The Lion of Senet (21 page)

Chapter 33

News that the thief had been arrested reached the boys not long after the Lion of Senet and his party was spotted heading back to the Keep. They ran down to the courtyard to watch her being brought in. Alenor wanted to see Marqel in chains, because, for some inexplicable reason, she didn’t like her. Dirk was curious, but seemed unsurprised that Marqel had turned out to be a thief. Lanon wanted another look at her, too, perhaps in the hope that she would be dressed in as little as she wore during her performance.

Kirsh couldn’t explain why he wanted to see Marqel again. He just knew that he did.

They rode into the courtyard, Marqel sitting in front of Captain Ateway’s saddle. He lowered her to the ground, where several other guards took her into custody. The acrobat looked around, but she didn’t look frightened, just annoyed.

“Look at her,” Alenor said. “She doesn’t look the least bit sorry.”

“What do you expect?” Lanon shrugged. “She’s a Landfall bastard.”

“What will happen to her?” Kirsh asked as Marqel was roughly marched toward the gatehouse. There were no dungeons in the Elcast castle. She would be held there until tomorrow when his father and the duke would decide what to do with her. “What do you normally do with thieves on Elcast, Dirk?”

“Depends on what they stole. I imagine for something as valuable as a diamond-bladed dagger, she’ll get a lashing at the very least.”

Kirsh frowned. The idea of the lash scarring Marqel’s creamy skin made him ill. He could still see her climbing out of that pool; still remember the way she looked at him. It made him ache just to think about it.

“Isn’t there some way we can save her?”

They all turned to look at him. It was Dirk who asked the question the others were obviously thinking. “Even if there was, Kirsh, why on Ranadon would you
want
to save her?”

“It just doesn’t seem fair . . .”

“She stole Rees’s dagger,” Alenor pointed out. “What’s fair about that?”

“But she’s just... well, maybe she didn’t know any better.”

“She knows,” Alenor assured him confidently. “That girl may be just a Landfall bastard, but she knows
exactly
what she’s doing.”

“You’re being very uncharitable, Alenor.”

“I’m being honest,” the princess corrected, “which is more than you can say for Marqel the Magnificent.”

With the aid of one of the Guards, Rees had dismounted and hopped toward the steps where they were watching the proceedings. Grooms rushed out to lead the horses back into the stables as Antonov gave Captain Ateway directions about what to do with the thief.

“So she definitely stole it, then?” Dirk asked Rees as he painfully climbed the steps toward them.

Rees stopped and looked up at them with a nod. “She had a whole hoard of stolen coin. She’s probably been stealing everything on Elcast that wasn’t nailed down since she got here.”

Dirk glared at Marqel across the yard as she disappeared inside the gatehouse. “Even the coin Derwn blamed Eryk for stealing?” Rees nodded and Dirk glanced at Kirsh, his expression distinctly unsympathetic. “Then I hope they lash her to within an inch of her miserable life.”

“That wasn’t Marqel’s fault, Dirk . . .”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Dirk demanded, turning on him angrily. “She’s a thief and liar, Kirsh. For the Goddess’s sake, get your mind out of your pants long enough to realize it.”

Kirsh watched in speechless horror as Dirk turned his back on him and strode back into the castle. Lanon and Rees looked away in embarrassment, but Alenor met his eye evenly, her expression defiant. She apparently agreed with Dirk.

“I just said...”

“Is something the matter?” Prince Antonov asked as he walked up the steps.

Kirsh looked at his father for a moment and realized that he probably had just as low an opinion of Marqel as did Dirk. Of course, that didn’t excuse the manner in which Dirk had just spoken, but Kirsh would not involve his father in that. He’d learned as a small child not to report the indiscretions of his friends to his father. A few of his boyhood companions had disappeared when Kirsh foolishly told his father that he had been offended.

“I was just wondering what’s going to happen to her, sir.”

“You’ve no need to concern yourself with that, Kirsh. Rest assured the thief will be dealt with in a manner commensurate with her crimes.”

Antonov headed into the Keep, leaving Kirsh with Alenor, Lanon and Rees. He glanced at the others for a moment and then shrugged. “Well, I suppose that’s that, then.”

Rees nodded. “Aye. I doubt if the Goddess herself could save her now.”

