A Dance of Cloaks

25

W hile the Kensgold was gearing up, the leaders of the thief guilds met in a strange place for their kind: open air in broad daylight. They stood before the large fountain in the very center of Veldaren. Any gathering of so many leaders needed to be somewhere neutral, and with many exits, otherwise none would come. Given the absolute chaos of the Kensgold outside the city, traffic was almost non-existent within. As if inflicted with a massive plague, the whole city had emptied outward, flooding the surrounding hills with torches, campfires, tents, and song.

Thren was the first to arrive. Any delay on his part might worry the others. Kadish Vel of the Hawk Guild was next, looking ugly as ever with his red teeth and loose eyepatch. Then came Norris Vel, brother to Kadish and newly appointed master of the Serpent Guild after Thren had killed Galren, their old leader. The Shadow Guild had a new leader as well, a bulky man named Oligart.

“Just Oligart,” the man had said when introducing himself to Thren. His hands were meaty and his voice slow. “My last name’s a bitch.”

“What happened to Yorshank?” Thren had asked.

“I’m slow,” Oligart said, flexing his hands. “He was slower.”

James Beren of the Ash Guild was the last to arrive. All the leaders had been allowed to bring one trusted member, and Veliana was his. She glared at Kadish but wisely held her tongue.

“Where’s the wolf?” Kadish asked as they stood about the fountain, looking nothing more than a group of old friends gathering before joining the festivities.

“They are already scattered about the Kensgold,” Thren explained. He kept his back to the fountain and the guildmasters to his front. “I will go to them after with the real plan.”

“Real plan?” James said, unable to hide his anger. “You sicked your pets on me just so I would agree to a false plan? Even you knew how stupid your original was, yet we suffered for it?”

The other members grumbled, none happy with being taken as fools. Thren silenced them by putting his hand on the hilt of his sword.

“Enough,” he said. “What is done is done. No matter how hard I might try, I knew the plan would reach the Trifect. That was the point. We will not launch an assault on the Kensgold, especially not with them outside the city. Without our walls, our shadows, our poison, we are nothing but an outnumbered army of children.”

“Your spiders may be children, but my hawks spill blood like men,” Kadish said.

“So what’s the real plan?” asked Oligart. “I still get to break necks?”

“Their mansions are empty,” Thren said, a smile growing on his face. “They’ve taken the vast bulk of their mercenaries and helpers. Now is when we strike. We will split up, half assaulting Connington’s estate, the other half, Gemcroft’s. Kill everyone inside, and I mean everyone. Then we set our traps. When the Trifect return we assault them from the windows and roofs of their own homes. We’ll kill their family, their friends. When it is time to run, we burn their estates to the ground. They will suffer tonight, and suffer greatly. If we are lucky, we might kill Leon or Maynard during the assault.”

Thren looked to every single pair of eyes, judging their commitment. Despite their anger at being deceived, the simple but brutal plan seemed to excite their bloodlust. Five years was a long time. Suddenly an end seemed in sight.

“Who goes where?” Kadish finally asked.

“The Hawks and the Ash will take out Gemcroft. The Serpents and the Shadows will go for Connington.”

“And who will you go for?” James asked.

“My men will be split among each of you,” Thren said. “That way I show no preference and therefore no risk of betrayal. As for who I go with…that is my own damn business.”

“You can’t make us go with the Hawks,” Veliana insisted, her outburst earning her a glare from both James and Kadish.

“Come now, your lovely presence will make the proceedings all the more exciting,” Kadish said.

“No arguing,” Thren said. “No squabbles. No betrayals. We end this tonight. Understood?”

They all reluctantly agreed.

“I get to crush Connington blood,” Oligart said. He seemed tremendously happy.

“Wait until the sun has dipped below the walls,” Thren ordered. “Move in concert, and keep it quiet. Once set up, things will take time. Kill any who might return early, and wait for the main force to return. And no matter what, make sure the homes burn.”

