“Yes, but ...”
“Then good night!” The acolyte slammed the door in Marqel’s face.
With a smile, Marqel turned for the staircase and the kitchens. She would wash the cups herself, to make certain no trace remained of the poison. The tiny sip she had imbibed shouldn’t do her any lasting harm, but she knew Caspona distrusted her. It had been the only way to get her to take the tea.
Marqel had learned a great deal since she had joined the Shadowdancers and she was a gifted student when it came to poisons. The concoction she had brewed was a particularly virulent blend of poppy-dust and nightshade.
They would find Caspona in the morning. The poor girl would appear to have died in her sleep, choking on her own tongue during a fit. Everyone would think it was the result of an overdose. It was not common for a Shadowdancer to be addicted to poppy-dust, but neither was it so rare that anybody would think to look for another cause. And it did not matter that Laleno would not let her in; made no difference to her plans that Laleno had not drunk the tea. In fact, it was better this way.
Marqel hummed a cheery tune to herself as she made her way downstairs.
Chapter 14
Marqel took breakfast the following morning in the vast dining room that served highborn residents of the palace. There were few people in attendance this morning. With Antonov on his way to Elcast, many of his staff had taken the opportunity to visit their own estates, or simply take advantage of his absence by sleeping in. Even when he was in residence, the Lion of Senet rarely joined his guests for meals unless it was a formal dinner. He was an early riser and had usually spent time praying in his small private temple and broken his fast long before the rest of the palace was awake.
The room was long and narrow and faced the east, so it was one of the first rooms in the palace to catch the rising of the second sun. The long table was a forest of crystal and silverware. On the western wall, under huge silver domes, platters of several different types of cooked meat, perfectly poached eggs, freshly baked bread and delicate little pastries were constantly replenished by a small army of servants whose job it was to keep the highborn residents of the palace fed. Breakfast went on for quite a while in the Avacas palace. It was not uncommon for the servants to be tactfully shooing out the last of the diners so they could set the table for lunch.
She picked at her food, trying to look as bored and unimpressed by the wealth surrounding her as the highborn who took this place for granted. Even after two years living amid such fabulous wealth and plenty, Marqel still had to stop and pinch herself occasionally, to remind herself that she was not dreaming. On more than one occasion, she’d had to stop herself from pocketing the odd piece of silverware as a hedge against the future. Every now and then, she would look back over the series of events that led her to this place and shake her head in wonder. Her life as a nameless Landfall bastard, scratching for a living as an acrobat with Mistress Kalleen’s troupe, seemed as if it had been lived by someone else. She was somebody now. She was a Shadowdancer. And soon, if everything went according to plan, she would become even more important.
Across the table from Marqel, the Shadowdancer Olena Borne, Ella’s assistant, was tucking into a hearty breakfast. Beside her sat some visiting lord from western Senet, stuffing his face as if it was his last meal. Marqel could not remember his name, but knew that he had been staying at the palace for the past week or so and was due to leave later today. Farther down the table sat two other men, palace functionaries whose names Marqel could not remember. She thought the taller one was a distant cousin of Antonov’s, which was how he had secured a position in the palace. The shorter one she did not know much about at all. They seemed to be lingering over their meal, deep in conversation about something to do with last year’s maize harvest.
“My lady?”
Marqel glanced up at the servant who had entered the dining room and stopped behind Olena’s chair.
“Master Daranski sent me to fetch you, my lady,” the girl explained, rather nervously.
“Now?” Olena asked, glancing at her meal.
“One of the Shadowdancers is ill, my lady. He said it was urgent.”
Olena muttered a curse under her breath as she pushed her chair back. “You’d better come, too, Marqel,” the Shadowdancer ordered as she rose to her feet.
Marqel followed Olena and the servant from the dining room, quite pleased that she had been invited along. She was a little concerned, however. The servant had said one of the Shadowdancers was ill.
If everything had gone according to plan, the servant should have announced that one of the Shadowdancers was dead.
