A Dance of Blades Page 9

  “There is something else,” she said, dipping her cloth in the basin and wiping underneath her eyes. “Call in every loan we have. Whatever stored grain, minerals, property, I want it all sold. We need gold, lots of it. Find every mercenary who needs work, no matter how expensive. Hire them, outfit them if need be.”

  “You wish to declare war against the guilds?” asked Bertram, allowing a tiny bit of doubt to creep into his voice.

  “We’re already at war, or have you forgotten? Come the night of Nathaniel’s funeral, I want the streets to run red with the blood of thieves. I don’t care what cloak they wear; I want them dead.”

  “You’ll only reignite their anger, and ruin whatever progress we’ve made in the last…”

  She spun on him, furious.

  “I don’t care! We’ve suffered and played the coward. No more peace. No more hope. Red, Bertram. I want the streets of this city red.”

  Bertram muttered and waved his hands, as if he could not decide what to say. Despite her grim mood she took pleasure in his distress. At last the old man regained his composure.

  “But what will the king think when we flood his streets with chaos?”

  “The king is a coward. He won’t dare refuse me, and neither will you.”

  “So be it,” he said. “We’ll have the funeral three days from now. Come that night, you will have your folly. You run the risk of bankrupting a century of wealth, Alyssa. Is your vengeance truly worth so much?”

  “That and more,” she said. “Go. You have work to do.”

  He bowed and left, looking far from pleased. Both matters settled, her revenge in motion, she finished washing and collapsed onto her bed. She tried, but sleep remained a distant hope and nothing more. After half an hour she heard another knock on her door, just one, but it was firm. She ignored it. Thirty seconds later she heard it again.

  “Come in,” she said, removing her arm from over her eyes.

  In stepped Arthur, and he paused at the door.

  “I don’t mean to intrude,” he started, but she shook her head. He crossed the room and climbed into the bed beside her. His clothes were on, and for that she was thankful. His arms wrapped around her, and in their comfort she broke down once more. He was something steady, dependable amid the chaos overwhelming her. He said nothing as she cried, only gently stroked her hair and held her against him. His body was warm, and it felt pleasant. After a while he spoke.

  “If there is anything you need, I am here. It doesn’t matter the hour, nor the reason. I want you to know that.”

  She clutched his hand in hers and squeezed. Her whole body ached, and her temples throbbed. Her tears still ran down her face, but they were silent. She closed her eyes, pressing her face against his chest and focusing on the sound of his breathing. As long as she thought about that, only that, maybe she could fall asleep. Maybe she could forget the whole damned night, and come the morning the nightmare would be over. Maybe, just maybe…

  She slept.

  CHAPTER 8

  In searching for the Watcher, there was one person Zusa knew would be best to meet with first. Behind the fenced Gemcroft estate was a small empty building. For years it had been nothing more than a shed for tools to be used by the servants tending the gardens and lawn, but Alyssa had turned it into a gift for Zusa. Within were a bedroom and a training room, the floor soft and padded, the walls lined with paintings of distant places. Zusa intended to gather a few things for her task of hunting down the Watcher, but when she stepped inside she was instead surprised to find Veliana waiting for her.

  “I know I’m a day early,” Veliana said. She’d taken off her cloak, and wore only skin-tight clothing of blacks and grays. “I’ve come not just for training, but for advice.”

  Zusa removed her own cloak and set it atop her bed. Veliana’s boots lay beside the door, and she padded barefoot to the center of the room.

  “Tell me while we spar,” Zusa said. “I still feel sleep’s allure, so I need the awakening.”

  They both drew a pair of daggers. No training weaponry for them; Zusa had insisted on real blades. She trusted her skill to make sure she caused no serious injury, as well as to prevent Veliana from doing the same. Over the past five years Veliana had closed much of the gap between them, so now if either scored a hit she counted it a well-earned rarity.

  “Have you heard of a sorcerer named Deathmask, or perhaps Death’s Mask?” she asked as she stretched. Zusa shook her head. Veliana didn’t seem surprised. “Thought I’d ask anyway. He appeared about a week ago, a dangerous man. He has plans to kill Garrick, though I don’t know how. I think he has a chance.”

