Eye of the Labyrinth (33 page)

Chapter 62

Tia snuggled closer to Dirk when she felt him stirring, not wanting to leave the comfort of his arms. Her head was resting on his chest as she listened to his heart beating, thinking it strange that she should find such comfort in it. Not so long ago, nothing would have made her happier than the thought that Dirk’s heart had stopped beating ...

After several awkward nights making do with the narrow camp bed, they had tossed it out of the tent and made up a bed on the ground, which proved much more comfortable and practical. Tia had given up trying to work out the whys and wherefores; given up trying to rationalize away her confusion. It seemed enough, at the moment, to just let it happen.

“You awake?” Dirk asked softly.

“Not really,” she murmured.

“We should be getting up. It’s well past second sunrise.”

“Why don’t you take the day off?” she suggested sleepily.

“And do what all day?”

She looked up at him with a sleepy grin.

He laughed. “I can’t
believe
you mean that, Tia.”

“It’s your fault. I was a nice girl until I met you.” She sighed and snuggled into his arms again. “I wonder what Lexie would have to say about this?”

“She’d probably tell you I’m a nice boy.”

“She did, actually.” Tia looked up at him curiously, comfortable enough with Dirk now to ask something that had puzzled her for months. “Why did you tell her?”

“Why did I tell who, what?”

“Lexie. About Johan.”

“I’m not sure,” he said after a moment’s thoughtful silence. “I just knew I couldn’t go on living under her roof pretending everything was fine. It seemed like the right thing to do.”

“She’s forgiven you.”

“Have you?” he asked.

Tia didn’t answer immediately, not even certain in her own mind how she felt about it any longer. Nothing was the same now; everything she had previously thought was true had been thrown into doubt. “I think I forgave you the night Morna died.”

“I’m sorry I asked you to do that.”

“I’m sorry you
had
to ask.”

He held her close for a moment and then he smiled. “We’re a mawkish pair this morning, aren’t we?”

She sighed heavily. “What
are
we going to do when we get back to Mil?”

He hesitated before answering. “Do we have to worry about that now? We’re a long way away from discovering anything of value in the cavern.”

He was right about that much. “But we’ve been here so long already. We can’t stay up here forever.”

“That’s true,” he agreed. “That’s why we really should get back into the cavern today. I’ve barely even begun to make sense of it.”

“I forgot how single-minded you can be,” she groaned. “You’re as bad as Neris sometimes.”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever met who can make intelligence sound like a curse.”

“Where I come from it is a curse,” she reminded him. “It gets you into all sorts of trouble.”

When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him and frowned. He had an odd expression on his face, as if she had caught him in an unguarded moment.

Dirk was like that. No matter how open he seemed, she could not avoid feeling there was a part of him that he always kept locked away from her. It worried her a little, but she tried not to dwell on it. There was so much to be forgiven, or at least put behind them, before they could even think of the future. For now, Tia had to content herself with the knowledge that whatever had happened between them these past sixteen days had radically altered everything she believed about Dirk Provin, and that so far, the change had been for the better.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, sensing something was wrong.

“Nothing, really. I was just thinking about us. About how strange it all is.”

“
Strange?
There you go, getting all romantic on me again.”

She smiled. “You know what I mean. Is this real, Dirk? Or is this just the inevitable result of two people spending way too much time alone out here in the wilderness? Would this have happened if we’d stayed in Mil?”

“Does it matter?”

She sat up and looked at him thoughtfully. “I think it does. Do you love me, Dirk?”

He pushed himself up on one elbow. His expression was serious, his eyes as unreadable as ever. “Do you trust me, Tia?” he asked in reply.

“I hate the way you always answer a question with a question. What’s trusting you got to do with it?”

“Trust is everything.”

“Then I trust you ...”

“You shouldn’t,” he warned suddenly, throwing back the covers. He climbed over the bedding, stood up and began to get dressed.

Tia stared up at him with concern. “What do you mean by that?”

He continued dressing and didn’t answer her.

“Tell me, Dirk,” she insisted.

He turned to face her as he tucked in his shirt and forced a smile. “Nothing, really. Forget it.”

She searched his face for some indication that he was hiding something from her. But Dirk could tell her the second sun had disappeared and she wouldn’t know he was lying until she looked over her shoulder and saw it shining in the sky behind him.

“Then don’t say things like that. It scares me.”

“I think I’ll go and work in the cavern for a while.”

“What about breakfast?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He smiled at her, but it seemed artificial, and when he left the tent, she lay down again and stared at the canvas roof for long time, unable to avoid the feeling that Dirk had quite deliberately avoided the question about whether or not he loved her.

Tia went hunting after breakfast, feeling the need for both the exercise and the solitude. Dirk’s odd comment about not trusting him still bothered her. She could not imagine why he would say such a thing, particularly as he’d spent much of the past two years trying to convince everyone in the Baenlands that he
could
be trusted.

