Lord of the Shadows (23 page)

aige Halyn's will was delivered from the Tabernacle at the Temple in Bollow to the Hall of Shadows nearly two weeks after he died. By then his funeral was over, but there was a feeling of anticipation in Avacas as the city held its breath, waiting to hear who the next Lord or Lady of the Suns would be.

Although the rise of Belagren and the Shadowdancers had seriously undermined Paige Halyn's authority, Belagren had been far too clever to cut herself off completely from the established religion of Senet. That was why she had suffered the indignity of being nominally subordinate to the Lord of the Suns all through her reign. Antonov was a devout man and would never have followed a breakaway religion, but a cult that—on the surface at least—enjoyed the tacit approval of his church was far easier to accept.

They gathered in the main temple of the Hall of Shadows for the reading, the ceremony restricted to Shadowdancers and the sizable contingent of Sundancers who had arrived from Bollow. Even Antonov was not permitted to attend. This was church business and out of his control. A messenger was standing by to deliver the news as soon as the new leader was acclaimed, but until then, the Lion of Senet was no more than another anxious parishioner, awaiting word of the decision like everyone else.

The atmosphere in the Hall of Shadows was one of contained excitement. Somehow, the rumor had spread that Madalan was to be the new Lady of the Suns, and there was an air of gleeful expectancy among the Shadowdancers as they waited for one of their own to finally occupy the ultimate position of power in their church.

Dirk had greeted the delegation from Bollow personally. He did not trust Marqel with anything so delicate. The senior Sundancer who led the delegation was a man named Claudio
Varell. He was almost as withered and old as Paige Halyn had been, but he had bright, alert eyes and had been the Lord of the Suns' closest aide for longer than Dirk had been alive.

Dirk greeted him on the steps of the hall with a respectful bow. “Welcome to the Hall of Shadows, my lord. You and your Sundancers are welcome here.”

“That would have to be a first,” the old man replied testily. “Who are you?”

“I am Dirk Provin, the right hand of the High Priestess.”

“You don't wear the robes of a Shadowdancer,” he said, looking over Dirk's somber outfit with a frown.

“But I am one, nonetheless, my lord,” Dirk assured him. “My duties are varied, and the High Priestess understands our robes of office sometimes prevent truly harmonious dealings with outsiders when they are constantly being reminded of our closeness to the Goddess.”

“You've a slick tongue, too,” Lord Varell remarked with a scowl.

“Eloquence is not a skill restricted to the elderly, my lord,” Dirk replied with a faint smile. “Shall we proceed? The High Priestess and the rest of the Shadowdancers are waiting for you in the temple. Do you have the will?”

Claudio pointed to a heavily bound wooden chest carried by two Sundancers, who, despite their yellow robes, looked burly enough to be hired guards. Dirk nodded and turned to lead the way through the Hall of Shadows with Lord Varell, the locked chest containing the will, and the fifty or more Sundancers he had brought with him following in his wake. Their number surprised Dirk a little. He didn't think there were that many Sundancers left.

They walked in silence past the exquisite tapestries, past the gilded vases filled with fresh flowers, past all the blatant evidence of the Shadowdancers' wealth. The mood of the Sundancers in his wake grew increasingly morose as they neared the temple. They all knew the Sundancers had been impoverished to keep the Shadowdancers in such a manner. Dirk stopped when they reached the doors leading into the temple and turned to Lord Varell before he opened them.

“Whatever happens today, my lord,” he said, “I want to assure you I will do everything in my power to see the Lord of the Suns' last wishes are carried out.”

“This ceremony shouldn't even be happening here in Avacas,” Varell complained. “The traditional place for the reading of the Lord of the Suns' will is the temple in Bollow.”

“But I'm sure you'll agree that with the death of the High Priestess and the unfortunate circumstances of Lord Halyn's death, expedience is more important than tradition.”

When Varell did not reply, Dirk turned to open the door.

“Lord Provin.”

He glanced back at the old man. “Yes?”

“If things … if things should go against us in there… would you see to it my people get out? Alive.”

Dirk looked at him curiously for a moment and then nodded. He decided he liked Claudio Varell. The old man was a realist.

“I don't think it will come to that, my lord. In fact, you may find the Goddess is watching over your people far better than you imagine.”

Claudio shrugged, his expression resigned. Obviously, he thought Madalan's first order as Lady of the Suns would be the destruction of what remained of the Sundancers. He also seemed to be of the opinion his Sundancers would (quite understandably) object, and the result would be a bloodbath. There was no way to assure him he was wrong. No way to tell Varell that the Lord of the Suns' successor was a lot more sympathetic to the Sundancers' cause than he imagined.

Like everybody else gathered in the temple to hear the will read, Lord Varell would just have to wait and see.

The first part of Paige Halyn's will dealt with the personal bequests he wished to make to friends and family. He freed the debtor slaves who had been in his service and bestowed modest endowments on a number of other faithful retainers. He bequeathed his personal belongings to his niece, and his journals
to the Sundancers' archives in Bollow. The list was long and comprehensive, and it bored everyone to tears.

