A Dance of Shadows Read online

  He opened the door before she could respond. Waiting there was an old man, a heavy tome in hand. His hair was white, his face scrunched inward from age. Her eyes narrowed.

  “What is this?” she asked.

  “My most humble apologies,” the old man said, bowing low. “My name is Henris Weeks, and I will do my best to work quickly and without trouble to your businesses.”

  Alyssa glanced to Zusa, confused. The smoldering anger she saw in her friend’s eyes only confirmed her fear. Victor was playing a game with them, but what?

  “Explain yourself,” she told him.

  “It is not only the thieves I hunt,” said Victor. “Henris here must be shown all your records and all your dealings undertaken over the past few years. Not that I expect to find anything, not with such a lawful woman as yourself ruling the Gemcroft fortune. Still, I must be fair, for Henris will be scouring Lord Stephen’s records as well. Though Stern Blackwater is safe down in Angelport, he still has property and caretakers here in Veldaren, and they will also turn over extensive documentation. I’d hate for him to be playing underhanded games with young Tori Keenan’s wealth, after all.”

  Henris stood there, looking very nervous and uncomfortable. Alyssa felt furious, but she held back the rage. She could not err, not now. Zusa’s warning suddenly made perfect sense. If Terrance had made a single mistake, if he’d avoided tariffs, smuggled in goods, or dealt in the more exotic spices and leaves illegal in Veldaren…

  “Zusa, fetch a servant,” she said. “Prepare a room for Henris. I fear this will take many days, and would hate to make an old man uncomfortable.”

  “Thank you,” Henris said, looking relieved to hear of her cooperation. As Zusa left, the old man followed. Victor smiled at her, and gave a quick salute.

  “Thank you for your time,” he said. “I pray Stephen is just as accommodating as you are. Now if you’ll forgive me, I must be off. I have a wizard to hire.”

  Alyssa thought of the young leader of the Connington household and could only imagine how the boy would react. Most likely better than she had.

  “You’re making many enemies,” she told him as he exited her mansion. “I will not help you, not in this.”

  He turned back to her, hand on the hilt of his sword. No smiles this time, no amusement. He looked tired, weary in anticipation of the long day ahead.

  “I am taking up the war the Trifect lost. I am fighting the enemies you could not defeat. Why do you respond with anger, and resist me? Just because I would hold you to the same standard as they? Or is it because your hands are just as dirty?”

  She shut the door, pressed her forehead against it. In her anger she tried to deny him, to dismiss the easy accusations. It was far harder than it should have been.

  A hand touched her shoulder, and she turned, thinking it was Zusa. Instead her mother stood there, clearly worried. Alyssa closed her eyes and accepted the embrace.

  “You poor dear,” Melody whispered. “I remember well the difficulties of being one of the Trifect. Please, let me help in any way I can. Your father had me to share his burdens with, but you are so alone…”

  “I’ve always been alone,” Alyssa said, gently pushing her away. “I have been ever since I took up Father’s mantle, and I fear I will be until the day they cast the first handful of dirt upon my grave.”

  “If you are alone, then it is by choice. That is the way it always is with our family.”

  “Is that what you told yourself when Father turned you over to Leon and his gentle touchers? He was just choosing to be alone?”

  It was a cruel barb, and she didn’t know why she said it. Her mother took a step back and touched her cheek as if she’d been struck across the face.

  “Maynard was a cold, cruel man,” she said. “Even on the day of our wedding, he had no warmth in him, not for me. Yes, he chose to be alone. He chose to keep his heart closed, and to love nothing but his trade, his power, and his coin. Is this why you’ve been so unwelcoming to me? Do you think those years of torture were warranted, were my fault?”

  Stay silent, Alyssa told herself, but the words escaped her lips anyway.

  “You insulted his name, slept with another, and because of that I lost a mother!”

  “Then blame the man who cast me aside, and took me from you!”

  There were tears in both their eyes. Alyssa felt exhausted, frightened. Too much was changing without warning, without any time to adjust. She crossed her arms, tried to think. Meanwhile Melody leaned back against a wall. Alyssa realized how thin she looked, barely more than bones. At times it seemed like a miracle that she could stand.

