A Dance of Cloaks

9

P otts hated this part of his job. He could deal with Leon’s general slobbery, his impatience with setbacks, and even his temperamental, dangerous mood swings. What he could not stand, however, was informing him of current events while the man bathed in his wooden tub. Even though his rolls of fat effectively censored himself, that only seemed to make it worse. Two pretty maids worked him over with brushes, scrubbing ferociously against his skin in between splashes of hot water. Through it all, Leon giggled as if it tickled.

“I’ve been given word from the Green Castle,” Potts said after clearing his throat twice to get his master’s attention. “They’ve sent yet another wagon of wine from their stores, though they insisted we pay extra since we’ve already cleared out half of their vintage.”

“Tell them I’ll pay them that extra when I actually get the blasted wine,” Leon said, his giggles replaced by an annoying whine. “Those rogue bastards think to starve me of drink and food. It used to be just the city, but now the entire countryside is overrun with thieves and brigands. Perhaps we should send a whole army of mercenaries along the west highway. I’ll get my damn wine then.”

“Speaking of, uh, wine,” Potts said. “Our own stores have gotten uncomfortably low. My usual contacts within the city’s underground have refused to sell me even the cheapest vintage for any price, no matter how outrageous.”

“I told you they meant to starve me!” Leon howled. His fat shifted in the bath, splashing the two maids. They winced but held their tongues. Potts held his as well, not daring to say how he felt Leon could use a solid week of starvation.

“It appears Thren has begun a new tactic,” Potts said instead. “Instead of trying to bankrupt us, he does what he can to make our lives miserable. He’s disrupted Gemcroft’s caravans as well.”

“Make us miserable?” Leon fumed. “They live in guttershite and eat out of assholes yet they try to make me miserable? We must strike back. This nonsense has gone on far too long.”

“Perhaps, if you have a plan, you can bring it up at the Kensgold?” Potts suggested.

“Ugh,” Leon said, sinking deeper into the bath. More water splashed out the sides. The two maids were thoroughly soaked by now, but if they were disturbed by the contact with Leon and his dirty water, they hid it well. “I grow so tired of these Kensgolds. Didn’t they used to be every four years instead of two?”

“They did,” Potts said. “But when the Trifect declared war on the guilds, it was decided that meeting more often would be best for coordinating our efforts at destroying them.” The advisor coughed. “It was your idea, master.”

“Bah. Then I was an idiot.”

You still are, thought Potts.

“One last thing,” Potts said, determined to finish so he could leave before the thoroughly grotesque sight of Leon getting out of the tub, the water dripping down from his fat in a wide circle around the floor. The maids could never get the towels around him fast enough to suppress the horrible spectacle.

“What’s that?” Leon asked.

“It appears that the rest of the thief guilds have turned against the Ash Guild. They’ve taken nearly all of their territory except for a few streets.”

“Really?” Leon asked. “Did their guildleader die?”

“There doesn’t appear to be any good reason, not that I have heard.”

“Hrm.” Leon scratched his chin as he thought. “To have so many guilds turn on one implies a severe weakness. Thren must have turned on them. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Try to capture one of the Ash Guild’s members before they’re all dead. We might be able to snag ourselves an ally.”

“As you wish,” Potts said with a bow. He saw Leon grab the sides of the bath, preparing to stand, so he beat a hasty retreat.

K ayla sat alone in her room, feeling restless. For whatever reason, Thren had not taken her and Senke with him, only Will and his son. Senke had told her it had something to do with the Ash Guild, but would not elaborate. He had run off to do a spot of wenching, which left her alone, bored, and restless. Ever since rescuing Robert Haern from prison, her duties had dwindled down to nothing. She figured in a day or two she’d beg for something as simple as leading a caravan robbery, just so she could have something to do.

She practiced with her daggers to pass the time. She had mentored under an elderly man many years ago, and from him learned many stances and techniques. She ran through them one by one. If she was to serve Thren, she’d need to be at her finest. Her daggerwork was far from the best. If Thren’s life ever came to depend on her, mediocre would not do the job.

How many hours she practiced, she didn’t know, but when she finished her body was coated with sweat and her arms throbbed. She collapsed on the bed and gasped in air. When someone knocked on her door, she was too exhausted to bother getting up.

