The Shadowdance Trilogy Page 20

  The pantry had a slot for a lock in case the servants’ fingers got too sticky when cooking and cleaning. It was up high, far beyond reach of Gran’s stooped shoulders.

  “Hold it steady for me,” said Gran after returning to the table and grabbing the dagger.

  “Yes, Gran,” said Delysia.

  Gran climbed up, putting both feet on the cushion. Her heart lurched into her throat as the chair wobbled.

  “You want me to split my head open like a watermelon?” Gran snapped. “Hold that blasted thing still!”

  Delysia clutched the chair tighter, doing her best to keep it from rocking. She wondered what might happen if the boy inside woke up and tried to open the door. Gran would go sprawling, perhaps even taking her down with her. She prayed the boy stayed unconscious.

  “Hope this’ll fit,” Gran said as she pushed the dagger into the hole intended for a lock’s latch. It slid in about a third of the way before catching. Gran grunted and pushed harder, but the dagger wasn’t budging.

  “We’ll have to hope it holds,” Gran said. “I’m coming back down now.”

  She stepped off, looking very relieved when her feet touched solid floor. Her wrinkled hands clutched the back of the chair as she regained her breath.

  “Was a time I could go leaping tree to tree without a care,” Gran grumbled. “What I’d give to be that crazy gal again.”

  “Do you want me to fetch the guards?” Delysia asked.

  “You?” asked Gran. She looked at the young girl as if she’d asked to drink hard liquor and then run naked through Merchant Row. “Don’t be daft, girl. Two men, well one and a boy, snuck in with aims to rob and kill you. I’m not letting you run about on your own.”

  “We have to get someone,” Delysia insisted. “What if more come? I want the guards, Gran. Can’t you go get the guards?”

  Gran’s whole face turned sour. Of course she wanted the guards. Something needed to be done about the dead body and the locked up boy. But by Ashhur’s beard, she wasn’t letting Delysia out at night. Gods damn it all, why didn’t she have one of their servants stay overnight? She’d thought to make sure Delysia had her chance for some quiet with family to grieve properly. Now she’d put them in one horribly precarious situation.

  “Alright,” Gran said. “I don’t like this one bit, but here’s what we’ll do. I’ll hurry out and find a guard. You stay right where you are. If that boy starts kicking and shoving at the door, you watch the latch at the top. That dagger starts moving, or the wood starts to breaking, you run your skinny ass out to the streets and the nearest guard station. Am I understood?”

  Delysia tucked her hands behind her back and lowered her head. That always seemed to please Gran best when she was lecturing.

  “Yes, Gran,” the girl said.

  Gran was still frowning when she hurried back to her bedroom. She was only in her shift, and dead body or no dead body, she wasn’t going out indecent. Once she had on a dull beige dress and a red scarf, she returned to the kitchen and kissed her granddaughter on the forehead.

  “Be safe, and may Ashhur watch over you,” she said.

  “I’ll be careful,” Delysia said. Gran’s eyes darted over to the pantry as if a monster lurked within.

  “You better. Remember, second it looks weak, you run like the wind.”

  When she was gone, Delysia sat down on the expensive chair. She picked at the fine cloth on the cushion, not seeing how it was really any different from the other chair. She’d left it in front of the pantry door, thinking maybe if it burst open the chair would cause the boy to stumble. With his mask on, she hadn’t a chance to see much of his face, only his blonde hair peeking out from the top.

  The candles slowly flickered and burned. The longer Gran was gone, the longer the seconds seemed to crawl. Delysia hadn’t realized just how quiet the mansion had gotten. For as long as she could remember, cats had lived underneath the floor of their home, sneaking in and out of holes they could never find. She heard them crawling underneath, thumping against boards and beams. Every time she heard one, her skin crawled. They’d never bothered her before, but now she imagined men with daggers instead of cats with kittens.

  In that quiet, she heard a muffled noise within the pantry.