“What’s wrong with her?” Olena demanded of Yuri as she followed the servant into Caspona’s room. The physician was bent over the bed, examining Caspona’s limp form. Marqel tried to look past Olena and Yuri to see if she was breathing, but it was too difficult to get a good look at her without being obvious about it.
Yuri straightened up, dismissed the serving girl and waited until she had closed the door behind her before he answered.
“She appears to have taken an overdose of poppy-dust,” he announced with a frown.
Olena stared at the young woman in shock. “Caspona? Do you know anything about this, Marqel?”
The question caught her off guard. “Er ... no, my lady. I didn’t know she was an addict.”
“She shows no sign of a regular habit,” Yuri remarked, glancing down at the young woman. Marqel could not tell if she was still alive, but she supposed a coma would do just as well. The important thing was that Caspona was not able to travel to Grannon Rock.
“Is she dead?” Olena asked. She sounded irritated, rather than upset.
Yuri nodded. “Since some time last evening, I’m guessing.”
Marqel was very careful not to let her relief show. She also thought it high time she established her alibi.
“But ... I spoke to her just before she went to bed! She seemed ... well, the same as usual ...”
“What were you doing here in Caspona’s room last night?” Olena asked suspiciously. “I was under the impression that you two barely spoke to each other.”
Marqel did not hesitate with her reply. “Ella told me to make sure Caspona and Laleno were ready to leave for Grannon Rock today, my lady. I was just checking that she was packed and ready to go. I checked on Laleno, too.” And when she was questioned, Laleno would remember Marqel waking her for that very reason ...
It was all too easy, really.
Olena cursed in a very unladylike fashion. “I forgot they were due to leave for Grannon Rock this morning. Damn!”
“Did you want me to send to the Hall of Shadows, my lady?” Marqel offered helpfully. “The ship doesn’t sail for at least another hour. I’m sure Lady Marika could find a replacement for her.”
“In an hour?” Olena scoffed. “Marika’s probably not even out of bed yet, if I know her.” She looked at Marqel thoughtfully. “Pity I can’t send you in her place.”
Marqel nodded in understanding. “I know. Ella explained how annoyed Prince Antonov would be if I went to Grannon Rock. Can’t Laleno simply go on her own?”
Olena shook her head. “Daena Lorinov is due to give birth any day. That’s why we were sending two Shadowdancers to Grannon Rock in the first place. She’s in no condition to take part in the Landfall Festival.”
“I’d not wish to cause trouble for Prince Kirshov, my lady.”
Olena thought on it for a moment. “Of course, Laleno will be there, too,” the Shadowdancer mused, “so it’s not as if you’d have to even see Kirshov ...”
Marqel tried very hard to appear nonchalant while Olena sweated over the decision.
“Well, whatever you decide,” Yuri warned, “do it quickly, Olena. I need to get Caspona out of the palace and back to the Hall of Shadows before the manner of her demise becomes public knowledge.”
“Can I trust you to do as you’re ordered?” Olena asked Marqel with a frown.
“Yes, my lady,” Marqel promised meekly.
The Shadowdancer had little choice in the matter, Marqel knew, but she was still torn with indecision. “I don’t know ...”
“Oh for pity’s sake! Send the girl in Caspona’s place,” Yuri advised impatiently. “There’s little for her to do here in the palace at present. Now, do you think we could get on to more important matters?”
Olena nodded doubtfully. “Can you be ready in time?”
“I’ll try, my lady.”
“Then go,” she ordered with a wave of her hand. “And stay out of trouble.”
“Yes, my lady.” Marqel dropped into a quick curtsy and hurried from the room. As she turned to close the door behind her, Yuri turned his attention to Olena.
“Thank the Goddess this didn’t happen while Antonov was in residence,” he said. “How are you going to explain it?”
“You’re the physician,” Olena pointed out testily. “Surely you can think of an acceptable reason why she died.”
“I can say it was a weak heart, I suppose,” Yuri agreed. “You’ll have to let Belagren know.”
