A Dance of Shadows Page 21

  “Anywhere is fine,” Nathaniel said when he realized Zusa was still searching for a room he might use.

  “For you, perhaps,” Zusa said, stopping a moment so she could duck her head between large double doors opening into a vast room. “But I will be keeping an eye on you while we are here, and I would have you sleep somewhere safe.”

  “There’s guards all over,” Nathaniel said as she tugged on his hand. “Mother said Lord Stephen even hired extra. Why wouldn’t we be safe?”

  Zusa pulled free one of her daggers and then spun low so she could grab his neck with one hand and press the tip of her blade against his throat with the other. Nathaniel didn’t react, too stunned and confused. There in the dim, long hallway they were alone, the mansion strangely silent.

  “There are a hundred guards outside these walls,” Zusa whispered to him. “But not a one could stop me from killing you this second. Guards don’t mean safety. Walls don’t mean safety. We are safe only when we are strong enough to protect ourselves, and right now you are but a child. Until you are grown, I must protect you as well as your mother.”

  She stood, let go of his neck.

  “But you’ll protect me,” he said. “How is that any different than Stephen’s guards?”

  “I protect you because I am loyal to your mother,” she said, putting away her dagger. “But who are Stephen’s guards loyal to?”

  “To… to Stephen, but that doesn’t mean they’ll let something bad happen to us.”

  Zusa shook her head. “Always know the loyalties of the hands you put your life in. You will one day be a lord of the Trifect, Nathan. You cannot rely on the honor and decency of men to stay alive.”

  “So I should trust no one?” he asked. It sounded like a cruel lesson of an even crueler world that would await him when he grew older. Zusa stared at him, and he saw a bit of her hard façade fade. She knelt again, put her hands on his shoulders.

  “Trust those you love, and that love you in return,” she said. “It will hurt more if they betray you, but at least you’ll still know joy.”

  Zusa nodded toward a simple door that looked almost quaint compared to that of most of the rooms they’d passed. “In there. Let us see what we find.”

  She took his hand again, and they stepped into a fairly plain room, just a bed with a naked mattress, a dresser for clothes, and a washbasin with a mirror in the corner. Zusa looked about, analyzing things in a way Nathaniel doubted he would ever understand. She checked the window, the door, beneath the bed, and then nodded.

  “I must look outside first, but I feel this will be safe,” she said. “The door is sturdy, and you can bolt it from within. The window is high, but you should be able to crawl through and land outside without breaking any bones. Those unfamiliar to the mansion will not think to find you in such a small, unadorned room.”

  “There’s also a lot of shadows near the ceiling,” Nathaniel said, and his look made Zusa smile.

  “There’s that too. If you are ever afraid, trust me to be in the dark corners, always ready to save you. Now stay here. I’ll fetch some servants to bring you your things.”

  She left him there, and he stood before the plain bed and tried to pretend the room was just like home. It wasn’t. The bedknobs were carved into roaring lions, their paws lifted into the air, their mouths open and baring their fangs. He shivered, thinking of those four wooden creatures protecting him while he slept at night. Zusa’s words continued to haunt him, and he closed his door, shut the bolt. The room was quiet, and dark. Nathaniel sat on the bed and drummed his fingers against his stump. Time ticked along, and finally, unable to stand anymore, he lurched to his feet, flung open the bolt, and began wandering the halls.

  In many ways the mansion felt familiar, built in a similar style to his mother’s. But the tiny differences in the color of the stone, the texture of the carpet, added up to something that was a constant reminder of his status as a visitor. A large woman passed him by, arms full of dirty sheets, and she gave him a glare. She said nothing, and didn’t stop him, so he hurried along. The hallway came to an end at a plain door, similar to that of the room Nathaniel stayed in. The main difference was that a small image had been carved into the wood, though he couldn’t quite make it out. A cat, perhaps?

  Curious, he tested the doorknob, found it unlocked. Unable to stop himself, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.

