promise.”
“Of course,” Misha said. “I’ll see you later, Father. Thank you for stopping by.”
Antonov nodded uncomfortably and let himself out of the bedroom with almost unseemly haste.
Once he was alone again, Misha closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows, wondering about the wisdom of executing an essentially powerless woman simply to force her son into doing something foolish.
Privately, Misha thought his father optimistic in the extreme. Dirk Provin was far too smart to walk into such an obvious trap, and although he would enjoy having Dirk back in Avacas, he would be extremely disappointed in him if he did.
Chapter 7
From the ledge outside Neris’s cave high above the Baenlands, Tia Veran watched the
Wanderer
tacking through the delta, unable to hide her relief at the thought that Reithan was home again. She worried about him constantly when he was away, always afraid the Prefect of Avacas, Barin Welacin, would finally catch up with him, or the Brotherhood would decide there was more profit in selling him out than buying poppy-dust from him. Or worse, the ever-present fear that this time, this trip, Dirk Provin would betray him.
“Is that the
Wanderer
?” Neris asked, coming to stand beside her. Her father had been quite lucid for the past few days and had even found time for a bath. Tia found it heartbreaking, sometimes, to realize this was what Neris had been like before Ella Geon came along—articulate, intelligent—not the insane wretch he was most of the time. His periods of sanity never lasted long, but they always left her with a deep sense of loss for the man he had once been.
“Yes, that’s Reithan,” she agreed.
“And Dirk?”
Tia turned to look at Neris, a little put out by his eager question. “Unless Reithan finally woke up to him and shoved him overboard, I suppose Dirk is with him.”
“You tell him he has to come visit me. As soon as he can.”
“Why? All you ever do is argue with him, Neris.”
“That’s because he’s the only one who
will
argue with me,” Neris replied. “You just boss me around.”
Tia did not respond to the accusation, quite irritated by the friendship between her father and Dirk Provin, even though she was the one who had encouraged it.
Probably because so little
has come of it,
she concluded. Her hope that Dirk might be able to extract from Neris the secret of when the next Age of Shadows would return had proved a futile hope. Neris had not told Dirk anything useful at all. Or so Dirk claimed. The only things Neris Veran and Dirk Provin did were play chess and argue for hours about subjects that frequently made no sense to anybody but the two of them.
“Did you want to come down to the village with me?” she asked.
Neris shook his head. “I want Dirk to visit me. Now he’s back, you tell him he has to come visit me. We can play some more chess. I’ll beat him this time.”
“I thought you always beat him, anyway.”
“He lets me win. He thinks I’m mad and that I’ll do something dreadful to him if I lose.”
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Do something dreadful to Dirk if you lost?”
Neris thought about it for a moment before he answered. “I don’t know. I never thought about it. Do you think I should do something dreadful to him?”
“Sure. I’ll even help you think of something, if you like,” she offered with a smile. Tia uttered the words out of habit as much as anger these days. Two years had done much to dull her fury, although she had never been able to totally shed the core of suspicion that resided in her belly whenever she thought about Dirk Provin.
Tia still had no satisfactory reason why Dirk was here in Mil, when he could be living the high life in Avacas with the Lion of Senet. And she had never forgiven him for what he did in Avacas. She doubted she ever would. For a moment, she glanced down at her left hand. Like the little finger that had been amputated at the first knuckle, her
“Of course,” Misha said. “I’ll see you later, Father. Thank you for stopping by.”
Antonov nodded uncomfortably and let himself out of the bedroom with almost unseemly haste.
Once he was alone again, Misha closed his eyes and leaned back against the pillows, wondering about the wisdom of executing an essentially powerless woman simply to force her son into doing something foolish.
Privately, Misha thought his father optimistic in the extreme. Dirk Provin was far too smart to walk into such an obvious trap, and although he would enjoy having Dirk back in Avacas, he would be extremely disappointed in him if he did.
Chapter 7
From the ledge outside Neris’s cave high above the Baenlands, Tia Veran watched the
Wanderer
tacking through the delta, unable to hide her relief at the thought that Reithan was home again. She worried about him constantly when he was away, always afraid the Prefect of Avacas, Barin Welacin, would finally catch up with him, or the Brotherhood would decide there was more profit in selling him out than buying poppy-dust from him. Or worse, the ever-present fear that this time, this trip, Dirk Provin would betray him.
“Is that the
Wanderer
?” Neris asked, coming to stand beside her. Her father had been quite lucid for the past few days and had even found time for a bath. Tia found it heartbreaking, sometimes, to realize this was what Neris had been like before Ella Geon came along—articulate, intelligent—not the insane wretch he was most of the time. His periods of sanity never lasted long, but they always left her with a deep sense of loss for the man he had once been.
“Yes, that’s Reithan,” she agreed.
“And Dirk?”
Tia turned to look at Neris, a little put out by his eager question. “Unless Reithan finally woke up to him and shoved him overboard, I suppose Dirk is with him.”
“You tell him he has to come visit me. As soon as he can.”
“Why? All you ever do is argue with him, Neris.”
“That’s because he’s the only one who
will
argue with me,” Neris replied. “You just boss me around.”
Tia did not respond to the accusation, quite irritated by the friendship between her father and Dirk Provin, even though she was the one who had encouraged it.
Probably because so little
has come of it,
she concluded. Her hope that Dirk might be able to extract from Neris the secret of when the next Age of Shadows would return had proved a futile hope. Neris had not told Dirk anything useful at all. Or so Dirk claimed. The only things Neris Veran and Dirk Provin did were play chess and argue for hours about subjects that frequently made no sense to anybody but the two of them.
“Did you want to come down to the village with me?” she asked.
Neris shook his head. “I want Dirk to visit me. Now he’s back, you tell him he has to come visit me. We can play some more chess. I’ll beat him this time.”
“I thought you always beat him, anyway.”
“He lets me win. He thinks I’m mad and that I’ll do something dreadful to him if I lose.”
“Would you?”
“Would I what?”
“Do something dreadful to Dirk if you lost?”
Neris thought about it for a moment before he answered. “I don’t know. I never thought about it. Do you think I should do something dreadful to him?”
“Sure. I’ll even help you think of something, if you like,” she offered with a smile. Tia uttered the words out of habit as much as anger these days. Two years had done much to dull her fury, although she had never been able to totally shed the core of suspicion that resided in her belly whenever she thought about Dirk Provin.
Tia still had no satisfactory reason why Dirk was here in Mil, when he could be living the high life in Avacas with the Lion of Senet. And she had never forgiven him for what he did in Avacas. She doubted she ever would. For a moment, she glanced down at her left hand. Like the little finger that had been amputated at the first knuckle, her
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