The Lion of Senet (27 page)

PART THREE

THE HERESY OF LOGIC

Chapter 42

It was not that far from Elcast to Senet, but for the same reason there was a massive levee wall on Elcast’s northern coast to protect it from tidal waves, the Lion of Senet’s ship was forced to take a much more circuitous route to reach the mainland. The Tresna Sea between Elcast and the mainland was riddled with underwater volcanoes. Floating slabs of pumice dotted the seascape, and the constantly changing seabed made it difficult to navigate safely through the shallow, turbulent waters.

The journey from Elcast to Avacas was a trying time for Dirk. Although he would never admit it to anyone aboard the
Calliope,
he was desperately homesick, missing Elcast as if a limb had been severed. He was angry with himself, too. Within a day of boarding the ship, he began seriously to regret the impulse that had driven him to announce that he wanted to go to Avacas.

He was sharing a cabin with Kirsh, Misha and Eryk, which was extremely awkward for all of them. Misha didn’t travel well, and his temporary recovery while on Elcast was soon a distant memory as the sea voyage took its toll. Ella Geon was often in their cabin tending the young man, and while she seemed happy enough for Eryk to run errands for her, she had little patience with either Kirsh or Dirk getting underfoot.

Part of Dirk missed his apprenticeship with Master Helgin, and he couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong with the elder Latanya prince. Misha’s withered left side did not seem to be in any way related to the tortured cold sweats he suffered. At times, he was lucid and seemingly free of pain. Occasionally, he was delirious and incomprehensible. Although Dirk had never witnessed one, Misha had told him that he sometimes suffered fits that left him foaming at the mouth. When he questioned Kirsh about the nature of Misha’s illness, the younger prince shrugged. He had no idea what was wrong with his brother. It was bad enough that Misha was crippled. To Kirsh, physical disability was the cruelest thing a man could suffer. Other problems hardly seemed worth worrying about.

On their fourth day out, Dirk escaped the cabin as Ella bustled in, just as the second sun was overtaking the first. Misha had been awake most of the night, tossing restlessly on the narrow bunk, and this had kept the other boys awake, too. Once in the companionway outside the cabin, Kirsh vanished in the direction of the galley, looking for breakfast. Yawning, Dirk headed up to the main deck, preferring fresh air. Illness had a unique smell about it, he decided, and in the close confines of the cabin it was more noticeable than usual.

The air was cool and refreshing on deck, and for a moment Dirk did nothing but close his eyes and let the wind wash over him. Then he made his way aft, past the horses corralled on the deck, stopping for a moment to pat the few that poked their curious muzzles through the barricade to greet him. He leaned on the starboard side railing, watching the sea heave and sigh beneath the ship. The morning was clear, the wind steady, but there was no sign of Elcast in the distance. More than anything, that featureless horizon drove home his isolation.

“We welcome the second face of the Goddess!”

Curiously, Dirk turned at the sound of Belagren’s chanting, as it carried on the crisp breeze that drove the ship forward. The High Priestess was kneeling on the poop deck near the wheel, greeting the rising sun of morning, along with Olena Borne and Marqel. The helmsman stood listening to their devotions, with his feet braced wide apart as he steered the ship toward Senet. Dirk watched them for a moment, wondering if they really believed that their devotions would make the slightest bit of difference.

“Juicy bit o’ meat, that one, eh?”

Dirk turned to the sailor who had come up beside him. “Pardon?”

“Her,” the sailor explained, pointing to the Shadowdancers. “The young ’un. Had ’er in Elcast town while we was there. Cost me a fortune, mind you, but she was worth every penny.”

“Who? Marqel?”

“Is that ’er name? Never bothered to ask. Didn’t know she was gonna be a Shadowdancer, though.”

I wonder if you wanted her to call you Daddy, too,
he thought.

“Damn, if I’d known she was gonna be one o’ them, I’d’ve waited a year or two. Then I could’ve had ’er for nothin’ at the Landfall Feast.”

“I suppose,” Dirk replied with a noncommittal shrug. He spied Kirsh heading along the deck toward them, munching on an apple.

“Well, p’haps not,” the sailor mused as Kirsh reached them. “Them Shadowdancers usually don’t put out for poor sailors like me. ’Ere, you’re highborn, lad. Maybe you’ll get lucky.” He winked at Dirk, then added, “If you do get lucky, make her do that thing with her mouth...”

