The Lion of Senet (24 page)

Chapter 38

Dirk forgot the reason he had gone to see his mother this morning as he ran down the stairs and through the Hall without stopping. He ran through the courtyard and out the gate without acknowledging the greeting of the guards.

His mother’s words were echoing in his head.
You accepted
Johan’s son as your own and never once gave me, or Dirk, reason to
suspect that you knew he wasn’t your son
.

He ran down toward the town and then, on impulse, veered off into the forest that flanked the road. He crashed through the undergrowth, ignoring the sharp branches that slashed at his face as he ran.

You accepted Johan’s son as your own . . .

He ran as if he could somehow outdistance the truth.

When he finally stopped, exhausted and bloodied, he discovered he was close to the pool near the Outlet where they’d first met Marqel. He stumbled through the bushes to the small pool and fell to his knees on the edge of the water, gasping for breath.

You accepted Johan’s son as your own
...

His mother’s words burned through his brain. It was as if they were written in fire, branded on the inside of his skull.

You accepted Johan’s son as your own . . .

Johan’s son. Not Wallin’s son.
Johan’s
son. The bastard get of a deposed heretic king. The illegitimate result of an illicit affair between a woman who had abandoned her husband and child, and a man who would rather suffer the Age of Shadows than allow anyone to do anything that might bring back the light.

The
Book of Ranadon
had referred to his mother as a traitorous harlot, he remembered.
The
Book of Ranadon
is right!

Dirk glanced down at his reflection in the pool. The face staring back at him was a stranger.
You must take after your
mother,
he’d heard people say, time and again. No wonder no one ever said he looked like Wallin or Rees.

Dirk plunged his face into the warm water of the pool, but it did nothing to cool his fevered mind. He came up gasping, shook his head, leaving a spray of droplets in his wake, and sat back on his heels.

So I’m a bastard,
he told himself harshly.
I don’t even have
the dubious distinction of being branded a Landfall bastard. At least
they’re conceived openly, not the result of some tawdry affair.

He’d been so sure the
Book of Ranadon
was just a pack of lies. So certain that Antonov was wrong about his mother. Even after Morna had admitted to him that she had fled with Johan during the war, he’d convinced himself that she was simply fighting for something noble. She was afraid for Rees and Johan had offered her hope.

He realized now that there was nothing noble in her actions. She was simply an unfaithful wife who had run off with her lover and then come home again, carrying his bastard.

What had Johan said?
Don’t dig into the past. You’ll find
more than you bargained for . . .

The sense of betrayal he felt was overwhelming. It was as if his mother’s words were a terrible, invisible axe that had cleaved him from everything he thought he knew. He felt cut adrift and lost. His mother had lied to him. His father had lied to him—only he wasn’t really his father. They had even lied to each other. Who else knew the truth? Helgin must have known. That cut almost as deep as the knowledge that his parents had lied to him. He had trusted Helgin.

What about Rees? Did Rees remember Morna abandoning him?

What a fool I am,
he berated himself silently.
She said she left
Elcast because she feared for Rees. Yet she left him behind on Elcast
while she cavorted with her lover.
That should have warned him that her motives weren’t anywhere near as noble as she tried to paint them.
I should have seen the truth then.

He recalled his mother’s agonized look as she admitted her past.
Dirk will learn the truth, sooner or later,
Morna had said.
I’d
rather he heard it from us than hear the Lion of Senet’s twisted versionof events
.

He understood now why Morna was so fearful of him learning the truth from Prince Antonov.

As he thought of the Lion of Senet, Dirk found himself reassessing his opinion of the Senetian ruler. Was anything he had done worse than his mother’s acts? He’d simply followed the edicts of his religion, and while they might be questionable, his honor was above reproach. Morna tried so hard to make Dirk think Antonov was evil, yet it was his mercy that allowed her to live.

She’s a hypocrite and a liar,
he decided.

He found himself wanting to lash out at Morna in any way he could. He wanted her to feel even a fraction of his pain. He had never before felt so abandoned, so alone.

He glanced down at his reflection once more. The face he stared at had always belonged to Dirk Provin. Now it belonged to someone different. Someone he didn’t know.

I wonder if Johan has any idea that I’m his son?

Dirk decided he probably didn’t. For Morna to perpetrate her lies, she couldn’t risk telling Johan he had a child.

What of Antonov? Does he know, or even suspect the truth?

And if he did learn the truth, what would he do about it? Would he permit a possible usurper to the throne of Dhevyn to survive?

That thought gave Dirk pause.

If I wanted to, I could claim the throne of Dhevyn,
he realized with a start.

But why would I want it? It belongs to Alenor, not me.

