A Dance of Cloaks

26

T he outer limits of the Kensgold were filled with sellswords and the poor. The food and drink radiated outward from the many banquet tables and kegs. Thren had debated a more thorough disguise than his low hood, dirtied face, and slight limp, but decided against it. With near a thousand faces swarming about the area he’d need a fraction of his skill to go unnoticed. He could have stripped naked and still struggled to gain attention considering the amount of sex going on everywhere. No doubt the whores would be sore for weeks, but even the ugliest clutched gold tightly within their fingers.

At the base of the two hills the parked wagons formed a perimeter, their gaps lined with mercenaries. Thren did not challenge their ring, instead joining the crowd that lingered nearby in the hope of catching the more private and privileged festivities. Beside him was a hastily constructed wooden platform kept empty by a couple of Connington’s soldiers. Thren didn’t know its purpose but assumed some sort of loud singer or shameless erotic dancing troupe. He didn’t care to find out, either. Where he stood was the southernmost portion of the larger hill, exactly where he’d told the Wolf Guild to meet him.

His patience was nearing its end when thirty minutes later a man in a brown cloak and gray shirt approached.

“You stand well enough for one with a limp,” the man said.

“The knee don’t like bending,” Thren replied, feigning an Omnish accent. “What right you got to be asking?”

“The right of a wolf,” the man said, flashing him a toothy grin. His makeup was heavy, but Thren recognized those sharpened canine teeth.

“Your disguise trumps my own,” Thren said.

“I was to be here longer than you,” said Cynric, guildmaster of the Wolves. A pungent dye covered his gray hair with a layer of brown, the dirt on his face hiding his pale skin and ritual scars.

For a moment each held their tongue, staring up the hill at the elite of the Trifect. Neither sensed watching eyes or attentive ears around them so they continued.

“I’ve thirty men throughout the crowds,” Cynric said. “They await my howl. I’ve counted the number of guards, ignoring those on the outer ring. Over four hundred protect the main hill, and another two hundred the smaller. Our claws our sharp, but they do little against steel armor. I hope you have a better plan.”

Thren nodded, hearing nothing he hadn’t expected.

“The plan is in motion, Wolf. We do not attack them here. Your men are a diversion, nothing more.”

Cynric chuckled.

“I had thought as much. We played the fool for you. Care to share the real plan? I’d hate for my Wolves to miss out on the bloodshed.”

“Once the Kensgold nears its end, you will join me in assaulting the Gemcroft household. Guildsmen will have already taken over their estate and set up traps throughout. We will seal their exit once they realize the trap is sprung and try to flee.”

“They’ll be like a wounded doe,” Cynric said.

“You and your hunting analogies,” Thren said, and he laughed in spite of himself.

Trumpets sounded from atop the hill. A steady procession of sellswords moved directly toward them, Connington in tow. From the west, mercenaries lifted a giant cage on poles from atop a wagon and brought it toward the stage.

“What is going on?” Thren asked, bracing himself. Because of the trumpets, the crowd had surged in his direction, packing it so tight that he’d have a devil of a time pushing his way out. Given their position, he and Cynric had a front row seat to whatever foolishness was about to begin.

“Connington has bragged about a special event planned to start the Kensgold,” Cynric explained, not even bothering to whisper. The chaos around them would drown out anything they said. “As to what, I don’t know. None of my men and women could find out through coin or flesh.”

Thren nodded, feeling uneasy. He didn’t like surprises, and even worse, he hated lacking a quick exit. Shoving aside a hundred bodies was no easy feat.

“Come, come,” he heard Leon Connington shout as he hobbled after his guards. Maynard and Laurie traveled with him, and at the sight Thren felt his heart jump. All three members, there in the clear.

“I don’t supposed you have a crossbow on you?” he asked Cynric. Sadly the man shook his head.

“Damn.”

The Trifect families stopped short of the stage far up the hill, keeping a good distance between them and the crowd. Mercenaries surrounded them, looking serious and stiff in their patchwork armor. Grunting from the weight, the group of sellswords placed the covered cage down in the center of stage. The crowd murmured, wondering what exotic creature might be captured within.

An old man approached the stage and held up his hands for silence. Thren recognized him as Leon’s advisor from the Potts family.

“This day, my Lord Connington brings a gift not to the Trifect but to you wonderful people of Veldaren!” the old man shouted. Those who hadn’t quieted before, did so now. The din lowered to a murmuring hush.

“Long they have stolen from you,” Potts continued. “Long they have made you cower and hide in fear of poison and blade. We have fought them for you, bled for you, and died for you.”

