Lord of the Shadows (18 page)

“I think Johan would be proud of you, Dirk,” she said, and then she was gone.

Filled with unease, Dirk hurried back through the house to Johan's study, snatched the torch from the trooper who was preparing to set the house alight and ordered everyone out of the building. Then he walked back through the house methodically and deliberately setting fire to each room.

He came to Tia's room last, and hesitated for a moment before he tossed the torch onto the oil-soaked bed. Uncaring of the flames searing his face and scorching his clothes, Dirk walked back though the burning house and out onto the veranda. The smoke made his eyes water—at least he told himself it was the smoke. When he emerged, he glanced back at the hill behind
the house and noticed two figures scrambling up the slope to safety.

As the flames intensified behind him, Dirk walked down the steps to the path and headed back to the beach without looking back.

rince Oscon of Damita lived in Garwenfield, a tiny hamlet some four hundred miles north of Tanchen, the capital of Damita, where his son now governed the country Oscon had once ruled absolutely. Garwenfield had been in the Damitian royal family for generations, kept as a retreat for those seeking solitude and an escape from the pressures of court life. It was inaccessible by road, its small lagoon protected by a wide reef.

Since the Age of Shadows, the name Garwenfield no longer conjured up images of pristine white beaches, of tall palms curved by the weight of their foliage waving gently in the warm breeze, of long, languid days and peaceful tropical nights. The name Garwenfield had become synonymous with disgrace and defeat.

To Tia, raised on the black sands of Mil, in the shadow of a volcano, it seemed unnatural, like a painting done by an artist who had drawn a place imagined, rather than seen. Tall palms shaded the path to the house, which was a sprawling, thatched building not far from the beach. The few other scattered houses she could see through the trees, Tia guessed, must belong to the staff who cared for the aging prince.

Tia and Mellie helped Reithan secure the
Wanderer
, and then waded ashore. There was a thin, pockmarked man waiting for them on the beach, staring at them suspiciously, as they approached.

“This is a private estate,” the man informed them, his hand on his hips. “We do not welcome visitors here.”

“I'm Reithan Seranov.”

Apparently, Reithan's name was enough to gain them entry. The pockmarked man studied him for a moment and then nodded and looked at the two girls.

“Who are they?”

“This is Tia and Mellie.”

“And the men on the boat?”

“I'd rather speak to Prince Oscon about them.”

“He doesn't like to be disturbed,” the man warned.

“I think he'll make an exception for us,” Reithan predicted.

The man shrugged. “Be it on your own head then. I'm Franco, the caretaker. Follow me.”

With Franco in the lead, they walked along the sandy path toward the main house. It was a large building with a deep veranda surrounding it, similar in construction to Johan's house in Mil, although it wasn't stilted and the walls were constructed of stone rather than wood. Tia looked around curiously as they entered the cool dimness of the main hall. The house was quite untidy, cluttered with books and scrolls and artifacts from all over Ranadon. It must have taken Oscon a lifetime to collect them all. Franco disappeared into another part of the house, returning a few minutes later with a large, white-haired man with a thin beard and a thunderous look on his face.

“Which one of you is Seranov?” he demanded as he blustered into the room. He squinted at the three of them shortsightedly, then fixed his eyes on Reithan. “Well, as you're the only fellow, I suppose it must be you.”

Reithan bowed to the prince. “That's a reasonable assumption, your highness.”

“Bah! Don't call me that! We don't waste breath on titles around here. I suppose it's too much to hope Lexie sent these two lovelies to keep me entertained?”

“Far too much,” Reithan agreed. “This is Tia Veran, and this is Lexie's daughter, Melliandra.”

“And the two on the boat? Who are they?”

“Misha Latanya and Master Helgin, his physician.”

“What do you call this, then?” Oscon scowled. “The next generation of trouble?”

“We need your help, Oscon. Antonov has learned the route through the delta. Mil will be invaded any day now.”

“Then I can understand why Lexie sent Mellie here,” Oscon said with a frown. “But what are you doing with the Crippled Prince in your company?”

“It seems the Crippled Prince isn't as crippled as everyone
thinks, your … sir,” Tia told him. “He's a poppy-dust addict. Ella Geon has been trying to destroy him the same way she destroyed my father.”

Oscon turned his attention to Tia and she received a nasty shock. His eyes were steel-gray, the same shade as Dirk's. She had forgotten Oscon of Damita was Dirk's maternal grandfather. She wondered what his reaction would be when he learned what his grandson had been up to.

Oscon's eyes were much easier to read than Dirk's. They blazed with fury at her words. “Then why bring him here? Why don't you
let
her destroy him, foolish girl? That's one less Latanya to deal with.”

“We've done a deal with Misha to free Dhevyn once he inherits his father's throne,” Reithan explained. “But he's no good to us dead or addicted to poppy-dust. Lexie was hoping you'd shelter him here while he recovers.”

“Was she? Well, you're here now,” he grumbled, “so you might as well stay. But I don't want to hear you. Or see you. Or have you get in my way. I'm far too busy with my work to be running after you. Franco will see you settled and maybe, if I'm feeling generous, I'll see you at dinner.”

And with that, Prince Oscon of Damita stormed out of the room and left them staring after him, a little bemused by his brusque and ungracious welcome.