  “Will you kill him?”

  Veliana feinted, then slashed low, fully expecting Zusa to block. Their daggers connected, and as the steel rang out they thrust and parried, resuming a skilled dance they had perfected over the years, a perfect give-and-take of cuts and dodges, parries and thrusts. They talked as they fought, though they were a little out of breath.

  “I’m not sure if I still can, nor if I want to. Garrick has turned against me, thinks he can survive without me. He may be right, though he was a lying coward when I first thrust him into his role.”

  Zusa upped the pace, forcing Veliana on the defensive as she spun and slashed.

  “Men change over time, as do women.”

  “But not like this. It’s too sudden. I feel like I’m missing something obvious.”

  “Perhaps you are, and that is why you miss it. What is it you wish from me?”

  Veliana leaped away, but instead of her gaining a moment’s breather, Zusa rushed in, her daggers leading. After she parried both, Veliana struck Zusa in the chest with an elbow and then pushed her back.

  “I must make a choice, but I don’t know which is the right one. You know me best, Zusa. What should I do?”

  Zusa pulled back from her attack and rubbed her chest. Veliana must have been terribly distracted to have thrown so much strength into the elbow.

  “I see many choices,” she said. “Find what suddenly gave Garrick testicles and then cut them off. Join this Deathmask and solidify your position as second-in-command. Weave your own plans to remove Garrick. Accept your diminished role, and wait for the inevitable dagger to remove you completely. It’s all yours to decide.”

  “I’m tired of the games,” Veliana said. “I have no time to investigate Garrick. He’ll move against me soon, I know it. I promised Deathmask an answer by tomorrow night.”

  “Will he kill you if you say no?”

  Veliana laughed. “He might. I know nothing of him.”

  “Then how can you trust him?”

  “Because I’ve fought him. He didn’t kill me when he had the chance. He never showed fear, even when I had the chance to end his life. He’s brutal, terrible, and driven. Whatever his goal is, he’ll succeed … I guess I’m scared I’ll be in his way.”

  Zusa twirled her daggers and motioned for another spar. “Then join him, and do so without pause or regret. Garrick has turned against you, inviting this betrayal. Hear Deathmask’s plan, but always watch and listen. Every plan can be turned to your favor.”

  It was Veliana’s turn to be on the offensive, and she took to it with a wild fury that worried Zusa. Normally the woman was more controlled. This Deathmask must have upset her greatly. Did she feel guilt for betraying Garrick? Or was she too proud to agree to anything that left her second in the Ash Guild? Whatever the reason, Vel’s daggers lacked their normal grace, and Zusa had to leap away several times to prevent blood from staining the floor.

  “Restrain yourself, girl,” Zusa said at last, after a desperate thrust nearly opened her throat. “If this choice disturbs you so much, I will choose for you, so you can concentrate and not kill me through your carelessness.”

  “I’m sorry,” Veliana said, sheathing her daggers and leaning against the wall. She sounded terribly out of breath. “I should go.”

  “No,” Zusa said. “I have a question for you as well. Som
eone murdered Alyssa’s child. I must discover who.”

  “Someone killed Nathaniel?” Veliana asked. “I thought you’d persuaded her to move him up north and out of the city.”

  “I had. She called him back. He died on the northern road.”

  “It wasn’t the Ash Guild, I promise,” Veliana said, just in case the thought had crossed Zusa’s mind. “I’d never let Garrick do something that low, and he’s not yet reached a point where he can plan something so large behind my back.”

  “Are you sure?”

  She paused a moment, thinking, and then sighed.

  “No, I’m not. His control might be greater than I’ve realized. My opinion of him was far too low, and it’s blinded me to his ambitions. He’s not content to be a puppet. Still, I can’t think of a reason why he’d have killed Nathaniel, nor how he’d have known the boy was on his way back. Is there anything else?”

  Zusa took her dagger and scrawled the symbol found at the caravan exactly as the soldiers had shown her.