A few whistled, but not many. Given the sheer amount of free food and wine floating about, it would seem in bad taste to argue.

“What is going on here?” Thren hissed to Cynric.

“I told you, I don’t know,” the wolf master replied.

Potts turned back toward the hill and pointed. A procession of five men walked down from the pavilion. They wore plain brown robes, their heads and faces clean-shaven. Thin tattoos circled their necks and wrists before traveling upward like veins toward their eyes. Both guildmasters knew who they were immediately. They were the gentle touchers, Connington’s skilled masters of torture.

Thren felt his stomach drop as if full of lead. He suddenly knew who was within the cage.

“Damn them,” he whispered. “Gods-fucking-damn them.”

The five surrounded the cage and raised their hands. With a dramatic sweep of his arms, Potts ordered the cage opened. The gentle touchers yanked out the bolts from its sides. The cage collapsed, its walls coming apart like a broken child’s toy. Standing perfectly still, his body tied to a thick pole, was Will. The gentle touchers rushed forward, taking the pole and jamming it into a hole in the stage, securing it tight. Will looked exhausted but unharmed otherwise. He had been stripped naked but for a plain loincloth. His thick muscles tensed against the ropes binding his hands and feet.

“Will the Bloody,” Potts shouted. “The right hand of Thren Felhorn, the enforcer of the Spiders! We give him to you now, people of Veldaren. To you, and to the gentle touchers.”

“Enjoy the show!” Leon shouted from the hill. “Give ‘em blood!”

One of the gentle touchers put down a small table he had carried from the wagon. Another unrolled a canvas wrapping filled with instruments. They started with the small pins. Two focused on each hand, taking their pins and slowly pushing them underneath Will’s fingernails. Two more did the same to his toes. The fifth constantly surveyed the ropes, tightening when necessary, grabbing hold of Will and keeping him still when he flexed his fingers or tried to bend his knees.

Once enough pins were in place, they split apart their duties. One took a small set of pliers and peeled back a fingernail. Another took a thin pin and jammed it into the exposed flesh underneath. A different gentle toucher used a hammer and a blunt piece of wood to smash down on the toenails with pins underneath. With each strike, Will’s entire body thrashed against the ropes.

“Like art,” Cynric said as he watched. “Like fucking art.”

Thren’s hands shook as he watched. He refused to look away. Somehow Will had been caught, and like a damn fool, he hadn’t gone looking for him. He might have spared his closest enforcer from this terrible tragedy. Even better, he might have spared him from the spectacle. Hundreds of people howled and cheered with every moan and scream of pain. Two gentle touchers simultaneously grabbed Will’s little toes with pliers and pulled them back until they were so out of joint they were perpendicular to the rest. Thren watched as Will the Bloody, the strongest, fiercest member of his guild, wept like a child.

And they hadn’t even cut him yet. Only a little bit of blood trickled from his fingers to the wood stage. The gentle touchers ripped off Will’s loincloth and took their needles and pliers to his groin.

“Change of plans,” Thren said. His face was an icy mask, his disguise barely hiding his rage. He pointed at Leon, not caring if any saw.

“He’s mine,” he said, his voice so cold that Cynric shivered. “No matter what happens, that fat bastard is mine to kill. I’ll leave the Gemcroft ambush to you.”

Cynric turned and shoved his way through the crowd, not desiring to watch anymore. Thren kept his hands clenched, refusing to be weak. No spectacle would defeat him. He stared at Will’s eyes, hoping that for at least one moment they would meet his. He wanted Will to see Leon’s death in his stare, to see the rage and know that no man, not even a member of the Trifect, could escape it.

After twenty minutes, the gentle touchers brought out their knives. Ten minutes later, Will died. The crowd cheered, thrilled with the spectacle. Their cheers rose when Will’s head rolled off the platform. A few men kicked it about, laughing as if it were all a game. Just before he left the throng, Thren stabbed one in the back and then vanished before anyone even noticed the drunken man was dead.

W ith so many processions of food and wagons moving westward, Haern had an easy time procuring himself food. He kept his mask over his face, feeling comfortable only with it on. Afterward he found the main hideout for the Spider Guild and scouted for a hiding place. With the whole guild soon to move out, he only needed to follow one to find the rest. One of the nearby homes had a tunnel dug underneath, so Haern crawled in through the window of a finely furnished house opposite.

Thankfully the occupants were long gone, most likely enjoying the festivities. Haern grabbed some pillows from the bed and stretched out across the floor.