“The prince is writing a history of Ranadon,” Franco explained later as he showed them to their rooms. “He's been working on it for years now. Not that it will ever get published while that worm Baston sits on his father's throne.”

“Why not?” Mellie asked curiously.

“Prince Oscon's history differs somewhat from the official line, I imagine,” Misha suggested, leaning heavily on his crutch. The walk up the sandy path to the house had exhausted him. He was pale and sweating heavily.

Franco snorted with bitter amusement. “Differs
somewhat
? It's outright treason, what he's writing! But he doesn't care. His study is at the end of the hall on the other side of the house, so if
you're quiet, you shouldn't disturb him too much. The girls can share this room. The three of you will have to bunk in together across the hall. Can't do better than that, I'm afraid. This isn't an inn, you know.”

“It'll be fine,” Reithan assured him. “Anyway, I'm not staying. I have to get back to Mil.”

Tia hadn't known that. “You're just going to leave us here?”

“You'll be safe enough.” He turned to Franco, without giving her a chance to argue about it. “We've no wish to put you out, Franco, or disturb Oscon if we can help it. Mellie and Tia will be more than happy to help you if you need it, and I'm sure Master Helgin will be able to ease the prince's ailments if he's required.”

“Then the first thing they can do is make the beds up,” Franco said. “I'll go find some linen and tell the cook she'd better put some more water in the stew to make it go around.” He glanced at the old physician and shrugged. “I'm sure you're greatly skilled, Master Helgin, but what ails Oscon of Damita can't be fixed by herbs and poultices. He's lost his country, his crown and both his daughters to the Lion of Senet, and his only son is a treacherous swine who'd sell his own soul for the price of a loaf of bread. Unless you have some magic potion in your bag to fix a broken heart, there is nothing you can do for him.”

Tia walked down the beach with Reithan just before first sunrise to see him off. He carried a wicker cage full of plump gray pigeons that Franco had given him. The birds were the only way Lexie or Reithan would be able to get a message to them and let them know when it was safe to leave.

“Don't let Mellie annoy Oscon too much,” he instructed as they walked toward the water.

“I won't.”

“And keep an eye on Misha. I'm sure he means what he says now, but he might have a change of heart once he starts going through withdrawal.”

“I will.”

“And try to relax a little.”

She glared at him. “Was that a joke? You're abandoning me here with a child, a cripple and an old man, Reithan. How am I supposed to relax?”

“Try anyway, Tia.”

“I wish I was going with you.”

“Be thankful you're not. I just hope I get back to Mil in time.”

“Don't get yourself killed or anything stupid like that, will you?”

He smiled and tossed the cage up onto the
Wanderer
's deck. “I'll try not to.”

Impulsively, Tia hugged him. “Be careful. You're the closest thing I have to a big brother, Reithan. I'll never speak to you again if you die on me.”

Reithan kissed the top of her head, and then waded into the warm shallows to push the
Wanderer
out into the deeper water of the lagoon. Tia splashed after him and helped him shove the boat free of the sand. As soon as she felt the water pick up the keel she stepped back. Reithan clambered aboard and began to haul in the anchor. He turned and waved as the
Wanderer
bobbed in the gentle swell, each one taking the small yacht farther from the shore.

She waited until the
Wanderer
was nothing more than a speck on the red horizon before returning to the house.

Tia found Mellie and Misha in the kitchen with Master Helgin when she returned. They were discussing the best way to tackle weaning Misha from the poppy-dust. He was impatient to get started and resented every grain of dust he was forced to consume in the interim.

“I've been thinking about how to do this,” the physician told Misha, as he took the seat beside Mellie at the scrubbed wooden table. “It's going to involve a lot of work. For all of us.”

“What do you mean?”

“You need to build up your strength, Misha, not just to fight the poppy-dust, but to reduce the pain and weakness you
suffer. Once you start on this road, you'll not be able to turn to poppy-dust to relieve your pain again, not ever.”

“I understand.”

“You understand my words, perhaps. But I'm not sure you appreciate what they mean,” Helgin warned.

“What does he have to do?” Mellie asked.

“Exercise is the first thing. Can you swim, Misha?”

“No.”

“Then you must learn. You must swim every day. The water will support you and allow you to work your muscles without having to bear weight at the same time. And we must massage your muscles daily, particularly the left side, to improve circulation. It will also aid in ridding your body of the toxins that poison it.” Helgin turned to Tia. “I will need your help, Tia. I'm neither competent nor strong enough to teach Misha to swim, and my hands are not what they once were. I will need to show you how to give a massage properly.”

Tia nodded. “I can learn that, I suppose.”

“We shall maintain your dose of poppy-dust at its current level for another week or so,” he added to Misha, “and then we'll begin to taper it in extremely small quantities. After that, it's really just a matter of repeating the procedure. Reduce the dose, let your body adjust to it and then reduce it some more.”

“How long will it take, do you think?” Misha asked. “Before I'm free of it?”

“Several months at least,” Helgin told him. “And that's assuming you suffer no adverse effects once we reduce the dose. This is not something we can rush.”

“I
will
be free of it, Master Helgin.”

The old man nodded. “If your head is as strong as your heart, Misha, I've no doubt you will.”