They all scattered in various directions. Just as they were the last to arrive, James and Veliana were the last to leave.

“His men are split and he hides his own destination,” Veliana said to her guildmaster. “There is no way to betray him without betraying other guilds as well. Now we play along or make enemies of every living man and woman within Veldaren.”

“Never said he was a fool,” James said. “And you’re right. Unless Thren comes to Gemcroft’s, we’d best do as he says and hope the Trifect crumbles.”

“Then we put our faith in him,” she said. “All our plans are nothing. Thren rules this day.”

T he King was in a fouler mood than normal. From the window of a castle tower he had observed the great masses traveling west out of Veldaren. Gerand was waiting for him when he returned to the throne room. Sixteen guards flanked his majesty’s every side.

“It looks like an army gathers at our doorstep,” King Vaelor said as he sat on his throne. “And where are my subjects? Shouldn’t I have petty squabbles to settle?”

“Most have decided to join the festivities that transpire every four years rather than wait in line for a ruling they may get on any day,” Gerand explained.

“But everyone?” Vaelor wondered. “Surely there’s a few level-headed men about somewhere.”

“There were a few,” Gerand said, clearing his throat. “I sent them away. From everything we know, today should be…interesting, and I felt it best to keep you safe.”

King Vaelor rolled his eyes. As if determined to show how brave he was, he dismissed half his retainer of guards, leaving only a paltry eight watching over him. Gerand did his best not to roll his eyes in return. With the sheer amount of mercenaries gathered outside the walls, the advisor had thought it best to keep the king’s day dull. Besides, with all eyes turned to the Kensgold, there was too much risk of a silent dagger striking the other way.

“Safe,” the king muttered. “Often you have promised to keep me safe, but where are the results of your promises? What has grown from your comforting words? I was promised the head of Thren Felhorn, yet where is it?”

Gerand coughed and looked at the guards. King Vaelor realized what he wanted and dismissed the remaining eight.

“Don’t get any ideas,” the king said once they were on the far sides of the throne room. He pulled back his robe to reveal his gold sword belted at his hip. Gerand was far from impressed but didn’t dare let that show.

“As you must understand,” Gerand began, “arranging Thren’s murder is no easy feat. Men have wanted him dead for a decade, yet he remains as powerful as ever.”

“I want his head,” the king said. “Not excuses.”

“I am giving you neither,” Gerand said. “Only word of what is to come. My men have crawled about the city and spent much. We gained little in return, but all it takes is one whisper, one turncoat, and the whole fortune is worth the coin. And that is what I have: a turncoat.”

King Vaelor sat erect in his seat.

“You found a member of his guild to turn against him?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.

“I cannot say,” Gerand insisted. “Surely you understand. I will say nothing of who he or she is, other than that the price was absurdly high. I dare not risk a single whisper reaching its way to Thren. I already know of his plans for the Kensgold, and my little bird has informed me of a few deviations. If all goes well, I will deliver his head to you on a platter by tomorrow morning.”

“Excellent,” the king said, slapping his thigh with his hand. “What will I do when you’re gone, Gerand?”

The advisor smiled. He had every intention of being around long after King Vaelor was gone, not the reverse.

“A king of your majesty and skill will always find a way to reign,” he said.

King Vaelor laughed.

“So true. But what am I to do? With no squabbles, no royal visitors, and no feasts planned, I am sorely pressed for entertainment.”

“For that, I have found a solution,” Gerand said. He clapped twice, and one of the guards at the throne room’s main entrance threw open the doors. Ten girls wearing silks that hid nothing walked into the room, bells jingling from their wrists and ankles.

“Dancers courtesy of Maynard Gemcroft,” Gerand said. “Come all the way from Ker. They are known as the Naked Bells.”

Slowly the women began their gyrations.

“Naked Bells?” King Vaelor asked, licking his lips. “Yet I see so much silk.”

