Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

by David Dalglish

  “Thank you,” she said, sitting down once more by the fire.

  Zusa did not respond. She moved about the camp, preparing a tent that had been left behind unassembled. From a pack nearby she pulled out some tough meat and handed it to Veliana. She wasn’t hungry but ate anyway, preferring the salty taste to the lingering offense of bile and Gileas on her tongue.

  “Why did you save me?” Veliana asked.

  Zusa glanced up as if the question were stupid.

  “Because I wanted to.”

  Veliana smirked. It felt like an answer she might have given.

  “Be that as it may, I’ve sworn my life. I’d like to know what I’m sworn into.”

  The faceless woman punched the last spike of the tent into the dirt with the hilt of her dagger and then stood. Without the wraps, her body looked far more relaxed and feminine. Her breasts actually had room to breathe, and Veliana couldn’t help but feel both jealousy and annoyance. To have that much beauty and hide it? What was the point in that?

  The thought of beauty stung her deeply. She ran her fingers along the bloody wound from her eyebrow to her chin. No one would think her beautiful now. She was a scarred freak. The eye, what was left of it, ached with every breath she took.

  Zusa watched her trace her finger over the cut, her lips curled into a frown.

  “We are the faceless,” she said, looking away into the forest. Her short black hair fell across her face, hiding her pained expression. “There are only three of us, all priestesses of Karak, and all expelled. We are considered slaves to our sex, so weak and vile that we must live outside the temple with the rest of the sinful world.”

  “What did you do?” Veliana asked. She forced her hand away from the wound on her face. It would do no good obsessing over it now.

  “I bedded a priest in training,” Zusa replied. “A young man named Daverik. We were young, foolish. When we were caught, he was given lashes and a ten-year penance. I was forced to become one of the faceless.”

  Veliana huddled closer to the warmth of the fire and let the words sink in. A beautiful woman caught in bed with a priest. Rather than deal with the issue, they forced her out, hid her beauty, and declared her vile. She felt anger stir within her stomach. How could she be sworn to become one of them? Why were the gods so cruel as to put her in such a situation? Again she promised vengeance upon Thren and his son.

  “Your sisters,” Veliana said. “They’re beautiful too, aren’t they?”

  Zusa nodded. “We all are. Do you understand why I saved you? To see another woman hurt, humiliated, her beauty stolen by a man … I couldn’t bear it. Better that you become one of us.”

  “One of the faceless.”

  “My faith in Karak has not wavered,” Zusa said. She sat at Veliana’s side. Gently her fingers traced the dagger wound across her eye. “I will see what Pelarak can do about that. He is our greatest priest and strongest healer. I must also have his permission to fully induct you into our order.”

  It was all insane. Thren might think her dead, or he might hear of Gileas’s failure. She couldn’t possibly leave James alone and vulnerable, could she? The guild needed her. James needed her. Karak was nothing. The Ash Guild was family.

  “I can’t,” Veliana said. “Please. I belong to a guild, the Ash Guild. If I don’t hurry back, Thren might destroy everyone I know and love.”

  Zusa tapped at her lips, her gaze momentarily distant.

  “No,” she said at last. “Not yet. You must meet the high priest. I must hear his words. But afterward, I promise you, I will give you a chance to save your friends. Can you accept this, Veliana?”

  The idea burned her stomach, but Veliana nodded in understanding.

  “So be it,” she said. “To the temple we go.”

  CHAPTER

  13

  Potts hated this part of his job. He could deal with Leon’s general slobbery, his impatience with setbacks, and even his temperamental, dangerous mood swings. What the old man could not stand, however, was informing Leon of current events while the man bathed in his wooden tub. Even though his rolls of fat effectively censored him, that only seemed to make it worse. Two pretty maids worked him over with brushes, scrubbing ferociously against his skin in between splashes of hot water. Through it all, Leon giggled as if being tickled.

