Dirk smiled at the very suggestion. “One son too sick to rule, the other too much like his mother?” He shook his head. “I hope, for your sake, those words don’t come back to haunt you, your highness.”
Oddly enough Antonov looked pleased, rather than disturbed by his answer. “I suspect history will remember you for your political acumen, not your academic achievements, Dirk.”
He forced a nonchalant shrug. “You’re assuming I want history to remember me.”
“Your actions last night leave it little choice.”
“Perhaps,” he conceded.
“You have taken a step toward the light, Dirk. You have killed the heretic and the Goddess will reward you for what you’ve done.”
“And if I don’t want a reward?”
“Then you prove yourself even more worthy of the Goddess’s blessing.”
Dirk was amazed. It seemed that no matter what he did, Antonov was going to find a way to make it fit his view of the world. He began to understand, for the first time, how this man could have sacrificed his own son. Antonov had a gift for rationalizing that defied belief.
“I could just walk away.”
“I’ll not give you permission to leave Avacas.”
“I think if I was planning to leave, your highness, I probably wouldn’t ask for it.”
“Don’t even joke about it, Dirk.” Antonov took a step toward him. “Stay with me. Let me guide you and all the power that should have been your father’s will be yours. I’ll make you the Eagle of Dhevyn. Together we’ll stamp out the heresy that tore Dhevyn apart and restore her to what she once was. I’ll even let you marry Alenor, if that’s what you want. I know how much you—”
“That’s not what I want, your highness.”
Antonov looked a little surprised, and then his expression grew suspicious. “Don’t even think of leaving Avacas, Dirk.”
“Do you think you could stop me?”
“Not if you were truly determined,” he agreed. “But if you did anything so foolish, I would have no choice but to hunt you down. And believe me, I would devote the might of Senet to your destruction.” Antonov took another step forward, his arms outstretched, his smile benign. It was all Dirk could do to stand his ground. “I am still your friend, son. Don’t make me teach you how much harder I would be to deal with as your enemy.”
Dirk nodded in understanding. “Do you want to add the throne of Dhevyn to your empire so badly that you would embrace the son of a man you despised, just to secure it? Why do you need me? You effectively own Dhevyn now. You occupy us. Your grandchildren will rule us. You’ve removed Rainan and have Alenor so afraid of you she can scarce breathe when you’re in the room. Kirsh will be Regent of Dhevyn. What’s the problem? Don’t you trust your own son to do your bidding? Or has he too much of his mother in him for your liking?”
“At times you’ve too much of your mother in you for my liking, I’ll grant you that much.”
When Dirk didn’t answer him, Antonov smiled, and when he spoke his tone was eminently reasonable. “Come now, you’re still in shock over what happened on the terrace. It’s never easy, killing your first man. Don’t worry, it’ll get easier.”
Dirk shook his head. “How many does it take, your highness? Five? Ten? A hundred? How many men did you have to kill before it no longer bothered you?”
“It’s time for you to step down from the high moral ground, Dirk. I am merely a reflection of what you will become, and if that frightens you, it’s your problem, not mine. Your actions this night have proved that you and I are carved of the same wood. When you’ve had a chance to think about it, you’ll see that I’m right.” He smiled, reaching out his hand once more. “Why don’t you kneel with me now? Pray to the Goddess for guidance.”
“Somehow, I don’t think she has the answers I need, sir.”
Dirk turned and walked toward the entrance, his body tense with anticipation. He half expected Antonov to summon the guards outside.
“Your future is here, Dirk.”
He glanced over his shoulder at Antonov. “You’d have me betray my own people.”
“I’d have you help them,” Antonov corrected. “Johan tore the world apart with his heresy. But you and I can make it better. We can restore the Goddess. We can help your people see the truth. That will never happen while Rainan is on the throne.”
“Well, she won’t be on the throne much longer,” Dirk reminded him. “You’ve taken care of that.”