“Who are you talking about, Rezo?” Kirsh asked curiously.

“Marqel the Magnificent,” Dirk told him. “My new friend Rezo here was just telling me how much he paid for her in Elcast.”

Kirsh’s eyes narrowed dangerously. He turned to the sailor, grabbing the front of the man’s shirt. “If I hear one word, Rezo, one whisper about Marqel among the crew, I swear I will have you keelhauled.”

The sailor shrank back in fear. If Kirsh’s tone wasn’t enough to frighten him, then his rank certainly was. Kirshov was the Lion of Senet’s son. His threat was not an idle one.

“It weren’t just me, yer ’ighness! Lots o’ the crew ’ad her!”

“I don’t care, Rezo. It’s you I’ll see keelhauled for it.” Kirsh let him go with a shove and the sailor scurried away toward the chart house.

Dirk looked at Kirsh in astonishment. “You’re going to
keelhaul
him? For what, Kirsh? Reminding you that she’s a whore?”

The prince turned on him angrily. “Unless you want that nose of yours broken again, Dirk, I suggest you stop now. It’s disrespectful to say such things about a Shadowdancer.”

“She’s not a Shadowdancer yet, Kirsh. Besides, Alenor calls them all whores. You don’t threaten to have her keelhauled for it.”

“Alenor is a princess,” Kirsh pointed out. “Rezo isn’t, and neither are you. I could just as easily have you punished in the same manner.”

“You must be joking!”

Kirsh glared at him for a moment. Then with a slightly embarrassed shrug, he looked away. “I guess I am overreacting just a tad.”

“Just a
tad
? You’re insane!” When his accusation drew curious looks from some of the nearby sailors, he lowered his voice. “What does it matter what the crew says about Marqel? You know what she is, Kirsh. Telling people not to say it out loud isn’t going to change it.”

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” he said, feeding the remains of his apple core to the closest horse. “She’s been given a second chance, Dirk. I’m not going to let half-wits like Rezo ruin it for her.”

Up on the poop deck, Marqel and the others had finished their prayers. Marqel said something to the High Priestess, who nodded distractedly. She turned and slid down the companion ladder with ease. The acrobat had gained her sea legs quickly for a girl raised on dry land. She saw the boys and headed toward them.

“Good morning, your highness,” she greeted Kirsh with a beaming smile. Then, with rather less enthusiasm, she added, “Lord Dirk.”

“Good morning, Marqel,” Kirsh replied, with a smile no less dazzling than hers had been. “All finished with your prayers?”

“For the time being.”

“Excellent!” he declared. “In that case, you can resume your studies.”

“My studies?”

“Dirk was teaching you to read, wasn’t he? Since there’s nothing much else to do on board, I thought we might continue them.”

“What?” Dirk asked in alarm. With everything that had gone on in the past few days, Dirk had totally forgotten about Marqel’s lessons. He was certainly in no mood to resume them.

Marqel lowered her eyes with a shy smile. “You don’t have to do that for me, your highness.”

“Nonsense! I’m glad to help. What do you say, Dirk? Shall we have Marqel quoting poetry by the time we reach Avacas?”

If she had been selling herself in the taverns near the docks on Elcast, Dirk was fairly sure Marqel could quote poetry now, but not the sort Kirshov had in mind.

“If you’re so keen to teach her how to read, Kirsh, you do it.”

“Don’t be silly, Dirk. I’m just going to be there for moral support. You’ll have to do the actual teaching.”

“I’d have to ask the High Priestess,” Marqel told them. “But I’m sure she won’t mind.”

“Off you go then,” Kirsh ordered. “We’ll wait for you.”

Looking as pleased as if she had just been rewarded with a peerage, Marqel hurried off to seek Belagren’s permission to resume her lessons. Dirk scowled at Kirshov.

“What are you doing?”

“Helping Marqel learn to read,” he said with an innocent shrug.

“Are you sure that’s all you’re doing?”

“I’ve no idea
what
you’re implying,” Kirsh responded stiffly.

Dirk didn’t get a chance to answer. Marqel hurried back to them and stopped before Kirsh breathlessly. “My lady said yes.”