As his thoughts turned to Alenor, Dirk’s heart constricted. He sat by the pool for a long time, trying to make some sense out of what he knew. Eventually, he glanced up at the second sun and realized that he had missed his morning lesson with Marqel. He would be missed in the Keep. Was Wallin looking for him? Was his mother desperate to explain away her confession with another wagonload of lies?

He took a deep breath and splashed his face with water.
I
have to go back. I have to pretend that nothing is amiss. How will I
stand it?

Dirk climbed slowly to his feet and consciously tried to calm his racing heart.

“I have to go back,” he told his reflection, then added spitefully, “but I damn well don’t have to stay.”

Lunch was being served when he arrived back at the Keep. He marched into the Hall and straight up to the High Table. Tovin Rill, Prince Antonov and Wallin Provin were deep in a discussion about the ruined Elcast harvest. His mother sat on Wallin’s left, her eyes wide with fear, as she watched him approach the table. Rees and Faralan sat beside Morna, lost in a rather heated conversation of their own. Kirshov, Alenor and Lanon were nowhere in sight.

Dirk was calm as he stopped in front of the table. His heart no longer felt as if it would explode out of his chest. His breathing was even and measured.

“Your highness?”

“Dirk!” Wallin cried in surprise, drawing speculative glances from both Tovin and Antonov. “We’ve been looking for you everywhere. Goddess! What happened to your face?” Then, as if Wallin suddenly remembered the Senetians, he added hastily, “You missed your lesson with the acrobat. Olena was quite concerned.”

“I’m sorry, sir, I had something to take care of.”

“You look like you’ve been in a fight,” Tovin chuckled, as he took in Dirk’s scratched face and tattered shirt. “You weren’t discussing the correct rules of pokeball with Lanon again, were you?”

“No, my lord. I was in the woods. I was attacked by nothing more sinister than a thorn tree.”

“Well, if you’re here looking for Kirsh and Alenor,” Antonov said, “they said something about a picnic.”

“No, your highness, I wasn’t looking for them. I came to ask you something.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Morna bite back a gasp of dismay. He did not look at her.

“Ask away, Dirk. I’ll answer if I can.”

“My father says you want me to return to Senet with you.”

“That’s true, Dirk, but we don’t have to go before...”

“I’d like to accept your offer, your highness.”

“Dirk!
No!
” Morna cried, jumping to her feet. Wallin’s expression was bleak, but he made no move to object.
Why should
he? He’s not my father.

Antonov glanced down the table at the duchess. He did not attempt to hide his triumph. He turned back to Dirk. “You will be most welcome in Avacas, Dirk. But I’m tempted to ask what brought about this sudden change of heart. I heard you weren’t disposed toward the idea.”

“I’ve had time to think about it, your highness, and on reflection, I feel I can learn a lot more in Avacas than on a small island like Elcast.”

“You demonstrate rare sense for one so young.”

“Thank you, your highness.”

Antonov looked at Morna and his smile widened. “Well, my lady, it seems there is nothing to prevent us finally removing the burden of our presence from your household.”

“Anton, please... you can’t...”

“I believe I can, my lady. Your husband has already agreed and now that I find your son so keen to accept my hospitality, I see no reason for us to impose upon your good graces any longer. If you would be so kind as to send Balonan to me after lunch, I will start making the necessary arrangements. I imagine we could be gone on tomorrow’s tide.”

“Dirk...” Morna’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. She was almost begging him for understanding.

Dirk found he didn’t care. “Yes, Mother?”

She wanted to ask him why. He could see that. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t risk him blurting out the reason in front of Antonov, and she didn’t trust him enough to realize that he had more sense than that. Dirk was quite offended. He might be hurt, but he wasn’t stupid.

“Your decision appears to be causing your mother some distress, Dirk,” Antonov pointed out. He realized that the prince didn’t seem concerned about it, either.

“She’ll get over it.”

“Dirk...” Wallin said warningly.

“May I be excused, your highness? I need to pack.”

“Of course,” Antonov agreed with a smile.

Dirk bowed to the prince and turned on his heel. He could feel Morna’s eyes on him as he walked through the Hall, but he didn’t look back. The last thing he heard as he began climbing the staircase was Antonov talking to Tovin Rill.

“And now that business is taken care of,” the Lion of Senet was saying, “I believe it’s time I did something about Johan Thorn.”

Chapter 39

Johan was jerked awake by a commotion in the outer room. He was still rubbing the sleep from his eyes when the door flew open. It banged against the wall. The pirate rolled onto his side and stared at the familiar figure standing in the doorway. He was surprised it had taken him so long to come.

