Eye of the Labyrinth (25 page)

Chapter 46

The northernmost town in Senet, and the last real outpost of civilization before they reached the ruins in Omaxin, was the small town of Tawell. It took Dirk and Tia close to two weeks to cross the grasslands of northern Senet bordering Lake Ruska, which separated Omaxin from the ancient city of Bollow. Game was sparse and they were limited by what they could carry. Their meager supplies had dwindled alarmingly by the time they reached the village. Unless the departing Shadowdancers left their excess food stores behind in Omaxin, Dirk thought, they were going to get very hungry trying to discover when the next Age of Shadows was due.

The barony of Tawell actually belonged to Alenor D’Orlon. It had been given to her as a child by the Lion of Senet while she was living in Avacas, and had been administered by Antonov’s people in her absence ever since. As far as Dirk was aware, Alenor had never laid eyes on the place.

Not that there was much to see. The township was small: little more than an inn, a blacksmith and a few scattered houses. The manor house was closer to the lake, several miles from the town. Dirk was not keen on stopping in the village, but Tia was becoming concerned about their supplies. It wasn’t as if they couldn’t afford it, she pointed out tartly. Dirk bore her stings stoically, thinking she would be far angrier if she knew what else he had done in Bollow.

“The whole purpose of coming all this way on foot was not to draw attention to ourselves,” he pointed out, as Tia walked beside him on the road leading into the village.

“That’s why you sneaked out of the inn in Bollow and made a name for yourself playing Rithma, was it? To be inconspicuous?”

“Bollow was different,” Dirk objected. “For one thing, it was a city a hundred times bigger than this place. They probably forgot about me an hour after I left the Rithma tent. They’ll remember us here in Tawell for months.”

“No, they won’t,” Tia assured him confidently.

“How do you know that?”

“Because we’re not the only strangers in town.”

As they neared the outskirts of the village, Dirk discovered Tia was right. There were a large number of wagons parked haphazardly on the common, brightly painted, in a wild cacophony of colors. The people around the wagons barely glanced at the two strangers as they walked along the road, more interested in setting up their own camp.

“Who are they?” Dirk asked.

He had never seen wagons like these before, or people dressed so strangely. The men wore large, loose trousers gathered at the ankles and tucked into short leather boots. The women wore similar shirts to the men, but most of them wore skirts that looked as if they were made of dozens and dozens of scarves tucked into the brightly enameled belts they wore.

“Sidorians, I think,” Tia told him.

Sidoria was, on paper at least, an independent nation, but its population was almost entirely nomadic. As they had few cities worth conquering, Antonov had left his northern neighbor largely untouched, preferring to dominate the more fruitful islands to the south of the mainland.

“I didn’t think they strayed into Senet if they could avoid it,” he remarked.

“Well, we’re pretty far north. I suppose they have to trade with someone.” She glanced at him with a hopeful smile. “I hear their food is pretty good.”

Dirk shook his head. “Now who’s trying to broaden her horizons?” he accused.

“I’m merely heeding your advice. You were the one who said they’d remember us in Tawell for months. The Sidorians, now, they’re nomadic. They’ll be gone in a few days, back across the border. It won’t really matter what they remember about us, will it?”

She actually had a very good point, but Dirk was disinclined to admit it, just on principle. “They don’t look like they’d welcome strangers.”

“How would you know?”

“I don’t,” he admitted. “It’s just a feeling I have.”

“So you’re a seer now as well as a genius?”

Before he could stop her, Tia turned off the road and walked over to the nearest wagon, where a young mother was tending three small children. Tia spoke to her at length, turning to point at Dirk at one point in the conversation. He had no idea what she was saying to the Sidorian woman, but both of them broke into gales of laughter, which—he was certain—was at his expense. A little after that, Tia called him over with a wave of her hand.

“This is Risilka,” Tia told him as he approached the two women warily. “She’s invited us to dinner with her family.”

“We’ve no wish to put you to any trouble,” he assured her, thinking Tia incredibly rude for forcing herself on these people.