  “That,” Zusa said. “Tell me all you know of him, this … Watcher.”

  “We first heard of him about three years ago, but honestly, he might have been killing us for longer. Given the amount of infighting, and the Trifect’s war against us, we probably blamed others for his early murders. But then we started finding these runes, an eye here, or the letter W. Perhaps he thought us dense, or his confidence hadn’t grown yet. Either way he started killing more, and leaving his marker larger, clearer, and often in blood. He kills thieves of all guilds, with seemingly no preference. Every guild has accused the others of secretly harboring him, but we’ve never had an ounce of proof. Whoever he is, I believe he has a profound hatred of all thief guilds, and he’s also incredibly good. Far too many have died by his hand, and those who survive can only speak of a face shrouded in shadow and hidden by a hood and many cloaks.”

  “Has he ever attacked the Trifect?” Zusa asked.

  Veliana shrugged. “If he has, we don’t know about it. Not that any of those rich bastards would tell us.”

  Zusa frowned, for she had never heard of the man interfering with Gemcroft activities. What could Alyssa have done to spur this strange killer of thieves into attacking her son?

  “I must find him,” Zusa said. “Is there anything you know that can help me?”

  “Find him? What for?”

  “He killed Nathaniel. I must give my lady her vengeance.”

  Veliana crossed her arms and shook her head, looking all the more upset.

  “If the Watcher killed him, something else is going on. Perhaps he thinks you’ve secretly colluded with one of the thief guilds. Maybe he was confused. Or maybe he’s just insane and out for blood. We know nothing of him other than that he is a skillful killer.”

  “Regardless of the difficulty, he is my prey, and must be found. My honor is sworn upon it.”

  “Then I wish you luck,” Veliana said as she sheathed her daggers and swung her cloak over her shoulders. “Many have tried, and no lead we’ve ever found has panned out. He might as well be a ghost. If you wish to find him, your best bet is to scour the streets at night and listen for the sound of combat. If you don’t catch him in the act, I doubt you ever will.”

  “Will you not stay?” Zusa asked when Veliana opened the door to leave. “Your daggerwork is excellent, but you still neglect practice of your spells.”

  “I should be going. Deathmask seeks his answer, and I must prepare until then.”

  “Good luck,” Zusa said, bowing. “May you make the right decision, and in time find peace with my lady and her family.”

  Veliana pushed open the door, and as the chill wind blew in she sadly shook her head.

  “Long as Thren Felhorn lives, this war will continue. Too many fear him, and many more live in the palm of his hand without even knowing. He’s a bitter, angry man. Sometimes I think all of Veldaren will burn before the end.”

  “Perhaps it is not Garrick you should plot against, but Thren,” Zusa said.

  Veliana’s smile turned bitter.

  “We did, once,” she said. “And the Ash Guild lost its best leader in decades because of it. I’ll see you soon. Safe travels.”

  “To you as well.”

  Zusa had hoped talking to Veliana would illuminate matters, but instead it had made things worse. An assassin had been killing thieves for several years, yet not once had any of the guilds discovered his real identity. Who could be that skilled? And what had drawn that skill against her lady? What would happen if she did find him? Did she have the ability to take him down?

  Only one way to find out, of course. Dawn was fast approaching, less than an hour away. Still, in that last twilight moment, perhaps she might find word of the Watcher.

  She scoured the rooftops, an eye always kept on the streets. She saw several deals, a whore earning her pay, and two men dying so their killers might make off with their gold. No Watcher. Up on the rooftops she was alone.

  “You must have left people alive,” Zusa whispered to herself as she watched the sun rise. “You’ve hurt many opponents, though none will work together. But I am not one of them. I will piece it together. I will discover who you are. Perhaps, in time, I will be the one leaving my mark for you.”

  She returned to the Gemcroft mansion, and in her room she slept through the day. Come nightfall she had an underworld to interrogate.

