A Dance of Blades

by David Dalglish

  She slipped closer. She wanted to understand him, his motives. He might be part of a trap, or a disaster she was blindly bringing into their guild. The blame would all fall on her.

  “Don’t betray me,” she whispered to him as the rest hauled off the crate. “I don’t care how strong you think you are, I’ve fought stronger, I’ve survived better. You walk into this willingly, but the only way you walk out is dead. Do you understand me?”

  He tied the cloth over his face, and through the holes in the mask winked at her.

  “The only way I leave will be as your guildmaster,” he said.

  Because of the mask she could not see if he smiled, or search his features for tells. In the end she decided it didn’t matter.

  “Come with me,” she said. “You’re bound to make waves, so I think it best Garrick meet with you now … assuming he trusts you enough to be in the same room.”

  He moved, faster than she’d thought possible. His left hand wrapped around her waist. His right grabbed her wrist, and he pulled her close. She tried to draw her dagger, but he held her tight. Their eyes locked on one another’s.

  “You were brave enough to come this close,” he said, his voice nearly a whisper. “And even in my arms you do not tremble. I will remember that. Tell me, woman, what is your name?”

  “Veliana,” she said.

  He let her go. She slapped him, and he straightened his mask.

  “Deserved, and well worth it,” he said. “Lead on, Veliana. I wish to see your guildmaster.”

  The Ash Guild had moved many times because of their weak status and constant war with the rest of the guilds. Only recently had they made peace with most, though the Hawk Guild still preyed heavily upon them. If not for this … Death … Veliana knew there was a good chance she’d be a corpse.

  Assuming he wasn’t part of a trap.

  Their current base was in the confines of a small merchant guild, one desperate enough for coin that they’d accepted Garrick’s bribes. As lairs went it wasn’t the most secretive, but at least it was warm in the winter months, and moderately well furnished. Veliana led her men through a side door. Four steps down they stopped at a basement door with a small lamp burning at either side. She frowned at the lack of guards. No doubt they were on the inside. Garrick liked having his protectors there with him at all times, even if it wasn’t safer. They should have been out in the cold, keeping watch so they could lock and bar the door should they notice trouble coming.

  But of course the door was locked and barred anyway when she tried to open it. Rolling her eyes, she knocked twice, then once. She heard the scraping of metal, and then a slit opened to reveal a bloodshot pair of eyes.

  “Say the pass,” said the guard.

  “Veliana. Now open the damn door.”

  There was a password, of course. Three, even, in case she needed to alert those inside to a hidden threat. But she was in no mood, and she knew the guard on the other side was too spineless to refuse her entrance. The slit closed, and as they heard a loud thumping, Death chuckled behind her.

  “Your professionalism is astounding,” he said. “I know I came with few expectations, but I still feel them failing to be met.”

  “Quiet,” she said. “And stay here. I’ll need to introduce you to Garrick first.”

  She paused and gave him a glance. The mask hid his face, but she couldn’t fight off the feeling he was smirking at her.

  “Just how should I introduce you, anyway?” she asked.

  “I told you, I have no name.”

  “That makes for a poor introduction. Should I call you Death? It’s a little over the top, but I’ve heard worse.”

  “Death might be too great a mantle for me to wear,” said the man. “But I can bear no name for the curse given me. All I have is my mask. Perhaps you can call me that.”

  The door opened and she stepped inside. A guard stood at either side, dagger drawn. The room was well lit with many lanterns. At one end were tables covered with maps and documents, and a locked chest underneath for guild funds. At the other were blankets, pillows, and illegal means of comfort. Amid the meager luxury sat Garrick, his eyes glazed from the substance he smoked through a short pipe. Several other men lay scattered about him, their senses just as dull from the smoke and liquor.

  “Veliana!” Garrick said, standing. “Did the trade go through as…”

  He stopped as Veliana’s guest shoved his way inside, so fast that he was beside her before the guards could react. He made no threatening motion, only stayed at her side. With an elaborate bow he greeted the guildmaster.

