Eye of the Labyrinth (17 page)

Chapter 30

The Duke of Grannon Rock’s library was quite paltry considering the man ruled over the island that fancied itself the greatest center of learning in Dhevyn. The small collection of books barely covered two walls of the room. The others were hung with numerous oil paintings of the Seranov family dating back several generations, including, Alenor noted with interest, Drogan Seranov, Reithan’s father and the man the current duke had denounced in order to claim his brother’s title. Raban stood beside her, identifying the men and women in the portraits and providing mildly amusing anecdotes about each one as they worked their way around the room.

The queen sat at the long polished table reading through yet another draft of the letter she must send to Antonov, explaining what had happened to his son. She had been working on it for hours, and was still no closer to completing it than she had been this morning before Alenor left to meet Dirk and the Baenlanders.

“I’m sure this sounds like I’m trying to cover something up,” Rainan complained, tossing the quill on the table.

Alenor glanced over at the queen. “You can only tell him the truth, Mother.”

“And the truth is I don’t know what to say,” she sighed. “Why couldn’t Kirsh have just fallen from his damn horse and broken his leg? That would be so much easier to explain away.”

A knock at the door interrupted them and Raban called permission to enter. When the door opened, Alenor was surprised to see Marqel entering the room, escorted by Alexin. The Shadowdancer curtsied gracefully to the queen before she spoke.

“You have news of Prince Kirshov, I take it?” Rainan asked.

“He’s awake and asking for Princess Alenor, ma’am.”

Rainan smiled at Alenor. “There you are, dear. I told you there was nothing to worry about.”

“How is he?” Raban asked.

“Recovering, my lord, although it will be some time before he’s able to resume his duties as a Guardsman, I suspect.”

“I believe that’s not really any of your concern, Marqel,” the queen pointed out.

“I think Marqel was merely offering her expert medical opinion, Mother,” Alenor suggested sweetly. Marqel stared at her in shock. The sight left Alenor feeling strangely euphoric.

Thank you, Dirk. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m in
control of it.

“In fact,” she continued pleasantly, “I’ve been quite impressed by this Shadowdancer’s dedication to her work. My betrothed would be in serious trouble without her.”

They all stared at her in total bewilderment.

“If Marqel is agreeable, I was going to suggest that after the Landfall Festival we ask the High Priestess if Marqel could be posted to our court in Kalarada. Kirsh will need continuing care in the short term, and I’m sure he would benefit from the spiritual guidance of having his own personal Shadowdancer at court. What do you think, Mother?”

Rainan was speechless. Marqel looked dumbstruck. Raban seemed confused. Only Alexin looked at her suspiciously.

“Well!” she declared, when nobody answered her. “As there seem to be no objections, I guess that settles it.”

“Alenor ...” the queen began.

“Yes, Mother?” she replied innocently.

“Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life,” she assured her mother confidently, although her eyes were fixed on Marqel.
What are you thinking, you sly little bitch?

Marqel stared her down. Alenor knew in her heart that she had lost Kirsh. If she had ever really owned him. Her worship of Kirsh was something rooted in childhood. Seeing Dirk today had reminded her of that. But she was about to become queen. It was about time she started acting like one.

“Is there something wrong, Marqel?” Alenor asked. “You look quite pale.”

“Er . . . no, your highness, I’m quite well,” the Shadowdancer replied, covering her shock and suspicion well. “Your generous offer has taken me by surprise, that’s all.”

Alenor smiled with venomous sweetness. “Don’t you like surprises?”

Marqel didn’t answer her for a moment, then she smiled at Alenor with the same poisonous charm. “Actually, I have a surprise for you, your highness. When I was in town today, I learned who was responsible for the attack on Prince Kirshov.”

The momentary feeling that she was in control vanished with Marqel’s statement.

“Who was it?” Alenor demanded.

“It was the crew from a Baenlander ship called the
Makuan,
” she informed them. “And I believe the one who instigated the attack was Dirk Provin.”

“Dirk Provin is here? In Nova?” the queen gasped, which was fortunate. Alenor was certain her own alarm and guilt was written clearly on her face for all to see.

“That’s not possible, your majesty,” Raban assured the queen with a careless wave of his hand. He was much better at dissembling than Alenor was. “He’d be arrested the moment he set foot on Grannon Rock.”

“He’s here,” Marqel insisted.

Raban turned to Marqel, full of blustery indignation. “What proof do you have of this? I’ll have you know that I mightily resent the implication that we allow pirate ships to dock in our harbor, or that we are sheltering a wanted man. You need to be a tad more sure of your facts before making such spurious accusations, young lady. That red robe doesn’t give you the right to accuse innocent people!”

“Nevertheless,” Alexin said, sounding eminently reasonable, “we should investigate this.”

How do they do it?
Alenor wondered.
We’re all pretending
that we don’t know anything about this. Why am I the only one
who’s shaking?