  Delysia tensed. Even her breathing halted. She listened for something, anything. Another noise, this time like a foot dragging along the floor. The boy was getting up. She thought about shoving the back of the chair against the pantry door, but knew it would do no good. There was nothing for it to hook under. She’d have to trust the dagger.

  Suddenly, the door rocked outward. She heard objects rattling within, and the wood creaked as the dagger caught inside the latch. Despite herself, Delysia let out a shrill scream.

  That seemed to puzzle the boy inside. She heard him speak, his voice muffled but still understandable.

  “You’re alive?”

  Delysia wasn’t sure how to respond.

  “Of course I am,” she said. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  She heard a loud thump within. It sounded like he had sat down with his back against the door.

  “Then I didn’t fail,” she heard him say, though whether to her or himself, she didn’t know.

  “My Gran is getting the guard,” she said, thinking if she could keep him talking he wouldn’t start beating on the door. Of course, with that being her plan, she realized how dumb it was to admit guards were coming. She smacked her forehead and hoped she hadn’t screwed up too badly.

  “Guards?” the boy said. “Good, you’ll be safe.”

  Delysia stared at the door, certain she had misheard.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “I said good, you’ll be safe.”

  She blinked. Why did the boy who had broken into her home care if she was safe, unless…

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “Protecting you,” said the boy.

  “From who?”

  “The men who killed your father.”

  That sent an icy chill down her spine. She’d tried to forget the body in the hallway, tried to forget the horrible moment when her father had collapsed amid his followers. Why did people want her dead? Why did they want her father dead?

  “We never hurt anyone,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. “Why did they do this, my father was good! He was good, real good, more than I’ll ever be…why did…why…”

  Delysia cried. The boy inside remained silent the whole while. For some reason, she found that rather kind of him.

  “My name is Haern,” said the pantry once her crying died down to just sniffles.

  “Hello, Haern,” she replied. “I’m Delysia Eschaton.”

  “Delysia…”

  To her, it sounded like he was feeling over the word with his tongue, applying it to some unknown memory or picture. Perhaps he was trying to imagine what she looked like…?

  “You stay put, alright?” she said. “I’ll tell the guards you behaved when they come.”

  “It won’t matter, Delysia,” said Haern.

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “Because they’ll kill me.”

  Delysia shivered, wishing she had worn something warmer. The blankets of her bed were not far away, but she didn’t want to leave sight of the pantry for a second. So far Haern hadn’t tried to get out, but he might be biding his time.

  “They won’t do that,” she said.

  “They will. You’re not safe. You have to get out of the city, Delysia. When my…when Thren realizes Dustin failed, he’ll send another after you. He won’t stop until you’re dead.”

  She wanted to believe he was lying. If he was, he was really good at it.

  “Who is Thren?” she asked.

  A soft chuckle echoed from within the pantry.

  “You really don’t know? Thren Felhorn, leader of the Spider Guild. He’s dangerous. He’s the one who killed your father. You should have died when he did, but the other killer…”

 
; His voice trailed off. Delysia’s hands trembled like little birds. In every corner, she imagined the man from the hallway. He held a dagger in his hand, his pale face lit with a grin.

  “I don’t know where to go. Dad’s will gave all his farms to the workers. We have money, but Gran won’t listen. She never listens to me. Can’t we just hire some guards?”

  Another soft laugh within.

  “Guards? You really don’t know anything, do you?”

  Her anger flared.

  “Well, at least I’m not the one stuck in a pantry!”

  He didn’t seem to have a comeback for that. A minute passed in brooding silence. Haern cracked first, and that alone made Delysia feel a little better.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “How old are you, Delysia?”

  She puffed out her chest, even though he couldn’t see it.

  “I’m ten, almost eleven.”

  “I’m only thirteen,” said Haern. “I don’t think either of us know anything, do we?”

  She almost took it as an insult, then let it drop. Sitting there, scared and alone and wishing her Gran was back, she found it a little hard to argue.