  “Mighty Garrick, how the shadows tremble when I mention your name,” he said, and Veliana felt anger burn inside her at the obvious sarcasm. Garrick, however, seemed oblivious to it. Instead he appeared worried by the newcomer’s strange attire and sudden entrance. He stepped back and ran a hand through his long brown hair, a sign Veliana knew meant he was nervous.

  “And who are you?” he asked. “A friend of Veliana’s?”

  “This is … Death’s Mask,” she said. “He helped us tonight, perhaps saved many lives. We’ve been betrayed, Garrick. When we…”

  “Do you still have the leaf?” Garrick interrupted.

  “I … yes, we do.”

  “Good, good,” said Garrick. He sat back down on the cushions, drew his dagger, and held it while he listened. “Now what is this betrayal you speak of? And tell me again”—he made a sound like a cross between a laugh and a cough—“who this Death … Deathmask is?”

  “One of your men betrayed you, killed the rest, and hoped to have the Hawks destroy your guild as you came to make the trade,” said Deathmask, accepting the name without pause. “I killed them as a way of showing you my worth. I wished to join your Ash Guild, and Veliana has accepted me.”

  Veliana opened her mouth to correct him, then shut it. It was pointless to argue now, and Garrick’s eyes flared at what he’d heard. He set his pipe aside and gently touched the tip of his dagger.

  “And how did you know this ambush was to take place?” he asked.

  Deathmask smiled but did not answer.

  “No matter,” Garrick said. “I take it our betrayer was killed?”

  “Painfully,” said Deathmask.

  “Good. The more pressing question, then, is why the Hawks are so eager to crush us. I must think about this.”

  “Think?” asked Veliana. “We need to counter, and quickly, before they know their ambush failed. Surely there’s a few of theirs still scouting our streets. If we can mark our borders with their blood, we can send a message.”

  “We will do no such thing,” Garrick said. He winced as he pierced his skin with the dagger’s tip, but instead of cleaning it, he watched the blood trickle down the blade. “I will handle this in my own manner. Kadish Vel is no real threat to us.”

  “With all due respect,” said Deathmask, “he’d have killed either of you today if it weren’t for me.”

  The room turned silent, and the rest of the thieves lounging about watched as if awaiting an execution.

  “Is that so?” asked Garrick. Veliana tensed, wondering what he would do. “Then it is a good thing we have you now, isn’t it? Patrick, take him upstairs and get him fitted for a cloak. Wouldn’t want him showing the wrong colors, would we?”

  Deathmask bowed, shot Veliana a wink, and then followed his escort out of the basement. Garrick stood and looked to the others.

  “Out,” he told them. “You’ve smoked enough of my wealth. Get out!”

  They all jumped to leave, all but Veliana. She could see the way he stared at her, a wordless command to remain. As the last shut the door, Garrick strode over and grabbed her by the throat.

  “Have you lost your damn mind?” he asked.

  She kept her breathing calm as his fingers tightened. He wouldn’t leave a bruise, not yet, but if he did…

  “And have you lost yours?” she asked. He raised an eyebrow. The veins in his eyes pulsed, their edges yello
w. In answer to his question, she drew one of her daggers and pressed its edge against his wrists.

  “Tighter,” she said. “I dare you.”

  He let her go and stepped back. Blood dripped from his finger, and he glared at the stains on the floor.

  “I am your guildmaster,” he said, as if that meant something.

  “I could replace you in a heartbeat.”

  “But they’ll never follow you,” Garrick said, gesturing toward the door. “Them out there … they’re savages. They’re pigs, and you’re damaged beauty. If they thought the only thing standing between them and ruling this guild was … was a woman, they’d strip you naked and take turns.”

  “They’d die if they tried,” Veliana said. She knew Garrick thought himself worth far more than he really was, but this was the most brazen he’d ever been. Something had changed, given him confidence … but what?

  “Some, yes,” said Garrick, and a gleam shone in his drug-maddened eyes. “But not all. You need me, Vel. They listen to me. They trust me. I kept this guild together after James’s death. I kept our dealings going. I kept our coffers from emptying and our territory from becoming nothing more than a single penniless street.”