She had become familiar with the lie of the land around Omaxin, and had found quite a few game trails in the foothills, and she now followed one that she had discovered on her last foray, but had not had time to investigate. The trail took her quite high above the ruins, and she stopped when she reached a small ledge to look down over the city. It was hard to appreciate the size of the place walking among the fallen buildings, but up here, she got a sense of how vast the city had been. It must have housed tens of thousands of people before it was destroyed. She glanced up at the smoking peak of Mount Probeus. Had they all died in the eruption, or had the lava been slow enough to let them flee the death trap their city had become?

Before she could wonder about the answer, she caught a glint of something to the south. Curious, she shaded her eyes with her arm and studied the landscape. Then she saw it again, the distinct flash of sunlight on metal. When she realized what it meant, Tia swore under her breath and abandoned her quest for game. She slung her bow over her shoulder, turned and sprinted back toward the ruins.

Even at a run, it took a long time to get back the camp. She had not realized how far she had wandered from the ruins. By the time she reached the entrance to the Labyrinth, she could clearly hear the jingle of tack and the sound of the advancing horsemen.

“Dirk!” she cried, running through the tunnel toward the cavern. She barely even noticed the darkness. “Dirk!”

“What’s wrong?” he asked, emerging through the gate at the sound of her panicked cry.

“Riders!”

He did not react immediately.

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “There’s a troop of riders heading this way! We have to get out of here!”

He nodded slowly and reached for her hand. “Tia—”

“They’re almost on us!”

He pulled her close and kissed her, hard and hungrily. Then he held her face between his hands and closed his eyes, touching his forehead to hers for a moment.

“I’m so sorry, Tia,” he whispered in a voice choked with regret.

He let her go and turned toward the entrance of the Labyrinth without looking back. Tia watched him leave with a feeling of dread. There was something poignant and terribly final in the way he had spoken; the way he had kissed her.

She followed him slowly, stopping in the shadows as he emerged into the light.

The horsemen had reached the Labyrinth and were milling about outside. The rider in the lead, on a huge, impatient gray stallion, was Kirshov Latanya. Just behind him, on a much more sedate mount, rode the High Priestess Belagren. The other riders consisted of their escort and a score of Shadowdancers.

The Regent of Dhevyn dismounted when he spied Dirk and drew his sword. The two men faced each other for a tense moment before either of them spoke.

“Kirsh.”

“Dirk.”

Dirk glanced at the sword and shook his head. “Put it away, Kirsh. Even if I was planning to fight you, I wouldn’t be stupid enough to face someone as well trained as you with a naked blade.”

Kirshov Latanya sheathed his blade with some reluctance, as the High Priestess dismounted and walked up beside the prince, pulling off her riding gloves.

“My lady.”

She glanced over Dirk’s shoulder at the Labyrinth for a moment, then met his eye.

“Did you open it?”

Dirk nodded. “As I said I would.”

Tia bit back a cry of despair as she realized what she was witnessing.

Belagren’s eyes lit up with excitement and she turned to Kirshov. “Tell your people to make camp. I want my Shadowdancers to get to work immediately.”

Kirsh nodded, turned back to the rest of the troop and began issuing orders. Dirk remained standing in front of the Labyrinth facing the High Priestess.

“You promised me something else, Dirk. I don’t see her.”

“She’s here.”

“No!” Tia cried in an agonized whisper. “No, no, no ...”

“Does she know about your plans to join the Shadowdancers?” Belagren asked.

Dirk glanced over his shoulder into the darkness, where he must have known Tia was listening to every word. “I imagine she does by now.”

It was the way he spoke, as much as his words, that sliced her to ribbons. It was that same bland, toneless voice he used the night he killed Johan. He was betraying her, with no hint of emotion, not a shred of conscience or regret. Even worse was the realization that this was no chance meeting. Dirk had obviously arranged it. He really was the traitor in their midst who, until recently—until she had been blinded by her own stupidity—she had always feared he was.

Tears of rage and betrayal and humiliation that she had allowed herself to think for a moment that he loved her—or that she loved him—blurred her vision as she slipped her bow from her shoulder. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely nock the arrow. Tears coursed silently down her cheeks, dampening the fletching as she drew back the string.

“Is she likely to cause trouble?” Belagren asked Dirk.

He turned his gaze back to the High Priestess and shook his head. “She’ll be no trouble at all,” he said, as she let the arrow fly with a wordless cry of anguish.

Chaos erupted outside as the arrow took Dirk in the back, knocking him to the ground. Tia let the bow slip from her hand and fell to her knees, crying too hard to see if the wound was fatal.