Kirsh stared at Rees with a sudden burst of inspiration. Perhaps that was the answer. Maybe, if he asked the right person, the Goddess
could
save Marqel.

Belagren opened the door herself to Kirsh’s knock.

“Kirshov!” she exclaimed in surprise. “To what do I owe this rare honor?”

“Could I speak with you, my lady?”

“Of course, come in.” She stepped back to let him enter, closing the door behind him. “I hear there’s been some excitement this evening.”

“They brought in Mar . . . the thief.”

“Foolish girl. How in the name of the Goddess did she think she was going to sell anything as rare and valuable as a diamond blade?”

“Maybe she didn’t steal it.”

“Are you suggesting she was arrested for some other reason?”

“Well, no... it’s just . . .”

Belagren smiled. “Come on, Kirsh. I’ve known you too long for you to be coy with me.”

“Can’t you save her, my lady?” he blurted out.

“Save her from what? Your father’s justice? Even if I was inclined to, why would I?” It disturbed him to hear the High Priestess echoing Dirk’s unsympathetic sentiments.

“She’s a Landfall bastard, my lady. You’re always telling us that the Goddess looks after the Landfall bastards. Shouldn’t you do something, then, to help her? I mean, if you can’t do the Goddess’s will, what chance do the rest of us have?”

Belagren studied him for a moment. “What’s your interest in this girl, Kirshov?”

“I don’t have any interest in her . . . I just think . . . well, she doesn’t deserve the lash, that’s for certain.”

“I’ll wager your father thinks differently.”

“Please, my lady. Can’t you do something to help her?”

“In return for what?”

“Pardon?”

“You’re asking a big favor of me, Kirshov. It’s not unreasonable that I might ask a favor in return.”

“I don’t know, my lady . . . what can I do for you that my father can’t?”

The High Priestess smiled at him. “Don’t you worry about that, Kirshov. I’m sure I’ll think of something.”

The Lion of Senet’s justice was as quick as it was merciless. Marqel was taken straight into the castle next morning and paraded before the High Table in the main Hall. She obviously found the size of the building overwhelming. Open-mouthed, she stared upward at the huge spiraling staircase as she was pushed through the Hall by the guards.

Kirsh, Dirk, Alenor and Lanon sat on the first-floor landing, watching the proceedings. Prince Antonov sat in the center of the long polished table with the Duke of Elcast on his right and a scribe on his left. The stolen dagger and the music box, with its carefully saved contents, lay on the table before him. There were several gold coins, a scattering of silver and a few other trinkets, brooches and earrings and the like. Rees Provin sat at the end of the table on his father’s right, his injured foot propped up on a padded stool. At the back of the Hall stood a few of the castle and townsfolk come to watch.

“What is your name, child?” Prince Antonov asked.

“Marqel.”

“Do you have a last name?”

“No, your highness.”

Antonov glanced at the rope tattoo on her bare left arm and nodded. “Where were you born?”

“Bryton, I think.”

“You don’t know for certain?” Duke Wallin asked with a slight frown.

“No, my lord.”

The duke glanced at Prince Antonov reproachfully. “This is what comes of Landfall Night,” he muttered.

Kirsh had the impression they weren’t meant to overhear the comment, and his father didn’t look very pleased by the duke’s remark. Antonov picked up an onyx brooch and examined it for a moment, then looked straight at Marqel.

“Where did you steal this?”

“I didn’t steal it. It was given to me by some seedy little tailor on Derex.”

“And the silver?”

“That was a Senetian noble visiting Kalarada.” She met Prince Antonov’s eye evenly, and added. “
He
made me call him Daddy.”

The prince scowled at her, not mistaking her meaning. Nor did he pursue that particular line of inquiry. Instead, he picked up one of the gold coins and examined it curiously for a moment. “Who did you steal this from?”

“I didn’t steal it, your highness. The butcher gave it to me while his wife was away visiting her sister.” She glanced over her shoulder at the spectators and smiled. “He wanted me to call him Daddy, too.”

Standing at the back of the Hall, the butcher’s wife let out a squeal of indignation. Hauritz began protesting his innocence as he held up his hands to protect himself from his wife’s fists. Kirsh glanced at Dirk and grinned. This was an unexpected bit of entertainment.