“Your highness, I must object!” Helgin was complaining from the other room. “He is still not recovered enough to—”

The Lion of Senet slammed the door behind him, cutting off Helgin’s protests and glanced about Johan’s room before he spoke. “Helgin’s a whining old woman. He always was. You look fine to me.”

“Your expert medical opinion means so much to me.”

Antonov crossed the room and picked up the book at the foot of Johan’s bed. He examined the title on the spine, and tossed it back onto the bed, before he looked at him.

“Enjoying your convalescence?”

“I was until you showed up,” Johan replied, pushing himself up in the bed, wincing a little as his shoulder objected. His broken arms had taken longer to heal, but his shoulder was giving him more trouble than his freshly mended bones. “I’m truly honored that you finally found time to pay me a visit, your highness.”

“I had other, more important things to take care of.”

“More important than finally getting rid of me?”

Antonov smiled. “You haven’t changed, Johan. It irks you to think that there’s anything more important in this world than you, doesn’t it?”

“Total self-absorption is your weakness, not mine, Anton. To be honest, I’ve quite enjoyed the break—no pun intended. The food here is good, I’ve had time to catch up on some reading—”

“I’m glad you’ve enjoyed it so much,” Antonov cut in. “You’ll be in a dungeon when you reach Avacas.”

“You actually
have
dungeons? Now why doesn’t that surprise me?”

“You’re in a remarkably good humor for a man about to die.”

“Am I? Ah . . . well that’s probably the poppy-dust,” he said. “I’m beginning to understand what Neris found so enticing about it.”

“Have you fallen so low that you’re now taking drugs to ease your conscience?”

“My conscience doesn’t need easing, and no, Anton, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not caught in the grip of the poppy-dust. You’ll have to find another way to torment me, I’m afraid.” He stared at the prince for a moment, trying to discern his intentions. “Although one can’t help but wonder why you didn’t come up here and run a sword through me the day you arrived on Elcast.”

“You’ve no idea how tempted I was,” Antonov admitted.

“So what stopped you?”

The prince smiled coldly. “Actually, it was Morna.”

Johan’s expression darkened. “What have you done, Anton?”

“Nothing, Johan. Absolutely
nothing
. I didn’t have to.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you see the beauty of it? The longer I was here on Elcast, the longer I was in her home, the longer I left you lying here unmolested, the longer I went without even mentioning your name, the crazier it drove her.” He smiled ingenuously. “I’ve discovered subtlety can be so much more effective than brute force.”

“You always were a sadistic bastard.”

“And you were always a fool.”

“I must have been,” he agreed ruefully. “I asked Senet for aid.” When Antonov didn’t rise to the taunt he studied him curiously. “Do you really intend to kill me, Anton?”

“What did you think I was planning? To escort you back to Kalarada and reinstate you?”

“You don’t have the right to reinstate me, Antonov Latanya. Any more than you had the right to remove me in the first place.”

“The Goddess gave me the right.”

“The Goddess gave you the
excuse,
” Johan countered.

“You still mock my faith? You believed in her once. Until Neris poisoned your mind against her.”

“Neris opened my eyes to the truth, Anton.”

“Truth? What truth? You are the proof that she
exists,
Johan! I asked the Goddess to deliver you to me and behold, she sent forth a tidal wave.”

“And who did you kill to get her attention this time, Anton? Another one of your sons?” When Antonov didn’t answer him, he scowled with mock concern. “I hope you don’t ask her for such favors too often. I mean, what happens when you run out of relatives to sacrifice?”

Antonov refused to answer. Instead, he walked to the window and turned his back on Johan.

“Helgin begrudgingly admits that you are recovered enough to travel.”

“You’ve been waiting all this time for me to recover? I didn’t think you cared.”

“I don’t,” Antonov said, turning to look at him. “You have information I require and I don’t intend to let you die until I have it.”

“What could I possibly know that is of any interest to you, Anton? Except perhaps that your whole damn religion is a farce... But then, you never wanted to hear that, did you? Not even when I had the proof.”

“The proof is dead. Neris killed himself.”

“Then you admit that I
had
proof?”

“The only thing I’ll admit is that you listened to the ravings of a drug-addicted lunatic, and were prepared to destroy thousands of years of belief based on what he told you. I have all the proof I need. I did as the Goddess asked and she returned us to the light.”

“You murdered your son because
Belagren
told you to, Anton, not the Goddess. And how do you think she knew when the appointed time was right? How do you think Belagren knew the
exact
time the sun would return? Because of some holy vision she had? Or because Neris was able to calculate—”

“Enough!” Antonov cried. “I will not listen to your blasphemy!”

