Eye of the Labyrinth (28 page)

Chapter 52

Rather to her surprise, Alenor’s cousin, Jacinta D’Orlon, accepted her invitation to join her at court and arrived from Bryton not long after Alenor wrote to her, on a shabby-looking trader named the
Orlando
. She arrived without pomp or ceremony, presenting herself at the palace unannounced and demanding to see the queen. Alenor was delighted to see her cousin again.

Jacinta favored the D’Orlon side of the family. She was taller than Alenor, with rich, dark brown hair and eyes that seemed to change color with her mood, framed by thick dark lashes. At nineteen, she was something of a disgrace to the D’Orlon family, in that she had, to Alenor’s knowledge, refused at least five potential husbands presented for her approval. She ran the risk of becoming an old maid if she was not married before she was twenty, a circumstance that appeared not to bother her in the slightest, but was driving her mother to distraction.

Jacinta embraced her warmly, and then held the queen at arm’s length for a moment and examined her critically.

“My, aren’t you all grown up now, little cousin!” she exclaimed with a smile. “Good thing you’re wearing that crown or I’d never have recognized you.”

Alenor self-consciously snatched the crown from her head and dropped it on the side table. “I’ve been with the council,” she explained. “I don’t wear it all the time.”

“I should hope not!” Jacinta laughed. Then she turned to Dorra, who was watching the reunion with interest. “You can go now, my lady. Alenor and I have lots of catching up to do.”

“Your majesty?” Dorra asked, looking at Alenor. She was not going to let Jacinta order her about.

“You may go, Dorra.”

The lady-in-waiting bowed and walked from the room, clearly displeased that she was no longer required.

“Goddess, Allie! This place is crawling with Senetians! Why do you put up with them?”

“I have little choice in the matter, I’m afraid,” she admitted. “But let’s not talk about them. Tell me everything you’ve been up to!”

Jacinta took a seat and smiled at her. “Let me see, what have I been up to? Well, I told my mother that I wouldn’t marry Lord Birkoff from Tolace if he was the last man on Ranadon, which rather upset her plans for a big wedding at Landfall. Can you imagine
me
married to a Senetian? So then I applied to the university on Nova and got accepted, until they found out I wasn’t really a boy from Lakeside. Mother nearly had apoplexy when she found out. The worst thing was that they offered that wretched little brother of mine a place, and the only reason he got in was because I did all the work for him. When your letter arrived I was tossing up between running away to sea and just killing myself to relieve the tedium.”

Alenor laughed. “If you’ve been causing so much trouble, I’m surprised Lady Sofia let you come.”

“I reminded her of how much more likely it would be that I’d find a suitable husband at court,” Jacinta told her with a wink.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Alenor sighed, as she sat beside Jacinta on the settee, surprised at how much she had missed having someone to confide in.

“The feeling is mutual, little cousin,” Jacinta assured her. “My mother’s next plan was to introduce me to that slimy little turncoat Baston of Damita, so you’ve probably saved me from a fate worse than death. I’m yours to command, your majesty.”

“Will you stay, Jacinta? Will you be my lady-in-waiting?” “What’s the dreaded Lady Dorra going to have to say about that?”

“I don’t really care. I’m the Queen of Dhevyn now. I can have all the ladies-in-waiting I want.”

“Then I accept. On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“That you introduce me to all those big handsome Guardsmen you have lurking around the palace.”

Alenor laughed. “I thought you weren’t looking for a husband?”

“I’m not, Alenor. But just because I don’t want to buy anything doesn’t mean I can’t browse around the store.”

Impulsively, Alenor hugged her. “I wish you’d come sooner. It’s going to be so nice to have a real friend around.”

Jacinta studied her curiously. “I would have thought with you being a newlywed, you’d be too busy with your husband to want any other friends intruding, Allie.”

Very little got past Jacinta D’Orlon,
Alenor thought. Alexin was not just flattering her when he said that she was as sharp as a diamond blade.

