A Dance Of Death s-3 Page 16

  The ambassador stepped beside Laryssa and began speaking in elvish, but several others behind him shouted him down. Laryssa shook her head, and the sadness in her eyes only fueled Haern’s anger.

  “Go,” she said. “Be safe, Lady Gemcroft. It saddens my heart knowing this is the fate all agreements between our races must one day reach.”

  “Your choice,” Alyssa said, shaking her head, before turning to Haern. “Can you carry her?”

  Haern scooped Zusa into his arms, shifting as much of her weight onto his good shoulder as he could. The pain was intense. Well, he thought, at least all those years of training under his father’s tutors would be good for something. Locking the pain into a distant corner of his mind, he forced himself to not feel it. Just an ache, he thought. Just a dull ache.

  “I can walk,” Zusa murmured.

  “Sure you can,” Haern said, chuckling. “But you won’t.”

  They left the house under the cold stares of the elves. Alyssa glanced back once when they exited, as if she expected someone to follow after them, but no one came. Suddenly thrust back onto the streets, Haern felt exposed, and it seemed every pair of eyes watched him as the people passed. It wasn’t true, not entirely, but he was used to hiding in shadows and traveling by night. At least they wore simple clothing. As long as they could avoid guards, they might have a chance.

  “Well,” he said as Zusa wrapped her arms about his neck and shifted so he’d be more comfortable. “Where do we go?”

  Alyssa looked down either direction of the street, then sighed.

  “I haven’t the faintest clue, Haern. I wish I were home.”

  So did he. He’d give anything to have the rest of the Eschaton mercenaries there. Tarlak would have whipped up a few fireballs to convince the elves of their foolishness. Brug would have done a fine job ranting and raving, and of course Delysia would slide in right after, ready to speak a kind word to defuse…

  He blinked.

  “I have an idea,” he said. “It’s desperate, but it might serve for a few days until we figure something out.”

  “Lead us, then,” she said. “I trust you.”

  “Let’s hope I’m worthy of it.”

  When they’d first toured the city under the guise of newlyweds, he and Zusa had memorized the location of various places, generally the markets, the docks, and where the Merchant Lords lived. There was one building he’d noticed, not because of its grand size, but because of how diminutive it’d been. The only problem was that they’d have to pass through one of the gates further toward the docks, which meant a cursory examination by the guards.

  “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.”

  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.