The Lion of Senet (5 page)

Chapter 5

The mysterious sailor still hadn’t regained consciousness by dinnertime. Master Helgin shooed Dirk and Eryk out of his rooms and ordered Dirk to attend his parents. The governor would be in attendance at dinner this evening, and not for any reason would Dirk be excused.

They had bathed the battered man’s numerous wounds, reset his dislocated shoulder and bound his broken limbs. The old man had stitched and dressed the wound on the sailor’s forehead, but did not seem unduly concerned about it. All they could do now was wait.

Helgin had fussed over his patient like an old woman. The only reason that he gave for having the man brought to his rooms, rather than the infirmary down near the main gate, was his need to keep the sailor under constant observation. Dirk thought his decision very strange, particularly as Helgin was always telling him how important it was that a physician maintain a distance between himself and his patients. It was at Helgin’s insistence that his mother had provided the physician with an infirmary in the first place.

“Will he be all right, Master Helgin?” Eryk asked, as Helgin tried to hurry them out.

“He’s been unconscious for a long time,” Dirk added with concern.

“That’s just nature’s way of coping with pain,” Helgin assured them, wiping his brow with his kerchief. Although it was still warm, it didn’t seem hot enough to make the old physician sweat so much.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I stayed? . . .”

“Be off with you, Dirk, before your mother has
me
served up for dinner for keeping you late.”

“I don’t have to go to dinner with the guv’ner,” Eryk pointed out with a helpful smile. “I could stay and help.”

“I’m sure Seneschal Balonan can find plenty of other work for you, Eryk. The patient will be fine without you watching him draw his every breath.”

“You looked really worried this morning,” Dirk reminded him, thinking of Helgin’s look of concern when he first examined the survivor.

“Well, I’m not worried now,” Helgin insisted, almost pushing them out the door. “Now go, both of you. And mind your manners at dinner tonight, Dirk. Tovin Rill is an important man and you can’t afford to offend him.”

That’s a bit rich, coming from you,
Dirk thought, recalling the physician’s tactless remarks in Tovin’s hearing this morning. But he said nothing. Helgin was uncharacteristically nervous about something.

“I’ll come back after dinner and check on him.”

“No, you’ve got studying to do. I’m still waiting for that work I gave you last week.”

Dirk shrugged. “That won’t take long. They’re just a few calculations. Besides, you said I didn’t have to complete it until next week.”

“I changed my mind. And they’re not just a few calculations, boy. Some of those problems kept the finest minds at the university on Grannon Rock occupied for years before they were solved.”

“Are you
sure
you don’t want us to come back?”

“Positive. Now go!”

With no idea why Helgin was so anxious to be rid of them, Dirk reluctantly left the room, then, when he realized how late it was, hurried up the stairs to his room on the fifth floor of the ancient Keep with the ever-faithful Eryk close on his heels.

Since being appointed Dirk’s servant, the tousle-haired Eryk had taken his duties so seriously that he was rarely out of the older boy’s sight. Although he could be trying at times, Dirk didn’t really mind. Eryk was a harmless soul without an artful bone in his body, and since being promoted, from an unwanted orphan that nobody was sure what to do with to the servant of the second son of Elcast, it was as if he had found his purpose in life. And the bullying had stopped, too. Eryk had always been an easy target for bigger, smarter lads in the castle and the town. Since Dirk’s mother had taken the boy in, the bullies seemed reluctant to incur the wrath of one of Duke Wallin’s sons, and through him, the duke, just to have a bit of sport with a slow-witted orphan.

With Eryk hovering around him like a clucky mother hen, Dirk changed out of his dirty clothes.

“You should brush your hair,” Eryk reminded him, carefully enunciating each word. He only lisped when he got really excited, although sometimes it was painful to listen to him trying so hard. “And wash behind your ears, too.”

This from a boy who usually had to be dragged kicking and
screaming to the bathtub
. Dirk looked at the boy with a suspicious frown as he pulled on his boots.

“Eryk, who told you to say that? My mother?”

