanded, turning on him angrily. “She’s a thief and liar, Kirsh. For the Goddess’s sake, get your mind out of your pants long enough to realize it.”
Kirsh watched in speechless horror as Dirk turned his back on him and strode back into the castle. Lanon and Rees looked away in embarrassment, but Alenor met his eye evenly, her expression defiant. She apparently agreed with Dirk.
“I just said...”
“Is something the matter?” Prince Antonov asked as he walked up the steps.
Kirsh looked at his father for a moment and realized that he probably had just as low an opinion of Marqel as did Dirk. Of course, that didn’t excuse the manner in which Dirk had just spoken, but Kirsh would not involve his father in that. He’d learned as a small child not to report the indiscretions of his friends to his father. A few of his boyhood companions had disappeared when Kirsh foolishly told his father th
at he had been offended.
“I was just wondering what’s going to happen to her, sir.”
“You’ve no need to concern yourself with that, Kirsh. Rest assured the thief will be dealt with in a manner commensurate with her crimes.”
Antonov headed into the Keep, leaving Kirsh with Alenor, Lanon and Rees. He glanced at the others for a moment and then shrugged. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then.”
Rees nodded. “Aye. I doubt if the Goddess herself could save her now.”
Kirsh stared at Rees with a sudden burst of inspiration. Perhaps that was the answer. Maybe, if he asked the right person, the Goddess could save Marqel.
Belagren opened the door herself to Kirsh’s knock.
“Kirshov!” she exclaimed in surprise. “To what do I owe this rare honor?”
“Could I speak with you, my lady?”
“Of course, come in.” She stepped back to let him enter, closing the door behind him. “I hear there’s been some excitement this evening.”
“They brought in Mar . . . the thief.”
“Foolish girl. How in the name of the Goddess did she think she was going to sell anything as rare and valuable as a diamond blade?”
“Maybe she didn’t steal it.”
“Are you suggesting she was arrested for some other reason?”
“Well, no... it’s just . . .”
Belagren smiled. “Come on, Kirsh. I’ve known you too long for you to be coy with me.”
“Can’t you save her, my lady?” he blurted out.
“Save her from what? Your father’s justice? Even if I was inclined to, why would I?” It disturbed him to hear the High Priestess echoing Dirk’s unsympathetic sentiments.
“She’s a Landfall bastard, my lady. You’re always telling us that the Goddess looks after the Landfall bastards. Shouldn’t you do something, then, to help her? I mean, if you can’t do the Goddess’s will, what chance do the rest of us have?”
Belagren studied him for a moment. “What’s your interest in this girl, Kirshov?”
“I don’t have any interest in her . . . I just think . . . well, she doesn’t deserve the lash, that’s for certain.”
“I’ll wager your father thinks differently.”
“Please, my lady. Can’t you do something to help her?”
“In return for what?”
“Pardon?”
“You’re asking a big favor of me, Kirshov. It’s not unreasonable that I might ask a favor in return.”
“I don’t know, my lady . . . what can I do for you that my father can’t?”
The High Priestess smiled at him. “Don’t you worry about that, Kirshov. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”
The Lion of Senet’s justice was as quick as it was merciless. Marqel was taken straight into the castle next morning and paraded before the High Table in the main Hall. She obviously found the size of the building overwhelming. Open-mouthed, she stared upward at the huge spiraling staircase as she was pushed through the Hall by the guards.
Kirsh, Dirk, Alenor and Lanon sat on the first-floor landing, watching the proceedings. Prince Antonov sat in the center of the long polished table with the Duke of Elcast on his right and a scribe on his left. The stolen dagger and the music box, with its carefully saved contents, lay on the table before him. There were several gold coins, a scattering of silver and a few other trinkets, brooches and earrings and the like. Rees Provin sat at the end of the table on his father’s right, his injured foot propped up on a padded stool. At the back of the Hall stood a few of the castle and townsfolk come to watch.
“What is your name, child?” Prince Antonov asked.
“Marqel.”
“Do you have a last name?”
“No, your highness.”
Antonov glanced at the rope tattoo on her bare left arm and nodded. “Where were you born?”
“Bryton, I think.”
“You don’t know for certain?” Duke Wallin asked with a slight frown.
“No, my lord.”
The duke glanced at Prince Antonov reproachfully. “This is what comes of Landfall Night,” he muttered.
Kirsh had the impression they weren’t meant to overhear the comment, and his father didn’t look very pleased by the duke’s remark. Antonov picked up an onyx brooch and examined it for a moment, then looked straight at Marqel.
“Where did you steal this?”
“I didn’t steal it. It was given to me by some seedy little tailor on Derex.”
“And the silver?”
“That was a Senetian noble visiting Kalarada.” She met Prince Antonov’s eye evenly, and added. “He made me call him Daddy.”