When Claudio Varell came to the next part, however, the entire temple suddenly seemed to be holding its breath. The hall was packed with every Shadowdancer who had been within traveling distance of Avacas, as well as a number of Sundancers additional to those Varell had brought from Bollow. The numbers were not as uneven as Dirk thought they might be. The Sundancers were a dying breed, he thought, but they were a long way from being extinct.

“As to my successor,” Lord Varell read in a voice noticeably shaking, “this is a matter to which I have given a great deal of thought. In my time as Lord of the Suns, I have witnessed many changes. I have seen the Age of Shadows come and go. I have watched the rise of the Shadowdancers and the perversion of our beliefs, and have been powerless to stop them …”

A murmur of uneasiness rippled through the hall, mostly from the Shadowdancers.

“I cannot, however, alter the winds of change,” Lord Varell continued reading. “If I believe everything happens as the Goddess wills it, then I must believe the changes that have come upon us since the second sun returned are also her doing. I must therefore bow to the inevitable, and appoint a successor who can guide both the Sundancers and the Shadowdancers through the turbulent times ahead.”

Lord Varell hesitated for a moment. Dirk didn't think he was doing it for dramatic effect. He had probably read on a little further and was disturbed by what he saw. Madalan was smiling, unable to contain her glee. Marqel looked resplendent in her red robes and what Dirk was sure must have been every piece of jewelry Belagren had owned, but she had a bored look on her face. This was a show where she was not the main attraction, so she wasn't terribly interested in it. The only pleasure she took from the proceedings was probably the thought that very soon she would no longer have to put up with Madalan Tirov dictating her every move.

“I name my successor as the one who stands at the right hand of the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers,” Varell read.
“Let the man or woman who occupies this position at the time of my death become the Lord or Lady of the Suns. Let this person do his or her utmost to do what I have failed to do and restore Ranadon to the Goddess.”

The Hall erupted as Madalan stepped forward. She had composed her expression into one of humble acceptance. The Shadowdancers were cheering. The Sundancers were muttering among themselves unhappily.

Varell looked up from the document as Madalan approached.

“My lady?” he asked, sounding a little puzzled. “Do you wish to challenge the will?”

“Of course not, my lord. I am honored to accept the position.”

“Accept it? But the will doesn't name you, my lady. It names the right hand of the High Priestess …”

As the truth dawned on her, Madalan's pious smile turned to a snarl of helpless fury as she looked across the podium to where the High Priestess stood with Dirk and a number of other senior Shadowdancers.

Dirk smiled at her serenely and stepped forward.

“That would be me,” he said.

Dirk had a bad habit of running scenarios through his mind in advance, trying to imagine what people would do and say, trying to think up ways to counter them, even before they knew themselves what they would do. As he turned to face the Shadowdancers and the Sundancers gathered to witness the appointment of the next Lord of the Suns, he promised himself he would stop doing it.

Nothing was ever the way he imagined it, and it just complicated things hoping they would be.

“The will is invalid!” somebody called, probably a Sun-dancer. “The Lord of the Suns was assassinated!”

“There must be an election!” somebody else shouted angrily.

The gathering seemed in total agreement in their disapproval.
Probably for the first time in history, the two sects of the Church of the Suns were united.

“The will is legal,” Lord Varell responded unhappily. “The Lord of the Suns died sixty-one days after being wounded. By law, he died of an infection. There is nothing we can do.”

Dirk let the hubbub wash over him, wishing there had been a way to do this without having to address several hundred angry members of the Church, who at that moment were probably imagining how much better he would look with his throat slit.

“I will not accept this honor,” he shouted over the ruckus, which brought the entire hall to a standstill. If his shout had gotten their attention, his words stunned them into silence, when he added, in a much more reasonable tone, “Unless you agree to my terms.”

He waited, but nobody said a word.

“I will not preside over a divided Church,” he announced. “Nor will I tolerate those who would elevate one arm of the Church over the other.” He cast his eyes over the crowd, unaware of how indomitable his gaze appeared. “I will be Lord of the Suns only if you believe me when I say I will not abide dishonesty. I will not stand for
any
behavior that might bring the Goddess or her Church into disrepute. If I accept this role, I will expel any member of the Church, Sundancer or Shadowdancer, who thinks they are here for any other reason than to bring the truth to the people of Ranadon!” He hesitated for a moment, letting his words sink in. “Is there anybody here who objects to my terms? Is there anyone among you who takes issue with the Sundancers and Shadowdancers being free of corruption?”

As Dirk was expecting, nobody uttered a word in protest. There was not a man or woman in the hall prepared to stand up and declare themselves opposed to being ethical or just.

“Then I accept the position of Lord of the Suns,” he declared into the shocked silence. “And I will begin my reign with an announcement of great importance!”

Dirk turned and held out his hand, beckoning Marqel forward. She complied hesitantly, looking confused. It would take
a little time before the full implications of Dirk's new position truly sank in to her rather self-absorbed consciousness.

“Out of respect for my predecessor, the High Priestess begged me not to mention this today, but last night, the Goddess spoke to her again.”

Another murmur rippled through the crowd, but this one was more curious than angry. Dirk noticed the slight shift in the mood of the gathering and knew he had judged their reaction well. They would get over their shock soon enough. He was going to give them something else to worry about, more important even than the appointment of a new Lord of the Suns whose nickname was the Butcher of Elcast.