The Shadowdance Trilogy

by David Dalglish

  “When we’re questioned, just speak the truth,” he told her as they walked. “Our friend is sick, and we’re seeking help.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Stop worrying,” Zusa said, opening a sleepy eye. “You’re braver than this.”

  Alyssa flushed, then quickened her step to keep pace with Haern.

  They arrived at the heavy gates, two guards overlooking those passing by. Every now and then they’d turn someone away, usually if they were too poor to afford the bribe. They had let him through with hardly a glance when he’d been in his fine, borrowed clothing. Nobles could stand their ground without fear. The rest, though...

  “Hold on up,” said the heavier of the two guards as they tried to pass through. “What’s wrong with her?”

  “Sick with fever,” Haern said, refusing to meet the guard’s eye for long. He didn’t want to seem memorable in any way.

  “Fever?” said the other guard, wandering over. “We don’t need any sort of plague getting near the docks. How bad?”

  “She’ll die soon,” Alyssa said, stepping up.

  “You his husband, miss?”

  “Yes,” Alyssa said without missing a beat. “Please, she’s our friend.”

  She reached into her pocket and withdrew a handful of coins. Haern inwardly winced, and wasn’t surprised when the guards narrowed their eyes. Every coin was gold, and freshly minted. No one garbed as they were could possess such wealth.

  “Please,” she said, offering three coins to each. “We are in a great hurry.”

  The second took the gold, but the heavier one scratched at his chin. Haern felt his eyes analyzing him, and he tensed, waiting for that moment of recognition. The guard leaned toward the other and whispered something.

  “Don’t be daft,” said the other. “That ain’t him.”

  “But how could you know?”

  “Course I know.” The second guard stared Haern straight in the eye. “He saved my life. How would I forget that face?”

  The heavier guard shrugged and pocketed his share of the coin.

  “Much appreciate the kindness,” he said. “Hard work keeping these streets safe.”

  “I can imagine,” Haern said.

  The three continued on, then hooked a right.

  “Next time, a handful of coppers will suffice,” Haern said when they were out of earshot.

  Alyssa blushed.

  “The least I have is a few silvers...”

  Haern rolled his eyes.

  “Forget it. You could never pass as a commoner, anyway. You don’t have the slouch.”

  Alyssa started to protest, but saw Zusa smiling amid her pain. She blushed and kept her mouth shut. They traveled down the street until Haern at last stopped them before their destination.

  “A temple?” Alyssa asked.

  “They may give us sanctuary,” Haern said. “And at the least, they might be able to help Zusa. She’s what is most important right now.”

  “Of course,” Alyssa said, sounding ashamed. “I should have thought of this sooner.”

  They approached the entrance, a single door lacking any decorations. The outside was plain, half the size of Ashhur’s temple in Veldaren. The walls were wood instead of stone. Haern wondered if Karak’s temple held far greater sway and attendance, or if the people of Angelport simply had no time for gods. Neither thought was comforting. A bronze knocker was nailed to the center of the door, and Alyssa rapped it twice. Within moments the door cracked open, and a young man of twelve or thirteen greeted them.

  “May I help you?” he asked with practiced politeness.

  “We seek succor,” Haern said, tilting his head toward Zusa. “And our friend is in need of healing.”

  “One moment.”

  The door shut, and they heard a lock click from the other side. Haern began a new litany in his head, denouncing the pain he felt. Something warm trickled down his arm, and he knew the wound was bleeding through the bandage. Not much longer, he thought. He just had to hang on a little while longer. A minute later, the door swung wide, and the young man beckoned them in.

  “I’m sorry for the wait. Please, follow me.”

  They entered immediately into the altar room, where benches of mismatched wood were lined before a single stepped dais. Their host pointed to one of the benches.

  “Lay her down there.”

  “Sure thing, uh....”

  “Oh,” the young man seemed to snap out of his routine for a brief moment. “Logan. Sorry.”