The boy shook his head. “It was Lord Rees. While we were waiting for you on the levee wall, he said that every day I should tell you to bruth your hair, and thine your thoes—”

That would have been Rees’s idea of a joke. He probably made the poor boy repeat the list back to him a dozen times to make sure he remembered it. “Well, next time Lord Rees starts telling you what to say to me,” Dirk cut in, before Eryk got too tongue-tied, “you tell him I said to mind his own bithness.”

Eryk grinned at Dirk’s deliberate mispronunciation. “Are you taking the pith out of me, Lord Dirk?”

“Just a little bit. And stop calling me Lord Dirk, Eryk. I must have told you that a million times already.”

“It wouldn’t be proper,” Eryk replied. “I told you that a million times.”

Dirk stamped his feet into his boots and ruffled the boy’s hair fondly. “I’d better get going. When you’re finished up here, you make sure you eat something, you hear?” Eryk frequently got so involved in what he was doing that he would forget to eat. In fact, Eryk required so much supervision that at times, Dirk wondered who was looking after whom.

Still tucking in his shirt as he ran downstairs, he barely made it to the Hall as Tovin Rill was taking his seat at the High Table for dinner.

The Hall was one of the few places in Elcast Keep that required artificial lighting. Even during the day, candles were required to light the cavernous circular hall. Like the rest of the Keep, the walls were constructed of roughly dressed granite, and it was always cool in here, even at the height of summer. The red light from the evening sun did not reach the floor through the thick arrow-slit windows that followed the deep granite stairs. The stairs wound around the interior of the building as if some giant drill had bored the Hall out of living rock. Rectangular shafts of ruby light crisscrossed the granite walls in a pattern that still fascinated Dirk, even after a lifetime of staring at it.

“Ah, here he is!” Tovin declared as Dirk tried to make his way to the High Table as inconspicuously as possible. “Our heroic physician!”

With no chance of sneaking to his place quietly, he gave up trying. Dirk stopped in front of the High Table and bowed to the duke and the governor. His father sat in the center, with his mother on the left and Tovin Rill on his right. Rees sat on Tovin’s right next to Lanon, while his own seat sat empty and waiting beside his mother’s. Every eye in the Hall was on him.

“Heroic, my lord?” Wallin asked with a smile. Dirk’s father was just like Rees, stocky and solid, although his curly hair was more gray than brown these days. There was little of Wallin in Dirk. He was leaner, taller and more like his mother in both looks and temperament. “Surely the boy merely did what he’s being trained for?”

“Yes, Wallin, he did, but he shimmied down that damn levee wall like it was a garden trellis. Can’t say I would have tackled it with the same aplomb.”

Dirk saw his mother pale as she turned to the governor. “You made my son climb down the levee wall to rescue some shipwrecked sailor?”

“Didn’t have to
make
him, my lady,” Tovin informed her cheerfully. “He volunteered.”

Morna turned her steely gaze on Dirk. He suddenly felt five years old again. His father, he noticed with relief, was looking rather proud of him.

“You volunteered, Dirk?”

“I . . . well, somebody had to go, sir, and I didn’t think Master Helgin was really up to it.”

“It was a noble thing you did, son,” Wallin declared, before his mother could offer her opinion. But to placate his wife, he added, “Just don’t make a habit of it.”

“No, sir.”

Dirk took his place beside Morna, deliberately avoiding her disapproving gaze.

“And how is our miraculous survivor, Dirk?” Tovin asked as the servants began serving the soup.

“He’s still unconscious, my lord, but Master Helgin thinks he’ll live.”

“I must check on him after dinner. I’ve never seen anything so remarkable. He must be well favored by the Goddess to have been spared.”

“It sounds rather more like he was well favored by the timely arrival of my son,” Duchess Morna suggested tartly.

Tovin glanced at the duchess and smiled. “Then you should feel honored that the Goddess chose your son as her instrument, my lady.”

Dirk inwardly cringed, praying silently that his mother would not speak anything further on the subject. Morna Provin made little secret of her dislike for both Senet and their religion, and it was common knowledge that Tovin had been sent to Elcast to replace the former governor, Aris Lokin, because he was considered lax in his duties. Dirk had quite liked old Lord Aris and was sorry to see him recalled to the mainland.