“Give us time to earn our name,” one of the women said, her voice husky and foreign.

Gerand left the king to his pleasures, eager for nightfall and word from his turncoat. Once Thren was defeated, the only threat to the crown would be himself, and that was exactly what he wanted.

A lyssa walked ahead of Zusa on their return to the Kull’s camp, knowing her lead would make things easier for the other woman. Most of the guards stared at Zusa’s face as they passed, frightened by her skill yet drawn to her beauty.

“Alyssa!” shouted Yoren when he saw her. He stumbled over a pot, pushed aside another man, and then wrapped her in a ferocious hug. Kiss after kiss he planted on her face, and despite the loathsome being he was at night, Alyssa found herself relaxing in his arms and returning the kisses. After a moment he leaned back and let her stand, and that was when he noticed Zusa’s face.

“By Karak, girl, where’s your wrappings?” he asked.

Zusa took a step back and crossed her arms as if embarrassed.

“Gone,” she said. “Why do you care?”

Yoren didn’t seem to know how to respond, so eventually he shrugged and took Alyssa’s hands in his.

“Come,” he said. “Father will be thrilled to see you. And what of the dark paladin? Did you elude him in the night?”

“Zusa killed him,” Alyssa said as they walked around the tents on their way to the large pavilion.

“Did she now?” He glanced back at Zusa. “At times I wondered about my decision to hire you. It seems you three were well worth the coin.”

“Just one now,” Zusa said. Alyssa heard the sadness in her voice, but Yoren prattled on not noticing.

“We didn’t know what to do. Theo thought to send search parties to look for, well, your body. I meant to go to Veldaren and see if the priests of Karak had you. Better alive and imprisoned than dead in a field, I figured. But here you are! More than I could have hoped for.”

Alyssa glanced back at Zusa, who nodded. That nod gave her courage to continue.

“Please, hurry me to your father,” she said. “I have something he needs to hear.”

“On what matter?” Yoren asked.

“For his ears alone,” she said. ”If I am to rule in my father’s place, there are some details I would prefer to organize with Theo first. He is Lord of Riverrun, at least in fact if not in name.”

Yoren looked none too pleased about this request, but he delayed arguing until they were there. Theo sat in a chair, the remnants of the morning meal splayed out before him on the table.

“By the gods, Alyssa Gemcroft, safe and sound!” Theo cried, shoving against his chair to aid himself in standing. “I thought my guards were just babbling nonsense; either that or some pretty whore from the Kensgold had wandered over and been mistaken for you.”

“I’m flattered by the comparison,” Alyssa said.

“You should be girl, looking as you do. I’ve seen my dogs drag in less disheveled things than you. Twice now you’ve come to me in tatters. The Gemcroft line must be rolling in its graves.”

Alyssa felt anger mix with her self-consciousness. Indeed, the wade through the river had dirtied her dress, and she’d torn the tight silk during her frantic run. Drying it by the fire had shrunken it considerably, and she’d torn it more putting it back on. Her hair was a frightening mess, and she’d give just about anything for a hot soak. Still, she was Alyssa Gemcroft, heir to the northern mines, and she’d never willingly accept such insults.

“If you have any desire to remain in my good graces come my ascension, you should bite your tongue, or better yet, apologize for such remarks,” Alyssa said. “Compare me to a whore, then to shit your dogs drag in?”

Yoren flushed red at the sudden outburst, but Theo only laughed at the fire that suddenly burned bright in her voice.

“Quite right, and I do apologize, Lady Gemcroft. Come, let me fetch my serving women so they may bathe and dress you proper to your station.”

“No,” she said. “I have business to discuss, matters pertaining to my future holdings.”

“Surely these can wait…” Yoren began, but Alyssa cut him off.

“Now,” she said, her eyes boring into Theo’s. “Surely you would not insult a guest by denying them dealings? Or are the rumors I hear of the Kulls more truthful than I thought?”