“Enough!” Antonov shouted, appalled at the interruption. “Be quiet, or I’ll have you removed!”

The butcher’s wife reluctantly stopped hitting her husband, and turned to face the High Table. She was red-faced and mortified. Hauritz looked as if he wished a chasm would open beneath his feet and swallow him up.

“That’s better,” Antonov said. “As for you, young lady, I suggest you stop making these unfounded accusations against respectable citizens.”

“But I . . .” Marqel began.

“You will answer yes or no, that is all. Do you understand?”

Marqel lowered her eyes in submission. “Yes, your highness.”

“That’s better. Now, explain to me why you stole this dagger.”

Marqel did not look up, or offer a reply.

“You try my patience, child.”

“You instructed me only to answer yes or no, your highness.”

The Lion of Senet was not amused. Kirsh smiled at the look on his father’s face then glanced around, wondering where the High Priestess was. If she was going to keep her promise to help Marqel, she was cutting it awfully fine.

“Very well then, did you steal this dagger?”

“No.”

“Then how did it get in your wagon?”

“I don’t know.”

“Things will go much worse for you if you lie to me,” Antonov warned.

“I didn’t steal the dagger,” she insisted. “Maybe Lord Rees dropped it. He didn’t know which way was up when I found him.”

“Your impudence does not help your cause, Marqel,” Duke Wallin warned.

She shrugged. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know, my lord. I
would
be lying if I confessed to something I didn’t do.”

A small frown flickered over the duke’s face. “She has a point, Anton. She wasn’t the only one in the camp. Perhaps one of the others stole it and hid it in her wagon. They’re all thieves and rogues, these traveling performers.”

Before the prince could answer the duke, the doors at the end of the Hall banged open. Belagren strode through the Hall. She was wearing her usual red robe and glittered with the weight of the jewelery she wore, much of it, Kirsh knew, gifts from his father. He knew Belagren and his father were lovers, but the affair did not disturb him as it did other people. Belagren had always been pleasant to him. She had never tried to take the place of his dead mother; never tried to order him about. In fact, Kirsh thought her presence hardly affected his life.

“Your son informs me you are trying a Landfall bastard,” the High Priestess announced as she drew level with Marqel.

“My son should learn to mind his tongue,” Antonov remarked, glancing up at Kirsh with a rather irritated look. “She’s a thief, my lady, and no concern of yours.”

“She wears the rope tattoo, your highness. She belongs to the Goddess.”

“She belongs in the stocks.”

The High Priestess turned to Marqel and studied her critically for a moment. “The child is mine, your highness. I claim her on behalf of the Goddess.”

“What do you want with this child, my lady?” the duke asked suspiciously.

“She is born of the Landfall Festival, my lord. The Goddess has marked her and so I claim her. It is my right.”

The prince turned his gaze on Marqel for a moment and studied her thoughtfully. “Well, child, it seems I have a choice here. What would
you
choose? My justice, or the Goddess’s?”

Marqel didn’t hesitate. “I choose the Goddess, your highness.”

Antonov looked at Belagren for a long moment, his eyes almost as full of suspicion as the duke’s, then he nodded slowly. “Very well, my lady. The child is yours.”

“Thank you, your highness. I will see she stays out of trouble until we leave.”

“Make sure you do, Belagren,” Antonov warned. “She escapes my wrath only by your intervention. One more infraction and neither you nor the Goddess will save her.”

Belagren bowed slightly in the direction of the prince and the duke, took Marqel’s bare arm in a viselike grip and marched her from the Hall.

Chapter 34

Let’s go visit the Shadowdancers,” Kirsh suggested. He was sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. Dirk sat beside the prince chewing on a crust of bread. Lanon was leaning against the stone wall and Alenor was standing beside him, finishing off the apple she had brought from the breakfast table. It was six days now since the Landfall Festival, and things were starting to return to normal.

Alenor glared at him suspiciously. “Why?”

“It’s... the polite thing to do,” he declared after a moment’s thought.

“Since when have you cared about being polite?” Dirk asked.

“Since Marqel the Magnificent got arrested,” Lanon said with a grin.

Alenor looked annoyed. “We are not going to disturb the High Priestess just so you can gawk at that thief.”