His belly full and body aching, his sleep was welcome. He offered a single prayer before closing his eyes, and that was for no dreams. The prayer went unanswered. Haern dreamt of the Lion, snarling at him in fury. When he awoke, cold sweat poured off his body. The wounds from the lion’s roar had reopened and bled anew. Haern re-bandaged them using strips of the cheapest looking shirt he could find, feeling a little guilty as he did. Whoever owned the home would certainly think him the oddest burglar ever.

When he glanced outside, he saw the sun not far from setting. Expecting the bulk of the activity to happen after dark, Haern straightened up, stretched his muscles, and then watched. An hour crawled by, quiet and boring. Just when he began thinking of switching locations, Haern spotted three men in the gray of the Spider Guild exit the front door. They hurried north, their cloaks flapping in the air behind them.

Haern didn’t bother going downstairs. He propped the window halfway open, slid out, and then dashed along the rooftops. The buildings were close enough together that he could follow at a swift pace without any fear of being spotted. For a moment he wished he had the dagger he’d tossed back to the priests of Karak. Whenever it came time to act, he didn’t like the idea of being weaponless. He’d have to find a way to arm himself, and quick.

The three men traveled through the alleys and back corners, avoiding the main roads whenever possible. Haern smiled. If he followed along the ground, it might have been troubling. Up on the rooftops, he took straight paths where they took winding ones. It didn’t take much guesswork to follow them. They were travelling toward the Gemcroft mansion.

With how empty the streets were, Haern picked up occasional snippets of their conversation. Part of him was furious at how freely they talked. Sickness hit his stomach when he thought of how Thren would have punished them if he had known. To think he had loved a man like that. Haern shook his head. Still loved. He couldn’t lie to himself. Thren was a monster, yet still his father. Turning blind eyes toward his feelings would only endanger himself.

“…of a fire,” Haern heard one say.

“Can’t wait myself,” said another.

“What about Beren?”

“Wait until everything’s crazy. Kadish will…”

And then they were too far gone. Haern scrambled about a chimney, leapt over a thin alley, then stopped at his new perch. The expansive Gemcroft mansion stretched out before him on the opposite side of the street. Below him, the three men of the Spider Guild gathered and waited, for what Haern was not sure.

They were talking again. Haern took step after careful step along the roof, testing each one to make sure it would hold silently. Once he was near, he lay flat on his stomach and put an ear to the edge. If the men had been whispering, he wouldn’t have heard, but their discipline seemed to have vanished with their excitement.

“…abyss are those blasted Hawks?” said the one on the left.

“We’re still early,” said the one on the right.

“Ash ain’t here either,” said the middle, cleaning his fingernails with his dagger. “Wonder if those cowardly skirts will even come.”

“Thren got to James,” said left. “The Ash boys will show.”

“Wouldn’t bother me none if the Hawks stayed roosting overnight,” said right. “All of them fuckers would sooner kill you than rob you. They turned a little turf war into some goddamn bloodbath. No decency among them, none at all.”

“People get that from their leader,” said middle. “Kadish is to blame. Guy likes to eat flesh, people flesh. Everyone knows it.”

Haern scoffed. The three idiots below him certainly didn’t take after their guildleader. A part of him hoped Thren would show up while they still were talking, just to hear their chastisement. A much larger part hoped he’d never see his father again.

“Look, that way,” said right, pointing further down the street. A group of eight men in the dress of the Hawk Guild marched openly in the center of the street. Curved daggers flashed from their belts.

“They out of their mind?” asked left.

“We’ve declared war,” said middle. “Looks like Kadish wants everyone to see it.”

Haern turned his head so he could watch. Kadish led the way, smiling his red smile. The eyepatch hung loose over his face. The Hawks drew their daggers as they neared.

“Where’s the rest of ya?” asked middle, stepping closer. He pointed toward the mansion, of which they were in full view. “And did you think to use a bit of stealth? Any guards in there won’t think much to a couple of cloaks scouting the place, but you’re acting like you’re a damn army.”

“Who says we aren’t?” Kadish asked. “And my men are coming. The question is, where’s the Ash Guild? And what about the rest of the little crawly Spiders?”

A bolt struck the ground by their feet, its tip exploding into a puff of thick gray smoke. Both parties turned to see a single man approaching, his dress that of the Ash Guild.

“About time,” said Kadish. “Where’s your masters?”

The man reloaded his small crossbow but kept it pointed at the ground.

“Waiting for my signal,” the Ash scout explained. “Of course, I never expected so many to gather openly in front of the gates of our target.”

“Give your signal then,” said left. “The sun is almost to the wall. Whatever few guards are left inside have got to be ready for us.”