“You’ll be no trouble, Little Antonov,” Risilka promised him with a smile. “My father likes to hear about what’s happening in the south, and it’s not often we meet people who’ve come from there recently. Tasha tells me you play Rithma, too.”

“Tasha seems to have told you quite a bit,” he remarked with a frown, thinking that at least she’d had the sense not to use their real names. But that was about all the sense she had shown.

“He claims he’s quite good at it,” Tia informed her new friend with a smirk in Dirk’s direction. She was enjoying this.

“Well, my father will put him to the test. And while the men are making fools of themselves trying to pretend they have brains, I will teach you how to dance, Tasha.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need to know how to dance,” Tia replied quickly, looking rather alarmed.

“Of course you do,” Risilka scoffed. “How else are you going to catch a husband?”

“Risilka’s right, Tasha,” Dirk agreed with a perfectly straight face. “How else
are
you going to catch a husband?”

Tia glared at him. “Why don’t you go play your games with the other boys, Little Antonov?”

“Come,” Risilka ordered. “I’ll introduce you to my father and my husband. Then Tasha and I can take care of women’s business.”

Dirk followed Risilka without another word, deciding against making any further comment when he caught the dangerous say-one-more-word-and-I’ll-kill-you look that Tia gave him.

Risilka’s father, Verril, was a slender, weather-beaten man with the most impressive mustache Dirk had ever seen. It took up half his face and drooped down over his chin, almost brushing the front of his intricately embroidered shirt. Her husband was a bigger man with a mustache well on its way to rivaling her father’s. All the men, in fact, sported spectacular mustaches. Dirk quickly discovered that impressive facial hair was a mark of manhood among the Sidorians, and his clean-shaven chin marked him as a callow boy.

Risilka left him in the care of the men, who had gathered under the shade of a large, open pavilion, where they smoked their long carved pipes, played Rithma and relaxed, while the women got the camp set up and prepared the food.

“So you come from Avacas?” Verril asked as Dirk took a seat on the cushions surrounding the large, gloriously carved Rithma board. Risilka’s husband, Lokin, was staring at the board intently, as his opponent, whose name Dirk didn’t catch, made his move. Dirk glanced at the board, thinking neither man had a hope of beating the other, the way they were playing.

Dirk turned back to Verril and nodded. “That’s right.”

“You look Dhevynian, not Senetian,” the Sidorian remarked. “And if that girl is your sister, then I’m the Lion of Senet.” His comment sparked a round of laughter from the other men in the tent.

Dirk smiled. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d met so many Dhevynians that you could tell the difference.”

“Don’t confuse ignorance with stupidity, boy. Just because we don’t live in stone houses and read books like your people doesn’t make us fools. Are you running away from her father or her husband?”

“Something like that,” Dirk agreed.

Verril laughed and slapped him on the back. “Young love, eh! I can remember when I was young and foolish. The trouble is you marry them, and they have children and then you get to be just another chore on their list.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t marry her then,” Dirk suggested, thinking never a more prophetic suggestion had been made in living history.

“Too late for that, boy!” Verril declared with a slight frown. “You can’t take a bite out of the fruit and toss it away. Once you’ve tasted it, then you’re honor bound to finish what you started.”

Dirk was tempted to tell Verril that he had not actually tasted anything, nor was he ever likely to, given the way Tia felt about him, but he thought better of it. Let the nomads think they were lovers on the run. It really didn’t matter.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Dirk promised.

“Good lad,” Verril said, slapping him on the back again. “Now, let’s see if you really can play Rithma, eh?”

Tia was right about one thing: Sidorian food was delicious. It was spicy, sweet and hot, although Dirk decided not to inquire too closely about exactly what type of meat he was eating. He had heard stories as a child that Sidorians ate horses, dogs and even rats, and didn’t want to spoil his enjoyment of the meal by learning that they were true.