  Master of the Connington fortune, one of three lords of the Trifect, thought the advisor, and yet nothing more than a fat child in a bath. If there are gods in this world, they have cruel tastes for amusement.

  “I’ve been given word from the Green Castle,” Potts said after clearing his throat twice to get his master’s attention. “They’ve sent yet another wagon of wine from their stores, though they insisted we pay extra since we’ve already cleared out half of their vintage.”

  “Tell them I’ll pay them that extra when I actually get the blasted bottles,” Leon said, his giggles replaced by an annoying whine. “Those rogue bastards think to starve me of drink and food. It used to be just the city, but now the entire countryside is overrun with thieves and brigands. Perhaps we should send a whole army of mercenaries along the west highway. I’ll get my damn wine then.”

  “Speaking of, uh, wine,” Potts said. “Our own stores have gotten uncomfortably low. Nearly every seller in Veldaren refuses to deal with us, or part with a single bottle. Not for any price, no matter how outrageous.”

  “I told you they meant to starve me!” Leon howled. His fat shifted in the bath, splashing the two maids. They winced but held their tongues. Potts held his as well, not daring to say that he felt Leon could use a solid week of starvation.

  “It appears Thren has begun a new tactic,” Potts said instead. “Instead of trying to bankrupt us, he’s doing what he can to make our lives miserable. He’s disrupted the Gemcrofts’ caravans as well.”

  “Make us miserable?” Leon fumed. “They live in guttershite and eat out of assholes yet they try to make me miserable? Well, he’s succeeding! Remember my wagon of peaches that Thren ambushed on the Kingstrip? He had his men piss all over them before feeding them to herds of swine. I’d love to piss all over that bastard’s head. I’m telling you, Potts, we must strike back. This nonsense has gone on far too long.”

  “Perhaps, if you have a plan, you can bring it up at the Kensgold?” Potts suggested.

  “Ugh,” Leon said, sinking deeper into the bath. More water splashed out the sides. The two maids were thoroughly soaked by now, but if they were disturbed by their contact with Leon and his dirty water, they hid it well. “I grow so tired of these Kensgolds. Didn’t they used to be every four years instead of two?”

  “They did,” Potts said. “But when the Trifect declared war on the guilds, it was decided that meeting more often would be best for coordinating our efforts at destroying them.” The advisor coughed. “It was your idea, master.”

  “Bah. Then I was an idiot.”

  You still are, thought Potts.

  “One last thing,” Potts said, determined to finish soon. If not, he’d be forced to endure the thoroughly grotesque sight of Leon getting out of the tub, the water dripping down from his fat in a wide circle around the floor. The maids could never get the towels around him fast enough to suppress the horrible spectacle.

  “What’s that?” Leon asked.

  “It appears that the rest of the thief guilds have turned against the Ash Guild. They’ve taken nearly all of their territory except for a few streets.”

  “Really?” Leon asked. “Did their guildmaster die?”

  “No, James Beren still lives. Truly, there doesn’t appear to be any good reason for the cannibalism, not that I have heard.”

  “Hrm.” Leon scratched his chin as he thought. “To have so many guilds attack them implies a severe weakness. Thren must have turned on them. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Try to capture one of the Ash Guild’s members before they’re all dead. We might be able to snag ourselves an ally.”

  “As you wish,” Potts said with a bow
. He saw Leon grab the sides of the bath, preparing to stand, so he beat a hasty retreat.

  Kayla sat alone in her room, feeling restless. For whatever reason, Thren had not taken her and Senke with him, only Will and his son. Senke had told her it had something to do with the Ash Guild, but would not elaborate. He had run off to do a spot of wenching, which left her alone, bored, and restless. Ever since she’d rescued Robert Haern from prison, her duties had dwindled to nothing. She figured in a day or two she’d beg for something as simple as leading a caravan robbery, just so she could have something to do.