“Excellent! In that case we shall retire to the bow, away from the stink of these horses, and proceed to educate you!”

Marqel pushed past Dirk with a triumphant little smile and fell in beside Kirsh as he headed for the bow. He stared after them with a frown, only following reluctantly when Kirsh glanced over his shoulder and ordered him to follow.

Chapter 43

Antonov insisted they join him and the High Priestess each evening in his cabin for dinner. He seemed to enjoy the company of his young guests as much as that of his sons. Dirk was surprised at how much trouble Antonov went to, to ensure that he was at ease in such unfamiliar surroundings. He questioned each of them about their day and seemed genuinely interested in their answers, although what Belagren thought about it was anybody’s guess. Her expression remained neutral, her comments noncommittal. But the Lion of Senet treated Alenor like a favored niece and Dirk like a welcome nephew. In his company it was very easy to forget how dangerous he could be.

“Belagren tells me you’ve resumed your lessons with our young thief, Dirk,” Antonov remarked as they were served their dessert by one of Antonov’s legion of silent, unsmiling servants. They ate almost as well on the
Calliope
as they had back in Elcast. Dirk was only just beginning to appreciate the benefits of enormous wealth.

“We made great progress, too,” Kirsh declared, smearing his cake with cream. Dirk wondered how they managed to keep it fresh, or was there actually a cow on board? The main course had been beef, roasted to perfection. Still, he supposed the weather had been fair and they had not been at sea long enough for the supplies they had taken on in Elcast to turn rancid yet.

“You, Kirsh?” Antonov asked in surprise. “I was under the impression you thought reading was akin to having a tooth pulled. In fact, I can’t ever recall seeing you pick up a book voluntarily.”

“Ah, well that’s Dirk’s influence, sir,” he replied through a mouthful of cake.

“Then I must congratulate you, Dirk,” Antonov said with a wry smile. “You appear to be having a remarkably good influence on my son. Perhaps next you might be able to persuade him not to talk with his mouth full.”

Dirk shrugged self-consciously. Kirsh’s sudden interest in teaching had nothing to do with anything he had said or done. It was entirely attributable to Kirsh’s obsession with the acrobat.

“And what of you, Alenor? How did you spend your day, my dear?”

“In my cabin, your highness,” she told him with a scowl at Kirsh. “I was supposed to go up on deck, but you said I shouldn’t roam the ship unescorted. Kirsh was supposed to come for me, but he never showed up.”

“No doubt he was distracted by his sudden interest in education,” Belagren commented. It made Dirk wonder if she knew more than she was letting on. Perhaps the High Priestess suspected something of Kirsh’s fascination with Marqel.

“I see an opportunity here,” Antonov announced. “You’ve all been away from your studies for much too long, and as we are now blessed with Dirk’s remarkably well-educated company, I see no reason why they shouldn’t resume. Tomorrow, Kirshov, you
will
remember to escort Alenor on deck and you and she can
both
study while Dirk continues his lessons with the thief. I’ve no doubt young Dirk here is more than qualified to supervise your lessons, too.”

Nobody around the table objected. Kirsh didn’t really care what he had to do, as long as he got to spend time with Marqel, and Alenor felt much the same way about Kirshov. Only Dirk was displeased with the arrangement, however there was nothing to be gained by complaining about it.

“And now for something less taxing,” the prince continued when his edict drew no howls of protest. “By the time we get back to Avacas it will be almost your birthday, Kirshov.”

“Goddess, I almost forgot!” Kirsh exclaimed. “How soon after that will I be able to go to Kalarada, do you think?”

“When you come of age, Kirsh. That’s another two years away.”

“Yes, but in Dhevyn, one comes of age when he’s eighteen, not twenty, like in Senet. And as I’m going to join the
Dhevyn
ian Queen’s Guard...”

“You are still a Prince of Senet,” Belagren reminded him.

“I know, but...”

“I’ll think about it,” his father promised, “but don’t get your hopes up. There are more things to be taken into consideration than your single-minded enthusiasm for joining Dhevyn’s army.”

“It was your idea, sir.”

“I’m aware of that,” he replied with a smile. “I just wasn’t expecting you to embrace the notion quite so enthusiastically. That must be Alenor’s doing, I think. I should never have stolen her away from Kalarada.” He raised his wineglass in her direction and added, “She is such a delightful example of Dhevyn’s grace and beauty that she has beguiled you completely, I fear.”