“Come in,” she said. “It’s not locked.”

The door crept open. Kayla had expected Senke or Will, maybe even Thren, but instead Aaron crept inside and quietly shut the door behind him.

“This is a surprise,” she said, sitting up on her bed. She caught his eyes wandering, then realized her shirt was unbuttoned and open at the top. Fighting away a blush, she fastened a few of the buttons, feeling silly all the while. She’d shown far more to men when she wanted to get her way. Still, Aaron was young, and she was well aware of his crush on her.

“I have something for you,” he said.

“Oh, do you now? Let me see.”

Kayla outstretched her hand. His blue eyes stared at her fingers, and she caught his lips trembling as if he were struck with indecision. Remembering how much she hated being his age, and how uncomfortable everything always seemed to be, she tried to prod him through.

“Don’t make me wait,” she gently teased. “You’ve said you bring gifts, so give them to me. I may steal and spy, but I like presents just like any other girl.”

His neck flushed a bit, just around the collar, but then he outstretched his right hand and dropped a set of earrings onto her open palm. They sparkled with blue sapphires and white gold. Kayla gasped. She had expected cheap jewelry, a flower, or some poorly written poetry. The gift in her hand seemed more apt to have been stolen from a woman of royalty.

“Where did you get this?” she asked.

“Father has begun paying me for my aid,” he said. “He says I need to be treated like any other of his men if I am to earn their respect.”

“He must pay you well,” Kayla said, holding the earrings close so she could admire their sparkle. Clearly they had been polished and well-cared for. A part of her felt too cheap and dirty to wear them.

“You’re beautiful,” Aaron said. His voice, his eyes, his demeanor: everything about him, so normally quiet and secretive, made no attempt to hide the plain truth he spoke. He thought she was beautiful, and that simple belief was enough to have her put them in her ears, pressing them through scarred over holes from earrings she had worn as a girl. A bit of blood ran across her fingers, but she made sure none dripped across the silver.

“Thank you,” she said. She kissed his forehead, amused at how red his ears turned.

“Senke says I’ll owe him for the next five years,” Aaron said, babbling. He clearly didn’t know how to react to the kiss. “But I’ll keep paying him, and it shouldn’t be a problem, unless I die, but then I don’t need to worry about paying him back do I? Not unless he can find my ghost and…”

“Shush, Aaron,” Kayla said. At the invoking of his name, his whole body seemed to shrivel inward and slip behind a protective mask.

“Haern,” he said.

“Sorry,” Kayla said. “This kiss is for Haern, then.”

She kissed him just above his right eye.

“You’re a cute boy,” she said. “Now run along and do something appropriate for your age.”

He nodded, the blush from his ears and his neck having connected at his cheeks. His apparent love, so juvenile and simple, was enough to brighten Kayla’s night. She ushered him out the door, then plopped back down on her bed. As she spread her arms through the fabric of her covers, she let her mind wander. Aaron was cute, and more importantly, Thren’s son. Once he got older, maybe sixteen or so, perhaps she could arrange for a marriage. Her place in the guild would be solidified so completely she’d rule once Thren died.

Assuming Thren ever died. The tough bastard looked ready to live another forty years. When he did pass away, she wondered if the Spider Guild would even survive.

What am I thinking? she thought. Of course it will last. Thren won’t spend his whole life building a castle of cards. He wants a legacy.

Kayla dozed off, her light sleep broken by a firm knock on her door. A tingle in her temples told her to open it herself. Her warning was correct; Thren stood waiting, his arms crossed, his swords hanging from his belt.

“You should be more alert when I am gone,” he said as he stepped past her into her room. “If something should happen to me, an attack on our guild would immediately follow.”

“A silly worry,” Kayla said as she shut the door. “Since when can something happen to you?”

He looked at her as if deciding whether to smile or scowl. So instead he shrugged.

“Even the impossible tends to find its way to our everyday lives. I have a task for you, Kayla, one more suited to your talents…”

He stopped. She felt a moment of self-conscious worry spike through her. Was her shirt open again? Her hair messed up in some strange way? He followed her eyes, then realized he was staring at her earrings.