  She practiced with her daggers to pass the time. She had mentored under an elderly man many years ago, and from him learned many stances and techniques. She ran through them one by one. If she was to serve Thren, she’d need to be at her finest. Her daggerwork was far from the best. If Thren’s life ever depended upon her, mediocre would not do the job.

  How many hours she practiced, she didn’t know, but when she finished her body was coated with sweat and her arms throbbed. She collapsed on the bed and gasped in air. When someone knocked on her door, she was too exhausted to bother getting up.

  “Come in,” she said. “It’s not locked.”

  The door crept open. Kayla had expected Senke or Will, maybe even Thren, but instead Aaron crept inside and quietly shut the door behind him.

  “This is a surprise,” she said, sitting up on her bed. She caught his eyes wandering, then realized her shirt was unbuttoned at the top. Fighting away a blush, she fastened a few of the buttons, feeling silly all the while. She’d shown far more to men to get her way. Still, Aaron was young, and she was well aware of his crush on her.

  “I have something for you,” he said.

  “Oh, do you now? Let me see.”

  Kayla outstretched her hand. He stared at her fingers, and she caught his lips trembling as if he were struck with indecision. Remembering how much she’d hated being his age, and how uncomfortable everything had always seemed to be when she was thirteen, she tried to prod him onward.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she gently teased. “You’ve said you bring gifts, so give them to me. I may steal and spy, but I like presents just like any other girl.”

  His neck flushed a bit, just around the collar, but then he outstretched his right hand and dropped a set of earrings onto her open palm. They sparkled with sapphires and white gold. Kayla gasped. She had expected cheap jewelry, a flower, or some poorly written poetry. The gift in her hand seemed more appropriate for a woman of royalty.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked.

  “Father has begun paying me for my aid,” he said. “He says I need to be treated like any other of his men if I am to earn their respect.”

  “He must pay you well,” Kayla said, holding the earrings close so she could admire their sparkle. Clearly they had been polished and well cared for. A part of her felt too cheap and dirty to wear them.

  “You’re beautiful,” Aaron said. His voice, his eyes, his demeanor: everything about him, normally so quiet and secretive, made no attempt to hide the plain truth he spoke. He thought she was beautiful, and that simple belief was enough to have her put the earrings in her ears, pressing them through scarred-over holes from earrings she had worn as a girl. A bit of blood ran across her fingers, but she made sure none dripped across the gold.

  “Thank you,” she said. She kissed his forehead, amused at how red his ears turned.

  “Senke says I’ll owe him for the next five years,” Aaron said, babbling. He clearly didn’t know how to react to the kiss. “But I’ll keep paying him, and it shouldn’t be a problem, unless I die, but then I don’t need to worry about paying him back, do I? Not unless he can find my ghost and…”

  “Shush, Aaron,” Kayla said. At the invoking of his name, his whole body seemed to shrivel inward and slip behind a protective mask.

  “Haern,” he said. “Aaron isn’t allowed to be friends with a woman. Call me Haern.”

  “Sorry,” Kayla said. “This kiss is for Haern, then.”

  She kissed him just above his right eye.

  “You’re a cute boy,” she said. “Now run along and do something appropriate for your age.”

  He nodded, the blush from his ears and his neck having connected at his cheeks. His apparent love, so juvenile and simple, was enough to brighten Kayla’s night. She ushered him out the door, then plopped back down on her bed. As she spread her arms through the fabric of her covers, she let her mind wander. Aaron was cute and, more important, Thren’s son. Once he got older, maybe sixteen or so, perhaps she could arrange for a marriage. Her place in the guild would be solidified so completely she’d rule once Thren died.

  Assuming Thren ever died. The tough bastard looked ready to live another forty years. When he did pass away, she wondered if the Spider Guild would even survive.

  What am I thinking? she thought. Of course it will last. Thren won’t spend his whole life building a castle of cards. He wants a legacy.