“I fear Alenor will be no easier to control than her mother, even with Kirsh at her side. He is far too easily distracted. You, on the other hand, are Johan Thorn’s son. His rightful heir. And with my help, you will grow into the king your father should have been.”
Dirk was appalled by the breadth of Antonov’s delusion. Does he really think I’m going to claim a throne I don’t want for the glory of his damned Goddess? Can faith be so blind?
“You’ll see that I’m right when you’ve had a chance to think it over,” he assured him, when Dirk did not reply. “With my help, my guidance, we’ll set the world to rights.”
Dirk turned and walked back out into the bright sunlight past the guards without answering. The gravel crunched underfoot. I have to get out of here, he thought, sickened by the future Antonov had planned for him. I have to get out of Avacas; out of Senet.
He reached the terrace and climbed the steps. This time he forced himself to look down. Barin had followed his orders. The blood had been washed from the flagstones, but there was still a faint stain on the tiles. The second sun burned hot and yellow as it chased away its red companion and a fleeting thought intruded—it was past high tide. Alenor and the queen should be safely out of Avacas by now.
Dirk squatted down and thoughtfully traced his hand over the stain. The heat of the morning had dried it already, leaving a crust of tiny brown flakes that came away on his fingers.
Is this what I am? he asked himself. Is Antonov Latanya what I will become?
Dirk found it disturbing that he could not answer his own question.
PART SIX
THE DEATHBRINGER
Chapter 72
The second sun was well above the eastern horizon by the time Dirk Provin returned from wherever he’d disappeared to after that awful scene on the terrace. Tia still couldn’t believe what she had witnessed, still couldn’t come to terms with the fact that Johan Thorn was dead.
Hugging her throbbing hand to her chest, she paced the room impatiently as young Eryk, Dirk’s loyal, unquestioning servant, slept fitfully, curled up on the edge of the couch. She envied the boy his resilience. He’d been there, seen everything, yet he remained certain that his master knew what was best. If that meant murdering a man in cold blood, then so be it.
Reithan spent the intervening time examining the room in detail. He glanced at the books scattered on Dirk’s desk and spent an inordinate amount of time studying the chess game in progress on the small table near the unlit fire, seemingly uninterested in conversation. There was no point trying to escape. Dirk had taken the precaution of posting guards outside. He claimed it was for the sake of appearances, but Tia didn’t believe him.
At the sound of the door opening, Tia spun around to find Dirk stepping into the room, but his expression gave nothing away.
“Where have you been?” she demanded.
Dirk did not answer. He walked to the couch and squatted down beside Eryk, shaking the boy awake gently.
“Lord Dirk?”
“Are you all right, Eryk?”
“I’m a bit sleepy.”
Dirk smiled at the boy. “Well, you’d better wake up. I need you to pack some things for us.”
“Are we going thomewhere, Lord Dirk?”
“Yes. But just pack a small bag. We can only take what we can carry.”
Eryk nodded and slid off the couch, rubbing his eyes as he walked toward the other room.
“Going on a trip?” Reithan asked.
“With you.”
“I want you to take me with you,” he told Reithan, quite deliberately ignoring her. “To Mil.”
“Are you insane?” she cried. “We’re not taking you anywhere near the Baenlands!”
“Then stay here and face Antonov’s wrath,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll find it on my own.”
She stared at him in disgust. “You’re unbelievable! First you kill Johan and then you expect us to betray our friends and family by taking you back to Mil with us!”
“I don’t think that’s what Dirk is after, Tia,” Reithan suggested thoughtfully.
Tia turned on him angrily. “Then what is he after, Reithan?”
Reithan didn’t answer her immediately. He studied Dirk for a long moment.
“Sanctuary, is my guess.”
Dirk met Reithan’s gaze without flinching.
“Something like that,” he agreed.
Reithan nodded. “It’s not going to be easy. Just getting out of the palace in one piece may be more than we can manage.”
“You let me worry about that. Will you take me to Mil?”
