The Lion of Senet by Jennifer Fallon Page B

Senetian guards lifted the older prince from his saddle and remained beside him as the greetings took place. The Crippled Prince appeared to be unable to stand unaided.
    “And look at these boys!” the prince declared as the duke’s sons stepped forward. “What are you feeding them, Wallin? That can’t be Rees! And this must be your youngest, Dirk! Look at them! They’re growing like weeds.”
    “Good Elcast air and food, that’s what makes them grow, your highness.” Duke Wallin laughed.
    “Well, we shall have to stay a goodly time with you and see if this Elcast air can work the same magick on my three charges,” he declared with a cheerfulness that, even to Marqel, sounded a little forced.
    Marqel glanced back toward the princes, curious if Prince Antonov was referring to the Crippled Prince. Misha’s face was pale and pain stricken. She doubted he was talking about Alenor, although she did look quite frail. It certainly wasn’t Kirshov. She’d never seen anyone healthier.
    “Now, if you could just arrange not to send us any more tidal waves for a while,” said the duchess, “we should be fine.”
    The Lion of Senet turned to the Duchess of Elcast. “I’m sorry about the wave, Morna, but I’m not in a position to predict the moods of the Goddess.”
    “Really? I thought your High Priestess spoke to her directly.”
    Belagren dismounted and walked up the steps to stand beside Antonov. She was quite small, barely reaching Antonov’s shoulder, but she radiated supreme self-confidence.
    “Perhaps the Goddess had a reason for destroying your crops, my lady,” the High Priestess suggested.
    “I imagine she did,” the duchess agreed. “Spite, perhaps, or vindictiveness—”
    “I’m sure we can count on Senet to aid her allies, my dear,” Duke Wallin cut in, before the duchess could say anything more.
    “Of course we will aid Elcast!” Antonov declared loudly. He sounded cheerful enough, but he was glaring at the Duchess of Elcast with extreme displeasure.
    A cheer greeted the Lion of Senet’s announcement. Since the tidal wave, there had been grave concerns on the island about how they would survive the coming months.
    Not the least interested in whether or not Elcast would starve, Marqel turned her attention back to Prince Antonov. All she cared about was that she had finally seen the legendary Lion of Senet.
    And with luck, by the end of the Landfall Festival, they would have their permit to perform in Avacas and she could put the clammy hands of panting, hairy old men like Hauritz the Butcher behind her.
    Once the Lion of Senet’s entourage disappeared inside the Keep, the excitement was over and the spectators quickly dispersed.
    Lanatyne looked around at the thinning crowd. “Come on.”
    “Where are we going?” Marqel asked, falling in beside the older girl as she headed down the cobbled road away from the Keep.
    “The docks.”
    “Why?”
    “Are you kidding? There’s a new ship in port, full of lonely sailors with unspent wages. Why d’you
think
we’re going down to the docks?”
    “I can’t work the docks. I’m supposed to be a virgin, remember?”
    “Not if the butcher’s been bragging,” Lanatyne chuckled.
    “He won’t brag,” Marqel told her confidently.
    Hauritz wouldn’t say a thing, she was certain of that. His reputation wouldn’t allow it, not to mention the fact that his meticulous wife would probably take to him with one of his butcher’s knives if she ever learned what her husband got up to while she was off visiting her sister in Yerl on the other side of the island.
    They made their way down the steep curved road toward the town. The bay stretched out before them, almost perfectly circular, with only a narrow passage leading out to the open sea. On the right of the channel stood the looming bulk of Elcast Keep. On the left were tall, weathered cliffs that looked as if they’d been created at the beginning of time, sheared away in the massive quake that