Second Sons - Lord Of The Shadows Part 19

"I think I'll have them checked, anyway."

"If you think you can spare the time," Dirk agreed.

"I've got plenty of time, Dirk."

"Have you?" Dirk wandered over to the open doors leading out onto the veranda. Mil was a smoking ruin below him. His nonchalant tone was at complete odds with his inner turmoil. Even the longhouse was nothing more than a charred sh.e.l.l. Dirk felt physically ill. "If Tia Veran managed to slip out of the Baenlands with Misha," he added, "you've got very little time to find them before she goes to ground again."

Kirsh was not so easily put off the idea of searching the caves. "But I don't know she has slipped out of the Baenlands with Misha.""Of course she has," he scoffed. "Look around you, Kirsh. Those bodies on the beach don't belong to the villagers. They're mostly sailors from the Orlando. Tia Veran, your brother and most of the population of Mil are long gone. I warned you they'd probably been tipped off. You'd be far more gainfully employed finding out who did that, than wasting time here on a lost cause, giving the pirates-incidentally-all the time in the world to stash Misha somewhere you'll never find him."

Dirk sounded so reasonable that Kirsh had little choice but to agree. While he was determined to raze Mil, he was even more determined to find Misha. The thought that he might lose his brother completely if he lingered too long here in the Baenlands was an easy fear to encourage.

But it was time to change the subject. Dirk had been responsible for enough death for one day. He didn't want Kirsh dwelling on the idea of searching the caves. "What have you got there?" he asked, indicating the papers Kirsh had been examining when he walked in.

"These are Johan Thorn's journals."

"They would make some interesting reading," Dirk remarked.

"They are the ravings of a heretic," Kirsh replied. "I'm going to burn them along with the rest of this place."

"They're an important historical record, Kirsh," Dirk told him, aghast at the idea. "You can't just destroy them out of hand."

"Care to wager on that?"

A knock at the door prevented Dirk from being able to argue his case. Alexin Seranov and the captain of Kirsh's Senetian Guard came in. Between them, they held two prisoners, both of them women. One of them was Finidice, the old servant who had tended Johan and his family since they had fled to Mil. The other woman, Dirk realized with a sinking heart, was Lexie Thorn.

"We found these two hiding in the pantry," Sergey announced, shoving Finidice forward. The old woman turned and hissed at them. She was unable to say anything more. Belagren had cut out her tongue during the Age of Shadows.

Kirsh studied the women for a moment and then looked at Dirk. "Who are they?"

"The old woman is called Finidice," Dirk told him in a disinterested voice. "She was the cook here.

The other woman is... Alexandra... somebody or other. I never did learn her full name. She was a seamstress, I think. I saw her around the village now and then while I was here. Neither of them is important."

Lexie met his eye, but she was too smart to let her surprise show. He hoped she understood what he was trying to do and that, under these awkward circ.u.mstances, it was all he could do for her.

Kirsh stared at the women for a moment and then shrugged. "Kill them, Sergey."

"I've got a better idea," Dirk suggested, before Sergey could act on the order.

Kirsh looked at him in surprise. "What better idea? I've got enough prisoners to find out what I need to know without these two, and you just said they weren't important."

"Have Alexin do it."

Sergey appeared disappointed. Lexie was stunned. Finidice hissed at him. Alexin Seranov stared at him with eyes burning with fury and hatred. Even if he hadn't been secretly allied with the Baenlanders, Lexie was his aunt, and what Dirk was asking of him was unconscionable.

"Why?" Kirsh asked.

"Because the whole purpose of bringing the Queen's Guard on this little excursion was to make itpatently clear to the world they are allied with you, and through your regency, with Senet. You let Sergey do all the killing in Tolace. Right now, all the blood is on Senetian hands. Share it around a bit, Kirsh. Have the Queen's Guard put a few innocent women and children to the sword. Then they'll be feared as much as your father's soldiers, and they won't be able to take the high moral ground the next time you order them to do something they find unpalatable."

Kirsh stared at Dirk, obviously surprised at his harsh and uncompromising reasoning.

"You have a point," he conceded after a moment of heavy silence, then turned to Alexin and nodded. "Do it."

Alexin threw Dirk a look that promised savage vengeance for forcing him into such a dreadful corner. He drew his sword reluctantly.

