Eye of the Labyrinth (45 page)

Chapter 86

The view from the veranda of Johan’s house had always been spectacular, but Tia hardly noticed it as the second sunrise began to wash the red light from the eastern horizon. The delta was quiet, the village below still sleeping; the people garnering their strength for the trying days ahead.

“You’re up early.”

Tia glanced over her shoulder to find Lexie walking barefoot along the veranda, still in her nightdress.

“So are you.”

“Mellie had a restless night,” Lexie explained. “She’s taking the news about Dirk rather badly.”

“So is Eryk,” Tia said. “He cornered me down in the longhouse last night. He seems to think it’s all my fault. I suppose he doesn’t understand what’s happening.”

“Neither does Mellie, really.”

“I wish there was some way we could have kept it from her.”

Lexie shrugged as she took the chair beside Tia. “Much as I’d like to, there’s no way to protect your children from learning some of the harsher lessons in life. And it’s probably not a good idea to try. Have you been to bed at all?”

Tia shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep.”

Lexie said nothing, waiting for Tia to elaborate. When she showed no inclination to speak further, she placed a comforting hand on Tia’s shoulder. “Would you like to talk about it, dear?”

“Not particularly.”

“What happened, Tia?” she asked gently.

“I told you what happened yesterday,” Tia shrugged. “I told everybody.”

“And what about the parts you left out?”

Tia glanced at her foster-mother suspiciously. “How do you know I left anything out?”

“It’s a gift that comes with motherhood, I think,” she said with a smile. “This ability to see when someone you love is hurting. Even when they’re trying very hard not to let it show.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Not to anybody else,” Lexie assured her. “But I’ve known you since you were two years old, Tia. I’ve kissed away the pain from your skinned knees and your wounded pride on more than one occasion.”

“I wish you could kiss this one away.” She dropped her head into her hands for a moment, wishing she could shut out the world for a while. “I feel like such a fraud.”

“When have you ever been a fraud?”

“Yesterday, when Dal and Porl and Reithan were all patting me on the back, applauding me for my good sense because I was the only one who didn’t trust Dirk Provin.”

“Perhaps you should tell me the whole story, Tia. Even the painful bits.”

Tia shrugged. “There’s not that much more to tell. Dirk and I went to Omaxin, he opened the gate, and then he betrayed us.”

“And?” Lexie prompted.

“Do you remember what Johan used to say about happiness?” she asked instead. “He said if you ever experienced a moment of total bliss you should die, right at that moment, because the rest of your life would be downhill from there.”

Lexie smiled. “I remember. He nearly frightened Mellie to death with it when she was small. For a while there, every time she laughed at something she’d get very concerned that she might die immediately afterward.”

Tia smiled briefly at the memory, and then her smile faded. “That’s what it was like, Lexie. Bliss. Sixteen days . . . count them...sixteen glorious, blissful days, before he turned on me.”

Lexie absorbed that for a time before answering. She seemed neither shocked nor surprised by the revelation.

“Do you love Dirk, Tia?”

“I thought I did.” She laughed bitterly. “Reithan told me once that I needed to fall in love a few times before I could really understand what it was like.”

“And what’s your verdict?”

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “While it lasts. But the part where he betrays you by handing you over to your worst enemy to be tortured and killed takes the shine off it a bit.”

“I imagine it would,” Lexie agreed with a faint smile. “Would it help if I tell you that you’ll learn to live with it?”

“It would help more if you told me it goes away.”

“I don’t know that the pain of a first love ever does,” Lexie mused. “Not completely.”

“Did you know that I’m afraid of the dark?” she asked suddenly, not sure why it was important.

“I didn’t think you were afraid of anything, Tia.”

“Neither did I, until I stepped into the Labyrinth. But you know what
really
hurts?” she said, her self-pity slowly being replaced by anger. “I never saw it coming. Goddess, Lexie, I went with him to Omaxin to make sure something like this
didn’t
happen. I let everyone down.”

“Now you’re punishing yourself for no good reason,” Lexie scolded. “If Reithan or Porl had been worried Dirk would betray them,
they
should have said something or done something to prevent it happening. You can’t blame yourself for everyone else’s mistakes.”