“Can I tell you something, Jacinta? You must promise to keep it a secret. It’s worth more than my life if it got out.”

Jacinta’s smile faded. “What’s wrong?”

She lowered her eyes, and her voice to ensure they were not overheard. “I’ve never been with Kirsh. For that matter, I’ve never been with anyone. Kirsh has a mistress. She’s a Shadowdancer. I told him he couldn’t have us both.”

“Good for you.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“Of course not! I’d have done exactly the same thing.”

“Alexin said it was a foolish thing to do.”

“He’s a man. What would he know?”

Alenor smiled faintly. “He said you’re in league with the Baenlanders, too.”

“Then he has a big mouth.”

“Are you?”

“I’d be admitting to treason if I answered that, Alenor.”

“So you are,” she concluded. “Good. So am I.”

Jacinta stared at the queen for a moment and then shook her head. “I think it’s a good thing you did send for me, Alenor. By the sound of things, you’re swimming way out of your depth.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Alenor sighed.

“Then I think you’d better tell me,” her cousin said. “I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on around here.”

If Alenor had any lingering doubts about the wisdom of sending for Jacinta, they evaporated completely a few days later, the first time her cousin met Marqel. By then, Jacinta knew everything that was going on, including the identity of Kirsh’s paramour.

She had been a little concerned that Jacinta might do or say something that would inadvertently betray her. Marqel still believed that Alenor had no idea about her affair with Kirsh, and it would be courting disaster to let the Shadowdancer even suspect that Alenor knew the truth. But when she met the Shadowdancer for the first time, Jacinta greeted her warmly and immediately engaged Marqel in a conversation about the comparative benefits of lavender oil and jasmine oil. Jacinta had studied herb lore for a time. Jacinta had studied just about everything at one stage or another, Alenor was convinced. She was an intelligent young woman, doomed to a future as the wife of a nobleman because she had the misfortune to be born a female and was related by marriage to the Dhevynian royal family. As she watched Jacinta and Marqel talking, she smiled wistfully, thinking it was a pity she could not introduce her to Dirk. He would have liked Jacinta.

“Your majesty?”

“Yes, Dorra?” she replied, turning to glance over her shoulder at her senior lady-in-waiting, who had been more than a little put out since Jacinta’s arrival.

“Are you expecting his highness this evening?”

Jacinta’s head jerked up at the question. “Honestly, Lady Dorra! What sort of thing is that to ask our queen? Look at her, you’ve made her blush!”

“I simply wish to know if I should turn down both sides of the bed, Lady Jacinta,” Dorra responded testily. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question.”

“It’s a terrible question!” Jacinta declared. “I think the queen deserves at least a modicum of privacy, don’t you? I certainly don’t think it’s any of our business how often Prince Kirshov spends his night in her bed, and I’m appalled that you would embarrass Alenor by asking her such a thing so publicly. Don’t you agree, Lady Marqel?”

Not surprisingly, Marqel was firmly on Jacinta’s side. “I believe you’re right, Lady Jacinta,” she nodded, obviously warming to Alenor’s new lady-in-waiting. “The queen and her consort deserve our protection, not our questions.”

“Well said, Lady Marqel! I can see you and I are going to get along very well.”

Alenor really did blush this time, but mostly because she could not believe that Jacinta would so blatantly ridicule Marqel and Dorra, and that neither of them had the faintest idea that she was doing it.

“I think, my lady, that if the queen and her beloved wish to spend the night together, between the two of them they can work out how to turn down the sheets.”

Dorra glared at Jacinta. “Perhaps, when you’ve been at court a little longer, you will learn that some things can never be private, my lady. The sleeping arrangements of the queen is one of them.”

“Then we must deal with the matter discreetly, my lady, not ask about it as if we’re farmers checking to see if the bull is in the mating paddock.”

“What do you suggest, my lady?”