  “You really think someone else will come for me and Gran?” Delysia asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Delysia sighed. She felt like crying some more, so she did. Again Haern waited patiently for her to finish. She wondered how much time had passed. Surely her Gran should be back with guards by now?

  “Why are you here?” she asked after wiping her face with the hem of her shift.

  “I said already, to protect you.”

  “But that’s stupid,” she said. “You’re barely older than me!”

  “The man in the hallway is dead, isn’t he?”

  The way he said it gave her another chill. Delysia curled her knees up to her chest and hugged them. She stared at the pantry, oddly curious as to what the boy’s face looked like underneath his mask.

  “The guards won’t really kill you when they get here, right?” she asked. “You’re just saying that so I let you out.”

  “They know who I am. That alone will earn me death.”

  Again she thought of his mask.

  “You know who is after us,” Delysia said. “That means you can help us. Can you? I know you’re young, but you stopped that man before. Can you do it again?”

  “I don’t know,” she heard Haern say. “Maybe you should leave me for the guards.”

  That seemed to stoke a bit of fire in her.

  “If you can help me then say so! I won’t have you dying in there because of who you are. Daddy says…daddy always said to judge someone by what they do, not by their name or what they say.”

  “Some names are so bloody they must be judged,” Haern said quietly.

  Delysia shook her head. Her father had hammered home certain things in his lectures, and that was one.

  “Grace is stronger than blood,” she said.

  On the far side of the house, the door opened. Delysia’s heart jumped, but then she heard Gran shouting at the top of her lungs.

  “Del? I’m here, sweetie! It’s Gran, and I’ve got the guard!”

  She looked to the hallway, then to the pantry. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t leave him to die.

  Even though she was still young, she was as tall as Gran was. It wasn’t because she was extraordinarily tall, more that Gran had never been tall to begin with, and her back had bent with age. Delysia climbed atop the chair and stretched for the dagger lodged in the lock. On the second tug it broke free, showering a few splinters atop her head.

  “Say something, hun, you’re scaring me!” Gran shouted.

  “I’m in here,” Delysia shouted back as she pulled the chair away and then flung the door open. Haern stood waiting for her, his mask pulled tight around his face. Blood had soaked it throughout. For a brief moment she expected him to attack her. He didn’t. He only stared at her with the strangest of expressions.

  “Don’t stand there,” she whispered. “Hide!”

  When Gran arrived, accompanied by two gruff looking men in the brown armor of the city guard, Delysia was sitting in the chair facing the pantry. She looked up and smiled at Gran, but her eyes were wild with fear.

  “Are you alright?” Gran asked as she scooped her granddaughter into her arms. The guards had stopped to examine the body in the hallway. When Delysia didn’t respond, Gran glanced at the pantry door and saw it slightly ajar.

  “Did he hurt you?” she asked, her eyes suddenly widening with fear.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “He got away is all. He wasn’t dangerous.”

  “Wasn’t dangerous? Wasn’t…did you even see what he did to that man? He cut his damn throat, you stupid girl!”

  By this point one of the guards entered, looking around with a distant, tired expression.

  “Where’d you say the boy was?”

  “Um, er, he’s…” stammered Gran.

  “He got away,” Delysia said. “He kicked open the door and ran.”

  “Hrm,” muttered the guard. “You see what he looked like?”

  “He had a mask,” Gran said, finally composing herself. “I didn’t think to remove it.”

  “Can’t do much about that, then. What do you reckon happened to the thief back there? Those cuts don’t look like a boy made them.”

  “I’ve told you what I know,” said Gran.

  The guard shrugged and left the kitchen. They examined the body a few minutes longer, then gave the estate a lazy search, finding nothing. When a third guard showed up with a wagon for the body, they picked it up and carried it outside.

  “I’d reckon you should get yourselves some mercenaries,” one of them said to the women before leaving. “Place like this, it looks like you should be able to afford a sellsword or two.”