“I don’t need to,” she said. “Mine was spectacular enough.”

Lexie smiled. “I don’t mean to sound unsympathetic, darling, but you’re not the first woman to fall for the wrong man.”

“I want to kill him, Lexie, so badly I can taste it.”

“Because he betrayed you—or because he lied to you?”

“Dirk didn’t lie to me. I lied to myself. He told me what he was doing, every step of the way. He never once said he loved me, either, but I was too stupid to notice. He even warned me that I shouldn’t trust him.”

Lexie was silent for a time, and then she looked at Tia thoughtfully. “Tia, are you absolutely certain Dirk
has
betrayed us?”

She glanced at Lexie with a scowl. “No, Lexie, I think he handed me over to the High Priestess out of genuine concern for my welfare, and then he joined the Shadowdancers and decided to tell the Lion of Senet everything he knows about us because he’s such a sweetheart.”

“I know you’re hurting,” Lexie said with reproach. “But I don’t deserve to be spoken to in that manner.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “I just can’t believe you won’t accept the truth about him.”

“I can accept the truth, dear. I’m just not entirely convinced I’ve heard it yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“Dirk was here for more than two years, Tia. I don’t care how clever he is, nobody can fake sincerity for that long. What I’m hearing just doesn’t sit right. If Dirk is really as devious as you claim, why warn you not to trust him? He’d be doing his utmost to assure you of the complete opposite. And why send that message to Reithan? For that matter, why would Kirshov Latanya suddenly decide to let you go?”

“Because at least
he
has a grain of honor left,” she suggested sourly.

“You don’t think it had anything to do with the fact that Kirshov Latanya and Dirk Provin were once best friends? That perhaps he released you because Dirk asked him to?”

“No, I don’t,” Tia declared flatly. “I think you’re clutching at sunbeams, Lexie. Dirk has betrayed us and there’s no nice way of putting it, no favorable light to study it by.”

“Perhaps you’re right,” she conceded. “I’ve just got a feeling there’s more to this than we know.”

“Well, as soon as you figure out what sort of brave and noble plan required Dirk Provin to betray all his friends and take a position of power in a religion he knows to be a sham, while ensuring the Lion of Senet has enough information to wipe us all off the face of Ranadon, would you let me know what it is? I’m sure it will be fascinating.”

Lexie shook her head sadly. “Don’t let bitterness and anger consume you, Tia.”

“You gave me that piece of advice once before, Lexie. Do you remember? You told me I should give Dirk the benefit of the doubt. Well, I did what you asked. And I didn’t just give him the benefit of the doubt; I gave him everything. Threw myself at him, if you want to know the sordid truth. And guess what? I got screwed—in more ways than one.”

“Your language always gets more vulgar when you’ve been to sea,” Lexie scolded.

Tia stared at Lexie in amazement. “You won’t accept it at all, will you? You don’t want to admit Dirk betrayed us. You think that because he’s Johan’s son, he must have been born with some inherent streak of nobility that puts him above such a base and despicable act. You’re like that with everything! Twenty years in the Baenlands and you don’t even want to admit that this is your life now. You’re always telling Mellie to mind her manners because she’s a princess. You still act as if any day now, we’re all going back home, and you’ll be a lady and a noblewoman again, with nothing more serious to concern yourself with than next season’s wardrobe. What difference does it make, Lexie, if Mellie doesn’t act like she was raised at court? She’s never going to see the inside of a palace, any more than you will.”

“Some habits die hard, Tia,” Lexie explained. “Others are so much a part of you that without them, you’re not yourself any longer.”

Tia sighed heavily, regretting her outburst. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“What am I going to do, Lexie?”

“Take one day at a time,” Lexie suggested. “Actually, there’s not much else you can do. Once you’ve stopped wallowing in self-pity, things will begin to look up.”

“I’ve always despised people who wallow in self-pity.”

“And that’s a large part of the problem.” Lexie reached over and squeezed her hand with a smile. “You can’t alter the direction of the wind, Tia...but you can adjust your sails. You’ll get through this and be stronger for it.”