  “That was me,” Veliana shouted, not caring if others might hear from behind the door. “I’m the one who bloodied her hands. I’m the one who gave them stability.”

  “But do they know that?” he asked. He stepped closer to her, a smile growing on his face. It was the drugs, she thought. It had to be the drugs. Ignoring the daggers, he gently ran a hand along the wicked scar across her beautiful face, cutting from forehead to chin, discoloring her right eye from a dazzling violet to a red orb of blood.

  “They won’t follow you,” he said again. “You’re dangerous, and they respect that, but they won’t submit to it. They listen now only because the specter of my authority hangs over you. Just as James’s hovered over you when he was alive. You need me, just as I need you. More, even. Never forget that.”

  She bit her tongue and fought down a thousand fantasies of plunging her daggers deep into his throat. Garrick walked back to his cushion, retrieved his pipe, and began the laborious process of filling it anew.

  “I don’t care how powerful that Deathmask freak is,” he said. “I want him killed by tomorrow night, no matter how you do it. He’s clearly trouble, and in someone’s pocket. Cut his throat before he can accomplish whatever task he was sent here for. Deathmask? What a stupid name.”

  “If you say so,” she said, nodding her head. “I’ll be in my quarters. I trust you’ll handle the matter of the Hawk Guild in an appropriate manner?”

  Garrick smiled as she headed for the door.

  “Dear Veliana, there are a thousand promises and lies between us all. You aren’t aware of half of them. Trust me. We’ll be fine.”

  She left without giving him the dignity of a response.

  CHAPTER 3

  Haern slept beside the shop of a baker he’d befriended. Besides gaining an occasional scrap of bread, he could take in the warm smells while he slept. He kept himself wrapped in blankets, never bothering to hide his face. His blond hair was matted to the sides of his head, much of his skin covered with dirt. He’d always been a clean, meticulous child. More than anything since his self-imposed exile from the Spider Guild, the filth bothered him most. He knew there were ways he could wash up, obtain cleaner clothes, but it’d never work. What homeless, coinless man lived on the side of the street, yet kept a clean face and hands? A rich man from the northern parts of Veldaren might not notice, but those who’d grown up in the lower portions of the city could sense those things as surely as Haern could smell the bread that baked in the shop every morning.

  He had a small bowl before him, not expecting any alms but feeling his heart warm when he did receive them. It was mainly there for looks. Every guild in the city of Veldaren wanted him dead, and he wouldn’t draw needless attention to himself by neglecting the minor details.

  Just before nightfall he stirred. The baker had gone home for the day, so he picked the familiar lock and slipped inside. He stole two slices of bread, dumped his bowl’s coins across the counter to pay for the meal, and then left. He ate as he walked south along the main road, turning off after half a mile and heading directly into the territory of the Serpent Guild. He added a limp and ran through his persona for dealing with the Serpents. He let his lower jaw hang a little and muttered a few random words, practicing his lisp. His name was Berg. He was often drunk. Like all his personae, Berg worked odd jobs, whatever paid him coin, and that gave him an excuse to know things he shouldn’t know.

  Like how the Watcher had intercepted a shipment of gold from the Serpent Guild bearing the Gemcroft sigil.

  His contact was a one-eyed ruffian originally from the far west nation of Mordan. He leaned beside the entrance of an inn, smoking a long pipe. His name was Mensk.

  “What you want, Berg?” asked Mensk. He looked him over with his one eye, and he didn’t hide his shudder at Haern’s stink.

  “I overheard something,” Haern said with a lisp. “Something worth at least a silver.”

  Mensk’s eyes narrowed.

  “Nothing you could have heard is worth that much. Five coppers if I decide it’s useful, one otherwise, and none if I’ve heard it already.”

  “Six coppers,” Haern said, knowing he wouldn’t get it but also knowing his persona would at least make the attempt.

  “Five,” Mensk said, frowning. “Now spit it out before it gets lower.”

  “I was drinking by the east wall last night, and I saw something, something strange. There were some of your guild, you Serpents, by the wall. They were lifting something over … a crate, valuable, yes?”