  It was a child’s room, similar in size to Nathaniel’s. The bed was smaller, the window lower. All about the floor were scattered toys, little animals carved out of wood, each the size of his fist. There were no paintings, no markings, and something about the place made his hair stand on end. Hurrying to leave, he rushed through the door and bumped into a man, his head driving into the man’s stomach. As arms pushed him back, Nathaniel let out a yelp, convinced that Zusa’s words had been prophetic, and that he was about to be murdered within walls surrounded by a hundred guards. But instead it was a well-dressed man, not much taller than he. The man was young, and had a softness to his face that immediately removed any of Nathaniel’s initial fear of harm.

  “I’m sorry if I startled you,” the young man said. He looked him over, his eyes lingering on the stump of his arm. “You must be Alyssa’s boy, right? Nathaniel?”

  Nathaniel nodded, self-consciously clutching the stump with his other hand. “I am,” he said.

  “I’m Stephen. So glad to meet you.”

  Stephen? Nathaniel realized who stood before him and nearly panicked. Here was their host, kind as could be, and he’d plowed headfirst into the lord’s stomach because he’d been spooked by a few old children’s toys. Nathaniel fell to one knee and bowed his head.

  “Milord, I am honored to meet you. Please, forgive my poor greeting.”

  He wanted to say it, and nearly did.

  Oh, and please, please don’t tell my mother.

  “Nothing to forgive,” Stephen said, tilting his head to one side and giving him a look over. “Now stand up. It seems you wandered off, and others were starting to worry.”

  Nathaniel felt his neck flush. Hardly ten minutes into their new home and he was already in trouble. Not a good start to the day.

  “I didn’t mean to scare anyone,” he mumbled.

  Stephen put a hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder, guiding him back down the hall. “I’m sure you didn’t. Your mother is just nervous, what with the attack on her mansion. Most understandable, really.”

  Right before they turned a corner, Melody stepped around, and she sighed with relief at seeing the two. “You shouldn’t run off as if you were a little street urchin,” she said, but her words felt perfunctory. Nathaniel caught her eyes stealing to Stephen. Was she trying to gauge his reaction, see if he was upset?

  “He was only studying the layout of the house, as any smart child would do,” Stephen said, smiling down at Nathaniel. “Isn’t that right?”

  Nathaniel couldn’t nod his head in agreement fast enough. Stephen let go of his shoulder, and at Melody’s approach he opened his arms so the two might embrace.

  “It is good to see you again,” Melody said. “And I have no doubt as to the boy’s intelligence, though he could use a bit more sense. But I should be kind. Anyone graced with visions should be expected to have his head more often in the clouds than on where one foot goes after the other.”

  Stephen cocked his head at that. “Visions? Do you mean…?”

  “With my chrysarium,” Melody said, and there was a hint of pride in her voice. “Truly, I have never seen one so blessed. His mother has taught him little of faith, and never taken him to temple. I think the chrysarium awakened his soul with a hunger.”

  Something about this seemed off, and Nathaniel didn’t like it at all. He kept hoping to see Zusa coming around the corner to join them, daggers in hand. They spoke of the chrysarium, and the visions, and it made his mouth dry and his testicles shrivel thinking of what he’d seen.

  Stephen knelt down before him. A subtle change had overcome
him, that youthful innocence replaced with something more, something Nathaniel didn’t understand.

  “What did you see?” he asked. “Did you see Veldaren?”

  He swallowed. Melody and Stephen were on either side of him, blocking the hallway. He felt trapped, and worse, the vision was returning, dominating his sight against his will.

  “I did,” he said. “At least, I think it was.”

  “What of it? Did it bloom, or burn?”

  “Burn.”

  Like a thousand suns, he thought, but did not say it. Melody and Stephen shared a worried look, and he saw his grandmother take Stephen’s hand.

  “He was so frightened,” Melody said. “I think…”

  Stephen seemed to get it immediately, and he turned once more to Nathaniel.

  “You saw him, didn’t you?” he asked. “The dark man with the eyes of fire?”

  Terror gripped Nathaniel’s heart. He didn’t want to think of it, didn’t want to remember it. Tears ran down the sides of his face.

