"He'll be gone by the time your people get here, heading for Mil. I'll make sure n.o.body else in the palace stands in your way."

"Can you do that?" she asked doubtfully. "Have you that much power, Dirk?"

He smiled wanly. "I got rid of Dorra for you, didn't I?"

Alenor looked for some hint he spoke the truth, but she had no more chance of reading his thoughts than anybody else. "Dirk, promise me that what you're doing isn't going to hurt Dhevyn."

"I promise, Allie. You just have to trust me."

"n.o.body else does."

"That doesn't matter if you still believe in me."

Alenor smiled faintly. She did trust him, and with good reason. He hadn't betrayed her secret. If Dirk had meant to do her or Dhevyn harm, he could have destroyed her weeks ago. He certainly had enough ammunition to ruin her. "I believe in you, Dirk. I just wish you'd make it a little easier for me."

"I wish I could make it a little easier for all of us," he sighed.

"Be careful."

"You're a great one to talk." He rose to his feet and looked down at her with concern. "You be careful, Allie. Go home and keep Dhevyn safe."

"And what will you be doing in the meantime?"

"Trying to stay alive," he said with an unconvincing laugh.

Alenor would have laughed, too, but she understood all too well that Dirk wasn't joking.

Chapter 10.

Dirk's visit with Alenor disturbed him more than he let her know. It was dangerous for her in Avacas, but not for the reasons she imagined. Alenor feared Antonov would learn her secret. She was frightened Kirsh might tell his father the child she lost was not his. But that danger paled into insignificance against how close Marqel had come to killing Alenor. And Dirk was still worried Marqel would try something else to harm her. The Shadowdancer's jealousy had already cost Alenor her child.

Dirk could do little to solve the problem, however, other than warn Alenor to be on her guard, and keep Marqel confined. The latter was becoming increasingly difficult as Antonov demanded an answer to whether or not the G.o.ddess had truly spoken to her.

Dirk walked down the stairs to the third floor, where Marqel's room was located, thinking he would have to speak to Antonov soon. Belagren's funeral would take place the day after tomorrow. Antonov had to know by then if the G.o.ddess had taken Belagren from him so Marqel could step into her place.

Or if another, more sinister hand had intervened.

Dirk was still furious that Marqel had killed Belagren, but made a point of not letting Marqel realize it. His only lapse had been on the morning Belagren died, when he had slapped that thoughtless, murderous little b.i.t.c.h for what she'd done. He'd never hit a woman before; never even wanted to. But for Marqel, he found himself willing to make an exception. It was. .h.i.t her or strangle the breath out ofher, so in his view she'd actually gotten the better part of the deal.

Marqel still had no concept of what she'd done. No inkling of how close to ruining everything she was. Dirk's whole plan relied on Belagren's disgrace. He needed to prove she was human, flawed and culpable. All Marqel had done was raise the late High Priestess to the status of a deity. It was going to be next to impossible to destroy that image in Antonov's mind. Were it not for the fact that killing Marqel now might bestow on her the same divine aura, he might have been tempted to give in to his desire to strangle her after all.

The guards on Marqel's room admitted him without question. She was reclining on the bed when he entered, her hand held by a servant who was polishing her nails while Marqel relaxed against the pillows with slices of cuc.u.mber over her eyes. When she heard the door close, she lifted one of the slices with her free hand and glared at him with one eye.

"Oh, it's you."

"Leave us," Dirk ordered the servant.

The woman put down her towel and file and hurried out of the room. Marqel removed the cuc.u.mber slices and sat up, not at all pleased she had been disturbed.

"You can't just come in here and order my servants about," she complained.

"Actually, Marqel, I can," he reminded her. "And they're not your servants. Not yet, anyway."

"Have you spoken to Antonov?"

"Tomorrow. I want Madalan there when I tell him we believe your visions are genuine."

"I still can't believe you got that old hag to agree to this."

"I told Madalan it was Belagren's idea," he explained, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. The rooms on the third floor were much less grand than the royal apartments on the floor above.

Marqel smiled. "Then it's a good thing Belagren's not around to disagree with you, isn't it?"

She was constantly seeking rea.s.surance that what she had done was for the best. Dirk doubted it was because she felt any guilt about committing murder. It seemed more likely she was just trying to convince herself she knew better than he did. Dirk was beginning to suspect Marqel was not entirely sane. She wasn't insane the way Neris was. But there was something missing, however; some attribute of decency or conscience others possessed simply didn't exist in Marqel. It made her dangerous and unpredictable. Both were traits he could ill afford now.

"I also told her the reason Belagren chose you was because you were disposable," he added, taking a degree of malicious satisfaction from her shocked expression. "You have no family to protect you.

n.o.body to object if you suddenly disappear. That's what she found so easy to believe, Marqel. For all I know, Madalan's already grooming your replacement. Just remember that before you start getting creative again."

"That's not fair!"

"Maybe not," he shrugged. "But it wouldn't have been a problem if you'd done what you were told.

You'd have Belagren protecting you. Now you're going to be constantly fending off Madalan's attempts to remove you."

"You won't let her kill me, will you?"

Dirk smiled."Dirk!"

Finally, he shrugged. "For the time being, I'll see she doesn't kill you."

"For the time being?"

"This is a risky game we're playing, Marqel. Who knows what the future will bring."

"You b.a.s.t.a.r.d! You cross me and I'll tell Antonov everything!"

"Do that," Dirk told her, unconcerned. "You go to the Lion of Senet and tell him how you killed Belagren because there really isn't a G.o.ddess and that I offered to tell you what he wanted to know so you could become High Priestess."

