The Lion of Senet

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The Lion of Senet Page 33

by Jennifer Fallon


  She said as much to Reithan, who looked around him for a moment and then shrugged. “Avacas has been here for thousands of years, Tia. It might get shaken up a bit every now and then, but it’s never been completely destroyed.”

  He led her down a narrow lane between a chandler’s shop and a tavern. When they emerged at the other end, they found themselves on the docks. The Calliope was tied up at the main wharf a little farther around the harbor.

  Tia smiled for a moment when she saw it. Despite what she thought about the man who had commissioned her, the Calliope was a magnificent ship. They walked along the dock to where a small crowd had gathered to watch. The Lion of Senet was ashore already, Tia guessed. There were no Shadowdancers in sight, either, which meant Tia wasn’t likely to catch a glimpse of Ella Geon. Nor was there a guard of honor waiting, only a mounted groom holding a single horse. The crowd would be much larger if the prince was preparing to disembark. These were just idle onlookers.

  “Look!” Reithan said, in a low, urgent voice. The man who had drawn Reithan’s attention stood on the deck surrounded by guards, waiting to descend the gangway. He was chained and gaunt, bearded and pale, and he leaned on a roughly fashioned crutch. But it was unmistakably Johan Thorn.

  “Look at him! He’s been hurt!”

  “I’m more surprised to find him standing,” Reithan answered.

  “Can we get to him, do you think?” Her heart began to beat faster. It didn’t seem possible that he could just be standing there, almost in arm’s reach, but they couldn’t do anything. She noted the placement of the guards with a practiced eye, hoping for an opportunity.

  Reithan looked at her askance. “Look around, Tia. There are a dozen guards with him on the ship, and they’re probably waiting for an escort from the palace. Between us, we have a sword and two table daggers. I could probably take three or four of them. Were you planning to take care of the rest?”

  “But he’s so close!” she hissed in frustration. It was all she could do not to call out to Johan, to give him hope; to offer some reassurance that they would try to help him.

  “He might as well be on the other side of the second sun, right now. The important thing is that we’ve seen him. He’s alive and he’s in one piece. We can make our plans once we’ve spoken to Ivon.”

  “I feel so helpless!”

  “That’s probably because right now we are helpless.”

  Tia nodded glumly in agreement. She knew Reithan was right, but that didn’t make it any easier to stomach. She watched Johan, his eyes downcast, standing on the deck surrounded by alert guards, and tried to think of a way to help him. There was none, of course, but that just made her even more determined.

  “Who’s that?” she asked Reithan, pointing to a young man who approached the guards around Johan. Merely by the quality of his clothes, she could tell he was noble born. He carries himself with the assurance of one born to rule, too, Tia thought sourly. She knew that unconscious stance well. Growing up around Johan, she’d seen it every day of her life. The young lord said something to the guards and they parted with a slight bow, deferring to his command. “Is that one of Antonov’s sons?”

  Reithan squinted a little and stared at the boy, before turning to her with a shrug. “I don’t know who he is.”

  Tia studied him carefully. He was a lanky, dark-haired young man. He said something to Johan, which caused the pirate to smile, then turned and walked away. He descended the gangway, where the groom was waiting, sitting astride a gray mare, holding the reins of the other riderless horse. The young lord took the reins from the groom and swung into the saddle. Then he turned and headed away from the ship without looking back. As he rode past Tia, she noticed that his eyes were the color of dull steel.

  And as cold as steel, too, she decided, disliking him on sight.

  “He’s probably one of Antonov’s pets,” Reithan remarked as the young lord rode by.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Antonov is fond of taking the sons of Dhevynian nobles into his home and treating them like royalty. By the time he sends them back to their own islands, they’re so devoted to him, it wouldn’t matter what Rainan did, she could never count on their loyalty.”

  “Which island is he from, do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you think he’s from Elcast?”

  “He looks too young to be Wallin Provin’s heir. Maybe he’s the younger Rill boy. He’s been living on Elcast ever since his father was appointed governor there.” Reithan shrugged, turning his attention back to the ship. “Or it might be the second son. The one Morna had after she went back to Wallin.”