Alenor blushed at the compliment. Like Dirk, she found it hard not to fall victim to Antonov’s charm, even when he was quite openly reminding her that she was a hostage.

“Speaking of birthdays,” Antonov said after toasting the princess, “when is your birthday, Dirk? Now that you are a member of the family, as it were, we must ensure that we celebrate it properly.”

“I’ll be sixteen next month, your highness, and really, there’s no need to go to any trouble.”

“So soon?” he inquired curiously. “I thought your birthday much later in the year... no matter. Is there anything you want as a gift? A horse, perhaps? You’ll need your own mount in Avacas. As soon as we get back, we shall attend the auctions in Arkona and find you something worthy of a prince.”

“Really, your highness, there’s no need—”

“Nonsense, Dirk! I enjoy spoiling my friends. Besides, I have to find Alenor another mount soon, so we shall make a day of it. She has almost outgrown that wretched pony she’s so devoted to.”

“But I like Snowdrop, your highness. She’s well mannered, and quiet and—”

“Quiet?” Belagren laughed. “She’s docile to the point of insensibility, Alenor.”

Antonov smiled. “I’m afraid I must agree with the High Priestess, my dear. I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact that the beast was standing upright, I’d feel the need to check the poor creature for a pulse.”

“But I don’t want to lose Snowdrop, sire. Can’t I keep her?”

“Of course you can, Alenor. My intention is to find you a more spirited mount, not break your heart. We shall put Snowdrop out to pasture and she will grow fat and happy in her dotage. You may visit her as often as you wish.”

Dirk watched Antonov out of the corner of his eye as he ate the last of his dessert, quite amazed at the man’s generosity. Nothing seemed to be too much trouble for him. No wonder Alenor bore her situation so well.

The servants cleared away the remains of their meal as Antonov leaned back in his seat, replete and content. He glanced at the three of them and then waved his hand with a smile.

“Go on then, you’re excused.”

“Thank you, sir,” Kirsh said, jumping to his feet.

“You seem in quite a hurry, Kirshov,” Belagren remarked.

“Captain Clegg promised to show us how he navigates using the suns.”

“I’m sure Dirk will find it fascinating,” Antonov said. “But I’m surprised to find you so anxious to learn about it.”

Kirsh shrugged. “Misha’s not been sleeping well.”

Antonov nodded understandingly as they headed for the door. “Then enjoy yourselves, boys. I will look forward to hearing all about solar navigation tomorrow evening at dinner.”

“Good night, Father. My lady.”

“Good night, Kirsh.”

Kirsh had already stepped into the companionway when Antonov called Dirk back. “I almost forgot, Dirk, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Sire?”

“The guards report that our prisoner has developed a nasty cough.”

Dirk was instantly on his guard. “That’s unfortunate, your highness.”

“More than unfortunate, Dirk. I mean, the man survived a tidal wave. It would be rather incongruous to lose him to something as trivial as a cough at this late stage.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, your highness.”

“He needs a physician, Dirk,” Belagren explained, “and with Misha so ill, I can’t spare Ella.”

“Would you be so kind as to check on him tomorrow?”

Dirk had to fight down a wave of panic. He tried to determine if there was something more behind Antonov’s innocent request, but he couldn’t read the man well enough to tell. Belagren was watching him with hawklike eyes.

“Your highness, my lady...I was only an apprentice physician. I’m not sure I would be of any use.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Dirk,” Belagren told him.

“But—”

“You scaled that damn levee wall to save the man,” Antonov reminded him. “I would think his continuing good health would be of vital interest to you.”

“It is, sire, which is why I think he’d be better with a Shadowdancer in attendance, rather than me.”

Antonov smiled. “You do yourself an injustice, Dirk Provin. Helgin sang your praises most highly. Visit Thorn tomorrow and do what you can to ease his suffering. If he needs any herbal concoctions, I’m sure Ella will have everything you require.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

Antonov nodded with satisfaction, and returned his attention to the High Priestess. Dirk closed the door to the cabin thoughtfully, wondering if there was anything more sinister in the Lion of Senet’s request other than simple concern that his prisoner might die before he could get around to hanging him.