“Are you sure about this? Once you join us, there’s no going back. An empty belly and a few nights in the open, and Antonov’s court may not seem such a bad place to be.”
A fleeting smile flickered over Dirk’s lips. “Trust me, I’ll not change my mind.”
Reithan nodded. “Then, assuming we can get out of the palace in one piece, we need to get to Paislee.”
“Reithan!” Tia cried angrily. “Have you completely lost your mind?”
“Not completely.” Reithan turned to Dirk. “When do we leave?”
“Now,” Dirk replied.
Their escape from the palace itself was uneventful. With the sudden departure of the Queen of Dhevyn and her retinue, the palace was in chaos, and they were able to slip through the confusion with ease. Dirk made no attempt at stealth. He didn’t need to. He was well known in the palace and already the rumors about what had happened on the balcony outside Antonov’s study were beginning to surface. Some of the servants stared at him openly as they walked past, others scurried out of his way. He even ordered the guards to escort them, and then dismissed the men once they reached the stables.
Dirk ordered his mount saddled, and demanded two others for Tia and Reithan to ride. The grooms didn’t question his reasons; they simply hurried to obey.
“You can ride, can’t you?” Dirk asked Tia, as the groom led the saddled mounts toward them. One was a truly beautiful chestnut with a white star on its forehead; another was a mottled gray. The third was a smaller, much less impressive dun that Tia suspected was as docile as Dirk’s horse seemed spirited.
“A little,” she replied, eyeing the animals warily.
He looked at her. “Define ‘a little.’ ”
She glared at him defiantly. “Why didn’t you ask Reithan if he could ride?”
“So the answer is no.”
“I can manage.”
“With no experience and a wounded hand?” he asked skeptically.
“You just get me on the beast and let me worry about whether I can ride or not.”
Dirk shook his head but made no further comment. She allowed the groom to help her into the saddle and picked up the reins with her good hand.
Reithan rode up beside her with a frown. “Maybe I should lead the horse, Tia.”
“Maybe you should just concentrate on keeping an eye on your new best friend,” she suggested frostily.
Rolling his eyes with frustration, he clucked at his horse to get it moving and rode up beside Dirk where Eryk sat behind him, his arms wrapped tightly about his master’s waist. Tia repeated Reithan’s gesture, but the beast wouldn’t budge. Finally, she kicked it in the ribs and the dun moved off, following the others at a walk. Why did we have to ride? she thought in annoyance. I can walk faster than this.
Almost as if he heard her thought, Dirk halted his mount and waited for her to catch up with him.
“If we act like we’re supposed to be riding out of the palace, nobody should question us,” he explained. “Just keep your head up and don’t look anybody in the eye. If someone stops us, let me do the talking.”
“That’s your plan?” she asked scathingly. “If we look like we know what we’re doing, nobody will question us? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one?”
Without bothering to answer, he leaned over and grabbed her horse by the bridle and urged it forward. Tia held her throbbing hand to her chest, and amused herself by imagining any number of painful things she would like to do to Dirk Provin, starting with cutting the tongue out of that smart mouth of his with a blunt and rusty dagger.
They rode through the palace gates without incident. The soldiers on duty waved to Dirk, but didn’t challenge his right to leave or ask who his companions were. Tia glanced back at them as they rode down the wide, tree-lined boulevard that led to the palace from the city, wondering what the men were thinking. Did they wonder who she was? Were they thinking that Dirk was riding into town with some bit of fluff he’d been amusing himself with last night?
“I think we’ve got a problem,” Reithan said, glancing over his shoulder.
Dirk and Tia both turned and looked back toward the palace. The guards who had been so relaxed in their duties a few moments ago were suddenly rushing about, drawing the large wrought-iron gates closed. A mounted figure appeared behind the gates, riding a magnificent white gelding, accompanied by a full squad of Antonov’s personal guard. The rider stopped long enough to speak to the guard commander, and then waved the gates open again before they were fully closed.
