A Dance of Cloaks

21

O nce he was certain everyone was either asleep or occupied, Aaron donned a pale gray cloak and slipped out from his room. Something weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew of only one person who could answer him. Problem was, that person was currently hidden deep inside the temple of Ashhur. He doubted the priests would let him in to see Delysia, and equally doubted they would let her out.

Aaron had been shown how to hide, how to kill, and how to steal, but never once had he been shown how to break into a place with the aim of talking. The night had potential to be an interesting one.

The hallway was empty. He ran fast, tumbling into a nearby room. One of the floorboards was loose, and it came up easily when Aaron pulled on it. Below was a tunnel connecting to the others that stretched out from underneath the estate like an ant hill. Ensuring his dagger was tucked tightly into his belt, Aaron climbed down and replaced the board above his head.

The way was tight and dark. For a moment Aaron heard a noise, and he feared someone might be approaching from the other direction. He’d have no excuse or reason to explain his leaving. Thren would be furious. He heard another noise, sounding like the board he’d just replaced. Then silence. After five long minutes, Aaron resumed crawling, certain that no one was following him.

When he climbed out of the tunnel, he was underneath a giant, empty pile of crates that was never cleaned or removed from the alley. Aaron pulled out a thick strip of cloth from his pocket and tied it to his face, adjusting it so the eyeholes matched up perfectly.

He was Aaron no longer.

Haern dashed down the street, his pale cloak fluttering behind him. A moment later, another figure emerged from beneath the crates and gave chase.

M adelyn felt sleep tugging at her eyes, but she refused its temptation. It didn’t matter that she believed no harm would come to her. She wanted her eyes bloodshot and her actions slow and uneven when she met her husband. His anger would only grow at seeing her this way.

Light spilled in from a crack in the doorway. Madelyn felt her heart halt and her fingers tighten on the dagger. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps they would kill her after all.

The door opened. Blinded by the sudden light, Madelyn winced and held a hand over her eyes. She saw a small figure, too small to be an assassin.

“Oh,” she heard a girl say. “I didn’t know…”

Madelyn lowered her hand as the girl thankfully closed the door halfway. In the dimmer light, she could see. The girl stood with her hands behind her back. She wore a plain white dress that hung all the way down to her ankles. Her unadorned hair spilled down either side of her face, a beautiful red. Madelyn’s best guess put her no older than ten.

“I’ve been awake,” Madelyn said. She realized she still clutched the dagger and lowered it to the bed. That seemed to calm the girl a little.

“I was sent to get, um…”

She blushed and pointed at the chamber pot in the corner. Madelyn rolled her eyes.

“Just leave it,” she said. “Come back for it in the morning.”

The girl paused, clearly deciding which orders to follow. Madelyn stared at her face, seeing an odd familiarity. When the girl turned to leave, Madelyn spoke out a name.

“Eschaton?”

The girl jolted as if shocked.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, turning back around.

“Just your last, girl. You’re yet to give me your first.”

The girl blushed.

“Delysia Eschaton. It is a pleasure to meet you, milady.”

She gave a curtsey that was skillful as it was absurd in the plain long dress.

“I knew your father,” Madelyn said. “Many years ago, when he was still a lord. You have his hair and eyes. We weren’t close, but we talked on occasion. Then he let his faith override his senses and vanished into these cloistered halls.”

Delysia didn’t appear to know how to react.

“I hope what memories you have of my father are pleasant ones,” she said at last. “Though it pains me to talk of them. I should go.”

“Stay,” Madelyn said, an idea growing in her head. “I’ve been locked alone in here for many hours, and it’d be good to have someone to talk with.”

Delysia opened her mouth as if to protest, then decided otherwise. Madelyn patted the space beside her on the bed, and Delysia reluctantly took a seat there.

“Do they require you to have such plain hair?” Madelyn said as she brushed a hand through the fiery red.

“No. I haven’t had time. I’m so new here.”

Delysia tensed a little when Madelyn began braiding it, then slowly relaxed. Having spent a lifetime in courts, dinners, and extravagant parties, Madelyn had long ago learned how to read and manipulate others. Delysia was adrift, alone, and scared. Most importantly, she seemed to be craving a mother figure by how quickly she’d relaxed after the braiding started.