“It can wait until she returns from Elcast,” Olena replied. “Right now it’s more important we make certain that nobody in the palace gets wind of the fact that one of our Shadowdancers living under the Lion of Senet’s roof was a poppy-dust addict.”
Marqel closed the door with a smile and headed back to her room where her bags were packed and ready to be taken down to the ship that would deliver her to Grannon Rock.
PART TWO
OF DECEIT AND VENGEANCE
Chapter 15
Grannon Rock came into view through a haze of low-slung cloud. The morning air misted across the deck of the ship with a rain so fine it was little more than a heavy fog.
Nova was a relatively new city and much of it reeked of damp and recent construction. The city had an aroma of freshly sawn timber, stonecutters’ dust and wet mortar. Although it was almost two decades since the return of the second sun, many of the buildings were still encased in scaffolding, and there were piles of dressed stone, particularly marble, stacked untidily along the shoreline, where the salvage crews had dumped them after they were recovered from the drowned city beneath the sea.
The harbor was new, too; so new that the seabed still had to be regularly dredged to rid it of the sunken debris that fouled the water and made it perilous for shipping. During the Age of Shadows, and the Age of Light before it, Nova had been situated much lower down the mountain. The earthquakes and tidal waves that accompanied the departure of the second sun had shattered the city, and the return of the sun had brought with it floods that covered what was left.
Dirk was quite impressed by Nova’s grandiose, albeit recycled, architecture. The city sprawled over the peak of the submerged mountain. The more impressive buildings were high on the slopes overlooking the harbor. The meaner dwellings closer to the docks had an air of impermanence about them. Everyone assumed that the oceans had risen as much as they were going to, now that the second sun was firmly established in the sky, but there was no guarantee. The people who lived closest to the shore might wake one morning to find their homes under water.
“They’re building a new library,” Reithan remarked, pointing to an enormous half-completed building near the peak. They were standing on the foredeck of the Makuan as she sailed through the heads. Porl Isingrin could be heard yelling orders to his crew over the creaking of the rigging and the snap of canvas. Although they had offered to help, Tia, Reithan and Dirk were passengers on this trip, and Porl had advised them to make the most of their brief holiday and enjoy the view.
“It’s supposed to be twice the size of the one at the university in Avacas,” Tia remarked.
Dirk had seen the university’s library. It was huge. “Why build so large a library?”
“Jealousy, mostly,” Reithan surmised with a shrug. “Dhevynian academics still resent their exclusion from Avacas.”
“Well, why shouldn’t they resent it?” Tia asked. “It’s ridiculous banning people from the Senet University just because of their nationality.”
Reithan nodded thoughtfully. “I never understood the logic behind that, myself. You’d think the High Priestess would want to keep the Dhevynian scholars in a place where she could keep an eye on them. Allowing them their own center of learning away from the supervision of the Church just allows heresy to ferment.”
Dirk shrugged as he looked out over the harbor. “She probably thinks it’s better to let a little rebellion ferment and keep it manageable, than to try to smother it completely and have it blow up in her face someday.”
“I never realized you knew the High Priestess so well, Dirk. Is this something you should have shared with us before now?”
Dirk turned to look at Tia, shaking his head. “You know, one day, Tia, I’m going to say something that you actually can’t find a way to twist around into proof that I’m a Senetian informer.”
She smiled. “Really? I can’t wait.”
“Tia ...” Reithan warned.
“Oh, settle down, Reithan. I’m only teasing. Dirk’s a big boy. He can handle it.”
Dirk grinned suddenly. “How do you know I’m a big boy, Tia? Have you been peeking?”
It took Tia a moment to realize what he was suggesting. She blushed crimson and punched him painfully on the shoulder. “You’re disgusting!”
Without waiting for his response, she stalked off toward the stern. Reithan looked at Dirk and sighed heavily. “You really can’t help flirting with danger, can you?”
“I’m sorry. I just get a little fed up with her relentless hatred sometimes.”