  Haern woke to the sound of the door banging open against the snow. A sliver of light lanced across his eyes. Dawn was fast approaching, but the snow magnified what little light crept over the horizon. He rubbed his eyes, then looked again. Matthew was dressed in many layers of coats and furs, and his two older sons were dressed similarly. A glance around showed the daughters still slept.

  “Need to break the ice so our cattle can drink,” Matthew explained, keeping his voice low so as to not wake the others. “Forgive me, but it’s an early morning here on the farm.”

  “Forgiven,” Haern said, rising. He pulled his cloaks tight about himself. He needed to piss, and he wasn’t looking forward to the excursion in what little clothing he had.

  “Here,” said Matthew, tossing him a coat. “It’s an extra, and with what you paid me, you certainly deserve it. I have a feeling you won’t be staying around much longer.”

  “Your feeling is right,” Haern said, inspecting the coat. It was old and gray, the fur too faded for him to accurately guess what animal it had been made from. Still, the lining remained intact and well cared for. He slipped it on and nodded his thanks.

  “Come on,” Matthew said to his boys. “Let’s go. My wife’s in the kitchen cooking if you’d like a bite to eat, Haern.”

  “I would, but let me take care of other things first.”

  When he came back inside after finishing his business, he passed through the curtain into the kitchen. Sure enough, the lady had cooked him a bowl of oatmeal and flavored it with honey.

  “Thank you,” Haern said, accepting the bowl and using his fingers to scoop the oatmeal into his mouth. “What is your name?”

  She kept busy scrubbing and tending to the rest of breakfast, all so she could avoid looking him in the eye when she talked.

  “Evelyn,” she said.

  “Thank you for the meal, Evelyn. How fares the boy?”

  “I looked in on him while you slept. His fever still burns, and I don’t think he’ll get to keep that right arm. Don’t worry, though, if it comes to that. I’ve done it before, and not just on animals. For most of my neighbors, I’m the closest to a healer we got.”

  “Your husband explained my request?” Haern asked.

  She finally looked at him, and he liked the strength he saw in her.

  “He told me enough, and I have a brain to figure out the rest. We’d have taken him in if you’d only asked. Didn’t need the coin, or the threats. I pity the life you’ve led if you thought either was necessary.”

  The comment stung, far more deeply than she’d probably meant it to.


  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he said. “I must be going. Take care of the boy.”

  “We will. Safe travels to you, Haern. That bag on the table is yours. It should last you until you reach Felwood, assuming that’s the direction you’re headed.”

  Inside was a small selection of salted meats. He took it and left without checking on the boy, fully trusting Evelyn and her husband to know what was best. He wanted to get back to Veldaren, to the world he understood. He’d watched the farmer talk to his boys. Matthew was raising them to be like him, just as his own father had. But there was no malice, no underlying threat of violence to ensure perfection and obedience. The obedience was expected, sure, but he’d felt the love in that household. Living under Thren’s roof he’d felt only paranoia, expectations, and disappointment. He’d loved Senke, loved Kayla, loved Delysia, even his older brother who had always been cruel to him in return. None of their fates had been kind because of it. At least Delysia had lived, though he’d lost her to the temple of Ashhur.

  The pond was not far from the road, and he saw Matthew in the distance. Haern waved, and Matthew waved back. He promised himself he would return, not just to check on the fate of the boy, but also to have another night of sleep like he’d just had. So many nights and days he had slumbered on the side of the street, and he’d forgotten the comforts of a warm bed. Perhaps it was time to consider paying for lodgings at one of the inns, his various personae be damned.

  The snow had stopped, and the coat did wonders to keep him warm. He nibbled on the meat Evelyn had given him, and despite its salt he found he enjoyed the flavor. He walked along the road and tried to determine how far he was from Veldaren. For much of his walk carrying the boy, he had been in a frozen delirium. He couldn’t even guess how many miles he’d traveled, and like a fool he hadn’t asked either Matthew or Evelyn how far to Felwood before he’d left. Oh well. She’d given him enough to reach the castle, and guessing by the food it should be four days, three if she assumed him a heavy eater. From there it’d be a week or so back to Veldaren.