  “I did,” he whispered.

  Stephen wrapped his arms about him, pulled him close against his breast. “Shush now,” he said, gently stroking his hair. “It’s all right. You poor child, you haven’t slept well since, have you? I’ll pray for you so that you can.”

  Stephen stood, and again he and his grandmother shared a lingering moment.

  “We’re almost out of time,” he said. “It won’t be long until the prophet makes his move. I’m not sure we’ll be able to…”

  He stopped as Alyssa came around the corner. “Nathan?” she said, and Stephen moved away so he could run to her. He wrapped his arm around her leg, felt her gently stroke his forehead. “Nathan, are you crying?”

  “He felt guilty for running off,” Stephen said. “I think he feared he embarrassed you because of it, or that I might be upset, which I can assure you I am not. My home is his now, as it is yours, until everything can be made right.”

  The eyes, thought Nathaniel, unable to stop the memory. The tears had been of silver and gold, his face a shadow, but the eyes… the eyes…

  The eyes of fire burned, focused on Veldaren, their essence consumed with fury and craving destruction. More and more gathered under the shadow’s banner, and the silver tears fell like rain across the city. He heard a child crying, crying…

  By the time the vision ended and he came to, he was lying on his back, his mother kneeling over him. All he could say was the same thing, over and over.

  “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “I would not worry about it,” Melody said later that day, both she and Alyssa holding thin glasses filled with wine. They relaxed in a private den of Stephen’s mansion, free from the bustle of the servants and the movers and the private guards.

  “It’s hard not to,” Alyssa said, thinking of the way Nathaniel had collapsed amid his crying. It still gave her shivers.

  “Your son watched rioters gather at the gates, determined to kill him,” Melody insisted. “And then he witnessed the slaughter as it unfolded. To go through all that, and then suffer the stress of moving into a new home, however temporarily? It is a lot for a boy his age. He just had a fit, that’s all.”

  Perhaps, thought Alyssa, but she’d never seen Nathaniel act in such a way. He was always a quiet, thoughtful boy, not prone to crying or hysteria. Still, it had indeed been a rather awful week…

  “I pray you are right,” she said, wishing to put the moment out of her mind.

  “Indeed,” said her mother, “but to whom should you pray?”

  At first Alyssa tried to laugh it off, gesturing with her glass. “To whichever god will listen,” she said, feeling slightly uncomfortable.

  Melody leaned forward in her red leather chair, a sudden eagerness coming over her. “The gods are not playthings we should cast our whims upon, Alyssa. They are real, they are powerful, and their intervention will always come with a cost. I asked whom you prayed to. It is not a question I ask lightly.”

  That slight discomfort became nearly unbearable. Alyssa focused on her drink, preferring that to the wide-eyed look of her mother. The gods… what did Alyssa know of the gods? Nothing.

  Well, perhaps nothing…

  “I do not pray to either of the brother gods,” she said. “I know not enough of Ashhur for it to be honest or wise. As for Karak”—she shook her head—“I do know of him. I’ve heard enough stories of his servants to last a lifetime.”

  “Stories?” asked Melody, leaning back in her chair. “What stories? From whom?”

  “Zusa once served in the temple,” Alyssa said. “For daring to sleep with another man, she was stripped naked, beaten, and forced into servitude. Many years ago, when I first met her, we were also chased by a man in dark plate mail. One of Karak’s paladins. He would have dragged me back to Veldaren, to a dungeon or to my death, I do not know. Zusa protected me from him, saved me from such a fate.”

  “What you know of Karak is twisted,” Melody said, shaking her head. “The priests here, you must understand, they do not follow the right path. They do not understand the old ways…”

  “And I don’t care,” Alyssa said, finally setting down her drink and looking her mother in the eye. “If you want me to pray to Karak, then you will be sorely disappointed. Pray to him yourself. In Zusa I have seen all I need to see of the perverse ugliness at the heart of your lion god.”

  Melody looked away, then rose from her chair.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “It is a bad time to discuss such things, and I am a poor vessel in my attempts.”