  Haern noticed he’d kept something hidden from them in his arms, first at his chest when he led them in, and now at his back. Setting Zusa down, he took a quick glance when their host wasn’t looking. It looked like a weapon of some sort, a metal club, perhaps.

  “Are you the priest here?” Alyssa asked, looking about the simple room.

  “Me?” Logan shook his head and grinned. “No, ma’am. Nole’s in charge. I just help. He’s out with a family, but he’ll be back soon. Please stay in here, all right?”

  “Sure thing,” Haern said, squeezing Zusa’s hand. “Might you bring us some blankets before you go?”

  Logan flushed.

  “Of course.”

  He retreated into a single door behind the altar, returning moments later with several blankets in his arms.

  “I didn’t know how many you’d need,” he said as Alyssa took them.

  “Thank you,” she said, laying two of them across Zusa, who had begun shivering. Logan peered over her shoulder, then stepped back when he realized Haern was watching.

  “What’s wrong with her?” he asked.

  “She’s sick,” Haern said. “Is it not obvious?”

  Logan nodded twice in rapid succession, then hurried into the back room after repeating that they stay there.

  “Nervous little kid,” Haern muttered.

  “Be kind,” Alyssa said, sitting on the bench by Zusa. Gently she stroked her friend’s forehead.

  The minutes passed in silence. Haern took a seat on a bench opposite the two women, and he held his stolen sword in both hands, gently poking the tip into the floor as a way to relieve his boredom. He hated this feeling of helplessness, hated the pain that refused to leave his shoulder, hated the blood that dripped down to his wrist before dropping to the floor. Most of all, he hated the raging desire for vengeance in his heart. It felt unwelcome in such a temple, no matter how small and plain it might be.

  But he wouldn’t deny it. Madelyn. Ingram. The elves. More than ever, he felt he understood the Wraith’s desire to bring it all tumbling down. What is it he’d said? He’d walked into a house of cards. Who was in the right? Could he even trust Alyssa?

  The door opened behind them with a loud creak, and he turned toward it. In stepped a middle-aged man, his hair long but his face shaven. He wore the white robes of his order, which stood in stark contrast to his dark skin. Seeing them there, he smiled.

  “I see we have guests,” he said. “Welcome. I am Nole, priest and leader of this holy temple.”

  Haern stood so he could bow, while Alyssa remained seated next to Zusa, still holding the faceless woman’s hand. From the back the door opened, and Logan hurried out.

  “Have you made our guests feel comfortable?” Nole asked the young man.

  “We’ve been treated well,” Haern said, answering for him. “Though I feared Logan might strike us with a club at any moment.”

  Logan blushed and kicked his feet.

  “It’s just, you know, robbers...”

  “We’ve had many come claiming they seek forgiveness only to instead steal every last copper,” Nole said. “I hate leaving him here alone, but someone must watch the temple when I am gone. And who might you three be?”

  “My name is Haern. With me is Alyssa, and the sick lady, Zusa.”

  Nole frowned as he came closer to where Zusa lay. Alyssa looked up at him expectantly.

  “Can you help her?” she asked. “I can pay well, I promise.”

&nbs
p; She was already pulling out coins from her pocket when the priest waved her away.

  “What has happened to her?” he asked, kneeling beside the bench.

  “I’m not sure I can say. She caught fever a few days ago, and while she recovered at first, it’s come back far worse.”

  Nole put his hands on Zusa’s face, pressed his forehead against hers, and then closed his eyes. As he began to pray, Haern lay down on his own bench, unable to keep up his concentration. The pain in his shoulder came roaring back to life, and he gritted his teeth to endure. Meanwhile, white light flashed around the priest’s hands, then vanished.

  “I’ve seen this before,” he said, standing. “Though never quite this extreme. Does she chew crimleaf?”

  “No,” Alyssa said. “Why?”

  “Because that’s what this reminds me of. Sometimes people try far too much at once, and it gets into them like a disease. Usually it only makes them sick for a day or two, but this...”

  “The Violet,” Alyssa said. “It must be that.”

  “Violet?”