“Balonan said she’s rooming with the other Shadowdancers, not the High Priestess,” Dirk told them.

“So you see, Allie, there’s nothing to worry about ...” Kirsh began with a winning smile.

“Don’t even think about it, Kirsh.”

“But don’t you want to find out what really happened?” Lanon asked.

“I know what happened. She stole Rees’s dagger.”

“She says she didn’t,” Lanon reminded them.

“All thieves say they’re innocent,” Dirk said.

“If you go anywhere near that thief, I’ll tell your father,” Alenor announced, crossing her arms petulantly.

Normally, that threat was sufficient to curb Kirsh’s more extreme schemes, but not today. “If you say one word about this, I’ll tell my father that you and Dirk sneaked out to spy on the Landfall Festival.”

Dirk wondered how Kirsh knew about that. Had he woken to find Dirk missing and followed them, or had Alenor told him of their late-night escapade?

“How are you going to get near her, anyway?” Alenor asked. “Even if the Shadowdancers let you in, they aren’t going to let you speak to Marqel.”

“That’s where Dirk comes in,” Kirsh announced, slapping him on the back so hard he almost spat out his bread.

“Me? I don’t want any part of this!”

“Of course you do,” Kirsh informed him. “It’ll be your job to keep Olena and Ella occupied while we speak to the acrobat.”

“What am I going to say to them?”

“Ask them about the Hall of Shadows. It’s only reasonable that you’d want to know what it’s like where you’re going.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Dirk announced confidently.

“I wouldn’t wager anything too valuable on that,” Kirsh warned. “Anyway, at the moment, everyone thinks you are going, and that’s all that matters.”

Dirk’s future was still up in the air, and the boys had an unspoken agreement not to discuss the subject. On one hand, Duchess Morna was refusing even to consider the proposal, while the High Priestess acted as if it were a foregone conclusion. The Lion of Senet and Duke Wallin had been suspiciously silent on the issue, which made Dirk extremely nervous, fearful that the decision had already been made without any attempt to consult him on the minor issue of what he wanted to do with the rest of his life. He had made several attempts to talk with his father privately about it, but it was almost as if Wallin was avoiding him.

“So, are we going to do this or not?” Lanon asked in the uncomfortable silence that followed Kirsh’s remark.

“Of course we are,” Kirsh declared. “Come on!”

Kirsh jumped to his feet and took off with Lanon on his heels. Dirk grabbed Alenor’s arm before she could follow.

“This is a bad idea, Alenor. Can’t you talk him out of it?”

The princess shrugged. “Nobody talks Kirsh out of anything he really wants, Dirk.”

Dirk nodded. He had worked
that
out very soon after meeting Kirshov Latanya.

“They won’t let him talk to her.”

“I certainly hope not,” Alenor agreed with a scowl. Then she turned to follow the others up the stairs, leaving Dirk standing on the bottom step staring after her.

The High Priestess had a high enough rank to warrant a room on the same floor as the Governor and the Lion of Senet, but the rest of the Shadowdancers had been relegated to the sixth floor, just below the servants’ quarters. Morna might have to suffer the Shadowdancers, but she hadn’t exactly rolled out the red carpet for them. Dirk caught the others on the sixth-floor landing as they eyed the door to the Shadowdancers’ room. Even Kirsh appeared a little nervous.

“It’s that door there,” he informed him, pointing up the hall.

“What am I going to say?”

“Just say that... tell them... oh, hell, Dirk, I don’t know. You’re the one with all the brains. You think of something.”

“I think this is stupid.”

“So do I,” Alenor added crossly.

Kirsh glared at them for a moment, then shrugged. “Fine. Be like that. I’ll do it.”

Squaring his shoulders, he marched purposefully up the hall, his footfall silent on the threadbare carpet that ran its length. The better carpets were on the lower floors where they were more likely to be seen. Kirsh reached the door and knocked loudly.

The door opened after a few moments. From where they were standing, Dirk could see Olena’s surprise on finding the young Prince of Senet outside her door.

“My Lady Shadowdancer,” Kirsh said expansively, loud enough to ensure that his companions could hear him. “Might we presume on your time for a moment or two?”

“What do you want, your highness?”

“My good friend Dirk, here, wishes to learn more about the Hall of Shadows. Who better than yourself to enlighten him?”