“If there really is a Baenlander pirate ship in port,” Alexin continued, “then we most definitely should do something about it. But I have to agree with my brother, my lady Shadowdancer. Dirk Provin disappeared two years ago. We don’t even know that he still lives. I’d be very surprised to find him here in Nova.”

“I agree,” Alenor said, trying to find even a trace of her earlier confidence. “If Dirk is anywhere at the moment, he’s headed for Elcast, surely?”

“He’s here.
In Nova,
” Marqel repeated with conviction.

“Then perhaps you should look into this, Captain?” Alenor suggested, hoping she sounded regal, rather than terrified.
If Marqel knows that Dirk is here in Nova, what else does she
know?

Alexin bowed smartly. “At once, your highness. Raban? I may need your help with the harbormaster.”

“Of course,” his older brother agreed. “If you will excuse us, your majesty?”

Rainan nodded wordlessly, the whole situation taken out of her hands by the three conspirators before her. Alenor dared not look either Alexin or Raban in the eye for fear of giving away their secret. Raban followed Alexin from the library, leaving Marqel alone with Alenor and the queen.

“That will be all,” Alenor told the Shadowdancer.

“Shall I tell the prince to expect you, your highness?”

“No. I’d like to surprise him.”

“As you wish.” Marqel curtsied again to Rainan. “Your majesty.”

“You may go.”

Marqel closed the library door behind her, leaving Alenor to face her mother.

“Alenor, what in the name of the Goddess are you up to?”

“I’m acting like a queen.”

“By inviting the woman you suspect your consort loves to court?” she scoffed. “That’s not the act of a queen, Alenor, it’s the act of a willful child.”

Alenor met her mother’s eye defiantly. “You did your best for Dhevyn, Mother, and now it’s my turn. My methods just happen to be different from yours.”

Rainan shook her head uncomprehendingly. “You will be the ruin of us all, Alenor.”

“Then I should carry on the family tradition quite nicely, don’t you think?”

Chapter 31

Captain Ateway warned Morna that Antonov was coming. It was not much of a warning, but it was enough for her to take her seat in front of the small desk and appear totally engrossed in her correspondence when the Lion of Senet marched into the guardhouse. She heard that he had arrived on Elcast the day before, amid his usual pomp and ceremony, and was a little surprised that Antonov had chosen to visit her, rather than demand she be brought before him.

“Everybody out!” Antonov ordered.

Morna glanced up with a serene smile as the guards hurried to obey. She was not surprised to find the High Priestess standing at his side. Antonov was wearing white, as he usually did. His shirt was exquisitely embroidered with golden lions, his knee-high boots tooled in a similar fashion.
He’s such a vain
man,
she realized.
He must be sweltering in all that finery.
Belagren was dressed in the red robes of her office, dripping with diamonds at her throat, wrists and fingers, her long hair unbound and brushed to a shine. But the color was unnaturally even. She had aged, Morna noticed with a degree of spiteful satisfaction. How old was she now? Almost fifty? How much longer did she think she could keep Antonov interested in her by dying her hair and draping herself in jewels?

“Anton! How nice of you to drop by,” Morna said pleasantly as soon as they were alone. “And look who you’ve brought to keep me company! Hello, Belagren. You’re looking well. Have you put on weight? It suits you, I think.”

“You appear to have
lost
weight,” Belagren retorted. “But then, I understand prison cuisine isn’t very appetizing.”

Morna rose gracefully from her stool and faced them, separated by the bars of her cell and a lifetime of animosity. “Perhaps, if the Goddess answers my prayers, you might find out for yourself someday, my lady.”

“You actually
pray,
Morna?” Antonov asked in surprise. “Does this mean that are you are finally willing to accept that there is a Goddess?”

Poor Anton. He’ll never give up.
He had never abandoned the hope that Morna would see the error of her ways, even after all this time.
Was that the true definition of faith, this blind, obsessive need to believe that everything would go your way in the end?
To believe—even in the face of incontrovertible proof to the contrary—that you were right?
It was something of a shock to Morna to realize that she no longer feared Antonov Latanya. She pitied him.

“Would it make the slightest difference to my fate if I did?”

“It might.”

She shook her head. “Even if it meant a life of comfort and luxury until I die of old age tucked in my own bed, I still couldn’t bring myself to pretend I believe in your false Goddess, Anton.”

“You’re as foolish and obstinate as your sister was,” he sighed, obviously disappointed.

“But not as courageous, I fear. My sister had the strength to take her own life rather than live with your lies. I think I actually envy her that.”

“Analee wasn’t brave,” Belagren sneered. “She was weak. And easily led. You and Johan corrupted her.”

Morna stared at the High Priestess, as if seeing her for the first time. “There are times when I could almost forgive Anton, Belagren. He’s misguided, but at least he honestly believes in what he’s done. But you? You know the truth and still you allow the lies to be treated with the respect that only the truth deserves. No, it’s worse than that; you actively encourage them for your own ends. This world is ill, Belagren, and you are the most visible symptom. You are the open, festering sore on Ranadon’s face, and you infect everything you touch with your poison.”