  Of course, any plot to use Aaron as a means of solidifying rank wouldn’t work if what he had said was true. His father was denying him the friendship of any woman? Why was that? The cynical side of her wondered if it was to prevent the very idea she’d just had. But Thren’s focus, his determination, his desire for a legacy…

  Just what did he want Aaron to become?

  Deciding her life far more likely to endure if she gave up pondering, or even worse, getting involved in such things, she closed her eyes and tried to relax. After a while she dozed off, her light sleep broken by a firm knock on her door. A tingle in her temples told her to open it herself. Her warning was correct: Thren stood waiting, his arms crossed, his swords hanging from his belt.

  “You should be more alert when I am gone,” he said as he stepped past her into her room. “Alert, instead of slumbering. If something should happen to me, an attack on our guild would immediately follow.”

  “A silly worry,” Kayla said as she shut the door. “Since when can something happen to you?”

  He looked at her as if deciding whether to smile or scowl. So instead he shrugged.

  “Even the impossible tends to find its way into our everyday lives. I have a task for you, Kayla, one suited to your talents. A troublesome man named Delius has been actively encouraging the lowborn folk to turn against us, and such a…”

  He stopped. She felt a moment of self-conscious worry spike through her. Was her shirt open again? Her hair messed up in some strange way? She followed his eyes, then realized he was staring at her earrings. Of course he’d noticed them. Besides being new, they sparkled like stars, almost screaming for attention.

  “Your son gave them to me,” she said, not daring to lie.

  She was not prepared for the rage that roared to life in his eyes, his hands, and his snarl. Thren slammed her against the wall, her wrists pinned. Before she even knew she was in danger, she was helpless.

  “Listen carefully,” he said to her. Somehow his rage never reached his voice. “Aaron must remain pure. He has the chance to become something incredible. I will have my heir, and I will not risk its ruin to the caress of a woman, the stupor of drink, or the delusions of gods and goddesses. Do you understand me?”

  “I’ll give them back,” Kayla said. She almost nodded, then realized that would dangle her earrings, and she feared that might set him off.

  “Not just that,” Thren said. “I want his heart broken. Give it a scar that will never heal. When you are done, meet me and Senke in my room. I still have that job for you.”

  “As you wish,” she said.

  He let go of her hands, glanced about the room, and then left.

  Kayla felt her knees tremble, and when the door was shut she let her fear out in a single sob. The fear didn’t last long. Anger raged upward in her breast. Aaron’s adoration of her was so simple, so embarrassingly pure. And Thren would have her crush it, have her make his son’s heart bleed, all so he could have his damn legacy?

  She took o
ff her earrings, put them in her pocket, and then left for Aaron’s room. Despite what Aaron had said about his father treating him like the other men, his room was separate from the rest, isolated and private. She knocked on the door.

  The look of mixed excitement and fear on Aaron’s face did little to settle the knot in her stomach.

  “May I come in?” she asked, wondering how many of his young fantasies started with her saying exactly those words. He didn’t answer, only nodded.

  She stepped inside. The room was spacious, with a tall ceiling and several windows, but the decorations were sparse. He had a bed, a trunk for his clothes, and the rest was weapons, training equipment, and books. From her quick glance, it appeared all of it received equal attention.

  “Your earrings,” Aaron said, immediately noticing their absence.

  “Here,” she said, taking his hand and plopping them atop his palm. “Take them back.”

  She saw something breaking in his blue eyes.

  “Why?” he asked.

  Kayla opened her mouth, a lie on her tongue. She knew she could lie well enough for him to believe her, and more important, she knew for her own safety she should. Doing the right thing was not often something she worried about, but deep down she knew she was the first woman Aaron had ever reached out to. If she cut him now, if she broke his spirit at such a fragile time in his life…

  But then again, this was Aaron Felhorn, son of Thren Felhorn. She knew the stories the rest of the Spider Guild told about him. The stories they told about Randith Felhorn.

  “Answer me this question first,” she said. “Did you really kill your brother at the age of eight?”