“So, Wallin, what arrangements have you made for the Landfall Festival?” Tovin asked, when Morna’s frosty silence became uncomfortable.

His father frowned warily before answering. “The same as we always do, my lord. You’ll be heading back to Avacas for the Landfall Feast, I suppose. I doubt our provincial fair would entertain you much.”

Tovin Rill laughed. “Don’t be absurd, man! I can’t leave Elcast before the Landfall Festival! Besides, the Shadowdancers should be here any day. It would be most unseemly for me to up and leave before they get here.”

Stillness fell over the head table that even the servants noticed. Wallin glanced at Morna, then turned to face the governor.

“Brahm Halyn, Elcast’s Sundancer, is usually the only representative of the Church who attends our Landfall Feast, my lord.”

Tovin’s eyes narrowed. “For your own sake, I hope you’re going to tell me it’s for no more sinister reason than the unseasonable weather we’re having for this time of year, Wallin.”

“As I’m sure you know, my lord, our temple was destroyed during the Age of Shadows,” Wallin began. “So we’ve not had a permanent representative of the other aspect of the Goddess on the island since then, but—”

“Yes, I’m aware of that, Wallin. It’s one of the first things I intend to redress, now that I’m governor. Why haven’t you made any attempt to rebuild the temple?”

“Elcast is not a rich island, my lord.”

“I’m sure you could have found the coin if you wanted to,” Tovin remarked with a scowl at Lady Morna.

The duke did not reply, but Dirk’s mother did. “We do not countenance the Shadowdancers, or that thinly disguised orgy they call their Landfall Festival, in Elcast, my lord. We have no need for them, their drugs or their rituals. I’ll not have my sons perverted by them.” Her tone worried Dirk. It was openly hostile.

Tovin’s expression was dangerous. “I see now why the Goddess struck down your fields last night, my lady. It was a warning. One that you would do well to heed. Have you forgotten what the Age of Shadows was like?”

“I recall very well what the Age of Shadows was like.”

“Yet you encourage the very behavior that made the Goddess turn from us. You deny her worship and hope you can continue to enjoy her bounty. Did that time of darkness teach you nothing? It is people like you that caused the Age of Shadows, Lady Morna.”

Dirk gasped, unable to believe that the governor would accuse his mother of such a dreadful thing. His father frowned, warning him to silence with a look.

“And you, Wallin? Do you hold with your wife’s views?”

The silence was heavy as everyone waited for the duke’s answer. “Elcast serves the Goddess, my lord.”

The governor nodded slowly. “In that case, we shall celebrate the Landfall Festival in the correct manner. You are a married woman and have no need to take part yourself, my lady, and Dirk and Lanon are too young in any case, but Rees will take part, as befits his rank as heir.”

Dirk glanced at his older brother. Rees looked horrified.

“Have the Landfall Festival if you must, Tovin,” Morna conceded with barely concealed disgust. “But at least let me take my sons from here. They have no need to witness that foul ritual . . .”

“No!” Tovin declared. “The Lion of Senet will not tolerate these atheist leanings in Dhevyn, my lady, and as his representative on Elcast, I will ensure that you do your duty to the Goddess, and you will see to it that your children do theirs.”

His mother bowed her head in defeat. Wallin looked distinctly uncomfortable. With a wave of his hand, Tovin ordered the servants to refill his wine cup and the meal progressed in awkward silence.

Dirk studied his mother out of the corner of his eye, understanding why she was so upset. The Landfall Festival was something she had been trying to discourage for years. With only one Sundancer in attendance, the Elcast Landfall Festival was usually little more than a country fair. Thanks to his mother’s determination, the rituals practiced by the Shadowdancers had never reached their island. Dirk had heard about them, though—rumors of human sacrifice, of wild orgies, of foul rites and strange magicks.

He glanced down the table at his brother. Rees caught his eye and shook his head, warning him to say nothing, ask nothing.

It was neither the time nor the place to talk of such things.

