Eye of the Labyrinth Read Online Free PDF

wanting to get her hands on Dirk, and they had little to do with Antonov’s obsession. She had tried to point out that he did not really need the boy. Kirsh would marry Alenor soon. Within a few weeks, his own son would be Regent of Dhevyn. With luck, within a year, he would have a grandchild to name as heir. He didn’t need Dirk Provin to claim Dhevyn. For all intents and purposes, he already owned it.
    But the Lion of Senet’s plans for Dirk Provin had little to do with logic—and even less to do with reason. In Belagren’s mind, it was as though Antonov was still trying to prove to Johan Thorn that he had won, despite the fact that the King of Dhevyn had been dead for two years, killed by the bastard son he never knew he had, right here on Antonov’s terrace. Pointing that out to Antonov, however, was akin to opening a vein with a rusty blade, so she was forced to take a more subtle tack.
    Subtlety was wasted on the obsessed, Belagren had discovered.
    “Looks like rain,” Antonov remarked as he stepped onto the terrace. The sky was overcast and low, the clouds stained red by the evening sun. It was late, and the last of the dinner guests had only recently departed. A trading delegation from Talenburg, come to Avacas to promote their fine carpets, beg tax concessions from the Lion of Senet and probably cheat on their spouses while they were in the big city, away from the prying eyes of their neighbors. Belagren found the evening particularly trying.
    “Well, if it does rain,” she remarked sourly, “I hope it rains all over those damn Talenburg merchants’ carpet samples and shrinks them down to match the size of their brains. Did you hear them going on and on about repairing the levee walls in the city? They’ll be asking you to pay for that, you mark my words.”
    Antonov came to stand beside her, sipping a glass of wine. He smiled. “Shouldn’t you be bestowing the blessing of the Goddess on our guests, not wishing them ill?”
    “I am the Voice of the Goddess, Anton. I’m quite certain the last time we spoke she mentioned nothing about suffering the ill manners and banal conversation of the Talenburg Chamber of Commerce.”
    “You’re becoming a cynic in your old age, my dear.”
    She smiled at him. “Isn’t that a privilege we earn as we get older?”
    “Perhaps,” he agreed, still studying the bloodstained sky. “Some seem to think they earn the right much younger.”
    She looked at him quizzically. “Did you have anyone particular in mind?”
    “Morna Provin.”
    “I hear you’ve had her arrested.”
    “I promised Wallin no harm would come to her while he lived. I kept my word.”
    “What are you going to do with her?”
    “I thought Landfall might be appropriate. What do you think?”
    Belagren glanced at him with a frown. “While I’m sure the Goddess will appreciate the irony of sacrificing Morna Provin to her, Anton, are you sure it’s wise, politically? Some of the ruling houses of Dhevyn might get a little nervous if you start disposing of members of their class in such a fashion.”
    Antonov seemed unconcerned. “Morna is a special case. It’s no secret she’s only lived this long thanks to the protection of her husband. Nobody will think it odd that on his death that protection ceased. And I don’t imagine Dirk will be too pleased when he hears.”
    Belagren sighed. I might have known ...
    “You’re assuming he
will
hear about it. Suppose he’s fled into Sidoria? Or he sailed south to Galina?”
    Antonov shook his head confidently. “He’ll hear about it. And he’ll try to put a stop to it. I’d wager my kingdom on it.”
    Belagren was tempted to point out that that was precisely what he was doing. But she didn’t. Despite the folly of such a scheme, Antonov was right about one thing: if Dirk Provin learned his mother was destined to be burned alive at the Landfall Festival, it was very likely that he would try to do something to prevent it. The trouble was, Dirk