“I suggest, my lady, that neither you nor I should concern ourselves with such matters. Perhaps the Lady Marqel would be so kind as to keep an eye on things? She is Prince Kirshov’s spiritual adviser, is she not? I’m sure she’d be happy to inform us if she feels there is anything to be concerned about.”

“More than happy,” Marqel agreed willingly.

Alenor thought she’d burst from trying to hold in her laughter.

Faced with Jacinta’s logic and Marqel’s support, there was little Dorra could do.

“As you wish,” she muttered, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.

Jacinta sighed heavily. “Oh dear, I think I’ve upset her. Would you follow her, Marqel, and see that’s she’s not too distraught?”

Having just been made responsible for reporting Kirsh’s sleeping habits, which mostly involved visiting Marqel’s room, the Shadowdancer was positively gloating over the prospect. And she was obviously feeling very kindly disposed toward Jacinta.

“Of course, my lady.”

Marqel bowed and left the room after Dorra. Jacinta turned to Alenor with a grin.

“Well, that’s taken care of that awkward little situation, don’t you think?”

“Oh, Jacinta!” she laughed. “You’re terrible! How could you
do
that?”

“I’ve had a lot of practice perfecting righteous indignation,” she said. “Every time my mother trotted out a new hopeful, actually. But don’t get too comfortable with the arrangement. Sooner or later, somebody’s going to start asking questions, Allie. Particularly when you fail to produce an heir.”

“I’ll deal with that when they do,” she shrugged, her amusement fading in the face of the harsh reality of her situation.

“Well, I suppose we can think of something by then,” Jacinta said, coming to sit on the couch beside her. “I admire your bravery, though.”

“What bravery?”

“Putting up with Marqel in your entourage. If it was up to me, I’d slap that little Shadowslut into the middle of next week.”

“You mustn’t call her that!”

“Why not? It’s what she is. It’s what they all are.”

“I know. But the High Priestess is staying here in the palace. If she heard you saying that, you’d be ...”

“A lot sillier than I look,” Jacinta finished for her with a smile. “Don’t worry, Allie. I can bow and scrape and say my prayers to the Goddess with the best of them.
Better
than a lot of them, probably. I’ve actually
read
the
Book of Ranadon.
”

Chapter 53

The High Priestess waited for several days after Antonov left Kalarada before she sent a request to the new regent for an audience. She wanted to give him time to settle into his new role as both ruler and husband. Not that Kirsh was required to do much in either role. He was a figurehead almost as powerless as his new wife. Antonov had arranged it so that there was little damage either of them could do, while giving the impression to the rest of Dhevyn that they were doing something useful.

Belagren thought Antonov was making a big mistake with Kirshov. The boy was not nearly so easily controlled as Antonov believed, nor so dedicated to his father’s cause as the Lion of Senet imagined. Belagren had watched Kirsh grow up, and she knew, even better than his father, that he wanted to leave his own mark on the world, and that fulfilling his father’s dreams of global conquest was not actually the way he planned to do it. She understood what it was like for him to be the son of a man as powerful as Antonov, particularly a second son, whose role was essentially that of a spare heir.

She also suspected that Kirshov Latanya was not nearly as keen as his father to see Dirk Provin caught and brought back to Avacas.

There were two reasons for this that she knew of. The first was his friendship with Dirk, which Belagren suspected still lingered in the back of Kirsh’s mind and made him reluctant to wish ill on his old companion. The other reason was simple jealousy. Antonov was quite infatuated with the idea that he could turn Johan Thorn’s bastard into his disciple; that he could place the true heir of Dhevyn on the throne, confident in the knowledge that the boy belonged to him, body and soul.

That was never going to happen, of course and, after Dirk burned the
Calliope,
even Antonov’s patience was starting to fray. But while Antonov harbored his fantasy, Kirshov grew increasingly reluctant about the idea. In truth, Belagren did not blame him. Antonov’s plan had room for only one king of Dhevyn, and to place Dirk on the throne would mean unseating Kirshov.