PART FOUR

BETRAYAL

Chapter 63

Dirk winced as Belagren stood over him, while one of her Shadowdancers treated his wounded shoulder. The young physician seemed competent enough, and the wound was a clean one. He wasn’t sure if Tia had deliberately missed, but he was grateful that the arrow had only passed through the muscle and flesh of his left shoulder and missed both the bone and any vital organs. He shouldn’t complain, he supposed. He had wanted Tia to appear upset when she learned of his treachery. It just had not occurred to him that she might be armed, or that her wrath might prove so potentially fatal.

I couldn’t have staged a more convincing scene if I’d planned it.

The tent flap opened and Kirsh ducked his head as he entered. He looked at Dirk with a frown. “You’re lucky your girl-friend is such a lousy marksman,” he remarked.

Dirk glanced up at Kirsh, gritting his teeth as the physician tugged on the stitches a little harder than he needed to. He said nothing. Tia’s safety lay not in his protection, but in his indifference.

Belagren turned to Kirsh. “What have you done with her?”

“She’s in one of the tents under guard. I had to tie her up, I’m afraid. She stabbed one man and bit another when they tried to disarm her.”

“Perhaps, when we’re done here, you should talk to her, Dirk,” Belagren suggested. “It’ll be much easier on everyone if you can convince her to behave in a civilized manner.”

“I think I’m the last person on Ranadon she wants to speak to at the moment.”

Kirsh nodded in agreement. “She was quite upset when she learned she hadn’t killed you.”

Dirk glanced at Kirsh and wondered what he was really thinking. Was he also sorry that Tia had missed his heart, or was he simply disgusted that Dirk had turned traitor to his own people? It was hard to tell with Kirsh. He prized honor almost above life itself, and by no stretch of the imagination could he describe what Dirk was doing as honorable.

The physician tied off the last stitch and made Dirk hold out his left arm so he could bandage it. When he was done, he gathered up his instruments and turned to the High Priestess. “If he keeps it clean, the wound should heal well enough.”

“Thank you, Stefan. You may leave us now.”

The Shadowdancer bowed to the High Priestess and the prince and left the tent.

“If you would excuse us, Kirshov, I’d like to speak to Dirk alone.”

Kirsh nodded and left without another word. His mood worried Dirk a little. It was unlike Kirsh to be so cold and aloof.

“He thinks you’re a traitor,” Belagren remarked, noticing his frown.

“I am a traitor,” he shrugged, a movement he immediately regretted when a sharp pain shot through his shoulder. “What did you tell him to get him here?”

“The same thing I’ve been telling his father since the Age of Shadows. Omaxin is a holy shine and the cavern is the Goddess’s Temple. Only in there can one hear her voice clearly.”

“It never ceases to amaze me how normally reasonable, intelligent people can rationalize away the most illogical arguments, all in the name of their faith.”

“It would be unwise for you to express such sentiments if you’re to convince Antonov you are genuine in
your
desire to embrace the Goddess.”

He smiled sourly as he gingerly pulled his bloodstained shirt over his bandaged shoulder. “
You
have to convince him, Belagren, not me. I could just as easily go to him and tell him what I know.”

“He wouldn’t believe you.”

“He will,” Dirk disagreed with a grimace as he raised his arm to get it in the sleeve. “I can
prove
you’re a charlatan. I wonder what Antonov would do to you if he ever discovered the depth of your deception?”

She began pacing the small floor space in the tent. “Don’t think you can frighten me, boy, just because you figured out how to open that gate.”

“You
should
be frightened of me, Belagren,” he warned, biting back the wave of agony that washed over him from his efforts to get dressed. “You should lie awake at night for fear of me.” He wondered if the fact that he was pale and sweating with pain somehow robbed the threat of substance.

“Then why don’t I just have Kirshov kill you now?” she suggested. “He would, you know. He’s still mad at you because he thinks you raped Marqel.”

“So have him kill me. All it means is that I’ll be dead and you’ll be no better off than you are now. Actually, it’ll be worse than that, because now you
know
something is going to happen and you won’t have a clue what it is or when it will occur. You made a huge mistake being so accurate about the return of the second sun, you know. Now Antonov expects the Goddess to be that specific every time.”

“You hinted at this important celestial event in your letter. I’ve kept my end of the bargain. What is it? And when will it happen?”

“You haven’t even begun to keep up your end, Belagren.”

“What more do you want? My protection? You’ll have that as a Shadowdancer.”

“I’m not wearing those ridiculous red robes, and I’m not joining your disgusting little cult as a glorified whore, so you can send me off every Landfall to screw the brains out of some disaffected noblewoman who thinks watching a man burn alive is the best way of worshipping her Goddess.”

“That was never my intention, Dirk,” she assured him. “You would be permitted to study, of course. Now that we have access to the cavern again, there is so much to be learned ...”