  “Do you know how I endured?” Melody asked. Her words were the whispers of a ghost. “How I managed to sleep at night in that… darkness? I thought of you. I prayed for you, for safety, for protection. Now I am free, and I can touch your face, see you grown… don’t hate me. Don’t do this to me. I can’t stand it. I won’t live through that terrible a cruelty. I’d rather return to the cage.”

  Alyssa cast her eyes to the ground. She could only begin to imagine everything her mother had been through, yet she’d had the audacity to blame her, to feel anger and betrayal for such a distant shame.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. She reached for her mother, and it pained her heart to see the way she hesitated, the wariness in her eyes. But even still, Alyssa was her daughter, and Melody came forward, wrapping her arms around her. Alyssa sighed, and let tears silently run down her face. Let her whole household be damned. She would not let her fears keep her from regaining what had been lost.

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” Alyssa whispered. “Please, it’s just so much, and I’m always fearful for Nathaniel.”

  “You have nothing to explain,” Melody said. “Nothing to apologize for. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

  The door burst open, startling them both. A guard stepped in, then immediately bowed in apology.

  “Forgive me, milady,” he said to Alyssa. “I did not know you were… sorry, I was ordered to ensure you were safe.”

  “Safe?” Alyssa asked, wiping her face. “What is the matter?”

  “Nothing you should concern yourself with. A servant was killed on the premises, and we fear the killer still might be lurking outside.”

  Pushing her emotions aside, she shook her head and straightened her back.

  “I will not fear to walk in my own gardens,” she said. “Let me see the body.”

  The guard looked between them, then submitted to his mistress.

  “If you insist,” he said, leading the way.

  “I’ll tell John,” Melody said, declining to follow. “And make sure Nathaniel is safe.”

  Alyssa nodded, hurrying after the soldier, who looked as if he’d decided that if he couldn’t prevent her from seeing the body, he could at least make the process as quick as possible. They curled around the front of the mansion, off a walkway, and into the smooth grass decorated with trees. All of it was surrounded by an enormous stone fence, the top spiked, but the Trifect had learned over the past decade how little use such fences were. More house guards lingered about, some searching for evidence of intruders, others scouring the fence for signs of rope or hook.

  “Make way,” the guard said as they came upon a cluster of four men halfway to the east wall. The men stepped aside, giving Alyssa access to the body. Seeing it, she held in a gasp. It was just a young servant boy, no older than ten. An arrow was stuck in his neck, having pierced his windpipe. Blood stained the grass red beneath him. At his feet was a pile of soiled clothes, the cleaning of his task for the early morning.

  “Who would do such a thing?” Alyssa wondered aloud. “What harm could this poor boy have done to anyone?”

  “There’s a message,” one of the guards said, sounding uncomfortable. He pointed, and sure enough, letters were cut into the grass by means of something sharp. It was hurried, disjointed, but she could read it well enough for it to put a shiver down her spine.

&nbs
p; tongue of gold, eyes of silver

  run, run little alyssa

  from the widow’s quiver

  “When did this happen?” she asked, glancing about. They were far from any door, and the body was partially hidden behind the trunk of a tree.

  “He’d have been up before daylight to do morning chores,” said the man who’d brought her. “Blood’s pretty dry.”

  Her conversation with her mother, along with Victor, had already left her unnerved, but this awoke a brand-new fury. There was no doubt the servant child looked similar to Nathaniel. The strange killer mocked her, but why? Who would dare sneak onto her land to murder an innocent child?

  “Bury him, and ensure his family is paid well,” she said.

  “Right.” A guard knelt down, scooping the body into his arms. As he lifted, the boy’s neck snapped back, and his eyes opened. Alyssa let out a soft gasp. Two silver coins stared at her. All around, guards muttered and cursed at such strange mutilation. Swallowing down her revulsion, Alyssa put her back to the body and found Zusa standing there, observing everything closely.

  “Whoever it is wants Nathaniel next,” Zusa said. “And they do it to torture you.”

