A Dance of Shadows

by David Dalglish

  The ash swirling around Deathmask’s face slowed, grew thicker.

  “I am no fool, Grayson. The guilds are crumbling, dying to both you and Victor. I can help finish them off, show you where to shove your sword. What I ask for isn’t much, not when you consider that every coin you take from Veldaren is a coin you didn’t have the day before. But don’t think your take-over of these streets is inevitable. Not when Thren still stalks the city. Not while I’m still alive.”

  “Well,” Grayson said. “I guess we should take care of that, shouldn’t we?”

  Fire was already surrounding Deathmask’s hands before Grayson rolled to the side, using the wagon as cover. The expected attack from the wizard came, a burst of fire that consumed where he’d stood. It was slow, though, and more flash than heat. He was being played with, Grayson realized, as he leaned his back against the wagon.

  “Doesn’t have to go like this,” Deathmask said, his voice drawing nearer. “We could be partners, and work together.”

  “Bullshit!” Grayson shouted, his mind elsewhere. Tracy had rolled from the wagon to the door of the shop, hidden from Deathmask’s view. Boggs crouched just above Grayson within the broken wagon. Grayson held up three fingers to Tracy, counting them down. At one, they leaped out, but Deathmask was no longer alone. Men—twins, by the looks of it—stood before him, each holding a pair of daggers. Grayson slid, and he swung his arm to knock Tracy down as well. Four daggers sailed above them, hitting nothing.

  “Back,” Grayson said as he turned and ran, sheathing a sword so he could grab Tracy by the arm. No spells gave chase like he thought. Instead, with a few words from Deathmask, his wagons caught fire one by one, burning as if doused with barrels of lantern fuel. Tracy let out a cry for her brother, but amid the smoke Grayson could not tell if he escaped or not.

  They ran for the door, but instead of their finding safety in the shop, a woman with a wicked scar across her right eye blocked the way in, bearing the colors of the Ash Guild. She held a dagger in her hand, and it glowed with purple fire.

  “Running away?” she asked. “Hardly fits your reputation, Grayson.”

  “I think it does,” Deathmask said, calmly walking toward them. Ash circled his head faster and faster, his smile hidden behind cloth yet clearly visible in his eyes. “Arrogance? Shortsightedness? Sun Guild, through and through. The four of us have held our territory for years against all challengers, Grayson, yet you think to brush us aside like children?”

  Boggs fell from the back of the nearest wagon, coughing and hacking. Tracy tensed, and Grayson could tell she wanted to go to him. His hands and face were black from the ash, but his burns didn’t seem too severe. Far more worrisome were the twins, who hurried to his location.

  “Still breathing,” said the first.

  “Just barely,” said the second.

  Deathmask stepped closer and closer. Grayson could almost reach him with a lunge, but the man looked unafraid, as if he actually believed he was the dread ghoul he appeared to be. The scarred woman seemed far more tense, and she kept her dagger at the ready.

  “Don’t you dare lay a finger on him,” Grayson said to the twins.

  “Or what?” they asked in unison.

  In answer, Grayson flung himself at the woman, catching her across the face with his fist. As she fell back he tried to stab, but she was faster than he expected. Instead of fleeing farther, she dove to the ground, narrowly avoiding the downward thrust that should have skewered her. Continuing, she joined the twins, who stepped before her protectively. The woman fumed, but Deathmask only chuckled.

  “How is the burned friend of theirs?” he asked as Grayson and Tracy stood there, still tense. They could flee into the shop, but that way was a dead end. If they wanted to escape, it had to be through the streets. Grayson had fought spellcasters before, and he knew he’d be pressing his luck trying to avoid their attacks in open space for any length of time.

  “He looks like he’s seen better days,” the woman said, lifting Boggs up with both hands, her dagger pressed against his chest. Boggs let out a gasp at her touch.

  “A shame,” said Deathmask. “Veliana, if you’d so kindly put him out of his misery.”