“Maybe,” she agreed reluctantly. “But right now I have a more pressing problem.”

“What’s that, dear?”

“How am I going to break this to Neris?”

Chapter 87

If she didn’t know better, sometimes Belagren was prepared to believe that there really was a Goddess. The summons she had received from Antonov to attend him the previous night had proved the most fortuitous thing that had happened lately, and she still could not quite believe her luck.

Misha Latanya had been kidnapped—and hopefully killed—by the Baenlanders.

In a thousand years, she could not have thought of a more fitting way to dispose of the elder prince. It left her totally blameless, totally free of guilt. She even spared the poor young man a moment’s sympathy, thinking it was such an unfortunate fate to befall someone whose greatest sin was getting in her way.

That the young woman who had apparently kidnapped Misha from the Hospice fit the description of the recently escaped and still missing Tia Veran, just made it all the more deliciously ironic. The look on Kirshov’s face when he had heard the news was priceless. The younger prince obviously blamed himself for his brother’s plight. He was, after all, the one responsible for letting her escape.

Dirk Provin’s reaction was harder to fathom. He had listened to Barin’s report with no visible reaction. That could have been simply because he was hearing it for the second time. Or there might have been a more sinister reason.

The boy was uncomfortably hard to read. She made a mental note to herself to spend more time with him in the future. She did not know Dirk nearly well enough; could not tell when he was lying—or even when he was joking—much of the time. Belagren’s strength lay in her ability to read people, and not being able to work out what was going on behind those cold gray eyes was a dangerous inadequacy.

Still, knowing that Misha was out of the way had been the most welcome news she’d had since learning that Dirk Provin had decided to join her and give her back the Voice of the Goddess.

Antonov was furious, of course. Belagren suspected his anger was driven as much by the thought that the Baenlanders had the audacity to kidnap his son as it was by actual fear for the young man. It was the insult that enraged him, not the act itself. Deep down, Belagren knew, Antonov Latanya would not grieve his eldest son long if he found out he was dead. But he would tear the world apart because someone had the temerity to take something of his without asking.

Belagren walked to the window of the rooms kept for her here in the palace, wondering what time it was. The red sun was still shining, and there was no hint yet of the second sun rising, but it felt close to morning. She was tired, but although she had not slept yet, she was too wound up to seek her bed.

What a strange few months it’s been,
she mused.

After years of worrying, everything was finally falling into place. They were through that damn Labyrinth, and Rudi had sent her a letter last week assuring her that the first section of the wall they had been assiduously copying down was almost complete. As soon as he had arranged for the notes to be copied a second time—she was not foolish enough to leave the only copy in Dirk’s hands—he would dispatch them to Avacas, and Dirk could finally get to work on them.

Better yet, there was an eclipse coming. She still did not have the details, but that was something she intended to do something about this morning. Dirk had prevaricated long enough. She had given him everything he wanted. It was time for him to give something in return.

In fact,
she thought,
the timing couldn’t be better for an
eclipse
. Antonov would appreciate a sign from the Goddess right now. A little taste of the shadows would go a long way to reminding him who it was who spoke with the Voice of the Goddess.
And all I need now is for that idiot Paige Halyn to die,
and have Madalan appointed Lady of the Suns, and everything will
be perfect.

The first thing she intended to have Madalan do in her new role was disband the last remnants of the Sundancers. While he was gloating over how he had foiled her ambition, Paige Halyn had reminded her of a fact she had overlooked in her haste to secure the position of her Shadowdancers. There were still a lot of Sundancers out there, and many of them were well-respected members of the communities they served. They needed to be taken out and replaced by her people. Within a few years, nobody would even remember what a Sundancer was.

Perhaps I’ll make it easier to become a Shadowdancer,
she thought.
I could ease up on the requirements a little, even welcome
some Dhevynians into the fold.

The experiment with Marqel had not been a complete disaster. In fact, the girl had been positively helpful these past few weeks. Dirk Provin had asked for her assistance, which had made Belagren a little suspicious, until she realized how much he enjoyed tormenting the poor girl. He was exacting his own revenge on Marqel the Magnificent for accusing him of rape.