  Alyssa glanced back, saw the guards pry open the boy’s mouth and pull out two bloody coins of gold.

  “Find Haern,” she said, quietly enough that no one else would hear. “He has to know who this Widow is, or what it means. And enlist that wizard of his as well. I will have this murderer found, no matter the cost.”

  “Will you be safe without me?”

  Alyssa sighed. “No, but I trust no one else. Go, now.”

  Zusa headed for the front gates, then stopped. Hurrying back, she kissed Alyssa’s hand and pulled her close.

  “Something is wrong in this city,” the faceless woman whispered. “Too many pieces are moving at once for it to be coincidence. We are lost in someone’s deception. Be wary, and be safe.”

  With that she left, vaulting over the spiked walls with ease. Alyssa watched her go while absently rubbing her hand. She did not know all Zusa meant, but she understood the feeling well. Her mother, Victor’s arrival, the Widow, plus Zusa had mentioned a personal matter…

  “Stay safe,” she murmured, staring at the wall Zusa had vanished beyond. Wrapping her arms around her chest as if cold, she returned to her mansion.

  CHAPTER

  7

  Haern awoke a little after midday to the sound of the tower doors slamming shut. Instinct told him that something was wrong, a bad feeling in the air. Grabbing his sabers and cloaks, he slipped out of his room and down to the bottom floor. There, before the fireplace, he found Delysia sitting on a couch, her brother pacing furiously.

  “The audacity!” the wizard muttered.

  “Care to fill me in, Tar?” Haern asked, still on the steps. Tarlak heard him and stopped. His look was none too friendly.

  “Honestly? No. I’m too pissed.”

  “Behave,” Delysia said, and despite her brother’s mood, she laughed. “You’re overreacting and you know it. And good morning, Haern.”

  Haern joined Delysia on the couch, and together they watched Tarlak fume. Delysia leaned over, her head resting against his chest. After a sniff, she sat back up.

  “Your cloaks smell like death.”

  Haern shrugged. “That tends to happen.”

  The priestess sighed and reached out her hand. When he removed his cloaks, she took them to the door and set them down to be washed later that day. As she did, Tarlak stopped pacing, and instead crossed his arms and frowned at the assassin.

  “Lord Victor was just here,” said the wizard.

  “That so?” Haern lifted an eyebrow. “What did he want?”

  “Wanted me to ward the home he’s currently staying in, cover it with various protection spells so no clever thief can teleport under his bed and stab him while he sleeps.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Haern said as Delysia returned, leaning against his arm and resting her head on his shoulder. “Why the fuss?”

  “He wanted… bah!” Tarlak threw up his hands. “He wanted to pay us after his quest or mission or whatever this nonsense he’s doing is over. Said he couldn’t spare the coin just yet, something about mouths to feed. Worse, he actually hinted he’d appreciate me doing it for free. You hear that? Free!”

  “Truly he is an evil man,” Haern said.

  Tarlak stopped and gave him a death glare.

  “Care to share your opinion, Mister Cloak and Saber?”

  “It’s pretty simple, though you won’t want to hear it. I think you should help him.”

  Tarlak blinked. “You do?”

  Haern shrugged. He still hadn’t fully made up his mind about the man, but he had little doubt Victor meant to see through to the end his attempt to clean the streets of Veldaren. If he could be trusted to at least do that…

  “I think he truly believes he’s helping. More importantly, I think he might pull it off. The thief guilds haven’t faced a man quite like him before. Look at you. The only reason you’re so bothered is because you’re thinking of helping him for free, despite all desire otherwise.”

  Tarlak shook his head. “He’s an egotistical ass.”

  “Hardly the only one around here.”

  The wizard glared as his sister covered her mouth with a hand to hide her laughter. “Careful,” he said to Haern. “Otherwise I might turn you into an actual ass for a day and rent you out to a farmer.”

  Haern only grinned at him. With a sigh Tarlak relented, and took a seat in a wooden rocking chair beside the fire. Removing his yellow hat, he scratched the top of his head with his fingers, then ran them through his red hair to straighten it.