“You do bear her torments with a remarkable degree of stoicism,” Reithan agreed. “If it was me, I’d have throttled her long ago.”
“Don’t think I haven’t been tempted on more than one occasion.”
“You know, I don’t think she really hates you ... maybe she really likes you and just doesn’t want you to know it,” he suggested with a grin.
“Well, if that’s her plan, Reithan, it’s working. Really, really well.”
Reithan laughed as Porl came forward to join them. He pointed to a compact, three-masted, square-rigged ship anchored at the docks that bore the royal insignia of Dhevyn. “The queen’s arrived already.” Then he turned to Dirk curiously. “What did you do to upset Tia?”
“I woke up this morning.”
“Ah,” Porl said, nodding in understanding. “That would do it.”
Reithan smiled and turned his back on the view to face Porl. “We’ll need to contact Rainan as soon as possible.”
“Alexin promised to broach the subject with the queen as soon as he could. Landfall night will probably be the best time to meet with her. There’ll be plenty of strangers around and most of the Senetians on the island will be at the ritual once the second sun sets.”
“Aren’t you risking an awful lot, being seen openly?” Dirk asked.
“In Nova I’m just another trader captain.” Porl shrugged. “I’ve been coming here for years and never had much trouble. Besides, we have a few friends in high places. We’ll be safe enough. I don’t like your chances, though, should anybody recognize you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep my head down,” Dirk promised. “I’m getting very good at it, actually.”
“You do that, lad.” The captain hesitated for a moment, as if debating something with himself. “There’s something else I to want you to promise me.”
Dirk looked at Porl curiously. “Name it.”
“I want your word that you’ll not do anything reckless while we’re here.”
“Are you worried that I might?”
Porl shrugged uneasily. “Nova’s a busy port. There’s lots of rumors flying around, gossip, that sort of thing. Don’t listen to it, Dirk.”
“If it makes you happy,” Dirk agreed, thinking it the strangest thing anyone had asked of him since he had arrived in Mil. He glanced at Reithan
, wondering if his stepbrother had any idea of why Porl Isingrin would deliver such a warning. For some reason Reithan looked away uncomfortably and refused to meet his eye.
A little puzzled by the behavior of both Reithan and Porl, Dirk turned to the captain. “Do you really think Rainan will agree to meet with us?”
“There’s no way of knowing,” Porl admitted. “But with the wedding so close, she might be willing to clutch at anything to delay it.”
“She’s just as likely not to want anything to do with you for the same reason,” Dirk pointed out. “It’s odd, though, don’t you think, that Antonov is staying in Avacas for Landfall? You’d think this close to the wedding he would want to keep an eye on the queen himself.”
“I’m sure the Lion of Senet has plenty of other more diverting pastimes than looming over the Queen of Dhevyn every chance he gets,” Reithan remarked with a forced laugh.
“Actually, I disagree,” Dirk said, shaking his head. “Ruling Dhevyn, even by proxy through Kirsh, means everything to Antonov. I can’t imagine what he would find more important than that.”
Reithan and Porl exchanged a nervous look, making Dirk highly suspicious.
“Well, whatever it is, it’s hardly going to affect us while we’re here on Grannon Rock,” Reithan declared, deliberately putting an end to any further discussion. “By the way, Porl, I’ve been meaning to ask you ... how’s young Eryk doing?”
“Not too bad,” Porl answered, apparently just as relieved to be discussing something else. “The lads have been giving him a bit of a hard time, but he can follow instructions if they’re clear enough. He’ll make a fine sailor in time.”
“What do you mean they’ve been giving him a hard time?” Dirk asked. He had hardly seen Eryk on the voyage, and when he had, the boy had been morose and untalkative. Dirk glanced back over the deck, but could see no sign of his young friend.
Porl slapped his shoulder reassuringly. “Don’t panic, lad. It’s just the normal sort of roughhousing you’d expect with a young ’un. It’s like an initiation. He’s fine.”
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