  “The traitor’s whelp. That figures. Anyway, what does it matter?”

  “It might,” Reithan said thoughtfully. “The guards didn’t stop him talking to Johan.”

  Tia stared at him and shook her head. “You think he’d help us? Wallin Provin’s son?”

  “I suppose not. But he’s Morna’s son, too.”

  “The boy has been brought to Avacas by Antonov Latanya, Reithan. If what you say is true, by the end of the week he’ll be swearing his sword to Senet.” She watched with a frown as the young lord and his groom disappeared from view, swallowed by the crowd along the wharves. “If he hasn’t already.”

  “Aye, it’s unlikely there’ll be aid from that quarter,” Reithan agreed. “Come on, let’s go investigate that tavern we passed earlier. I could do with an ale.”

  “But what about Johan? Shouldn’t we follow him or something?”

  “He’s not going anywhere but the palace.”

  “But how will we know for certain?”

  “Ivon will know.”

  With a final, hopeful glance at Johan, she reluctantly nodded. Despite her efforts to will the pirate to look in her direction, he didn’t look up. With a sigh, she followed Reithan back along the wharf toward a large tavern called the Watchkeeper’s Dog.

  Just as they reached the tavern doors, a closed-in carriage trundled down the wharf, surrounded by a full squad of soldiers wearing the gold-and-white rampant lion crest of Senet. The carriage pulled up at the foot of the Calliope’s gangway and Johan was hauled down to the wharf and bundled into the carriage with little ceremony.

  “One thing bothers me a little, Tia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Antonov has been hunting Johan for years. You’d think now that he finally has him, he’d make a bit more of a fuss.”

  “You mean, where are the jeering crowds? The triumphal procession through the streets of Avacas with the dread pirate locked in a cage for all the world to gawk at?”

  “Something like that.”

  Tia shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Neither do I, and until we figure out what game Antonov’s playing, I think we should be cautious.”

  “As opposed to what?” Tia asked, as she stepped past Reithan into the gloom of the tavern’s taproom.

  Chapter 48

  The street down which Reithan led Tia was narrow and cluttered, the houses built so close together there was barely room to squeeze down the lanes between each building. When they finally found the house on Chandlers Street, they discovered a small cottage filled with cats. The place stank, and there wasn’t a surface in the house that wasn’t coated in cat hair.

  Far from being a fearsome member of Antonov’s dreaded guard, Ivon Modonov proved to be a rotund little man with a balding head, a warm smile and a passion for his feline companions that Tia thought a little unnatural. His uniform was stretched tight over a well-fed belly, and he was armed with nothing more dangerous than a table dagger.

  Ivon welcomed them cheerfully, calling Reithan his cousin and asking them loudly about their journey from Versage, in northern Senet, no doubt for the benefit of his neighbors. Tia followed Reithan into the cluttered little house, through a dim hall into the kitchen at the back, which was cluttered with bowls of food and saucers of souring milk left out for the cats. Ivon shooed a b
ig black tom off one chair so that Tia could sit down, and a litter of ginger kittens off another to make room for Reithan.

  “Can’t say I’m surprised to see you,” Ivon announced as he set about making tea for them. “Not considering who arrived today.”

  “You know about Johan Thorn, then?” Reithan asked.

  “The whole palace is abuzz with the news.”

  “Where are they holding him?” Tia demanded. “Can we get to him?”

  Ivon turned and studied her curiously for a moment and then turned to Reithan. “Who is she?”

  “This is Tia. She’s a friend.”

  “Hmm...” Ivon replied with a frown. “Do you trust her?”

  “Yes,” Reithan assured him, with a faint smile. “I trust her.”

  “Does she understand how dangerous it would be for me if anyone thought—”

  “You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not here,” Tia cut in impatiently.

  Ivon glowered at her. “And you don’t have to act so uppity, missy.”