The men ate separately from the women, but once the second sun had set and the children were put to bed in the wagons, everyone gathered near the pavilion. Several musicians picked up their instruments, which were mostly drums and small cymbals, and began play.

Tia came to sit beside Dirk on the ground as the other women went to join their husbands or fathers. One of the women began to dance around inside the circle of people, with small cymbals attached to her thumb and forefinger on each hand. The woman had long dark hair and wore her skirt low on her hips, which left her midriff bare. She seemed to be able to move every muscle in her body independently of the others, making her multicolored scarf skirt shimmer and shake in a manner Dirk found rather intriguing.

“You’re gawping,” Tia told him, sounding a little put out.

Dirk glanced at her. “Did Risilka teach
you
how to dance like that?”

“Even if she did, I’m never likely to do anything like that in public. It’s obscene.”

“Actually, it’s fascinating. Do you realize the muscle control she must have to be able to move like that?”

“No, I don’t. But you seem to have worked it out in record time.”

Dirk smiled at her. “You know, Verril thinks we’re lovers on the run from your father.”

“Really?” Tia replied archly. “I told Risilka that you’d jumped ship in Tolace and were running back to our mother in the north because you were homesick.”

“Did she believe you?”

Tia thought for a moment and then shook her head. “Now that I think about it, probably not. Do you think we should stay here tonight, or push on?”

“I’d like to keep moving, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to escape our hosts quite so easily without offending them. They seem friendly enough, but have you seen the size of the swords some of these fellows carry? I’m pretty sure they’re not decorative. I wouldn’t like to give the impression we don’t appreciate their hospitality.”

She nodded glumly in agreement. “I think you might be right.”

“The food was good though,” he conceded.

“We’ll push on tomorrow then.”

Dirk looked at her curiously. “Is something wrong?”

Tia shook her head. “Not really. It’s just ...”

“Just what?”

She shrugged, as if she couldn’t really put her feelings into words. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s because we’re here among the Sidorians. They’re so ... carefree, I suppose. They don’t give a damn about what’s going on in the rest of the world. They don’t care about the Goddess, or being invaded, or what the Lion of Senet is up to. They just enjoy themselves and get on with their lives.”

“We’ll get on with our lives someday,” he assured her, not sure if that was what she wanted to hear.

Tia smiled skeptically. “You think so?”

Dirk nodded. “I promise.”

“You sound pretty certain,” she replied with a frown. “What do you know that I don’t?”

Dirk shrugged and did not reply.

That was one question better left unanswered.

Chapter 47

They reached Omaxin a week later, but veered off the road some three miles out of the ruins to avoid detection. They had been making their way painstakingly for most of the morning through the windswept hills that bordered the black lava flows of the ruins. Although the ground was fertile, the wind blew most of the topsoil away, leaving the windward side of the slopes barren and rocky. A stiff breeze swept across the lake and the sun beat down on them relentlessly. It was a dry heat that seemed to burn as they inhaled it. They both wore Sidorian scarves wrapped loosely around their heads and shoulders to protect themselves, and Tia’s nose was still peeling from an earlier bout of sunburn.

“The Shadowdancers! They’re leaving!”

Dirk scrambled up the slope on his belly beside Tia and looked down over the ruined city of Omaxin. “You sound surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” she replied. “I’m astonished. I can’t believe such a stupid, dangerous and altogether far too complicated plan actually worked.”

“You should have a little more faith in me, Tia.”

“Based on what, exactly?” she asked.

Dirk didn’t reply. He looked back over the caravan that was slowly wending its way south along the shore of the lake, his gray eyes the same color as the still water. And just as uninformative.

“Do you suppose it’s a trick?” she asked when his silence began to irritate her.

He shrugged. “It’s an awful lot of trouble to go to, just to pretend they’re leaving. Anyway, why would they
want
to pretend? Who are they trying to fool? Did you tell them we were coming?”

“Did
you
?” she retorted.

Dirk smiled. “Actually, I might have mentioned it in that letter I sent to the High Priestess informing her of our plans ...”