Chapter 6

Morna Provin’s icy silence was not, as Lord Tovin suspected, caused by her distress at the news that he was planning to rebuild the temple, or that there would be a proper Landfall Festival this year. In truth, Tovin’s news did not surprise her. She had expected as much when she learned who Antonov was sending to replace Lord Aris.

No, it was not the Landfall Feast that concerned her.

It was Dirk.

The Duchess of Elcast had watched her second son standing before the High Table, watched him take his seat beside her. She watched him answer Tovin Rill’s questions. Watched him frown when she so foolishly challenged Tovin on the issue of the Landfall Feast.

She was always watching him.

He had filled out these past few months, and was taller now than both Wallin and Rees. His eyes were gray, like hers, which was a fortunate thing, his hair dark and wavy. Everyone remarked how much his eyes were like hers. She was grateful for that. It took their attention away from his other features that were no more hers than they were Wallin Provin’s. Morna was constantly looking for some sign that would betray her secret. In more than sixteen years, she had never known a moment’s peace for fear of it being discovered.

And the older he gets, the more chance someone else will see
it, too.

Morna angrily chided herself for the thought. It was one she could not allow herself to dwell on.
Wallin is Dirk’s father in
every sense of the word,
she reminded herself. In all the time they had been married, he had never even hinted that he thought Dirk was not his child. He had never once raised the subject, although he must have suspected the truth. Perhaps he denied it to himself. Morna wasn’t sure, and it was certainly something she could never ask him. Wallin had accepted her back after the war, and had never referred to her infidelity again. He had never asked what she’d done and never demanded an explanation. All he wanted or expected was for Morna to be his wife and act in a manner befitting the Duchess of Elcast. She had done that much willingly. Wallin was her security. He was her sons’ security. Without her patient and forgiving husband, she would be dead. But she didn’t love Wallin Provin, not the way she had loved . . .

Stop it!
she told herself sternly.
There is no point to this! It is
ancient history!

But was it really ancient history? Years of relative obscurity and peace had been shattered with the appointment of Tovin Rill as Governor of Elcast.
Would he see the resemblance?
Morna picked at her meal and finally waved to a servant to take her barely touched plate away, glancing surreptitiously at the Senetian Governor. Had the Lion of Senet sent Tovin Rill here for that reason? Did he know or suspect the truth? The danger to Dirk if the Senetians ever discovered who had fathered him kept Morna awake some nights trembling with fear.

Morna found herself running through the mental list of people who knew the truth. Some of them, like Master Helgin, she knew she could trust. Others she was not so sure about. Wallin might know, for all that he kept silent on the matter. Antonov Latanya, the Lion of Senet, might suspect something, but he had never met Dirk and never would, if Morna had any say in the matter. Rove Elan, the Lord Marshal of Dhevyn, might guess; he was the one who had brought her home to Elcast. Belagren, the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers and Antonov’s mistress, had no idea, she was certain of that. The queen suspected nothing either, Morna was sure. Then again, Morna wondered if Rainan would care even if she did know the truth. The Queen of Dhevyn had her own problems.

“Mother!” Dirk hissed impatiently.

She turned to Dirk. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Can I be excused?” Dirk spoke barely louder than a whisper, but it was loud enough that Tovin heard him.

“Leaving so soon, Dirk?” the Senetian asked as he leaned back in his seat with his wine cup cradled comfortably in his left hand. “It’s bad for the digestion to rush off so soon after eating.”

“I mean no offense, my lord,” Dirk said with a disarming smile. “I’ve some studying to catch up on. Master Helgin is a hard taskmaster.”

“Your father tells me you’re an excellent student, Dirk. Even Lanon claims you are something of a mathematical prodigy.”

“I’m sure they exaggerate, my lord.”

“Perhaps. But one would think that if you excel in the area of mathematics, you would be more inclined to choose a future as an engineer, not a physician. We always have need of good engineers in Senet.” The governor turned to Wallin and chuckled. “The Goddess and her earthquake keep them well supplied with work.”

“He says he likes helping people,” Lanon announced with a grin at Dirk.