Madelyn frantically racked her brain. Delius Eschaton-he’d been married, but what had happened to his wife?

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said, deciding to keep it vague. No child as young as Delysia would be willing to discuss such a matter in depth. What was more important was the comfort Madelyn eased into her voice, the tender honesty and empathy.

“Daddy…he helped us through,” Delysia said. Her whole body seemed to be shivering. “I miss him. I miss my brother. I miss my mom and my Grany. I don’t want to be here, I want to be home, I want to be…”

She broke down in tears. Even with her manipulation, Madelyn was surprised by its speed. The girl must have been on edge the whole day, just waiting for something to set her off. Knowing her timing must be perfect, Madelyn let Delysia cry just long enough before wrapping her shoulders in a hug.

“There now,” she said. “Cry if you must. I know how you feel. I miss my husband. I worry for him, too. For all he knows I’m hanging upside down from chains in one of Thren’s hideouts. If only I could feel him in my arms again.”

“I heard others talking,” Delysia said. “They said they’d send someone so he’d know.”

“But are you sure?” she asked, letting her face harden just a little. After a moment, Delysia shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I guess I’m not.”

Madelyn let the silence return. She’d finished two thin braids, so she began tying them together, high up near the top of Delysia’s head. Lacking material, she tore a bit of her own dress and used it to tie the braids firm.

“Your brother is all you have left,” she said, injecting a combination of curiosity and worry into her voice. “Do you know where he is now?”

“He’s apprenticed to some wizard,” Delysia said. “I could never pronounce his name right. Malderad? Maldrad? Something like that.”

“Yes, wizards often have funny names,” Madelyn said. “They think it gives them an air of mystery, but mostly it just makes them look like fools.”

Delysia giggled softly.

Madelyn chose that moment to pull back her hands and set them on her lap. The sudden stop made Delysia turn to see what was the matter.

“I could take you to him,” Madelyn said. “Surely you heard among the whispers who I am, Delysia. I am Lady Keenan, and wealthier than the king. It seems cruel to keep you hidden here when your brother is out there alone and in danger. What if he returns to Veldaren? What if the thief guilds send for him too?”

Delysia twisted her fingers together, then grabbed her elbows and shivered as if she were cold. Madelyn paused a moment, then drove the final nail home.

“Delysia, does he even know your father’s dead?”

Her eyes widened. She shook her head.

“Someone should tell him,” Madelyn insisted. “I think it should be you. Come with me.”

Delysia’s eyes widened as if she were waking from a spell.

“I’ll get in trouble,” she said. “Grany put me here, and here’s safe. Who will I stay with, and what if Maldrad doesn’t want me? I can’t.”

This was it. This was the moment. Madelyn stood and crossed her arms, acting every bit the scolding parent.

“You can and you will, Delysia. I must return to my husband. You must return to your brother. Isn’t that what you want? Forget what others expect of you. They don’t decide your life. That isn’t their right. I will ensure everything goes well for you, all for being a friend to me in my dark time. Help me, Delysia. Please. I’m asking you.”

Delysia wilted under the barrage of words. She slowly nodded.

“You promise to take care of me?” she asked.

Madelyn smiled her sweetest smile.

“I promise,” she said.

“Fine. Everyone else is asleep except me. Bertram was to help me with my nightly duties, but he’s so fat he dozed off in his chair. I don’t know if the door’s locked.”

“Only one way to know,” Madelyn said, taking Delysia’s hand. “Lead me there.”

H aern scratched at his mask, wishing he had found something smoother to wear. When finished, he wrapped his cloak tighter about him. Other than his blonde hair, he was a mess of gray lurking in the shadows. The temple was before him on the other side of the street. Haern hid beside a shop set up to take advantage of the temple’s traffic, selling a multitude of sweetcakes and treats that got devoured after every service.

Looking at the temple, Haern wondered how the abyss he was going to get inside. He saw no windows, just rows and rows of columns. The columns themselves were too smooth and wide around for him to scale. The giant front doors were closed. They were unguarded but most likely locked and barred from the inside. The roof was triangular, sharp in the middle but nearly flat at the edges, created by a clever interlocking of additional tiles. Two statues loomed on either side of the short white steps leading up into the temple. The left was of a noble-looking man in armor holding a set of scales. The right was a young woman with her arms raised to the heavens as if singing in praise.

