A Dance of Blades (Shadowdance 2)

by David Dalglish

  “Say that again, and I’ll cut out your tongue.”

  The boy stepped back, as if stunned by the coldness in his voice. The rest looked up at him, some ready to cry, some angry, but most were heartbreakingly indifferent. Haern pointed to Brann Goodfinger’s corpse.

  “Take his coin,” he said. “Go, and make better lives than this. Remain thieves, and you’ll fall to the guilds, or to me. I don’t want to kill you, but I will. There is no future for you, not in this.”

  “None for you, either,” said another, but Haern could not tell who. With practiced efficiency the children took everything of value from Brann’s corpse and vanished into the streets. Haern didn’t know where they went, nor did he care. He only felt fury. Brann had died quickly, hardly the example Haern desired to set. As for the boy he’d kicked…

  He dropped from the rafter, landing lightly on his feet. Gently he rolled him over, put a hand on his neck. No pulse.

  “Damn you, Brann,” Haern whispered. “I hope you burn forever.”

  Leaving the body there was not an option. Haern considered himself better than that. Lifting him onto his shoulder, he rushed out to the streets, praying no gutsy member of a thief guild spotted him and tried something incredibly heroic and stupid. There were several gravekeepers in Veldaren, plus another who burned bodies instead of burying them. Haern went to the burner, picked the lock of his door, and went inside. The owner was asleep on a cot in a small room, and Haern woke him with a firm prod of his saber.

  “What? Who are … Oh, you.”

  The elderly man, Willard, rubbed his eyes, then opened them when Haern dropped a handful of coins onto his lap.

  “Spare no expense, and bury his ashes.”

  “Who was he?” asked Willard, looking over the boy’s body as Haern set him down on the floor.

  “An accident.”

  “Then what shall I engrave on his urn?”

  “Pick something,” Haern said as he left.

  In a foul mood, he raced off for the Gemcroft estate, wishing he could put the prior events out of his mind and knowing there’d be no such luck. Brann’s death would still be a warning to the others against using children to break the arrangement between the guilds and the Trifect. He’d accomplished that, though not how he’d hoped. But it was that nameless boy who haunted him, made his insides sick. Brann had been convinced Haern would not have the stomach for what might happen. Turned out he might have been right.

  Scaling the fence around the Gemcroft estate was easy enough, though avoiding the guards was another matter. There was a secondary building in the back, where he’d been told the meeting would take place. Most of the patrols kept close to the mansion, which helped tremendously. Haern lurked beside the gate, running along it when outside the patrols’ vision and lying flat amid the shadows when they passed. At last he reached the small building. Timing the patrols, he knew he had about thirty seconds to slip in and out without being seen. Faint light burned within. He pressed his ear against the door and heard no discussion.

  Too late, or too early? The door was unlocked, so he opened it and slipped inside. The room was surprisingly bare, containing only a single bed atop a padded floor. Hardly the servants’ quarters he’d expected. The lone lantern kept the place dimly lit, with plenty of shadows in the far corners. So far, it appeared empty.

  “Damn,” he whispered.

  He headed for the far corner, figuring to wait a few hours just in case the meeting was yet to transpire. In the center of the room, though, he stopped. Something in the corner wasn’t right, the shadows not smooth…

  Haern lunged for the door, his instincts screaming trap. Before he could get there, something latched on to his cloak and tugged, hard. He spun to the ground, torn between attacking and tearing his cloak free to flee. Already furious because of Brann, he kicked to his feet and attacked. To his surprise, his sabers clashed against long blades, his thrusts perfectly blocked. He was already preparing a second strike when he saw his opponent’s outfit. Long dark wrappings covering her body—all but her shadowed face.

  “Enough, Watcher,” said Zusa, her slender body contorted into a bizarre defensive formation. “I am not here to kill you.”

  Haern pulled away, and he put his back to a wall, the door at his side.

  “Then why are you here?” he asked.

  “Because I desired it,” said a voice at the door.

  Haern turned, then dipped his head in a mock bow. “Lady Gemcroft,” he said. “It is good to see you, Alyssa.”