“Your son gave them to me,” she said.

She was not prepared for the rage that roared to life in his eyes, his hands, and his snarl. He slammed her against the wall, her wrists pinned. Before she even knew she was in danger, she was helpless.

“Listen carefully,” he said to her. Somehow his rage never reached his voice. “Aaron must remain pure. He has the chance to become something incredible. I will have my heir, and I will not risk its ruin to the caress of a woman, the stupor of drink, or the delusions of gods and goddesses. Do you understand me?”

“I’ll give them back,” Kayla said. She almost nodded, then realized that would dangle her earrings, and she feared that might set him off.

“Not just that,” Thren said. “I want his heart broken. Give it a callous that will never heal. When you are done, meet me and Senke in my room. I still have that job for you.”

“As you wish,” she said.

He let go of her hands, glanced about the room, and then left.

Kayla felt her knees tremble, and when the door was shut she let her fear out in a single sob. The fear didn’t last long. Anger raged upward. She had heard so many rumors about Aaron, what he was and what he had done. A part of her realized that so many of them were most likely true, and now she knew why.

She took off her earrings, put them in her pocket, and then left for Aaron’s room. Despite what Aaron had said about his father treating him like the other men, his room was separate from the rest, isolated and private. She knocked on the door.

The look of mixed excitement and fear on his face did little to settle the knot in her stomach.

“May I come in?” she asked, wondering how many of his young boy’s fantasies started with her saying exactly those words. He didn’t answer, only nod.

She stepped inside. Spacious, with a tall ceiling and several windows, but the decorations were sparse. He had a bed, a trunk for his clothes, and the rest was weapons, training equipment, and books. From her quick glance, it appeared all of it received equal attention.

“Your earrings,” Aaron said, immediately noticing their absence.

“Here,” she said, taking his hand and plopping them atop his palm. “Take them back.”

She saw something breaking in his blue eyes.

“Why?” he asked.

Kayla opened her mouth, a lie on her tongue. She knew she could, and more importantly, she knew she should. Doing the right thing was not often something she worried about, but staring at those eyes, she wondered.

“Answer me this question first,” she said. “Did you really kill your brother at the age of eight?”

He sucked in his lips and bit. He was staring at her ears. She brushed them once, realizing they still bled.

“Yes,” he said.

She felt her heart wince a little, but that wasn’t what mattered. The second question was what mattered.

“Why?” she asked.

Aaron answered without the slightest hesitation.

“Because my father wanted me to.”

Kayla nodded. Of course. What else mattered in Aaron’s life? He was being steadily created, a work of art that only Thren Felhorn could find beautiful. To see such parental devotion twisted and turned to murder and fratricide…

“Listen to me,” she said, lowering her voice. “I can’t love you, Aaron. I can’t even treat you with kindness, and my reason is the same as why you killed your brother. Take the earrings. Don’t hide your hurt. Don’t be ashamed of your tears.”

She took his chin in her fingers and tilted his head upward.

“But I can love Haern,” she said. “I’m not sure what Aaron might become. He may scare me, even hurt me at his own father’s request. So you must keep Haern hidden and safe. Keep him alive. Can you do that for me?”

His tears rolled down his cheeks, but he nodded. She saw that strength and felt beyond proud.

“Aaron must never love me,” she said as she turned to the door. “But Haern can.”

“I’ll remember,” Aaron said. As Kayla left, he grabbed one of his many swords and slammed the side of a training dummy. He had learned another lessen of what it meant to have power. It meant crushing the will of another to meet your own.

More and more, Aaron Felhorn felt rebellion growing in his heart at the very notion of wielding that same power. He choked it down. Those thoughts didn’t belong to Aaron. They weren’t who he was.

He cut one of his blankets in half, poked in a few eyeholes, and then wrapped it about his face. Lost in his training, he swung his sword about the room, shifting from stance to stance. He let his anger and rebellion grow, for he was Haern now, and those thoughts belonged to him.

K ayla entered Thren’s room and knelt before his table.

“My task?” she asked.

“Were you successful?” Thren asked her first. Knowing her life was on the line, Kayla kept her smile hidden deep inside her breast.

“Beyond expectations,” she answered.