“That’s Prince Kirshov,” Eryk said, sounding a little puzzled.
“What’s he doing?” Reithan asked.
Dirk didn’t answer for a moment. By the time he did, the gates were open far enough for Prince Kirshov and his guard to canter through the gap.
“Move it!” Dirk cried, startling Tia with his shout. He kicked his horse into a gallop, dragging hers along with him. Reithan galloped along on the other side as Tia clutched at the pommel, forgetting her damaged hand for a moment. She cried out in pain, but neither Dirk nor Reithan looked to see why. When she looked down, the cobbles rushed past her in a dizzying blur, and the sound of their pursuers drew closer. Clinging to the horse with her thighs, Tia closed her eyes, but discovered that was infinitely worse. She opened them again and risked a glance over her shoulder.
They were far enough away that Prince Kirshov might not recognize them, but Dirk was leaving nothing to chance. As soon as the curve of the road took them out of sight of the palace, he turned the horses sharply into a littered laneway between two shops and hauled both mounts to a halt. He jumped from the saddle and ran to the end of the lane, flattening himself against the wall as the young prince and his men rode past at a gallop.
Tia jumped to the ground to discover she was shaking like a sapling in an earthquake, her hand throbbing in time with her racing heartbeat.
Dirk sagged against the wall and turned to look at them. “Is everyone all right?”
“You think he’s after us, don’t you?”
“And they say I’m the clever one,” he muttered, pushing off the wall.
“But how did he know?...”
Dirk shrugged. “I suppose any one of the several hundred people who know that Rainan left on the Calliope this morning could have let it slip.”
“There’s no need to be sarcastic.”
“Come on,” he said wearily, as he walked back to his horse.
“Where do you suppose Kirshov is headed?” Reithan asked.
“The docks.”
“You think he’s heading for the Calliope?” Tia asked.
“Are you really descended from the smartest man that ever lived?”
“Don’t you take that tone with me, Dirk Provin. We don’t need you or your help. You can just
leave us here. We’ll find our own way home.”
“Tia, let it go,” Reithan sighed wearily.
Dirk walked past her without further comment. When he reached Eryk, he bent down until he was eye to eye with the boy who was pale and trembling with fear. “Are you all right, Eryk?”
“Are we in trouble, Lord Dirk?”
“Something like that.”
“What are we going to do?”
Dirk glanced over his shoulder at Tia before he answered.
“We’re going to Mil.”
“The hell you are!” Tia called, fed up with his insistence on that insane idea.
“Keep your voice down!” Reithan hissed. “Do you want to wake up the whole damn city?”
“This charade has gone on long enough, Reithan!” she cried, albeit with much less volume. “We’re out of the palace now. We don’t need him anymore. And we’re not taking him anywhere near Mil! Tell him!”
“Yes we are,” he replied. “We’re in an enemy city, Tia. You’re wounded. We have little money, no food, very few friends and very soon it’s going to occur to the Prefect that we’ve escaped. Just how far do you think we’re going to get without help?”
“Help? Is that why he wants to go to Mil? To help us? More likely the Lion of Senet set him onto us, hoping we’d lead him to our people. I’ll bet the two of them staged that whole scene with Johan!”
Dirk glanced at Reithan before turning his back on her.
“Did you toss a coin with Barin Welacin to decide who got to chop my fingers off?” she called after him.
Eryk looked up at her with tear-filled eyes. “Why are you mad at Lord Dirk, Tia?”
“You wouldn’t understand, Eryk,” she tried to explain.
“But he saved my life ... heaps of times.” The child looked quite distraught.
“Don’t waste your breath, Eryk,” Dirk advised, with a look at Tia that spoke volumes.
“And now he’s saved your life, too, Tia. So why are you mad at him?”
Tia looked at Eryk for a moment, but couldn’t answer him. She turned to Reithan, her arms crossed defensively. “I don’t trust him.”
The Lion of Senet Page 50