Morna saw Rees cover his smile with his wine cup. There was no animosity and little rivalry between her sons, and although she disapproved of the friendship, Dirk had become firm friends with Lanon Rill since his arrival on Elcast several months ago. Perhaps she should be grateful for that. In years to come, her sons would need powerful friends in Avacas.

“You’d help many more people by becoming an engineer than you would taking on a life as a physician, Dirk.”

“But I would prefer to be a physician, my lord,” Dirk replied calmly.

Tovin looked as if he was losing patience with the boy. “In Senet, a son takes the path appointed by his father.”

“But this is Dhevyn, my lord, not Senet.”

“You may
go,
Dirk,” Wallin announced abruptly, before his youngest son could add anything further. Morna looked at Dirk, trying to will him to heed the caution in Wallin’s voice.

“Thank you, Father,” Dirk said, taking the hint. Rising to his feet he bowed to the governor, just low enough not to be disrespectful. “Mother. My lord.”

Tovin watched Dirk’s retreating back thoughtfully as he left the Hall. “I see your hand in the boy’s upbringing, my lady.”

“He is my son, my lord.”

“That much is patently obvious,” Tovin remarked sourly.

Morna caught Wallin’s warning look and bit back the caustic reply that leapt to mind. Instead, she rose to her feet. “If my lords don’t mind, I, too, wish to be excused. I must see if Master Helgin has everything he requires to treat our miraculous survivor.”

Wallin looked mightily relieved that she was leaving. He nodded briefly and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. She left the High Table and walked the long length of the Hall, feeling the eyes of everyone on her.

Damn them,
she thought defiantly.
Damn them all.

Morna had used the excuse of the shipwreck survivor merely to escape the Hall. She didn’t think she could stand another evening filled with Tovin regaling them with his droll anecdotes about the Lion of Senet’s court. She breathed a sigh of relief as the massive bronze doors of the Hall boomed shut behind her.

Then it occurred to her that she really
should
see to it that Master Helgin had everything he needed. She was the Duchess of Elcast, after all. It was her duty.

The evening was mild as she stepped out into the courtyard; Ranadon’s evening sun bathed the castle in its familiar ruby light. The earlier clouds were beginning to break up, but the air still tasted of ash, spewed forth by the distant volcano. It was generally agreed that the eruption must have been somewhere between Elcast and the mainland, maybe in the Bandera Straits. Morna thought it too much to hope that it had been close to Avacas, the Senetian capital.

Now that truly would be a sign from the Goddess,
she thought,
if Antonov Latanya and his whole damn city were consumedby lava.

She was a little surprised to find the infirmary closed and no sign of Helgin or his patient. The yard was all but deserted, so she turned back toward the Keep, thinking that perhaps the physician had installed the survivor in his rooms. It was not like Helgin to do that, but if he felt the man needed constant attention, he might prefer the comfort of his quarters to the bare functionality of the converted storehouse that Morna had designated the infirmary.

Tovin and Wallin were deep in conversation and did not notice her return as she climbed the broad granite stairs that circled the interior of the Keep. Dirk was always asking who had built the Keep, but she had never been able to answer him. Like the levee wall and a number of other scattered buildings both on the mainland and around the islands of Dhevyn, the massive structures had stood for as long as anyone could remember. They were the only structures that had withstood centuries of constant earthquakes, and none of them was built close enough to a volcano to be endangered by the lava flows. Fortunately, Elcast’s volcano had been long dormant, but it must have been active once, or there would have been no need for such a building.

If only we still had the knowledge to build so well,
she silently lamented. On that one point she was actually in agreement with Tovin Rill. Dirk really would be wasted as a physician. His mathematical ability was astounding and he probably
could
divine the engineering secrets of the ancients if he set his mind to it. But living things fascinated Dirk. He had no interest in studying inanimate objects.