“You will not gain my favor by insulting the High Priestess, my lady.”

“I don’t want your favor, Anton.” She smiled faintly, experiencing a moment of startling clarity. Everything seemed so clear now that she had nothing to lose. “Don’t you understand? I don’t
care
any longer. You’ve won. You’ve taken everything you can from me—the man I loved, both my sons, even my country—all of it. I have nothing left for you to take now except my life, so you might as well have that, too. I have no further need of it.”

“You’d die for your sons?” Antonov asked, curiously. “I wonder, would you live for them?”

His question took her completely by surprise. “What do you mean?”

“Give me your youngest son, my lady, and I’ll let you live.”

Morna stared at him in shock. “Dirk? You’re doing this for
Dirk’s
benefit?”

“I warned him before he left Avacas that his only future was with me. Apparently, he didn’t get the message the last time. I intend to make myself much clearer in the future.”

Morna could not believe what she was hearing. “Even if I wanted to be party to such a monstrous bargain, I couldn’t tell you what you want to know. I have no idea where Dirk is. I’ve not seen my son since you took him from me.”

Antonov smiled. “I’m aware that you don’t know where he is. Trust me, if you’d been in contact with Dirk at any time these past two years, I would know of it.”

“Then what’s your point, Anton?”

“This time it is
your
life on the line, Morna. I’m willing to bet that he’ll not stand by and let you die if he thinks he can prevent it.”

“Then I trust he has the wisdom to realize that he can’t prevent it, and stays well away from Elcast on Landfall.” She laughed humorlessly. “Do you forget who you’re dealing with, Anton? Even if he was foolish enough to come home, Dirk will take one look at the men you have gathered against him and run like hell.”

“Then I’ll just have to make sure he doesn’t see what I have gathered against him. In fact, I’m quite willing to give him a free run all the way up to Elcast Keep. It will only be after he springs my trap that he will realize he can’t defy me and win.”

“You’re a fool if you think Dirk will fall for anything so transparent.”

“We’ll see who the fool is tomorrow night at the Landfall Festival, Morna,” Belagren said. “By the way, did you have a preference for which sun you wish to represent? I thought the second sun would be appropriate, don’t you?”

She stared at the High Priestess for a moment, wondering at the woman’s callousness, and then turned her attention back to Antonov, deciding that Belagren’s question did not deserve to be dignified with an answer.

Besides, nothing irritated Belagren more than to be ignored.

“Even if you succeed, Anton, what then? Even if you manage to capture Dirk, what will you do with him? You can’t seriously believe that he’ll ever follow you willingly.”

“Why not? Isn’t that the motto of the Royal House of Damita: ‘Whose side am I on this week?’ Your family isn’t exactly renowned for having the courage of their convictions, my lady. Your father took Johan’s side against the Goddess during the Age of Shadows, yet your brother Baston grovels so hard for my favor he’d lick my boots clean if I asked. Your sister Analee took a solemn oath to obey the will of the Goddess when we married, and abandoned it as soon as she was asked to do something that didn’t suit her. Then she killed herself rather than face the consequences. And look at you! You declared war on me for what you purportedly believed in, and then, at the first sign of trouble, you fled your lover and cowered here in Elcast for twenty-odd years just to save your bastard son’s neck and your husband from disgrace. Why shouldn’t I believe that your son will do as I want if I offer him sufficient incentive?”

“My son is better than that!” she declared.

“Your son is a bastard who raped a Shadowdancer, killed his own father and then ran away like a mongrel dog, Morna,” Belagren reminded her cruelly. “I would think the least of our concerns is what it might take to turn him to our cause.”

“Don’t you dare stand there accusing my son of rape and murder!” Morna snapped. “You’re responsible for more deaths than I can count. Both of you! And you hide behind your false Goddess, as if that justifies everything you do.”

Antonov studied her for a moment then shook his head sadly. “I had such high hopes for you once, Morna. In a way, I hope you do die before Dirk gets here tomorrow. I’m very fond of the boy and it would break his heart to see how far you’ve fallen.” He turned abruptly, startling Morna with his sudden yell. “Captain!”

Ateway must have been waiting just outside. He hurried back into the guardhouse and saluted smartly. “Sire?”

“You are to strip Lady Morna’s cell. Remove everything, including the bed. If she needs to relieve herself, she can ask for a bucket. She will only eat what you yourself have sampled. You will also remove her outer garments and post a guard in this room at all times. She is not to be left alone. If she tries to harm herself, you will restrain her. Is that clear?”

Ateway spared Morna a rueful glance but did not question his orders. “Of course, your highness.”

“Are you afraid I’ll kill myself before you can, Anton?” she asked with a weary smile.
If only I was so brave as to eat that loaf
Helgin sent me ...

“It’s not an unreasonable fear. Your family is rather fond of suicide, my lady.”

“Only when they’re forced to deal with you, Anton,” she replied.