"Misha!"

He turned at the call and discovered Mellie Thorn skipping along the beach toward him. He stopped and looked at the ground he had covered, disappointed by the short distance he had traveled. He felt like he'd just run a marathon.

"h.e.l.lo, Mellie," he said, when she caught up with him.

"I saw you from the house. Are you supposed to be out here on your own?"

"No," he told her with a smile. "Can't you tell? I'm trying to escape."

Mellie laughed. "I really like you, Misha. It's such a pity you're a Latanya."

"Isn't it," he agreed wryly. "And what about you? Are you allowed to be talking to me?"

"It's all right. Mama's decided you're harmless."

"Really?"

She smiled at the expression on his face. "You know what I mean."

"Well, I hope it means she thinks I won't do you any harm."

"I think so. Anyway, Tia thinks you're all right, and Mama always listens to her." A frown darkened her warm brown eyes. "Everybody does now, since that awful business with Dirk."

"Why is that?""Because Tia always insisted we shouldn't trust him and n.o.body listened to her until it was too late."

"Did you trust him?"

She looked away. Dirk's betrayal had obviously broken Mellie's heart.

"I'm sure he had a good reason for what he did, Mellie," Misha told her gently.

"Tia says it's because he's selfish and power hungry."

"And what do you think?"

Mellie shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know. I want to think he's doing something good, something he hasn't told anybody about, and I know Mama hopes the same thing, but it's just... well, why would he do such a thing and not tell us about it?"

"Perhaps he had his reasons," Misha suggested, realizing his words were little comfort. He understood how she felt. Belagren probably had eminently good reasons for having him poisoned.

"He has plenty of reasons," Tia announced, coming up behind him. Misha hadn't heard her footfalls on the soft black sand. "Mostly they're about what's best for Dirk Provin."

He turned to look at her. She wore the same look of icy rage she always wore when anybody foolishly mentioned Dirk's name in her presence.

Mellie sensed Tia's fury and quickly changed the subject. "Misha's trying to escape. Do you think we should stop him?"

Misha watched curiously as Tia visibly forced aside her anger and smiled at Mellie. "Think you can handle it, Mel?" she joked. "He's getting pretty good on that crutch. Are you sure you'd be able to catch him?"

"I'll need a head start," Misha warned. "Of about...a week."

Mellie laughed. Misha suspected her merriment had as much to do with the fact that Tia was prepared to put aside her anger and join in the game as it did with their rather lame attempts to make light of his disabilities.

"Well, I'll take over guarding this dangerous prisoner for now," Tia offered. "Lexie wants you back at the house."

"Did she say why?"

"No, but I wouldn't drag my heels if I were you. She seemed a bit miffed you'd disappeared."

"I'd better go then. You won't tell her I was consorting with the enemy, will you?"

"Not if you leave right this minute."

"I'm going!" she promised, and then she turned to Misha with a smile. "Bye, Misha."

"Good-bye, Mellie."

As she turned and hurried up the beach toward the steep path leading to the stilted house overlooking the bay, Tia turned to him with a frown. "Please don't talk to Mellie about Dirk. She's hurting enough without you reminding her about it constantly."

"It was Mellie who brought it up, Tia."

"Well, the next time she brings it up, just ignore her."

"I think she wants to talk about Dirk," he suggested, aware he was treading on very thin ice.

"Sometimes talking about these things can help ease the pain."

She glared at him. "For you, maybe. Personally, the news somebody has slit his throat would suit mejust as well."

"Is that what you're hoping for? News that your a.s.sa.s.sin has been successful?"

"How did you know about that?"

"Petra mentioned it. She was complaining about what an a.s.sa.s.sin would cost. I think she was rather put out you didn't ask her to go to Avacas to poison Dirk, actually. Sort of a professional pride thing."

Tia managed a thin smile. "She's not the only one who volunteered for the job."

"I'd not like to be in Dirk's shoes," Misha remarked. "I think if he'd known how many angry women he would have d.o.g.g.i.ng his heels, he might have decided it was easier to live with my father's wrath, after all."

"If that was a joke, it was in very poor taste, Misha."

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't mean to trivialize the trouble he's caused you."

"Let's just stop talking about it," she suggested testily. "Anyway, I have some news you might be interested in."

"What news?"

"Belagren is dead."

Misha stared at her in shock. "The High Priestess?"

"How many Belagrens do you know?"

"But... I mean... how did it happen?"

"Officially, she died of a stroke, according to the Brotherhood," Tia shrugged. "My money's on Dirk, though. It seems a little bit too convenient that no sooner is he confirmed as her right hand than she suddenly keels over. Care to wager on who the next High Priest of the Shadowdancers will be?"

"You think Dirk killed her?"

"He's pretty good at it, Misha. I know. I've seen him at work."

"I can't believe it!"

"If you can't believe that, you're going to have even more trouble accepting the rest of it."

"The rest of what?"

"Your brother's been in Tolace investigating your disappearance. The word is he's being very thorough. The body count has almost reached double figures, I hear."

"Kirsh? What are you saying, Tia? That he's killing people just because I left the Hospice?"

"He's killing people because they think you were kidnapped from the Hospice, Misha."

He shook his head in disbelief. "That doesn't sound like Kirsh. You must be mistaken. Barin Welacin must be responsible..."