Besides, studying under Master Helgin meant Dirk could stay here on Elcast. For that reason alone she would have championed his choice of career, even if he’d wanted to be a pig herder. Dirk’s curiosity and hunger for knowledge were quite legendary in Elcast, and they were the reasons her husband, somewhat reluctantly, had agreed to let Master Helgin take Dirk on as an apprentice last year. Normally, as the second son of a ruling duke, his future would be tied closely with his family estates.
In the old days,
Morna thought wistfully,
as a second
son, he would have been sworn to serve in the Queen’s Guard
. That custom had died out since the return of the last Age of Shadows.

Dirk was both surprised and quite delighted when his mother had championed his cause and convinced his father that he should become an apprentice physician. The downside of the arrangement was that it meant he would not be able to go to Nova on the island of Grannon Rock to study at the university there. Morna had managed to convince her son (and herself) that there were few men in Dhevyn who could teach him as much as Helgin.

She reached the third-floor landing, turned down the hall to the apartment where Helgin lived and knocked on his door. When nobody answered, she waited for a moment longer, then tried the latch, surprised to find it locked.

“Who’s there?” Even through the thick door Helgin’s muffled voice sounded quite anxious.

“It’s me. Morna.”

The lock rattled and after a moment the door opened a fraction. “Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“You’d better come in, my lady.”

He stood back to let Morna enter the room and then locked the door behind her. She looked at the physician curiously. He leaned against the closed door. He was sweating profusely and seemed as nervous as a sheep in a slaughterhouse.

“What’s the matter, Helgin? Why the locks? You’re acting like a fugitive.” She smiled at him. “Did you say something to offend Tovin Rill? If you have, he showed no sign of concern at dinner.”

“I’ve not offended Lord Tovin, my lady. No more than I usually do.”

“Then why are you behaving so oddly?”

Helgin said nothing for a moment, then took a deep breath. “You’ll not think my behavior odd, my lady, when you learn who it is that I have locked in this room.”

“The sailor?” Morna’s gaze flew to the closed door that led to Helgin’s bedroom. “Who is he?”

The physician pointed to the door. “See for yourself.”

With a frown, Morna crossed the cluttered sitting room to the bedroom door. She turned the latch and opened the door. The unconscious survivor lay on the large four-poster bed covered by a sheet. He was swathed in splints and bandages. A line of neat stitches stretched across his forehead from above his left eye up into his hairline. Morna moved into the room to get a closer look at him. She realized who it was just as Helgin stepped up beside her. Suddenly faint, she clutched at him for support, her eyes filled with tears.

“Oh, Goddess!” she breathed. “It can’t be!”

“It’s him, my lady.”

“But...” Morna found she couldn’t speak. Her mind was such a confusion of emotions that she was unable to form a single articulate thought.

“You’d better sit down,” Helgin suggested.

He tugged on her arm and led her back into the other room, closing the bedroom door before sitting her down on the settee. He left her there for a moment and moved away, returning with a large shot of dark liquid that he thrust into her hands. Morna was trembling so hard that she could barely hold the cup, but he forced her to drink it. The liquor burned down her throat, focusing her attention—on breathing, if nothing else.

“How? ...” was all she found herself able to ask.

Helgin shrugged. “How he got here is not important, my lady. It’s how we’re going to get him out of here that matters.”

Panic filled her. “Oh, Goddess, Helgin . . . Tovin’s here. If he finds out... and Wallin...”

“Take a deep breath, my lady.”

Morna did as the physician ordered, surprised to find that it helped. “I’ll be all right. I’m just... shocked.”

“As am I, my lady. Unfortunately, we don’t have time to adjust to the news.”

Morna nodded, feeling a little more in control. She took another sip of the burning liquid and looked at Helgin. “Who else knows he’s here?”

“Only you and I, at present.”

“But the others in the rescue party? Tovin was there when you brought him up from the beach. And Dirk . . . oh, Goddess, Helgin, Dirk was there . . .”

“Dirk has no idea who he is, my lady,” Helgin assured her, “any more than the men who rescued him. Tovin saw nothing but a battered, half-drowned sailor, and once I realized who it was, I made certain he didn’t get a closer look at him. For the time being, at least, he is safe.”

“We have to get him out of here.”

“I agree. However, he’s badly injured and I would prefer not to move him.”