"Not here!" Dirk snapped. "For the G.o.ddess's sake, Captain, we don't need to watch. Take them outside, at least. His highness wants you to kill them, and while I'm sure he appreciates the sentiment, there's no need to prove your loyalty quite so enthusiastically by doing it here. We don't need to suffer through the pitiful death throes of a couple of serving women."

At last, comprehension dawned on Alexin. "I'm sorry, my lord," he muttered, and then he pointed the sword at Lexie, who also had the presence of mind to understand that Dirk was desperately trying to save them. "Out!"

Sergey stood back to let them pa.s.s. "Need a hand?"

"I can take care of a couple of serving women without any Senetian help," Alexin told him coldly.

The Senetian smiled and said nothing further. As soon as Alexin and the women had left, he turned to Kirsh. "Did you want me to follow him and make sure he does it, your highness?"

Kirsh shook his head. "That man just saved my life, Captain."

"It doesn't automatically follow he'll kill in cold blood for you, sire."

As if in answer to Sergey's doubts, a scream echoed through the house, and was abruptly cut off.

Kirsh glanced at Sergey and shrugged. "Does that answer your question, Sergey?"

"He really did it," the captain laughed. "I'm astonished."

"Well, when you're finished being astonished, Captain," Dirk remarked frostily, "do you think you could arrange to have some men sent in here to pack up these papers?"

Kirsh glared at him. "I told you, Dirk. I'm burning them."

"I can't let you do that, Kirsh," Dirk told him. "These aren't just the ravings of a heretic. They are the personal journals of the man who very nearly brought the Church of the Suns down. How he did it cannot be destroyed just because you're feeling a little miffed. As Lord of the Shadows, and the right hand of the High Priestess, I am claiming these records on behalf of the Church."

Kirsh glanced at Sergey uncertainly. "Can he do that?"

"I'm no expert on Church law, your highness, but I suspect he can."

Kirsh turned his attention back to Dirk. "Are you sure that's the only reason you want them?"

"What other reason would there be, Kirsh?"

"Take the d.a.m.n journals, then," he snapped impatiently, rising to his feet. "I've got more important things to worry about. Sergey! Get some men in here to pack these up and then burn this d.a.m.ned house to the ground."

"I'll do it," Dirk offered.Kirsh didn't seem to care. "Whatever, Dirk. Just see that it's done."

Sometime later, Dirk took a last walk through Johan's house as the soldiers packed up the dead king's papers, ready for removal to the Tsarina. The house reeked of oil. It had been splashed around quite liberally to accelerate the flames once Johan's journals had been removed. Memories Dirk didn't feel strong enough to deal with crowded his mind, demanding his attention. He forced them away. He couldn't afford the luxury of nostalgia.

The last room he checked was Tia's bedroom. There was little of her presence left. Most of her possessions were gone. Dirk wondered where she had taken Misha, thinking she must have found a safe haven in Dhevyn somewhere.

Then Dirk noticed a dagger embedded in the wall near the bed. He walked across to examine it, his stomach lurching when he discovered why. Pinned to the wall was the silver bow and arrow necklace he'd given Tia in Bollow. The blade had been driven right through the silver wire, almost cutting it in half.

Dirk reached up to pull the dagger free. It took him a little time to work the blade out of the wall. The anger and the pain behind the thrust that had driven the knife into the wood must have been considerable, and he did not doubt for a moment that it was all directed at him.

He slipped the dagger into the side of his boot and stared at the delicate silver chain for a moment, wondering if it had been a random act of fury on Tia's part or if she had left it here as a message to him.

"Dirk."

He jumped with fright, and spun around to find Lexie and Finidice emerging from the wardrobe where they'd been hiding.

"Get out of here!" he hissed. "We're about to torch the place!"

Lexie nodded. "I know. As soon as the flames take hold, we'll slip down the back stairs. Thank you for what you did."

"It was little enough in light of what else I've done recently," he said, glancing nervously down the hall. If they were discovered with him now, it wouldn't just be Alexin who'd be facing Kirsh's wrath.

"Our people in the caves?" Lexie asked, uncertainly.

"Are safe for now. I think I've talked Kirsh out of searching them."

"And it was you who stopped the fleet in the Straits, too, I'll wager, to give us time to get them clear?"

"I'm just trying to survive, Lexie..."

"I think you've a much grander plan in mind than that, Dirk." She smiled at him and then crossed the room and kissed his cheek. "I've no idea what it is, but I wish you well."