Tia pulled a face at him. “That joke is getting pretty tired, Dirk.”

“Yet you always react the same way,” he remarked.

“That’s because deep down, I still wonder, every now and again, if you really
are
joking.”

He rolled onto his back and looked at her. “One of these days, you’re going to have to admit I really am on your side, you know.”

“And I will,” she promised. “As soon as you do something to prove it.”

“Such as?”

Tia shrugged. “I don’t know, Dirk. But it would have to be something fairly spectacular to convince me.”

“I’ll see what I can arrange.”

“Don’t bother,” she told him. “I kind of like the idea that one day you’ll turn out to be a traitor and I’ll finally get to slit your throat.”

Dirk shook his head at her, but he was smiling. “You really are quite disturbed, aren’t you?”

“A fact that you would be wise not to forget,” she agreed sagely.

Dirk shook his head wordlessly and slid back down the slope to where their packs rested against the base of one of the few trees that had managed to gain a foothold in the face of Omaxin’s relentless winds. Tia watched him, reminding herself to be cautious. Dirk Provin was more dangerous like this, she thought, than when he was actually wielding a blade. There were even times when she forgot that she shouldn’t trust him.

The longer she spent in his company, the more she had to remain on her guard, finally seeing what Reithan and Lexie and Mellie and all the others who had fallen under his spell had seen in him. It didn’t make him trustworthy, but it made him
believable,
and that was the real danger. When Dirk Provin was being charming, he was too good to be true.

“Do you think we should wait before going down there?”

He nodded. “A full day at the very least.”

“I thought you said they weren’t pretending?”

“I said it was unlikely, not impossible. We’ll wait a day or two, just to make sure they really have left the area.”

“Fine,” she agreed, picking up her bow. “In that case, I’m going to see what I can bag for dinner.”

“You’ll not find much out here,” he warned.

“I’ll find something,” she assured him. “And when I do, you’re cooking it.”

“Considering your skills as a cook mostly involve the production of charcoal, I suppose I’d better.” He stood up and dusted off his trousers before picking up his pack. “It’s a pity Risilka didn’t offer to teach you how to cook, rather than dance.”

She pulled a face at him, but did not rise to the bait. It was no secret that she was the worst cook on Ranadon. It had only taken a few days on the road together for Dirk to volunteer to do most of the cooking, probably out of respect for his stomach. Fortunately for both of them, Dirk could usually turn out something edible, given the right ingredients.

“You just wait here and mind the packs,” she ordered. “I’m going to find something to kill.”

It took several hours before Tia snagged a scrawny rabbit that ducked in and out of the rocky crevasses in the foothills surrounding Omaxin. When she did finally manage to get an arrow off, she only grazed its shoulder, forcing her to track it for another hour until she spied it crawling into a small opening hidden in a narrow gap between two tall boulders. A small cascade ran down the rocks and behind them a slightly larger opening that hinted at a cave behind the surprisingly cool water. She had to breathe in and squeeze herself sideways past the waterfall to get to the warren, and then crawl on her hands and knees to reach the wounded creature. It was an awful lot of effort to go to for one measly rabbit, but she was determined not to return to Dirk without something to show for her afternoon’s work. She could imagine the look of smug superiority on his face if she returned empty-handed.

“Gotcha!” she declared triumphantly as her hand latched onto a limp, furry paw. She pulled the rabbit free as it gave its last gasping breath.

When she returned to the place she had left Dirk, he was nowhere to be found and their packs were gone. Looking around at the empty landscape, a thousand thoughts swirled through her mind, the foremost of which was:
That rotten little
bastard has gone looking through the ruins without me.

“It took you all afternoon to bag one puny rabbit?”

She spun around to find Dirk slipping down the slope behind her, carrying their packs over one shoulder, a large piece of the parchment they had bought in Bollow in his left hand.

“Where have you been?”

“I got bored waiting, so I thought I’d start sketching a rough map of the ruins.”