It was typical of Antonov that he would so blindly believe in his son’s loyalty that he would imagine he could attempt such a thing without considering that there might be adverse consequences.

To her mind, the Lion of Senet had misjudged his son quite badly; however, as it suited her own purposes at the moment, she did not point it out to him. Right now, Antonov’s obsession with Dirk Provin had placed Kirsh right where she wanted him, and she intended to make full use of it. The High Priestess’s only concern was securing the future for herself and her Church. She actually didn’t give two figs about the next King of Dhevyn. She didn’t care if he was a Latanya or the son of some goatherd they picked at random off the streets.

Madalan announced Kirsh a few minutes earlier than their arranged time, which was a good sign. Perhaps the boy needed someone to talk to. She amended the thought as Kirsh crossed the room and bowed politely. He was a boy no longer. He was a man, and Antonov should remember that if he expected to control him.

“I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you by arriving early, my lady.”

“Of course not, Kirsh,” she assured him, indicating that he could sit. “I’m actually flattered that you chose to visit me. Now that you’re regent, I suppose, by rights, I should have come to you.”

Kirsh rolled his eyes. “I was glad of the excuse to escape, actually. Do you think the Dhevynians are plotting to destroy me by smothering me with trivia?”

Belagren smiled. “I wouldn’t discount the possibility. How’s Alenor dealing with it all?”

“Like a little trouper,” he remarked sourly. “She’s loving every minute of it. The more trivial and idiotic the problem the better for her. She’s got a new playmate, too. Her cousin, Jacinta D’Orlon.”

“Of Bryton?”

Kirsh nodded. “
There’s
a woman I’d like to see roasting on a Landfall fire. She pokes her nose into everything.”

“I hear Jacinta D’Orlon refused a very generous offer from Lord Birkoff recently.”

“Then Birkoff should consider himself a lucky man.”

Belagren smiled sympathetically. “Well, Alenor doesn’t have many close friends. You must allow her some.”

“She can have all the friends she wants,” Kirsh shrugged. “It’s overeducated, opinionated, condescending relations that I have a problem with. Her mother is just as bad. Rainan questions every decision I make. For someone who’s supposed to be retired, she’s awfully nosy about what’s going on.”

“It must be difficult for her,” Belagren agreed. “Would you like some tea?” She poured him a cup without waiting for him to answer.

“Well, if she doesn’t get off my back, she’ll find herself banished to the other side of the island to enjoy her retirement out of my way,” he warned, accepting the tea from her. Belagren smiled.
Oh, Anton, how foolish you are not to realize the potential
in your own son. You should forget Dirk and concentrate on Kirsh.

“Has it been any easier since your father returned to Avacas?” she inquired as she poured a cup for herself. She was not really thirsty, but she knew well the value of the mundane social niceties. They smoothed the way for much more important things, and gave the whole meeting an air of cozy familiarity.

Kirsh shrugged and sipped his tea. “It’s just one less person looking over my shoulder. And it’s not as if I can actually
do
anything, like declare war on Sidoria or something equally absurd. There are so many aides and secretaries running around the palace, I could disappear for a month, and I doubt anyone would notice that I was missing.”

She smiled sympathetically. “Why don’t you?”

“Disappear for a month? Don’t tempt me.”

Belagren put down her teacup and clasped her hands in her lap. She studied him closely for a moment. “Suppose I asked you to do something for me, Kirshov? Something that would require you to leave Kalarada for a while? Would you do it?”

Kirsh’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I might. It would depend on what it was that you wanted me to do.”

“What I want, Kirsh,” she said, watching him carefully, “is for you to go and get Dirk Provin for me.”

Kirsh stared at her silently. Warily. She was going to have to explain this very carefully if she wanted to keep him on her side.