  By now he had Mensk’s attention. The thief had drawn his dagger and held it behind his back. So on edge … clearly the shipment’s secrecy was beyond important.

  “It might be,” Mensk said. “That all you saw?”

  Haern shook his head.

  “No, oh no. I wouldn’t have come here for just that. Why tell you your own business? No, what I saw was the Watcher. He killed them, all but a few!”

  “We know who killed them,” Mensk said. He shifted a little, placing his right foot a few inches back. He was preparing for a stab. Haern kept his breathing steady, not letting a shred of fear show in his eyes. Oblivious … he had to act oblivious…

  “But did you know the one who killed them was a Hawk?” he asked.

  There. He saw the momentary pause in Mensk’s eyes and knew he had him.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oh no,” Haern said, stepping out of stabbing range. He exaggerated his lisp further to pretend excitement. “This gets me seven coppers, or I go to someone else who’ll pay.”

  “Here’s six,” Mensk said, tossing them to the dirt. “Now tell me what you know!”

  Haern flung himself to the ground and began scooping up the coins, all the while rambling.

  “I saw him skulking along the rooftop. I wanted to shout warning, I did, but it was too fast, you know? One moment I see him, and I’m wondering what some damn fool is doing on the roof, and then he’s whirling and cutting. Gods, never seen so much blood.”

  “The Hawks?” Mensk asked, prodding him along.

  “Oh, well, I saw him pull out a pendant just before he attacked. Now it was dark and far away, but I swear the moon was bright enough. It had a feather on it, just one feather, plus I think an eye. That’s their new symbol, right, symbol for the Hawks? Thanks for the coppers, Mensk!”

  He stood and stepped back. With the added distance, he knew Mensk wouldn’t come after him, not when he could just turn and run. A bit of disappointment came over the thief’s face, which pleased him immensely. He’d told such lies before to the various guilds. With the distance and the dark, his proof was meager, but that was the point. A thousand tiny lies and misdirections would add up to a far greater proof than a single disprovable accusation. He wanted the guilds at each ot
her’s throats, always convinced the Watcher was one of their own. Mensk would pass along what he’d heard, storing it away with all the other tales Haern had whispered over the years.

  “Get out of here,” Mensk said. “And I should only pay you three for something that worthless.”

  “If I’m right, you know I should get a hundred silver,” Haern said as he limped along. “But I like you Serpents. Always treated me fair, helped rebind roofs to put over my head. I sure hope that Watcher didn’t disrupt anything important. Would hate for him to put you in a bad bind…”

  “I said get out,” Mensk said, revealing his dagger. “Those shipments’ll continue no matter what that bastard does. Now get your ass out of my sight before I decide to take back my coin.”

  Haern fled, and once he reached the main merchant road he abandoned the limp and started trudging north. In the light of the stars he pondered over what he’d learned. When he sold information he often managed to sneak out with a little bit more in return. That shipment of gold hadn’t been a one-time deal. Obviously the shipments were important, and the Serpent Guild wanted them to continue. Originally he’d thought the Serpents just lucky robbers of the Gemcroft mines, but now…

  Now he was intrigued.

  Haern didn’t always give away the gold he stole. Sometimes he kept a little, with the promise to never spend it on himself but instead his personal war against the guilds. There were many men who responded to gold far better than threats, and it was to one of them Haern hurried next. He was in a quiet section of Veldaren, far to the north and away from the poorer districts and the strongholds of the thief guilds. Here there were rows of homes, most fenced, and Haern climbed over one fence and softly landed on the grass beyond.

  Two dogs immediately rushed from around the side of the house, large hounds with black fur and impressive jaws. Haern knelt, not panicking, instead offering his hands. One of the two licked away at it, while the other nearly bowled him over leaping against him for attention. Haern smiled as he petted both the animals. The house’s owner, a man named Dashel, had bought the two animals for protection. When Haern decided to make the man one of his contacts, he’d spent weeks visiting the home while the owner was gone, bringing food and treats for the dogs, petting them, letting them get used to his smell and appreciate his presence. Now they hardly barked upon his arrival, and if they did it was out of excitement.