"The Prefect is still in Avacas," she told him. "Your precious little brother's doing this on his own initiative. I don't know why you look so surprised. Your people have being doing things like this in Dhevyn since the Age of Shadows. Is it Kirshov wielding the sword that shocks you, or that such brutality has finally reached Senet's sh.o.r.es?"

Misha stared at her, stung by her harsh words. "What are you talking about? Senet came to Dhevyn's aid during the Age of Shadows..."

"Senet invaded Dhevyn, Misha," she corrected. "When the people of Dhevyn started riotingbecause there was no food, Johan Thorn asked your father for help. What he got was soldiers-on every island in Dhevyn. And they put down the riots, I'll grant you that. But they didn't do it by helping distribute what little food there was in an orderly manner. They did it by imposing martial law, by killing anyone who stepped outside after curfew. And then, when they had the entire kingdom too afraid to move outside their doors, they imposed their religion on Dhevyn, and then the killing was justified because people refused to worship your d.a.m.ned false G.o.ddess."

"That's not the way I was taught it happened, Tia."

"Of course it's not what you were taught," she scoffed. "History is always written by the winners, and they always paint themselves as heroes. That way, they don't have to acknowledge the unpleasant details."

Tia turned on her heel and began walking away from him, leaving Misha shocked and very disturbed by what she had told him. He wanted to deny it, but in light of everything that had happened to him recently, her story seemed more than just rebel rhetoric. In fact, it seemed quite plausible. How much of it was my father's will, he wondered, and how much Belagren's?

"Tia!" he called after her.

She stopped and turned back. "What?"

"There's nothing I can do to change the past," he told her with genuine regret. "But I might be able to help change the future."

"How?"

"By giving you some advice."

"That's just what we need," she said. "Advice from the Crippled Prince."

She was angry, and perhaps with good cause, so Misha chose to ignore the insult.

"Get Mellie out of the Baenlands while you still can."

Tia looked confused. That was the last thing she was expecting him to say. "Why?"

"Because she's Johan Thorn's only legitimate child. She has more right to the Eagle Throne of Dhevyn than either Alenor D'Orlon or Dirk Provin; more right to it than any living soul. If my father ever learned of her existence he would hunt her down, take her back to Avacas and try to mold her into a puppet monarch just as he did with Alenor and Dirk."

"Mellie would never become Antonov's creature," she objected.

"I know," Misha agreed. "Which is why you must protect her. The Lion of Senet has only two types of people in his world, Tia: his friends and his enemies. If Mellie won't be his friend..." His voice tapered off, not sure he wanted to admit aloud the type of man his father was. He was still coming to grips with it himself.

"You mean he'd kill her?" Tia asked. She didn't sound surprised.

"That's exactly what I mean."

She thought about it for a moment and then nodded. "I'll mention it to Lexie."

"I wish I could do something to redress the pain we've caused your people, Tia."

"Be a better man than your father," she suggested bluntly, and then turned and walked back along the beach, leaving him alone with his newly forged crutch and a sudden feeling of overwhelming guilt for being the son of the Lion of Senet.

Chapter 14

Antonov waited a long time before he turned and headed back along the wharf toward the podium where Dirk and the other dignitaries waited. He stood watching the High Priestess's body burn, a lone figure dressed in white, bathed in the scarlet light of the second sun. He seemed lost in thought. Or maybe he's praying, Dirk thought. Maybe he's asking the G.o.ddess what he should do, now that his anchor in life is gone.

Paige Halyn returned to the podium once he finished his eulogy and sat just behind Dirk, in the gilded chair next to Alenor, wheezing heavily from the effort. He had delivered his speech in a dry, toneless voice; the words of praise for his nemesis had little meaning for him. He'd not composed them himself, but had read the speech from a doc.u.ment Belagren had left behind. Apparently, the High Priestess had given a great deal of thought to the way she wanted to be remembered, and had long ago prepared the eulogy herself. It painted a picture of a humble and devout woman who'd made every move in her life guided by the hand of the G.o.ddess. It was actually quite a moving account, if you didn't know she'd written it herself. Dirk was certain, however, she never expected it would be Paige Halyn who delivered it.

The crowd waited in silence, n.o.body game to move until Antonov did. But they were getting restless. They had seen what they had come to see and were starting to fidget with boredom. Dirk glanced around at the mourners, wondering how many of them had any idea of the impact the death of the High Priestess would have on their lives.

Times were about to change. Perhaps only he knew how much.

Dirk looked down the wharf at Antonov, but he still showed no sign of moving. Across from the podium, on the other side of the street behind a wall of soldiers, a commotion started as a child broke through the lines. She was about six or seven, and neatly-if plainly-dressed, clutching a small posy of flowers.

The little girl ran toward the podium as her mother, held back by the guards, hissed loudly at her to return. But the child ignored the call and kept on toward the podium. As she approached, two of the palace guards stepped forward to prevent her coming anywhere near the royal enclosure.

"She's only a child!" Alenor objected as the guards moved in on the little girl.

"Stand down," Dirk ordered in a low voice.

The guard closest to him heard the order and signaled to his companion to allow the child through.

She was a scrawny little thing, with large blue eyes and thin blond hair braided tightly against her head.

The girl stopped in front of the podium and thrust the small posy forward at Dirk.