  “Tia...” Reithan warned, before she could respond. She opened her mouth to object, then clamped her lips shut tight. Tia knew the look on Reithan’s face well enough to heed his warning. Once he was satisfied that she would say nothing further, he turned back to Ivon. “Will you tell us what you know?”

  The fat little man carried the teapot to the table and laid out three chipped cups. He told another gray tabby to scat, before taking the chair on the other side of the scrubbed wooden table. “We got word Antonov was coming home about three weeks ago. He sent a pigeon from Elcast.”

  “They made good time then,” Reithan remarked.

  “Aye. And brought Thorn with them. He’s to be held in the palace, not the garrison, I understand. His guards have been handpicked, I know that much. There’s not a one with a modicum of sympathy for Dhevyn among them.”

  “So getting to him through the guards is out of the question?”

  Ivon nodded. “Completely.”

  “What about you?” Tia asked. “Can’t you get in to see him?”

  “I work in the quartermaster’s store, missy,” Ivon told her as he poured the tea. “It means I hear a lot, I see a lot, but I don’t have access to anything important. I certainly don’t have an excuse to visit with the likes of Johan Thorn.”

  “Who else will be allowed to see him?”

  “Not many at all, I’d say. They’ll not let anybody near him.”

  “I’m surprised Antonov didn’t parade him through the streets in chains when he arrived.”

  Ivon shrugged. “Not so surprising, really. He probably wants to wait until Queen Rainan gets here.”

  “She’s coming here to Avacas?” Tia gasped.

  Ivon nodded. “It’s Prince Kirshov’s birthday soon. There’s a huge celebration planned.”

  “So she was probably invited long before Johan was captured,” Reithan concluded. “Still, the timing couldn’t be better for Antonov. If he’s planning to make an example of Johan Thorn, what better time than when the Queen of Dhevyn is here to watch? Is there any way to get a message to Johan?”

  Ivon shook his head. “I doubt it. But let me see tomorrow. I might be able to figure something out by then.”

  Reithan thanked him and they kept drinking their tea.

  When Ivon returned to the house the following evening, the news was even less encouraging. The whole of the third floor of the west wing was sealed off and off limits to all but a select few. The list of people permitted to enter the prohibited area was depressingly short. Prince Antonov, the High Priestess, the Shadowdancer Ella Geon, Prefect Barin Welacin and his staff, and, for no apparent reason, Dirk Provin.

  “Why Dirk Provin?” Tia asked suspiciously when Ivon informed them of the list. She remembered those iron-colored eyes, wondering what Antonov’s Elcastran pet had done to deserve such a dubious honor.

  The fat little clerk shrugged. “I was lucky to learn of the list, missy. I didn’t ask for reasons.”

  “Will you stop calling me missy? My name is Tia.”

  Ivon turned to Reithan as if she hadn’t spoken. “There’s none on that list liable to help you, I’m guessing.”

  “Perhaps,” Reithan agreed thoughtfully. “Although, like Tia, I’m curious as to why Dirk Provin would be allowed to visit Johan Thorn.”

  “He’s probably here to learn the finer points of torturing a man to death,” Tia suggested sourly.

  “Maybe. Is there any way we can get close enough to find out?”

  “In the palace, you mean?” Ivon asked.

  Reithan nodded.

  “I suppose you could try for work there. If you wait outside the South Gate in the morning you might get a position.”

  “How does that help?”

  “Everyone looking for work in the palace lines up there each morning at the dawn of the second sun and waits to be called,” Ivon explained. “The palace housekeeper reads out a list of trades and positions she needs to fill and if you think you’re qualified, you step forward. Some people wait for months, though,” he added. “And some days there’s nothing at all. Still, with the prince’s birthday coming up, they’ll probably need extra staff. Do you have any experience?”

  “Doing what?”

  “Cleaning?” Ivon suggested, looking at her as if she was just a little dim.

  “Sure. I clean the palace in Mil all the time.”

  Reithan smiled. “She’ll be fine, Ivon. Just don’t ask her to pretend she’s a whore. I can tell you from experience that she’s not very convincing at that.”

  Ivon studied her for a moment with a frown. “Do you own a dress?”