For some reason, his perfectly reasonable explanation annoyed her even more than the fact that he had not been waiting where she left him.

“I thought you didn’t want to go down to the ruins yet?”

“I didn’t. You get a much better view from up here in the foothills.”

She tossed the rabbit at his feet. “You’re cooking, remember.”

Dirk dropped the packs to the ground and picked up the rabbit. He held it up for a moment and then looked at her curiously. “What did you do? Run him down
all
afternoon? He looks like he died of exhaustion, poor creature.”

“Just cook the damn thing, Dirk.”

He smiled at her irritation. She turned her back on him.

“Tia!”

As she turned, he tossed the waterskin to her. She caught it by reflex.

“We need water.”

Tia trudged back toward the little waterfall, wondering why she put up with Dirk Provin. If she had any brains at all, she would never have agreed to come here. It was probably all for nothing, anyway. There was no guarantee Dirk could learn the secrets Neris had so carefully hidden away. In fact, a part of Tia rather hoped that he couldn’t. And it had taken them so long to reach Omaxin. She was reluctant to remind Dirk of the fact, but she was sure that today was the day that Alenor D’Orlon was supposed to marry Kirshov Latanya. By now the damage was done. Dhevyn had a Senetian regent and a child queen too in love with her prince to understand that he was going to destroy her nation, one island at a time.

She reached the waterfall and splashed through the shallow puddle at its base, holding the skin in the stream of cool water while she berated herself for being so foolish as to agree to this ludicrous plan. Admittedly, Dirk had been reasonably tolerable company for most of the journey, although she had a niggling suspicion about what he had really been up to when he disappeared in Bollow for more than three hours. At least he had proved he could play Rithma, so she was inclined to believe his story about how he acquired the money—and that silly necklace. Risilka’s father had been quite impressed by Dirk’s skill at the game.

Even more annoyed that she was wasting her time fretting about him, Tia reached her hand through the waterfall to see how large the cave behind it was. When she could not feel the back of the cave with her arm, she stuck her face through the sheet of water and her eyes lit up with amazement.

“Mushrooms!”

Mushrooms were a rare treat on Ranadon. They did not like the light or the heat of Ranadon’s two suns, and she had only eaten them once before at an inn in Kalarada, where they had cost a small fortune but tasted like sautéed heaven. These were a faintly gold color, their thick undersides plump and greenish. Inside the small dark opening, the smell was dank, almost like potatoes left to rot. Grinning with delight, she stepped through the water into the cave and gathered as many of the rare treats as she could stuff in her shirt. She finished filling the waterskin and headed back to Dirk, dripping wet but in a considerably better mood than when she had left.

“I found these,” she told Dirk as she came up behind him, fishing her unexpected haul out of her shirt.

Dirk was kneeling on the ground skinning the gaunt rabbit. He turned and examined the mushrooms warily. “How do you know they’re edible?”

“Don’t the poisonous ones have red spots or something?”

“How would I know?”

“I thought you knew everything.”

He frowned. “I really don’t think you should eat them unless you’re sure they’re safe.”

“Don’t be such an old woman, Dirk. They’ll be delicious.”

“Fine,” he shrugged. “But if you die from eating these things, don’t blame me.”

“You could eat them first,” she suggested. “That way I’ll know if they’re edible.”

“
Good
plan
. If they’re poisonous, I die, and if they’re not, you get your treat anyway.”

She sighed happily. “I can’t lose, can I?”

He rolled his eyes, but he did not seem particularly upset. “Go fetch some firewood while I finish skinning this poor excuse for a rodent.”

“Will you cook the mushrooms?”

“I’ll cook the mushrooms,” he agreed. “But they’re all yours. I have an aversion to eating unidentified and possibly deadly fungi.”

“Your loss,” she shrugged.

“And don’t think I’m going to hold your head for you while you puke when they turn out to be poisonous,” he called after her.

She smiled suddenly and looked back at him. “You know, Dirk Provin, sometimes you’re a bigger girl than I am.”