  The ruler of the Gemcroft fortune smiled at him, not at all bothered by his tone. Zusa sheathed her daggers, though her hands remained on their hilts. She joined Alyssa’s side, her dark eyes never leaving him. Alyssa seemed relaxed, far more so than when Haern had last seen her. Of course, he’d been trying to kill her at the time, back when Alyssa was flooding the streets with mercenaries. She wore a slender dress underneath her robe, her red hair let down loose about her shoulders. Haern almost felt flattered she’d dressed up for him, as if he were some noble or diplomat.

  “I was told of a meeting concerning the thieves,” Haern said. “Was there any truth to this?”

  “I assure you, Terrance is loyal to me, and me alone,” she said.

  The side of Haern’s face twitched. Terrance had been his informant, of course. He felt at a disadvantage, with no clue as to the reason for their meeting. He didn’t like that. The two also blocked the only exit. He really didn’t like that.

  “Then I was told a lie, just to bring me here,” he said. “Why is that, Alyssa?”

  “Because I want to hire you.”

  Haern paused, then laughed at the absurd notion. “I am no pawn for you to force your will upon. And if what you say is true, why this secrecy and deception?”

  “Because I don’t want anyone—not the guilds nor the Trifect—to know. I leave for Angelport, and I wish for you to accompany me and Zusa.”

  Haern’s hands fidgeted as they held his sabers. Answering such a request with someone as dangerous as Zusa blocking his way out was not his idea of a fair bargaining position.

  “What reason could you possibly have?” he asked. “I assure you, Zusa is quite capable of keeping you alive.”

  A bit of impatience finally pierced Alyssa’s calm demeanor.

  “Someone broke into Laurie Keenan’s home, slaughtered his son and daughter-in-law, along with a dozen guards. I’m going for their funeral services, as is appropriate. I want you and Zusa to hunt down this killer and bring him to justice while I’m there.”

  Haern shook his head. “I can’t leave Veldaren,” he said. “The peace I’ve managed to create—”

  “Is no peace at all,” Alyssa said. “The thief guilds prey on each other, killing themselves in an endless squabble over the gold we pay them. The few that steal are more often caught by their own kind, not you. No one will know you’ve left, not for weeks. It’s been two years, and you’ve spilled enough blood to wash the city red. Those who remain have settled into their comfortable lives of bribes and easy money, and you know it. You’ve become a figurehead, a watcher against only the most reckless of the underworld. The city’s changed. It won’t miss you while you’re gone.”

  Haern did know that, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

  “This is your problem,” he said. “I’ve had enough dealings with the Trifect to last a lifetime. Find your killer on your own. Now let me through.”

  Alyssa glanced at Zusa, then nodded. They stepped aside. As Haern walked out into the night, Alyssa called after him.

  “They found a marking,” she said. “Drawn in their blood.”

  Haern stopped. “What of?” he asked.

  “A single eye.”

  Haern turned, and he felt his anger rise. “You would accuse me of this crime?”

  “No accusation,” Alyssa said, stepping out. “I have already looked into the matter and know you were in Veldaren both the night it happened, plus the nights before and after. Laurie’s
kept word of it a secret and told only those closest to him of its presence at the murder. He knows you didn’t perform the deed, though he still fears your involvement somehow…”

  Grinding his teeth, Haern tried to think through what any of it meant, but it left him baffled.

  “This makes no sense, Alyssa,” he said. “Why would someone frame me so far away? I’ve never been to Angelport, nor used that symbol for years. Not since the war between the Trifect and the thief guilds ended.”

  “It’s not a frame,” Zusa said, as if it were so simple. “It is a calling. You’re being summoned, Watcher.”

  Haern tried to think it over, but he felt so tired, so unprepared. The boy’s dead face kept flashing before his eyes.

  “How do I know this isn’t a trap?” he finally asked.

  Alyssa looked away, as if embarrassed by what she had to say. “Because of you, my son lives,” she said. “And because of you, I was able to bring vengeance to the one who tried to kill him. I will never betray you. Someone murdered powerful citizens of Angelport, my friends and colleagues, and is using their blood to send you a message. Help me find him. Help me stop him.”

  Haern sighed. “So be it,” he said. “When do we leave?”