  “Of course I own a dress!” No need to tell him she’d only worn it once.

  “Then tomorrow morning you must wear it. You’ll never get picked wearing that.”

  “We appreciate this, Ivon,” Reithan said, before Tia could ask what was wrong about the way she was dressed. Her vest was clean, and her trousers weren’t even patched. She’d seen a lot worse in the streets of Avacas on their way here.

  The rotund little man shrugged. “You’ve a cause to fight for, Reithan, and so have I.”

  “What’s your cause?” Tia asked.

  “Senet.”

  “But you’re helping us. How does that help Senet?”

  “Half the wealth of this nation is wasted keeping troops posted throughout Dhevyn,” Ivon explained in a lecturing tone. “Children starve in Avacas so that the Lion of Senet can hold onto Dhevyn. Many believe he is empire building at the cost of his own kingdom. Some of us have chosen to do what we can to aid Dhevyn in its fight for independence, so that Senet might also be free.”

  Tia found herself somewhat chastened by his answer. She had never given much thought to what the Lion of Senet’s schemes might cost his own people. In Tia’s mind the world was divided into two sorts of people: those who were loyal to the true King of Dhevyn and those who weren’t.

  Later that evening, Reithan found Tia in the small yard at the back of the house, playing with a litter of tabby kittens. She had found a length of string to amuse them and the kittens were determined to kill the strange, skinny beast that wiggled along the step in front of them, tantalizingly out of reach.

  Reithan sat down beside her, smiling at the antics of the kittens for a moment, before he spoke. “So, are you ready for this?”

  “For what?” she asked, pulling the string along the step. “A lifetime of servitude?”

  “Hardly a lifetime’s worth,” Reithan chuckled. “We just need to get one of us near him.”

  Tia was silent for a moment, then she glanced at Reithan. “You planned this all along, didn’t you? That’s why you wanted me to come.”

  “I wouldn’t say I actually planned it,” he told her. “But the thought did cross my mind that you might come in handy. You’re Senetian, for one thing, and with that red-blond hair, you look it, too. You’ve a much better chance of getting a position in the palace than I.”

&
nbsp; “And once I do? What then?”

  “We’ll wait until we find out where you’ve been assigned before we decide what to do next. The chances are that you’ll wind up in the kitchens or the laundry and never even see the inside of the palace proper, so let’s not get too excited.”

  She nodded in agreement, snatching the string from the grasp of a kitten as it waggled its bottom, preparing to pounce. The kitten leapt after the string, claws and teeth bared. Tia pulled her hand clear just in time.

  “There was one thing I wanted to warn you about,” Reithan added cautiously.

  “What’s that? Are you going to tell me not to get into any political discussions about the legality of the Senetian occupation of Dhevyn? I’m not that stupid, Reithan.”

  “I was going to warn you to be careful if you should happen to meet Ella Geon.”

  “Why?” Tia asked with a shrug. “She doesn’t know who I am.”

  “No, she doesn’t. But you know who she is, and I don’t want you forgetting yourself.”

  “There’s nothing to forget, Reithan.”

  “She’s your mother, Tia.”

  “Ella Geon is the woman who gave birth to me,” Tia corrected coldly. “She is not my mother. Did you think I was hoping she’d notice me across a crowded room and run to embrace her long-lost daughter?”

  “You sound very bitter. It worries me.”

  “I’m not bitter.”

  “No?” he asked, with a raised brow.

  “All right, maybe I am a little bitter,” she conceded. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to forget what’s at stake. I’m not going to endanger you, Johan Thorn, my father and everybody in the Baenlands, just to satisfy my own selfish desire to strangle the cold-blooded bitch.”

  “You’ll get your chance one day, Tia. Just not here. Not now.”

  “I know.”

  He smiled at her and turned his attention to the kittens, one of which had decided that his boot was fair game. Tia watched the little tabby attacking Reithan, thinking that their own struggle against Senet stood about as much chance of succeeding as the kitten’s hopeful attack on Reithan’s boot.

  She steadfastly refused to think about Ella Geon.

 

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