Olena looked down the hall at them suspiciously.

“Very well, then,” she nodded after a moment. “Come, young Dirk, ask your questions. You may join your friends later.”

“Ah, we were hoping we might learn something of the Hall, as well,” Kirsh hurriedly added. “If you don’t mind, of course.”

“Actually, I do mind,” she snapped impatiently. “Dirk may come in. You may go, Prince Kirshov. And take your friends with you.”

Dirk moved forward with a great deal of trepidation as Kirsh stepped back to let him enter. His expression was more shocked than disappointed. He wasn’t used to having his plans foiled. Dirk stepped into the room with an apologetic shrug in his direction.

“Off with you!” Olena ordered and slammed the door in Kirshov’s face.

Dirk glanced around the small room. There were two narrow beds with a small table between them and a dresser under the window. Dirk wondered if the High Priestess’s willingness to share Prince Antonov’s bed was prompted by her unwillingness to share a room with her underlings. The window was open and he could hear the faint hammering of the castle smithy far below. A movement caught his eye and he turned to find Marqel emerging from the garderobe. He almost didn’t recognize her. She was scrubbed clean, her long blond hair braided and neat, and she was dressed in a simple short-sleeved shift that covered her rope tattoo. She looked at him curiously and then turned to Olena.

“I’ve put the towels away. Was there anything else you wanted me to do?”

Dirk studied her curiously. She did not seem unduly bothered by her plight.

“You may come here and listen, child,” Olena told her, taking the seat beside the unlit hearth. “This is Dirk Provin. He will be accompanying us back to the Hall of Shadows.”

Marqel curtsied to Dirk as if he were a prince—or as if she had just learned how and was trying it out for effect. “My lord.”

Dirk thought it better to get this cleared up at the outset. He didn’t like the proprietary air the Shadowdancer had assumed. “Er ... excuse me, my lady, but it’s not certain yet that I’ll be going anywhere.”

“We shall leave the details to Prince Antonov and your father to sort out,” Olena said. “But rest assured you
will
be coming with us when we leave. Now, what did you want to know?”

The question caught him off guard. This was Kirsh’s insane idea, not his, and Olena’s confidence worried him.

“I ... er ... what’s it like?”

“The Hall of Shadows is the home of the High Priestess. The palace was gifted to her by the Lion of Senet as a reward for returning us to the Age of Light.”

“I thought the Lion of Senet’s sacrifice of his son was responsible for that?” Dirk asked.

“He was guided by the High Priestess,” Olena corrected.

Dirk’s first impulse was to retort:
And it’s common knowledge what part of his anatomy she was guiding him by.
But common sense won out over wit.

“I ... well, nobody ever really spoke about the Hall of Shadows, my lady.”

“There’s a lot that doesn’t seem to warrant mentioning in this household,” Olena mumbled.

“What about me?” Marqel asked. She sounded almost cheerful, as if she was looking forward to leaving. Still, he supposed he couldn’t blame her. A week ago she was a bastard and a thief. Her fortunes had turned considerably in the last few days.

“You, Marqel? I’m not certain. That will be up to the High Priestess. Once we have ascertained where you are with your studies . . . what’s that look for?”

Marqel had blushed an interesting shade of crimson and refused to meet Olena’s eye. The Shadowdancer laughed harshly. “Studies, did I say? You more than likely can’t even read, can you, child?”

The young acrobat’s silence was all the answer the Shadowdancer needed.

“I’ll bet you can count, though,” she added. “That’s a skill required for any thief.”

“I’m not a thief,” Marqel retorted sullenly.

“Yes, well, even if you are, child, that life is behind you. You belong to the Goddess now.” Olena turned to Dirk and studied him critically. “Prince Antonov says you read very well, Dirk. And I’ve no doubt about your mathematical prowess.”

He shrugged, not sure if the comment required a reply. Suddenly Olena stood up and crossed her arms decisively.

“You will come here every morning after breakfast, Dirk, for two hours. You will teach Marqel to read. I don’t have the time.”

“But—” Dirk protested. He didn’t want to spend time teaching Marqel to read. He didn’t want to spend time with her at all.

“There is no point in objecting, Dirk. I will arrange it with Prince Antonov. And now, you may go. I have things to attend to.”