“Never abandon as hopeless something you’ve never tried,” he whispered aloud. One of his earlier swordmasters had favored that saying. There was only one place left Haern could check, and that was the roof. So to the roof he went.

He’d taken nothing with him but his cloak and his knife, so Haern did what he could. At full speed, he curved to one side and leapt into the air. He kicked off the statue of a woman, vaulting himself atop the other statue. Not letting his momentum slow, he leapt again, his whole body reaching for the edge of the roof where it was flat.

His fingers brushed it, slipped, and then he was falling.

The front of the temple had large inset sections depicting mountains, fields of grain, and a rising sun. Below those carvings was a second edge jutting out just before the pillars began. Haern banged his elbow against the edge, spun in the air, and then grabbed on. A sharp intake of air was the only cry he made.

He swung one foot up to the ledge, glad for once that he was still somewhat young and small. With his feet turned sideways, he had an inch and a half to stand on. More than enough. He stood upon it, his back to the carvings, and looked down at the street. He saw no one. It seemed whatever activities might be normal for the night, they took place nowhere near the temple.

He was about to turn and jump for the roof when he heard a loud crack from the doors below.

“Hurry,” said a woman’s voice just above a whisper.

“I am,” whispered back a younger girl. Haern’s heart leapt. He recognized that voice. Then the two walked out from underneath him, hand in hand. Haern saw the red hair and knew for certain.

“Shit,” he said, realizing where he still was. For all his efforts to get to the roof, Delysia had come out on her own, and now there was no easy way down…

Haern slipped back down to his fingers, took a deep breath, and then tried to fall forward instead of straight down. The higher up the steps he landed, the better. Luck was with him, for he landed on the very top step, giving him plenty of room to roll. His knees still ached, and there was no way for him to remain silent, but that was better than a painful tumble down the sharp edges of the steps.

Knowing time was short, he ran down the steps, chasing after the two women who had hurried north from the temple. As if fleeing, the two ducked between some stores. Haern felt his heart stutter. The way the older woman had led, it seemed like she’d dragged Delysia. Something wasn’t right at all. He sprinted faster, his dagger drawn.

W hy are we going this way?” Delysia asked once they hurried into the alley.

“I think I heard someone following us,” Madelyn said, glancing back toward the street. “We have to be careful. Come closer.”

Delysia realized the woman had taken out her dagger. Why had she taken out her dagger? And if she was afraid of someone following, why was she keeping her back to the road?

“I want to go back,” she said, stepping further into the alley. “I don’t want to go anymore.”

“I can’t have anyone warned,” Madelyn said. The compassion drained from her eyes. “Your father was always a fool, Delysia. Kindness made him blind, and you’re no different.”

Delysia turned to the run but the alley dead-ended at a thick wooden wall connecting the two stores. She spun back around and put her back to the wall. Madelyn stood in the center of the alley, dagger still in hand. There was no way past her; no way out.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, tears growing in her eyes.

“No,” Madelyn said. “You won’t.”

Something knocked the dagger from her hand. Madelyn’s mouth opened, and then a dirty boot struck the side of her face. Delysia let out a small cry as Madelyn went down, her hands outstretched to slow her fall. She rolled when she hit the ground, but Haern was already there, scooping up the dagger and kicking her in the stomach.

“How dare you try to hurt her,” Haern whispered, his whole body trembling with rage. He held a dagger in each hand, and he looked more than ready to use them. Madelyn sat on her knees and glared.

“Don’t,” Delysia shouted. “Please, let her go.”

Haern glanced at her, and Madelyn took the chance to run. Haern looked back, clearly debating.

“Please stay,” Delysia insisted, and that was enough to keep him with her.

“What are you doing out here?” he asked, sliding both daggers into his belt.

“I was…I was doing something dumb. I’m sorry. I should get back.”

“Wait,” Haern said, reaching out and grabbing her wrist. Delysia tensed, but his touch was soft. He held her there, neither moving, only their eyes alive as they stared at one another.

“Please stay,” he said.

“We’ll be caught,” Delysia said.

She heard the boy laugh.

“No we won’t,” he said, sliding his grip down from her wrist to her hand. Then they were running, her heart hammering, and suddenly she was shimmying up the side of a house and onto the roof.