  “Stronger crimleaf. I can’t explain much more than that, priest.”

  Nole shrugged.

  “I will do what I can. Logan, help me carry her into my room. She deserves a far better bed than this hard bench.”

  Alyssa slid aside so they might take her. She watched them go, worry evident in her eyes. Haern eyed her from upon his back, feeling incredibly tired.

  “You love her, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Like she was my sister.”

  “I wouldn’t know what that’s like. I had only one brother.”

  She glanced his way.

  “What happened to him?”

  Haern smiled even as the sadness and shame of it stung him.

  “I killed him at my father’s request. I haven’t thought about him in years.”

  Alyssa didn’t seem to know what to say. She stared at the door where Zusa had vanished within. Wringing her hands, she settled into the bench and pulled a blanket over her.

  “I did the right thing, didn’t I?” she asked. “Letting the elves stay?”

  “You ask the wrong person,” Haern said, closing his eyes. “I’m still in the dark. Why were you helping them? What do they have to do with you? And just what is this Violet?”

  He heard Alyssa sigh.

  “Laurie Keenan’s wealth has faded, so that his only real source of wealth comes from his domination of the crimleaf trade. But recently we heard rumors of this new leaf, which the Merchant Lords were calling Violet. Everyone said the same thing, and I tried it myself to confirm it: the leaf is a hundred times more potent than crimleaf. The catch is that it only grows in the Quellan Forest. Something about the trees there, or the elves, I don’t know. For two years, the merchants have tried growing it elsewhere without success. So now they’ve moved on to a new strategy.”

  “The elves,” Haern said. “That’s what is causing all this conflict?”

  “Partly. Ingram’s hatred of them is well known, and he’s always been stirring up trouble. This time, though, he’s gone too far, and he’s clueless as to how badly the merchants have manipulated him to do so. He wants concessions of land, believing it’d be for his loggers and his boats. Since the elves have killed so many, he thinks this a fair compensation, as well as a way to cease the bloodshed.”

  “It won’t work, though,” Haern said, thinking of the look on Laryssa’s face. “They won’t give an inch, will they?”

  Alyssa sighed.

  “No, I don’t think they will. There are some who wish to avoid war, and might consider it. But there are many elves who hope for otherwise...”

  “So you coming here, helping the elves...it was all to protect Lord Keenan’s investments?”

  “Is that what you think of me?” she asked, and the cold fury in her voice made him open his eyes. “That my wealth, and that of the Trifect, is all that matters? I saw a war coming, Watcher, one Laurie failed to prevent on his own. I wanted to find a way to stop it. I know we have our sins, but the Merchant Lords are worse. They have no stake in anything, no land, no heritage. They have their boats, their gold, and their vices. Violet is dangerous, yet they’ll flood all of Dezrel with it to fill their coffers. At least we have tried to build an empire of mines, farms, villages. Ulrich, and those like him, will burn Neldar to the ground if they so desire. They’ll sail their boats through a thousand floating corpses if it satisfies their greed.”

  Haern stared, unflinching against her glare.

  “Why am I here?” he asked. “Why really?”

  “Because Taras Keenan was a kind, worthy heir to his father’s legacy, and that Wraith split him into pieces and left his newborn child sobbing amid the gore. I brought you here for vengeance.”

  “And that is all you see of me, then, a weapon at your disposal?”

  “Of course,” she said. “Is that not what you are? Dezrel’s greatest killer?”

  He settled back down on the bench, shifting so his bad shoulder would be comfortable. He thought of the awesome skill the Wraith had displayed in their fight. How easily he’d won.

  “I don’t know anymore,” he whispered.

  13

  What in Karak’s name is happening to my city? wondered Ingram as he took his seat in the expansive meeting hall of his mansion and waited for the rest to arrive. Egar sat beside him, with Yor purposefully misled to the time so he’d come late.

  “Laurie’s resistance to your men sets a dangerous precedent,” said Egar as he sampled from a bowl of fruits set between him and Ingram by one of the servants.