The whole tent quieted. Theo’s smile drooped, the joy drained from his eyes.

“So be it,” he said. “Let us treat each other as partners of business. What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Not yet,” she said, glaring at Yoren. “We talk alone.”

Yoren scoffed but Theo was in no mood.

“Leave us,” he said to his guards as well as his son. He pointed a finger at Zusa. “But she goes too.”

Zusa bowed. The pavilion emptied until Theo sat alone, his fingers rubbing his silver knife.

“You may sit if you desire,” he offered. Alyssa refused.

“I have a question for you,” she said. “My father has vexed you time and time again. Do you know why? Because you are a mere tax collector in a far away city, scheming and fighting to take over a mere pittance of my father’s property.”

“Where is your question, girl?” Theo asked, his hand clutching the wide tableknife dangerously tight.

“I can give you far more than some miserable land in Riverrun,” Alyssa said. “Which is more important to you, your wealth, or your son?”

“What nonsense is this?” Theo roared. Alyssa reached into her skirt and drew the dagger hidden within its secret pocket. Two steps put her an arm’s length from Theo’s throat. The big man wisely paused, still clutching his tableknife as he tilted his head to one side.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I am still waiting for a true question, as well as an offer of deals and trades. But you are a woman, and unaccustomed to such matters, so I will be patient and give you another chance.”

“I will not marry Yoren,” she told him. “You will not inherit the Gemcroft line. But if I am declared Lady of the estate, then I will reward you handsomely. My father has several mines in the northeast, not far from your little town. Your taxes and harassment have made them near unprofitable. I’ll give them to you, as well as the properties you seek within Riverrun. You gain all this in return for disavowing any possible marriage between myself and your son.”

Theo rubbed his chin.

“You seem to forget something,” he said. “With your marriage, all of those would become mine in time, or at least my son’s. Why would I give up so much just to gain what I would already have? And don’t say because you threaten me, for I am not scared of your little toy.”

Alyssa smiled. She was tired of being someone’s plaything. It was good to finally be in charge. In the distance she heard a couple of scattered shouts from the guards.

“I knew you would say so,” she said. “And even if you promised, I would never believe it. You speak in lies, all you Kulls do, and I was stupid to have believed them for so long. But give me my inheritance, Theo, and I promise to keep my word.”

“Is that so?” Theo asked. “Just because you…”

And then he lunged at her, his arm swinging in a sideways arc to bat away her dagger. Alyssa parried it smoothly aside, stepped closer, and then smashed her elbow into his throat. Theo fell back into his seat, gasping for air. The tableknife thudded to the dirt.

“I’ve had enough training to deal with someone as slow as you,” she said. “Are you listening, Theo? And are you watching? I hope you are.”

More guards shouted, this time closer. The tent flap flung open. In stepped Zusa. Blood covered her wrappings. In her hand, held out like a gift, was the head of Yoren Kull.

“Well done,” Alyssa said with a smile. Guards gathered at the entrance to the tent. Alyssa pressed the tip of her dagger against Theo’s throat and then turned to the men.

“Step inside, he dies,” she told them. A quick nod from Theo ensured they obeyed. Despite her ragged appearance, her mussed hair, and her dirty face, Alyssa felt like herself once more, only stronger and wiser than when her father had cast her into the cold cells below their household.

“Tell us your orders, Lady Gemcroft,” Zusa said.

Alyssa looked back to Theo, her smile growing wider.

“Mercenaries,” she said. “They work only for coin.”

And then she thrust the dagger. With their only hopes of payment dead, either stabbed or beheaded, the mercenaries switched allegiance with practiced ease as Zusa cried out the wealth of the Gemcroft family line.

“You have your army,” Zusa said, sliding up next to her moments later.

“Because of you,” Alyssa said, taking Zusa’s hand and then kissing it in mid-curtsey.

Her beautiful face no longer hidden by veil and wrappings, Zusa smiled and curtseyed in return.