“I’m not staying in Omaxin, either. I’m sick of being stuck out here in the wilderness. Your Shadowdancers can copy down the information in the cavern and I can work from their notes. I’ve discovered I like my creature comforts. I want to go back to Avacas.”

“That could be dangerous. Antonov is rather peeved at you at the moment.”

Dirk smiled suddenly. “I wish I could have seen the look on his face when he saw the
Calliope
in flames.”

“That was a very mean-spirited thing to do, Dirk.”

“Burning my mother alive wasn’t exactly an act of kindness.”

Belagren sighed. “You’re not making this any easier on either of us.”

“I’m not trying to, Belagren. We have a business deal. Don’t insult my intelligence by pretending it will ever be anything more than that. You know I don’t believe in you
or
your imaginary Goddess. And that’s just fine, because if I did, I’d be of no use to you. I want to be safe, and I want a title with enough power behind it to ensure that I
stay
safe. Give me what I want and I’ll keep you in power, and the next chapter you write in the
Book of Ranadon
will do nothing but sing your praises. Cross me, and believe me, I’ll take you down when I fall.”

She stopped pacing for a moment and looked down at him. “I’m interested in why you chose to side with me, Dirk. If you’re so keen on securing power for yourself, why not simply surrender to Antonov? He’ll make you a king.”

“Have you taken a close look at what’s happened to the past few kings and queens of Dhevyn?” he asked with a bitter laugh. “I’m safer in Senet, I think.”

“Your cynicism astounds me. The boy we took from Elcast was never so cold or calculating.”

“The boy you took from Elcast no longer exists. He died the day the Butcher of Elcast was born.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy her. “You said you wanted a title. Did you have one in mind, or am I supposed to arrange for someone to lose his estates so that you can be kept in the manner to which you appear to have become accustomed?”

“I want to be your right hand,” he told her.

Belagren was horrified. “Out of the question!”

“Fine. I’ll just wait until we get to Avacas and have a nice long chat with my Uncle Antonov, shall I?”

She shook her head. “Better men than you have tried to shake his faith, Dirk Provin. Antonov won’t listen to your heresy.”

“Better, undoubtedly, but not smarter.” He met her eye evenly. “You’ve no idea who you’re dealing with, Belagren. If you think you can manipulate me the way you did Neris, you’re sadly mistaken. I’m not some besotted fool hanging out for his next dose of poppy-dust. The
only
thing you can give me—that I want or need—is protection from Antonov Latanya. In return, I’ll give you the information you need to keep fooling him and the rest of your pathetic followers into believing that you really are the Voice of the Goddess. Beyond that, I want nothing more but to be left alone.”

“But to make you my right hand? How would I explain such a thing?”

“That’s not my problem,” he said. “But if you want to know when the eclipse is due, you’d better find a way.”

“Is that what you were hinting at in your letter?” she demanded, seizing on his apparent slip. “There’s going to be an eclipse? When? When is it?”

“Soon enough that you’ll be able to reassure Antonov that the Goddess is still talking to you.”

“How do I know you’re telling me the truth?” she asked suspiciously. “You’ve not had long enough in the cavern to work out something like that.”

“I didn’t work it out. Neris told me about it.”

“Did he also happen to mention when the next Age of Shadows is due?”

Dirk smiled. “We’ll discuss that when I’m sitting at the right hand of the High Priestess of the Shadowdancers.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “I have Neris’s daughter. I might not even need you.”

“Don’t waste your time hoping she knows anything worthwhile,” Dirk scoffed. “She’s useless. Johan raised her, not Neris. She barely even acknowledges that her father still lives. If you can call the state he’s in ‘living.’ He’s completely insane, and so lost in the poppy-dust he can barely string a coherent sentence together.”

“Yet you claim he had the wit to tell you of the eclipse.”

“I spent two years as an outcast in that damn hellhole in Mil, Belagren. I had plenty of time to piece together his ramblings.”

“Does Tia Veran know of the eclipse?”

He shook his head and discovered that was nearly as painful as shrugging. “Her only value to you will be the Lion of Senet’s gratitude when you hand her over to him. Let Antonov find out for himself that she’s not worth anything to anyone.”

Belagren studied him closely for a moment. “And what exactly is her value to
you,
I wonder?”

“Tia Veran just shot me in the back,” he reminded her with cold indifference. “I’m not particularly interested in what you do to her.”

Belagren couldn’t tell if he was lying, and it frustrated her. “You’ve lost quite a bit of blood. You should rest,” she advised. “Tomorrow we’ll inspect the cavern, and you can tell my people what you want them to do.” She turned for the tent flap, then glanced over her shoulder at him. “You’d better be worth the trouble you’re causing me, Dirk Provin.”

“I’ve just thought of the title I want.”

“What is it?” she snapped.

“The Lord of the Shadows,” he said. “I want to be known as the Lord of the Shadows.”