“More’s the pity,” Johan said wearily. “Your son might be alive today if you had.”

“If you had heeded the Goddess’s word, Johan, you might still have a kingdom.”

“If you hadn’t heeded Belagren’s words, you might still have a wife.”

“You’re treading on very dangerous ground, Johan.”

“What are you going to do, Anton?
Kill
me?”

For a long time the Lion of Senet didn’t reply. When he did, his eyes burned with the same fanatical light that had shone in them so many years ago. Johan was filled with despair at the sight. Antonov was still as unreasonable, still as completely immersed in the lies of his faith, as he ever was. “The High Priestess has charged me with a sacred mission.”

“Sacred mission? You astound me, Anton. I never cease to be amazed at your gullibility. Who does she want you to murder this time?”

“I must find Neris Veran.”

Johan smiled skeptically. “And why do you think Belagren wants Neris so badly?”

Antonov actually looked surprised that Johan had to ask such a thing. “To pay for what he’s done. He must face the Goddess and denounce his heresy.”

“It wouldn’t be because Belagren still doesn’t know when the next Age of Shadows is due, I suppose? No, of course not. That would mean your whole damn religion is a sham. Anyway, Neris is dead. You know that.”

“Perhaps. What about your people hiding out in the Baenlands?”

“They’re a handful of refugees. They’re no danger to you.”

“They consider you the true King of Dhevyn. If I kill you before I clean them out, they’ll worship you as a martyr for years to come and I’ll never be rid of Neris’s poisonous heresy.”

“Perhaps they think of me as the true King of Dhevyn because
I am
the true King of Dhevyn,” he suggested. Johan lay back on the pillow and closed his eyes with a faint smile. “Anyway, whatever
your
reasons, do you seriously think I would tell you anything of value?”

“You’ll tell me,” Antonov replied confidently. “If I have to break every bone in your miserable body, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

Johan laughed skeptically. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Oh, don’t worry, Johan. I know you won’t give in easily. Why do you think I wanted you recovered before I moved you to Senet? I can’t have you dying on me until I’m ready for it.”

“That would be tragic,” he agreed wryly.

“My people are very, very good at what they do,” Antonov warned. “One way or another, you will tell me everything I want to know. You will live to see me clean out that viper’s nest in the Baenlands. You will live to see your dreams destroyed. I will break you, then humiliate you, then I’ll kill you and dance on your corpse.”

It was no idle threat he was making, Johan realized.
Oh,
Helgin, you sentimental old fool, why didn’t you let me die? It
would have been so much easier on everybody.

“Antonov, doesn’t it concern you a little that you’re proud of how efficiently you can maim and torture people? Why do you need to hone such skills, I wonder? Surely the great Lion of Senet holds power because his people love him, not because they’re afraid of him?”

“And it was the great love of the people of Dhevyn for
their
king that saw them flock to my banner, not yours, when we went to war, I suppose? Perhaps you should consider that, before you start condemning my tactics.”

“Would that be the tactic where you respond to a request for aid by invading us?”

“Your people were starving and rioting, Johan. Your whole kingdom was falling apart around you. You asked for my help and I gave it unstintingly.”

“You call invading Dhevyn an act of charity?”

“It was the Goddess who brought your people hope. My troops brought order out of chaos.”

“It’s been a long, long time since the Age of Shadows ended, Antonov. You’ve more troops stationed in Dhevyn than you have in Senet.”

“I would withdraw them tomorrow if the queen asked me.”

“Rainan?” he laughed sceptically. “You’ve taken her daughter hostage. She’s afraid to ask you what day it is, let alone demand you withdraw.”

“And whose fault is that? Dhevyn had a king once. He abandoned his throne.”

Johan took a deep breath before replying, surprised at how heated the argument was becoming. He had thought himself past all this.

“This is pointless, Anton. Neither of us has anything to gain by trying to apportion blame for things done so many years ago.”

“You’re right, I have nothing to gain. I already have it all.”

“Is that what drives you?”

“Perhaps. What drives you, Johan? The never-ending desire to
lose
? First you lost Dhevyn, and now you’re going to lose your pitiful little substitute kingdom in the Baenlands, and then you’re going to lose your life.”

Johan was suddenly weary of Antonov’s company. “Why did you come here, Anton?”

“To tell you that we’re leaving for Senet in the morning. You’ll be moved down to the ship this evening.”

“And chained in the hold with the rats, I suppose?”

Antonov glanced around the comfortable room that had been his prison since arriving on Elcast. “Your days of luxury and peace are at an end, Thorn.”

“They ended a long time ago, Antonov, the day I let you step foot in Dhevyn.”