  “You’re forgiven,” Alyssa said, but she had to force out the words. For some reason she felt absolutely furious.

  “I’ll go see if our things are unpacked,” her mother said, heading for the door.

  “Mother,” Alyssa said, stopping her before she could leave. “Never bring this up to me again.”

  “You’re a grown woman,” Melody said. “I understand.”

  “Nathaniel too.”

  Melody winced as if someone had pinched her neck.

  “Of course. He is your son to raise.”

  She left, the door shutting hard behind her. Alyssa looked to the door, to her glass, and then on an impulse flung it into the fire. The shattering of the glass did little to improve her mood, sadly. Slowly she rubbed her temples, wishing she could erase all of the past two weeks, wishing she could go back to her simple life of her and Nathaniel, slowly growing older together as she prepared him to succeed her. Why did everything have to change, and so fast?

  When someone knocked on the door, she wanted to yell for them to leave her be, but better manners prevailed.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  The door crept open, revealing Terrance Gemling’s ashen face.

  “My lady,” he said. “I… there’s something I must talk to you about.”

  “Then come in and talk,” she told him. “It seems today is a day for me to listen to awkward talks.”

  Terrance clearly didn’t understand, but he stepped inside, closed the door behind him, and then stood there. Alyssa gave him a look, then gestured to the chair before him.

  “Sit,” she said. “You’ll just get on my nerves if you hover there by the door. Or must you prepare yourself for a fast retreat?”

  She was trying to calm him down, but instead it seemed to make him all the more nervous. He started to talk, stammered, then stopped so he could sit down in the chair. Taking a deep breath, he put his hands to his face and slowly exhaled. Alyssa could hardly believe what she was seeing. He looked ready to cry. He was a bright man, and good with numbers, but before her was a shocking reminder of just how young he was.

  “Terrance,” she asked. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “I take full responsibility for this,” he blurted. “If you wish, I’ll go right now to the king and demand all punishments to be on my head.”

  Zusa’s warning echoed in Alyssa’s mind, and immediately she knew what it was that
bothered him.

  “What did you do?” she asked quietly.

  He was crying fully now, and that made it difficult to understand him.

  “My father’s always insisted it was never a concern, and countless other lords get away with it. The gold we mint at our mines in Tyneham, and the taxes we’re to pay on it… the numbers of what we’ve minted I’ve always kept low by depositing portions of it in John Gandrem’s treasury in Felwood on the wagons’ trips south.”

  Alyssa felt a chill spread through her chest.

  “I take it the coin is later sent to us by John under the guise of something else?” she asked.

  Terrance meekly nodded. “Gifts or payments for materials he never receives,” the young man said.

  Terrance hung his head as if preparing himself for the executioner’s ax. Which, in truth, wasn’t far off. Alyssa wanted to reprimand him, but that’d come later. He was a good man, and she’d trusted him for years now to manage her wealth. Compared to her previous adviser, Bertram, he was a genius. Plus, Bertram had attempted to stab Alyssa to death, whereas Terrance worshipped the ground she walked on. It was her own fault for not keeping a closer eye on things. She had very little doubt that what Terrance described was done by hundreds of others. Only hundreds of others didn’t have a madman with an agenda poring over their every transaction page by page.

  “Will Henris discover this?” she asked.

  Terrance shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know. I’ve always kept a second set of books with the real amounts, and when Henris first arrived I kept him distracted, then destroyed the other books that night. But there’s still the shipping records from John’s castle. Henris is staying with Victor now, and those records are with him. I’ve disguised the gold as best I could on them, but if Henris looks closely…”

  His voice trailed off. Alyssa swallowed, and despite the bitter irony, she said it anyway.

  “Then we’ll have to pray he doesn’t take a closer look, won’t we?”

  CHAPTER

  21

  Haern woke to the sound of scraping steel. He bolted upward in his bed and immediately regretted it. A moment of vertigo doubled him over, and he coughed and heaved as his insides twisted. Beside him Brug sat up in his chair, dagger and whetstone in hand.