"He'd burn you alive," she hissed at him.

"No," Dirk replied calmly, "the first thing he'd do is ask me if it was true. I would deny it, of course, and Madalan would back me up, as would every other Shadowdancer on Ranadon. Whose word do you think Antonov would believe then?"

"You think you're so d.a.m.n smart, don't you?"

"I'm thorough, Marqel. There's a difference."

She thought about it for a moment, and then shrugged, as if she realized she couldn't win the argument. "What are you going to tell Antonov?"

"I'm going to tell him your visions appear to be true, but we won't know for certain until he invades Mil."

"You're supposed to vouch for me," she objected. "That's as good as saying I'm lying."

"It's a tentative a.s.surance you're telling the truth," he corrected. "I'm supposed to hate you, remember? Antonov will expect me to be doubtful."

"Supposed to hate me?" she scoffed. "That's pretty much a given. What do you want me to say to him?"

"I want you to keep acting as if you're devastated by this unwanted honor. Make him comfort you.

Make him convince you that you're the Voice of the G.o.ddess."

Marqel smiled suddenly. "You really are quite good at this, aren't you? Do I get to do anything at the funeral?"

"That will be up to Antonov."

"When do you want me to sleep with him?"

"Not until your vision is proved true."

"You want me to wait until he's invaded Mil? That's ridiculous! I could have him eating out of my hand long before then."

"Try it any sooner and he'll think you nothing more than a grasping little s.l.u.t," Dirk warned her, then added coldly, "not an unreasonable a.s.sumption in your case."

She scowled at him. "I don't understand why you want me to wait."

"Because you're the Voice of the G.o.ddess, Marqel," he explained. "Sleeping with her voice is akin to sleeping with the G.o.ddess herself in Antonov's mind. He has to initiate it, or the first thing that will pop into his mind isn't that you're the living embodiment of his G.o.ddess, but that you are a thief and wh.o.r.e who was, until very recently, his own son's mistress."

His explanation seemed to satisfy her, but Dirk could never really tell with Marqel. He thought she'dunderstood why Belagren had to remain alive, too.

"I suppose," she conceded. "It might be a bit awkward though, if Kirsh is around."

"I'll deal with Kirsh," he promised. "He won't be a problem."

Marqel nodded, and then she looked at him with a curious expression. "If I had a baby to Antonov, would my child be in line for the throne?"

"What?" Dirk asked in astonishment.

"Well, suppose I had a baby? I mean, Misha's as good as dead, and Kirsh will probably get himself killed doing something foolish long before Antonov dies of old age... doesn't that mean my child would become the next Lion of Senet?"

Her question appalled him. It also gave him an insight into the depth of her ambition. He understood now why she had aborted Alenor's child. She had visions of herself as the mother of a king or queen.

Dirk was starting to wonder what he'd unleashed.

"Your child would be a b.a.s.t.a.r.d," he told her. "The next Lion of Senet would be Antonov's closest legitimate relative."

"Who's that?"

"Even if I knew, Marqel, I wouldn't tell you. I've a feeling I'd be marking the poor sod for death."

She smiled. "You don't trust me much, do you?"

"Give me one reason why I should?"

Marqel decided not to answer that. She straightened her red robe and made a great show of examining her newly polished nails. "You just keep up your end of the bargain, Dirk, and then you won't have to worry about me."

"I worry about you constantly, Marqel," he told her. "So before you decide to make your own modifications to my plan again, just remember, at some point, I may get so worried that I decide I can do without you."

"You can't do this without me," she told him confidently.

"How do you know?"

"Because you despise me and you don't trust me. If you could have found any way to do this without involving me you would have, Dirk Provin."

Dirk shrugged off her accusation as if it meant nothing. Marqel wasn't fooled, however.

She knew as well as he did that she was right.

Chapter 11.

Dirk and Madalan met with Antonov on the terrace outside his study the day before Belagren's funeral. Dirk hated the terrace, and suspected that Antonov knew it, which was why he seemed to conduct all his meetings with Dirk here, just to keep him off balance. It didn't work. Dirk had come too far to let emotion stand in his way. If Antonov wanted to rattle him by making him stand on the very spot where he'd killed Johan Thorn, then Dirk would do it and bear the torment. If anything, rather than upsetting him, it strengthened his resolve.The day was overcast and threatening rain when they arrived. Antonov studied them closely as they emerged onto the terrace from the doors leading into his study, as if he could learn what he wanted to know simply from the expressions on their faces. Madalan curtsied politely to Antonov, who reached forward to take her hand.

"You've no need to bow to me, my lady," he told her, helping her up. "It is I who should bow to the G.o.ddess's representative here on Ranadon."

"I appreciate the sentiment, your highness," Madalan replied. "But I fear that role is reserved for another."

Antonov's eyes immediately turned on Dirk. "Marqel speaks the truth ?"

Dirk shrugged uncomfortably. "It would appear that way."

"You don't sound convinced."

"I'm not," he agreed. "But neither can I fault her testimony nor shake her story."

"And what of you, Lady Madalan?" he asked the Shadowdancer. "Are you also convinced Marqel is now the Voice of the G.o.ddess?"

"Like Dirk, I was extremely suspicious of her claim, your highness. But I was there when Belagren received her first words from the G.o.ddess in Omaxin during the Age of Shadows. Marqel displays the same... symptoms, I suppose you could call them, for want of a better word. Whatever happened, it has had a profound effect on the girl. I'm inclined to believe her. I certainly believe she believes the G.o.ddess has visited her."