  “If we help him, then he’ll live long enough to actually accomplish something,” Tarlak said, all his bluster and anger fading away. “That means the current peace with the thief guilds won’t last. They’ll react soon, and violently. But how? If they focus on just Victor, we might counter, but if they target the rest of the Trifect, Veldaren will fall to chaos within days. It’ll be Thren’s thief war all over again.”

  “We can’t let there be another,” Delysia said. She said it softly, but it weighed heavily on her heart. “The last one went on for more than ten years. So many died, so many…”

  Haern shifted, feeling uncomfortable, especially with her so close to him. Her father had been just one of the many casualties of that conflict, killed by Thren while Haern watched. It had been his first true mission, to kill Delysia when she fled. But hearing her heartfelt sobbing for her father, and her prayers for safety, he had not been able to bring himself to go through with it. He’d later told her, and she’d forgiven him. He didn’t know how, but she had.

  “I won’t let it happen,” Haern insisted.

  Tarlak shook his head.

  “Then perhaps instead of helping Lord Victor, we should get him out of Veldaren as fast as possible?” said the wizard.

  “Even if he has a chance to succeed?”

  Tarlak threw up his hands in surrender. “If that’s your idea of intelligence, then so be it. No matter what we do, we risk this blowing up in our faces, so might as well go for broke.”

  A knocking turned their attention to the door.

  “Who is it now?” Haern asked.

  Tarlak shook his head, for scrying spells embedded in the tower let him see the visitor. “Day just keeps getting better,” he said. With a snap of his fingers, the door opened on its own, and in stepped Zusa, clad in her dark wrappings, her gray cloak fluttering behind her.

  “Magic is a poor host to greet at a door,” she said, sheathing her daggers.

  “Yes, but it keeps my lazy rear in a chair,” Tarlak said. “Come in, and share whatever terrible news you’ve brought with you. Gods know you’re never here to tell us something good.”

  Delysia scolded her brother for his poor hospitality, and hurried up to greet Zusa. The faceless woman accepted her embrace, then set aside her daggers. A wave
of Tarlak’s hand, and a glass of wine appeared on the nearby table. Haern watched Zusa settle in, taking a seat opposite Tarlak. Ever since their trip together south to Angelport, the faceless woman had come to Haern and the rest of the Eschaton anytime Alyssa needed things handled in a way that could not be traced back to the Gemcroft family. Her visits were rare, and always odd. Though she tried to appear gracious, Haern could tell she was in a hurry, and that whatever brought her to their tower was urgent.

  “Thank you,” Zusa said, sipping the wine before putting it aside. She looked awkward in the old wooden chair dressed in those strange wrappings of hers, but it seemed to bother her not at all. “But my time is short. One of our servant boys was attacked this morning, just before dawn. His eyes were cut out and replaced with silver coins, and two pieces of gold were put on his tongue.”

  The news struck Haern like a brick to the head. “A rhyme,” he said. “Was there also a rhyme?”

  To his dread, Zusa nodded. “ ‘Tongue of gold,’ ” she recited, “ ‘eyes of silver. Run, run little Alyssa, from the Widow’s quiver.’ ”

  With each word, Haern felt his fingers tighten against the fabric of the couch. After the first two murders, he’d thought it was just someone with an agenda against the Spider Guild, but to also strike the Gemcroft family, especially in such a petty, cruel way?

  “Do you know of this… Widow?” Zusa asked.

  Haern sighed, and he caught Tarlak staring at him, clearly also eager to hear. Nodding, Haern shared what he’d discovered, about the two bodies, and about Victor’s also requesting help in discovering who it was. When he was finished, Tarlak leaned back in his chair, stroking his red goatee.

  “He’s taking their eyes?” he wondered aloud. “That’s a little… odd.”

  “Odd?” said Zusa. “You insult a dead child saying such a thing. It is the cold, cruel act of a sick mind. Whoever this Widow is, let him kill Spiders night and day, but to threaten Alyssa’s son… no. We must stop him. Despite your reputation otherwise, your Eschaton Mercenaries are the best. My mistress wants this killer found, and will pay you whatever it takes to enlist your services.”