  The woman was only too happy to oblige. Before Grayson could think of what to do, Veliana pulled her dagger back, spun it, and jammed it through Boggs’s throat. Tracy let out a choked cry, part horror, part fury. Veliana dumped the body on the street, retrieved her dagger, and then burned away the blood with more purple fire. The twins shifted apart, just outside sword reach, blocking off the other side of the street. Only the shop remained, and for some reason Grayson felt he was being herded inside.

  “All that smoke will be attracting attention soon,” Deathmask said, still maddeningly calm.

  Glancing behind him, Grayson realized most of his merchandise was still inside the shop. If he was trapped inside, and the Ash Guild summoned the city guard, then they’d be out their lives, and their coin. Worse, their guild’s intentions would be revealed to the king’s men. Deathmask didn’t want to just kill Grayson. He wanted to humiliate him, and make life far more difficult for the rest of the Sun Guild should they attempt to move in on the city.

  “You bastard,” Tracy said, tears in her eyes. “I’ll kill you, I promise it.”

  “Shouldn’t make promises you won’t keep,” Veliana said.

  “Last chance,” Deathmask said. “Partners, or the executioner’s ax. Your choice.”

  “Tracy,” Grayson said as movement across the rooftops caught his eye. “You do exactly as I say, you understand?”

  She nodded. Lowering his swords, Grayson stood to his full height, delaying as long as possible. He had to time it just right, just when the attack hit…

  “I guess I have little choice,” he said. “But I’m thinking I’d much rather have you dead.”

  Spinning about, he leaped into the door of the shop, smashing it open with his shoulder. Tracy followed without hesitation. Barging in, they flung themselves to the side, avoiding another barrage of daggers. Grayson rolled onto his back, swords up to fend off an attack that didn’t come.

  Explosions of fire rocked the street, and they weren’t from Deathmask. Shrapnel from the wagons clacked against the side of the shop, and a long plank shattered a window. Tracy crouched low to the floor, stunned by the sudden barrage of combat.

  “We should go help kill…”

  “No,” Grayson said. “Either they’ll live or they’ll die. I’m not foolish enough to step in the middle.”

  The ringing of steel on steel intensified. From the window Grayson heard a roar of wind, and then what sounded like a battering ram slamming into a castle gate.

  “Who’s out there?” Tracy asked, stunned.

  In answer Grayson only shook his head.

  In less than a minute, the combat was over. Holding his swords at the ready, Grayson made his way to the door and stepped out to survey the wreckage. Their wagons were ruined, each one exploded into pieces. Three of the nearby buildings burned, and a fourth had a gaping hole in its front, from what, he could only guess. There were no other bodies on the ground besides Boggs. Tracy rushed over to her brother, cradling his head in her hands. Tears flowed down her face, but only for a moment.

  “What happened here?” she asked as she calmly removed the rings from his ear.

  “Saw their coat for just an instant, but the damage is enough to answer,” Grayson said, putting away his swords. “Still think it was a mistake to hire them, but at least they saved our asses instead of getting in the way.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The Bloodcrafts,” Grayson said. “If the Ash Guild lives through this, it’ll be a miracle.”

  Tracy paled at the name. “We need to check on the rest,” she said. “The Ash Guild might not have been the only one to…”

  “No,” Grayson said, offering her his hand. “We need to move, now. The city guard will be here any second, and we can’t risk them findin
g our cache. We’ll take whatever we can carry and then hide.”

  Tracy nodded, pocketed the last of Boggs’s earrings. She kissed his burned forehead and then whispered into his ear.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She took Grayson’s hand and stood. Inside the shop they gathered every bag they could, and as the first of many arrived to investigate the destruction, the two ducked into the nearest alley and lost themselves in the darker parts of the city.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Zusa was in her room when Alyssa found her.

  “What are you doing?” Alyssa asked. Zusa ignored her, instead continuing to put on her wrappings inch by inch. Lifting one arm, she began circling them across her breast, around her sides, and then back again. Loop after loop after loop.…

  Alyssa grabbed her hands, forcing her to stop. “Look at me,” she said. “Zusa…”

  “I have to go,” Zusa said, gently taking Alyssa’s hands in hers, then pulling herself free so she might continue to dress.