  “Yeah, well he’s dead now,” said Ingram. “Good to know at least one of the gods has a sense of justice.”

  “There’s still the matter of his wife, and if they’re hiding the Watcher. If the masses start thinking you aren’t in control...”

  “Enough,” Ingram said, waving his hand. “I’ve another round of hangings coming tonight, all to goad that bastard out. Never had such a wonderful excuse to clear my dungeons, either. All those bodies swinging will make sure the people know who runs this city.”

  “But still, you should press Madelyn to turn them over, or at the least allow an inspection of her mansion. It’s shameful enough the Watcher escaped your dungeons, let alone with the Wraith openly mocking you.”

  “Enough!” Ingram roared. “Do you think I’m daft? Traitors house elves, mercenaries are accepting coin to fight against me, a vigilante openly defies my rule, and it seems every night some new lord or lady dies in their bed. Worst part is, I can’t send my damn soldiers after any of them. Too many cowards, all. At least the elves have the courtesy to admit they’re the ones killing our people who enter their cursed woods.”

  He took a drink to calm himself. When he drained it, he held it out for a servant to refill. As he did, the first of their guests arrived, and it was not who he expected.

  “Lady Madelyn,” Ingram said, standing. “You surprise me.”

  Madelyn lowered her head in greeting. She wore dark mourning clothes, but her face was uncovered, and even sported a hint of rouge. Her long ponytail was wrapped about her neck, as if it were a collection of necklaces. Escorting her was a large mercenary, enormously muscled and with a greatsword on his back.

  “There will be time to grieve, but not now,” she said, taking a seat. The mercenary remained standing behind her.

  “I’d prefer all weapons be left outside,” Egar said, raising an eyebrow.

  “Given recent events, I go nowhere unless Torgar is with me to keep me safe.”

  Ingram let it drop, for he had far more pressing things to discuss.

  “I’m more surprised you would come given your...aggressive stance toward my investigation,” he said, taking his seat.

  “A regrettable event, I assure you. Indeed, that is one reason why I must speak with you. The Watcher did come seeking succor, but he is with us no longer. Alyssa Gemcroft is the one who brought him from Veldaren, and it was her mercena
ry who freed him from your prison.”

  “Is that so?” Ingram asked, feeling his heart race. A leader of the Trifect blatantly helping a wanted criminal? Could he have any better excuse to take those egotistical bastards down a peg? “Then you must hand her over at once.”

  “I would, but she escaped my guards, and I do not know...”

  “Milord, Laryssa and her escort,” a servant announced at the door moments before the elves entered. This time neither Egar nor Ingram stood, for they both had tired of treating the elves with such dignity. Only Madelyn rose, and only just.

  “Welcome,” Ingram said, his voice cold. “We are pleased to once again be in your company.”

  “As are we yours,” Laryssa said, no doubt lying right back. They took seats, with the ambassador Graeven on her left, Sildur on her right. Ingram sort of liked Graeven. That elf seemed to see reason at times. Sildur, however, looked ready for war with every word he spoke, with only Laryssa keeping him in check. Behind them stood two bodyguards, ornate daggers in their belts. Ingram tried to shove the business with the Watcher out of his mind. After the meeting was done, he could question Madelyn more about Alyssa’s involvement, as well as where they might have gone.

  The elves had hardly settled in before Ulrich arrived representing the Merchant Lords, only this time he was accompanied by his brother, which was mildly surprising. The two bowed as a servant announced their presence, then took a seat opposite the elves at the long table. Ingram offered them greetings just as cold as he had the elves. The elves would one day go home, and leave his city in peace. The same could not be said for the Blackwater brothers.

  “Do you speak for your husband?” Laryssa asked, noticing Madelyn.

  “My husband is dead,” she said. “I speak for myself.”

  “My apologies,” Laryssa said. “I am sad to hear.”

  “As are we,” Ulrich said, butting in as Yor finally arrived, taking a seat at Ingram’s left. “Such a true shame, but I am glad to see you remain strong.”