The prince scowled at her, not mistaking her meaning. Nor did he pursue that particular line of inquiry. Instead, he picked up one of the gold coins and examined it curiously for a moment. “Who did you steal this from?”
“I didn’t steal it, your highness. The butcher gave it to me while his wife was away visiting her sister.” She glanced over her shoulder at the spectators and smiled. “He wanted me to call him Daddy, too.”
Standing at the back of the Hall, the butcher’s wife let out a squeal of indignation. Hauritz began protesting his innocence as he held up his hands to protect himself from his wife’s fists. Kirsh glanced at Dirk and grinned. This was an unexpected bit of entertainment.
“Enough!” Antonov shouted, appalled at the interruption. “Be quiet, or I’ll have you removed!”
The butcher’s wife reluctantly stopped hitting her husband, and turned to face the High Table. She was red-faced and mortified. Hauritz looked as if he wished a chasm would open beneath his feet and swallow him up.
“That’s better,” Antonov said. “As for you, young lady, I suggest you stop making these unfounded accusations against respectable citizens.”
“But I . . .” Marqel began.
“You will answer yes or no, that is all. Do you understand?”
Marqel lowered her eyes in submission. “Yes, your highness.”
“That’s better. Now, explain to me why you stole this dagger.”
Marqel did not look up, or offer a reply.
“You try my patience, child.”
“You instructed me only to answer yes or no, your highness.”
The Lion of Senet was not amused. Kirsh smiled at the look on his father’s face then glanced around, wondering where the High Priestess was. If she was going to keep her promise to help Marqel, she was cutting it awfully fine.
“Very well then, did you steal this dagger?”
“No.”
“Then how did it get in your wagon?”
“I don’t know.”
“Things will go much worse for you if you lie to me,” Antonov warned.
“I didn’t steal the dagger,” she insisted. “Maybe Lord Rees dropped it. He didn’t know which way was up when I found him.”
“Your impudence does not help your cause, Marqel,” Duke Wallin warned.
She shrugged. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, my lord. I would be lying if I confessed to something I didn’t do.”
A small frown flickered over the duke’s face. “She has a point, Anton. She wasn’t the only one in the camp. Perhaps one of the others stole it and hid it in her wagon. They’re all thieves and rogues, these traveling performers.”
Before the prince could answer the duke, the doors at the end of the Hall banged open. Belagren strode through the Hall. She was wearing her usual red robe and glittered with the weight of the jewelery she wore, much of it, Kirsh knew, gifts from his father. He knew Belagren and his father were lovers, but the affair did not disturb him as it did other people. Belagren had always been pleasant to him. She had never tried to take the place of his dead mother; never tried to order him about. In fact, Kirsh thought her presence hardly affected his life.
“Your son informs me you are trying a Landfall bastard,” the High Priestess announced as she drew level with Marqel.
“My son s
hould learn to mind his tongue,” Antonov remarked, glancing up at Kirsh with a rather irritated look. “She’s a thief, my lady, and no concern of yours.”
“She wears the rope tattoo, your highness. She belongs to the Goddess.”
“She belongs in the stocks.”
The High Priestess turned to Marqel and studied her critically for a moment. “The child is mine, your highness. I claim her on behalf of the Goddess.”
“What do you want with this child, my lady?” the duke asked suspiciously.
“She is born of the Landfall Festival, my lord. The Goddess has marked her and so I claim her. It is my right.”
The prince turned his gaze on Marqel for a moment and studied her thoughtfully. “Well, child, it seems I have a choice here. What would you choose? My justice, or the Goddess’s?”
Marqel didn’t hesitate. “I choose the Goddess, your highness.”
Antonov looked at Belagren for a long moment, his eyes almost as full of suspicion as the duke’s, then he nodded slowly. “Very well, my lady. The child is yours.”
“Thank you, your highness. I will see she stays out of trouble until we leave.”
“Make sure you do, Belagren,” Antonov warned. “She escapes my wrath only by your intervention. One more infraction and neither you nor the Goddess will save her.”
Belagren bowed slightly in the direction of the prince and the duke, took Marqel’s bare arm in a viselike grip and marched her from the Hall.
Chapter 34
Let’s go visit the Shadowdancers,” Kirsh suggested. He was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. Dirk sat beside the prince chewing on a crust of bread. Lanon was leaning against the stone wall and Alenor was standing beside him, finishing off the apple she had brought from the breakfast table. It was six days now since the Landfall Festival, and things were starting to return to normal.
Alenor glared at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“It’s... the polite thing to do,” he declared after a moment’s thought.
“Since when have you cared about being polite?” Dirk asked.
“Since Marqel the Magnificent got arrested,” Lanon said with a grin.
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