  “Go? Go where? I need you here. You know that. Whoever it is… this Widow… she followed us here. She’s here. And you’re to leave me?”

  Zusa turned her back to Alyssa, not wanting to see the worry in her eyes. It was dark now, but in the waning hours of daylight they’d found another body, this one dumped against the walls of the Connington estate, a crossbow bolt still stuck in her chest. It had been one of the servants left behind to care for Alyssa’s mansion while it was repaired. Her eyes had been removed, coins replacing them. The rhyme had mocked Alyssa directly yet again.

  tongue of gold, eyes of silver

  run, run gemcroft whore

  from the widow’s quiver

  Stephen had sent the guards into a frenzy of searching, furious that such a thing had been done without their noticing. Zusa, though, had only stared as the walls closed in around her. She’d calmly walked to her room, stripped naked, sharpened her daggers, and then begun to dress.

  “I only do what I must,” Zusa said.

  “Don’t lie to me,” Alyssa said. “I need you here. My son needs you here. Without your protection, we might…”

  “Don’t you understand?” Zusa said, whirling to face her. “That is why I go. It doesn’t matter how closely I guard you, you’re still vulnerable. The threat lurks, and I must find it.”

  “No,” Alyssa said, crossing her arms. “This Widow is just some sick fuck with a crossbow. Whoever it is can’t be better than you.”

  “It’s not the Widow,” Zusa said, shaking her head. “That was only a reminder of the threats made against us. It’s the other faceless. They’re just like me, Alyssa. No matter how many guards you surround yourself with, or how diligent I remain, they can still find you. When I sleep, or am separate from you for only a moment. Walls mean nothing, and shadows are just doors…”

  Alyssa stepped closer, put a hand against Zusa’s cheek. “You stopped them before. You can stop them again.”

  “They were foolish, and revealed themselves before they attacked. They won’t be so proud again. For whatever reason, Karak’s servants want you dead. Don’t you understand how dangerous a position that is? They are powerful, and they are relentless. If I don’t do something now, if I don’t find out why, then I can’t keep you safe. And I won’t let that happen. I won’t lose you. I won’t lose Nathan.”

  Alyssa pulled back her hand, put it against her own breast. “So you’ll run off and get yourself killed instead?”

  Tears were forming in Alyssa’s eyes. Zusa hardened her heart as best she could against them as she continued to dress. “Far better me than you,” she whispered.

  Alyssa kissed her cheek, then wrapped her arms about her. Zusa tilted her head, just the slightest opening, enough for Alyssa to press her face against her neck and let her tears wet Zusa’s skin.

  “With everyone else I must be strong,” said Alyssa. “With everyone else I must be a lie. Don’t you dare leave me alone. You come back, understand me? You come back.”

  Zusa gently pushed her away, then kissed her on the forehead. “Help me put on my cloak,” she said.

  That done, Zusa went to the door, put her hand on the wood.

  “Alyssa,” she said, trying to find the words. “I want you to know…”

  “Whatever it is you think you should say, don’t,” Alyssa said, and her face hardened along with her resolve. “You’re coming back, remember?”

  Zusa smiled at her. “Of course, my mistress,” she said, then vanished into the corridors of the mansion. She wove through them like a ghost, slipped through the courtyard without being seen by the guards, and then vaulted over the fence. She could only hope the other faceless would not attack in her absence. She’d searched the grounds for hours before leaving, but there was no way to know for certain. It was a gamble, but one she had to take.

  She’d made Daverik a promise: if he came after Alyssa and her family, then nothing would protect him. It was a promise she had every intention of keeping. She kept to the streets, needing speed more than anything. Her strike had to come before the temple decided to act again. The mob had failed to accomplish its goal, and her daggers had protected Alyssa from the faceless. Two failures… it would be too much to expect a third.