That boy had a streak of sadism in him that she had not previously suspected.

I wonder if he’s sleeping with her?
she thought. He might be, these days, just to remind Marqel who was the master and who was the servant. Or he might not be—smart enough not to give the young Shadowdancer a chance to use her considerable talents in the bedroom to gain the upper hand.

Kirsh was still besotted by Marqel, but he was being very cautious while Alenor was ill. Perhaps he even felt a little guilty? Men were strange like that, sometimes—blaming themselves for things they had nothing to do with, and refusing to take responsibility for things that were blatantly their fault.

The lingering suspicion that Alenor’s miscarriage was not an accident was fading from everyone’s mind, mostly because nobody could think of a plausible reason why the Queen of Dhevyn would deliberately abort her own child. She was obviously shattered by the loss, as was Kirsh, who had been morose and moody ever since it happened. Yuri had warned Belagren that Alenor might not be able to have any other children, but he did not know for certain, so she was prepared to hope for the best.

All in all, she concluded, things were going quite well.

A knock at her door surprised her at this early hour. She opened the door herself, to find Marqel standing outside.

“Have you any idea of the time, girl?”

“I need to speak to you, my lady.”

“And it can’t wait until after second sunrise?”

“It’s about Dirk.”

Belagren stood back and let her enter. She closed the door and then turned to look at Marqel suspiciously.

“What’s the matter?”

Marqel looked down, almost embarrassed. “He’s been making...advances toward me.”

Belagren snorted in exasperation. “So?”

“But I’m with Kirsh...”

“You’re
with
whoever I tell you you’re with, Marqel. If Dirk Provin wants you, he can have you.”

“Kirshov loves me.”

“That’s his problem. In fact,” she added, “if anything, it might even be time for you to move on. This business with Alenor makes it very awkward for Kirshov to be seen as anything other than a doting husband, especially while he and Alenor are still here in Avacas.”

“But Dirk Provin? He hates me, my lady,” she insisted. “He’s only doing this to persecute me. Why do you let him?”

“Dirk Provin can dip you in custard and serve you up at the High Table for dessert, for all I care, Marqel. My only concern is that he gives me what he’s promised, and if he wants to amuse himself by tormenting you, then that’s a price I’m quite willing to pay.”

The young Shadowdancer scowled for a moment and then lowered her eyes submissively. “I’m sorry, my lady. I shouldn’t have questioned your wisdom.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Belagren agreed grumpily, She had ruined Belagren’s good mood with her whining.

“Would you like some tea, my lady?” Marqel offered, no doubt wishing to ingratiate herself back into Belagren’s favor.

“Yes, I would,” the High Priestess decided.

“I’ll make it myself,” Marqel offered, with a small curtsy.

Belagren stepped away from the door, and Marqel hurried from the room to fetch her tea. The High Priestess wandered back to the window. The first faint hint of yellow was beginning to lighten the red sky in the east.

She smiled to herself, thinking that at least now she knew the answer to the question about Dirk’s intentions toward Marqel. He really was a sadistic little bastard, wasn’t he? She would have to bear that in mind when dealing with him. Still, she was not worried about Marqel. The girl had been a whore before Belagren took her off the streets of Elcast. She had probably dealt with far worse in her rather sordid career than Dirk Provin’s mild attempts to humiliate her. In fact, Marqel was coming along quite nicely, after a few minor hiccups. She might prove very useful in the years to come.

A little while later, the door opened again and Marqel let herself in, awkwardly balancing a tray in one hand. She walked across the room and placed the tray on the desk near the window.

The cup was steaming and smelled faintly of peppermint.

“Will that be all, my lady?”

“Yes, Marqel. You may go.”

“Don’t let it go cold,” Marqel warned.

“I won’t.”

Marqel curtsied with suitable respect and let herself out. Belagren picked up the cup and sipped the tea appreciatively, turning to watch the second sun rise as she did each morning.

There it was, right on cue. Right where it should be.

Yes,
she thought contentedly, taking another sip of Marqel’s peppermint tea.
All in all, things are really going rather well.