“About a month ago, I received a letter from Dirk,” she continued. “In it, he expressed his desire to return to Avacas, but not in the role your father has in mind for him. He wants to join the Shadowdancers.”

“Why?”

“I think he’s sick of being on the run. The death of his mother has affected him badly, and he now fears for his brother and his brother’s wife. I believe he’s afraid Antonov will continue to destroy those closest to him unless he is convinced Dirk is out of his reach. You know as well as I that Dirk wants no part of your father’s plans to elevate him to the throne of Dhevyn. The Shadowdancers offer him the only chance he has of avoiding that fate. And your father, of all people, cannot deny him the opportunity to serve the Goddess.”

“It doesn’t sound like Dirk,” Kirsh said doubtfully.

“It’s been more than two years since you saw him last, Kirsh. He’s had a price on his head, he’s been hunted and pursued, and his mother has been executed. You’ve no way of telling how that has influenced his thinking.”

“But why me?” Kirsh asked, still not convinced. “If you know where he is, why not just send a detail to collect him? For that matter, why doesn’t he just surrender himself?”

She smiled understandingly. “Dirk is distrustful of all things Senetian, Kirshov, particularly since he burned your father’s ship. In his letter, he specifically asked that you come for him. Perhaps he feels he can trust you not to run a sword through him at first sight.”

“Then he’s wrong,” Kirsh snarled. “After what he did to Marqel, I’d just as soon see him dead.”

Belagren frowned.
Damn that girl
. “Kirshov, while I do not for a moment condone what he did to my Shadowdancer, I feel Marqel may hold some responsibility in the matter. She did drug him with the Milk of the Goddess, after all.”

The prince didn’t look happy to be reminded of that. “That doesn’t excuse what he did.”

“No, but neither does it warrant killing him, my dear. If anything, Dirk’s worst crime is showing a distinct lack of good judgment in his dealings with Marqel.” She raised a brow in his direction. “A sin the casual observer might consider
you
guilty of also.”

He seemed neither surprised nor concerned that Belagren knew of his affair with Marqel. “He murdered Johan Thorn. Have you forgiven him that, too?”

I was right. This boy really does have a good head on his shoulders when he decides to use it
. “The Goddess believes in true repentance, Kirshov, otherwise we would all be denied her blessing. Help me apprehend Dirk and if I discover that he’s lied to us, trust me, even your father won’t be able to devise a punishment more terrible than my wrath. But if he’s genuine in his desire to seek sanctuary in the arms of the Goddess, if he truly means it when he says that he wishes nothing more than to spend the rest of his life in study and prayer, then I can do no less than provide him with the opportunity.”

Kirsh thought about it for a moment, and then nodded slowly. “Where is he?”

“Omaxin. I believe he wanted to do some soul searching in that most holy of shrines before taking up service with the Goddess. He’s waiting for us there.”

“When did you want to leave?”

“As soon as possible. I will arrange an escort of my own people to meet us in Paislee. For obvious reasons, I wish to involve neither the Queen’s Guard nor your father until we have ascertained how genuine Dirk is in his desire to embrace the Goddess.”

“My father knows nothing about this?”

She shook her head. “I thought it wiser not to involve him at this stage. He will be ... disappointed ... when he learns that Dirk wishes to take up service with the Goddess rather than him.”

“Are you sure it’s wise not to inform him? He’ll be furious when he finds out that you knew where Dirk was and said nothing to him. He won’t be too thrilled with me for aiding you, either.”

Belagren met Kirsh’s eye evenly. This was the moment she would find out how well she had judged this young man.

“Do you intend to wait on your father’s pleasure for the rest of your days, Kirshov? Is every move you make as Regent of Dhevyn going to be dictated by your father?”

Kirsh hesitated before answering, and then he shook his head. “No.”

“Then you’ll aid me in this?”

“Gladly, my lady.”

“Thank you, Kirshov,” she replied, graciously. “I was certain that I could count on you. More tea?”