  Zusa slowed as she neared the temple. To most it would have appeared to be a large, well-furnished private mansion, but those who knew how to look, who had bent the knee to Karak, saw differently. They saw a great temple cut from black marble, the path to it lined with stone. Statues of lions roared from atop various pillars, their teeth sharp, their eyes always watching. Zusa remembered her final day within it, the day she’d been stripped and banished. The faceless, unworthy of Karak’s presence, were boarded elsewhere. Zusa had been tempted to seek out the faceless where they slept, but they were just puppets, not the real threat. Even with their deaths, more would come. Priests, perhaps, or dark paladins. She had to find the reason for Karak’s ire, and see if she could somehow defuse it.

  With a running leap she sailed over the fence. Drawing her daggers in midair, she landed with a quiet whisper of bending grass and sliding dirt. In the silence of the night, she let out a single prayer, a soft blasphemy against the temple she was about to enter.

  “I have seen no love from you, Ashhur,” she breathed. “But I ask for it now. Help me kill him. Help me save my family.”

  The wind blew, and she took that for her answer. Like an uncoiling serpent she moved, a sudden burst without pause or doubt. She knew the layout of the temple, knew where there’d be guards, priests, young disciples, and servingwomen. They would not have changed a thing over the ten years she’d been gone, she knew. Karak was not fond of change, especially when it came to his most devout followers. Her feet barely touched the grass as she ran, gathering momentum. It was suicide, she knew, to attack the temple head on, even at night, with her prey unprepared. Suicide.

  Her grin spread.

  At full speed she leaped feet-first toward the door of the temple. The entryway was dark, with nothing but the stars to give it light. Eyes closed, she focused, thought of the inner chambers. They’d be lit with torches, but not the door, deep in the entryway. Her feet did not touch wood, but passed right on through. She emerged on the other side, and her daggers lashed out, cutting the necks of two guards positioned inside. As they fell behind her, she landed on the soft carpet and tucked into a roll to preserve her momentum. Pulling out, she raced between the pews, toward the great statue of Karak at the end of the gathering hall. It was that altar they’d bled Daverik upon. She felt an impulse to kneel before the imposing statue that towered so greatly above her, but she fought it down. That wasn’t her god anymore.

  To the left was a door into the greater complex, where the priests slept. It was there she’d find Daverik’s room, and with any luck she’d get the answers she needed. Upon reaching the door she slammed into it with her shoulders, blasting it inward. Entering a hallway, she lunged, extending her body to its fullest as a priest turned
from his seat beneath a flickering torch, an old tome in his lap. The words of a spell were on his lips as the tip of her dagger pierced his throat, silencing him. Her shoulder absorbed the impact of her landing, and then she rolled past, pulling her dagger free along the way. Blood gushed across the carpet.

  So far, so good, but Zusa knew she’d been lucky. The slightest cry of warning and everything would become much, much harder.

  Still running, she passed silently through the hall, her cloak a ghost of cloth following after. She tried to think of where Daverik might be staying. There had been no man teaching them last time; instead a fellow faceless, Eliora, had been their trainer and spiritual leader. That meant Daverik would have no official room prepared for him, such as there was for the high priest.

  At an intersection she peered around the corner, looking left and right. She caught sight of a man changing candles as he moved down the hall. She waited until his back was to her before approaching. Her left arm pressed against his mouth, the other shoving a dagger through his back and into his heart. As he shuddered, she let him drop, then glanced about. Too many rooms. She couldn’t just open doors at random. Where would Daverik be?

  He was new there, she decided, little more than a guest. And guests were given a specific place, the rooms far more ornate, the intricate paintings exaggerating the power and importance of the priesthood. Urging herself on, she glanced back, wondering how long until someone found a body. Not long. She had to move faster.

  At the guest room she stopped and pressed her ear to the door. She heard no movement, no sign of life within. But it was dark, and Daverik would most likely be asleep. Gently she grabbed the doorknob and started to twist.

  The door was flung open with explosive force, knocking her backward. As she hit the opposite wall, she rolled, narrowly avoiding a kick from a faceless woman. Zusa’s daggers flashed out, parrying stabs, and then she was running down the hall, back toward the entrance. Curses screamed in her mind. When another faceless stepped in her way, shadows curling off her body like smoke, Zusa knew this for what it was.