  Delysia stayed in her seat the whole while, not once getting up to leave the kitchen. Gran wandered about before dismissing the guards. When she returned to the kitchen, her face was a lively red.

  “Well that was embarrassing enough,” she said. “I tell them stories of a dangerous young boy locked in my pantry, and all I can show them is dust bunnies and some rotted cabbage!”

  Gran caught Delysia’s eyes drifting over her shoulder and turned to look. Sitting on top of the counter, a cabinet door open below him, was Haern. Delysia winced as her Gran screamed bloody murder.

  15

  The third safehouse was the correct one. Veliana glanced around to make sure no one watched, then pushed aside a false brick in the giant wall surrounding the city. When she did, a lever snapped inward, unseen gears turned, and the dirt below her shifted as a circular sheet of metal lifted upward. Replacing the brick, Veliana climbed down a small ladder, and then returned the lid. It would be visible under close inspection for a day or two until the dust settled over it and a few walked across it.

  Not that it mattered. If Gileas really had told Thren its location, they had less than an hour to get out.

  In the darkness that overcame her when she replaced the lid, Veliana had to feel around to get her bearings. There was only one direction to go, a cramped tunnel leading back toward the city. She squirmed on her belly, elbows tucked tight against her sides. About twenty feet in, the tunnel started sloping upward. Another twenty feet and she bopped her head against a solid piece of wood.

  “Shit,” she said as she touched her throbbing forehead. Normally when approaching the false bottoms of buildings, there’d be light sneaking through the cracks. Here, there was nothing. Feeling around blindly, she found a small lever and pulled it. Grating noises from both sides filled her ears, and then a whoosh of air above her signified the board’s removal. She climbed out.

  It didn’t take long to figure out why there was no light warning her of the false bottom. She was in the basement of a rather large mansion. She’d known of the entrance to the safehouse but never been there before.

  No wonder James fled here, she thought. This place looks to be enormous
.

  The basement itself was not lit, but to her right she saw light spilling down across a staircase and she worked her way toward it. She kicked a crate once, biting down on her tongue to hold in another curse. She walked more carefully after that. At the bottom of the stairs she looked up. A man was leaning against the doorframe at the top, his gaze turned inward to the room they were in.

  “Make him roll again,” the man shouted. “I saw Jek shaking them bones a bit too crazy. He’s probably got a rigged pair in his pockets.”

  As he finished talking, Veliana pressed the tip of her dagger against his neck, having climbed all the way up without alerting him to her presence.

  “A lousy guard is a dead guard,” she told him as he jerked his head around, his whole body stiffening.

  “Hey Vel,” he said, smiling nervously at her. “Glad to see you’re back and cheery as ever.”

  Veliana recognized him as Jorey, a low recruit promoted most likely because of the attrition caused by the other guilds.

  “Out of my way,” she said, giving him a shove. Several other men in the grays of the Ash Guild jumped from their seats around a table. Two of them grabbed daggers, while the rest just gawked.

  “You’re supposed to be dead,” said the man holding the dice. She presumed he was Jek.

  “Hate to disappoint,” she said. “Now where is James?”

  “What the fuck happened to your face?” asked one of the thieves. She ignored him and continued glaring.

  “Upstairs,” said Jek.

  “Alright. I want torches lit and stuck in the basement. Get two men watching it, and I mean watching it, not sitting at the top of the stairs waiting for a crossbow bolt. What about the front doors to the building? Who’s watching them?”

  “Just Gary,” said another. “It’s been quiet here. The guilds have started leaving us alone since James agreed to Thren’s plan.”

  This stopped Veliana in her tracks.

  “He agreed?” she asked. “When?”

  “Earlier this morning,” said Jorey. “Where have you been, Vel?”

  Veliana shook her head, trying to match things up in her mind.

  “No time,” she said. “I’ve got to talk to James. The rest of you, get to the doors, with at least one man patrolling the windows.”