Dirk couldn't meet her eye. "Lexie..."

"It's all right," she a.s.sured him. "You don't need to explain. Did you want me to give Tia a message for you?"

"Tell her... tell her you didn't see me, Lexie."

"Are you sure?" she asked, searching his face.

"Yes."

She nodded and stepped back. "Good luck, Dirk."Footsteps sounded along the hall. Dirk hurriedly pushed Lexie back out of sight and walked to the door.

"We're ready, my lord," one of Sergey's soldiers informed him. "The papers have all been taken down to the beach."

"Then let's burn this place," Dirk ordered. The soldier saluted and headed back toward the front of the house.

Dirk glanced back at Tia's room. Lexie was helping old Finidice climb through the window onto the veranda. She turned and smiled wanly at Dirk as she lifted her skirts to climb through after her faithful maid.

"I think Johan would be proud of you, Dirk," she said, and then she was gone.

Filled with unease, Dirk hurried back through the house to Johan's study, s.n.a.t.c.hed the torch from the trooper who was preparing to set the house alight and ordered everyone out of the building. Then he walked back through the house methodically and deliberately setting fire to each room.

He came to Tia's room last, and hesitated for a moment before he tossed the torch onto the oil-soaked bed. Uncaring of the flames searing his face and scorching his clothes, Dirk walked back though the burning house and out onto the veranda. The smoke made his eyes water-at least he told himself it was the smoke. When he emerged, he glanced back at the hill behind the house and noticed two figures scrambling up the slope to safety.

As the flames intensified behind him, Dirk walked down the steps to the path and headed back to the beach without looking back.

PART TWO.

LORD OF THE SHADOWS, LORD OF THE SUNS.

Chapter 27.

Prince Oscon of Damita lived in Garwenfield, a tiny hamlet some four hundred miles north of Tanchen, the capital of Damita, where his son now governed the country Oscon had once ruled absolutely. Garwenfield had been in the Damitian royal family for generations, kept as a retreat for those seeking solitude and an escape from the pressures of court life. It was inaccessible by road, its small lagoon protected by a wide reef.

Since the Age of Shadows, the name Garwenfield no longer conjured up images of pristine white beaches, of tall palms curved by the weight of their foliage waving gently in the warm breeze, of long, languid days and peaceful tropical nights. The name Garwenfield had become synonymous with disgrace and defeat.To Tia, raised on the black sands of Mil, in the shadow of a volcano, it seemed unnatural, like a painting done by an artist who had drawn a place imagined, rather than seen. Tall palms shaded the path to the house, which was a sprawling, thatched building not far from the beach. The few other scattered houses she could see through the trees, Tia guessed, must belong to the staff who cared for the aging prince.

Tia and Mellie helped Reithan secure the Wanderer, and then waded ash.o.r.e. There was a thin, pockmarked man waiting for them on the beach, staring at them suspiciously, as they approached.

"This is a private estate," the man informed them, his hand on his hips. "We do not welcome visitors here."

"I'm Reithan Seranov."

Apparently, Reithan's name was enough to gain them entry. The pockmarked man studied him for a moment and then nodded and looked at the two girls.

"Who are they?"

"This is Tia and Mellie."

"And the men on the boat?"

"I'd rather speak to Prince Oscon about them."

"He doesn't like to be disturbed," the man warned.

"I think he'll make an exception for us," Reithan predicted.

The man shrugged. "Be it on your own head then. I'm Franco, the caretaker. Follow me."

With Franco in the lead, they walked along the sandy path toward the main house. It was a large building with a deep veranda surrounding it, similar in construction to Johan's house in Mil, although it wasn't stilted and the walls were constructed of stone rather than wood. Tia looked around curiously as they entered the cool dimness of the main hall. The house was quite untidy, cluttered with books and scrolls and artifacts from all over Ranadon. It must have taken Oscon a lifetime to collect them all.

Franco disappeared into another part of the house, returning a few minutes later with a large, white-haired man with a thin beard and a thunderous look on his face.

"Which one of you is Seranov?" he demanded as he bl.u.s.tered into the room. He squinted at the three of them shortsightedly, then fixed his eyes on Reithan. "Well, as you're the only fellow, I suppose it must be you."

Reithan bowed to the prince. "That's a reasonable a.s.sumption, your highness."