“I am not to signal until I see someone with authority from the Spider Guild.”

Kadish rolled his eye and swore.

“I’ve got authority, now call for them,” said middle, jamming his thumb against his chest.

“Real authority,” said the scout.

The Spider Guild members sighed.

“It’ll be a moment, then,” said middle. “They’re coming. Spiders crawl all over the place.”

Haern suddenly realized just how vulnerable he was. Stupid! he thought. If he had gotten the idea to spy on them from the rooftop, then surely others would as well. He slid away from the edge, started to roll, and then felt a hand clamp over his mouth. A dagger jammed into his side.

“Don’t scream,” a feminine voice whispered into his ear. Haern looked up to see Kayla smiling down at him.

“Kayla,” Haern said.

“What sheer amount of stupidity brought you here?” she asked. The two met in the center of the roof so that their whispers would not be noticed by the bickering men on the ground.

“I just…I need to do something,” he said. He felt his face blush. “I was going to stop them. I wanted to ruin Thren’s plans.”

Kayla bit her lip and stared. Even with his mask, Haern felt naked. He crossed his arms and looked away.

“I’m to lead this half against the Gemcrofts,” she said. “Senke moves against Connington. There’s hundreds of men on either side, Aaron. You can’t stop this.”

The boy shook his head.

“Not Aaron,” he said. “Not now, not ever again. Aaron’s dead. I’m Haern now, because of the Lion’s roar.”

Kayla shrugged at the cryptic comments.

“So be it, Haern. You want out of this life, then get out. You’re strong. You’re smart. Make a life for yourself in Kinamn, or even Mordeina if you feel like travelling all the way across the rivers. But this is Thren’s city. Your father’s city. Leave, please. You’ll only get yourself killed trying to interfere.”

Haern shook his head.

“I’m no coward,” he said. “And you’re wrong. This city belongs to no one. My…Thren’s only scared people into thinking that. I can stop them. I can stop the fear. Can’t you go?”

Kayla stood to her full height and shook her head.

“We’re ending this whole stupid war. The Trifect dies tonight. Don’t die with it, Haern.”

She turned to go, then stopped. One of her throwing daggers whirled through the air, embedding into the wood roof beside Haern’s leg.

“In case you need it,” she said. He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot. Kayla saw how much fear there was within them, but she also saw his determination. The night before came back to her, reminding her of what she had wished to tell him.

“If I tell you something,” she said. “Something good, something hopeful, will you leave my operation be?”

Haern tucked the dagger into his belt. It weighed less than a dagger should, and its curve was greater than he liked, but it was vastly better than nothing.

“I promise,” he said, not sure if he was lying or not.

“Delysia is alive,” Kayla said. Her words struck him like a hammer. “I brought her to the priests of Ashhur. They saved her. Whatever vendetta you carry, whatever guilt, just let it go. Make your new life elsewhere, Haern.”

She blew him a kiss and then hopped off the roof, slowing her fall by grabbing hold with her hand for a brief moment. Haern didn’t come near to listen to her take charge, didn’t look down the streets where members of the three guilds seemed to come out of nowhere. All he could think of was of how Delysia had bled in his arms, the arrow piercing her back.

Hearn remembered the phantom image of the girl that had haunted his stay in Karak’s temple, of her pleading with him, of the cold fire and her insistence that she had prayed to deaf ears. All lies. The Lion’s lies. He felt his anger grow.

“Kayla,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

He turned and leapt from wall to wall, feeling his heart soaring at the news. Delysia was alive. He couldn’t believe it. Delysia was alive. Praise Ashhur, alive.

Despite his joy, he knew he couldn’t abandon his responsibility. He’d keep his promise, though. Kayla had said Senke was leading the other assault. Hoping he still had time, Haern dropped to the ground and raced his way toward Leon Connington’s estate.

A t Kayla’s command, the three guilds split and surrounded Gemcroft’s estate. James and his Ash Guild took the east, Kadish and his Hawks the west. They used no stealth, no subterfuge. Tonight was a night of open power, a display for the whole city to see. The underworld had risen, its teeth were bared, and while the moon crept over the wall, they would taste blood.

“You see them?” asked Veliana, who had insisted she stay with the Spider Guild instead of accompanying her guildmaster. She pointed toward one of the lower windows. Its curtains ruffled and swayed.

“Guards” Kayla said. “There shouldn’t be many.”

“And if there are?” asked Veliana.

Kayla shrugged.

“Then we have more to kill,” she said as she raised her hand. Scouts from both guilds saw her movement and mimicked it. After a count to five, she flung down her arm. With the soft sigh of ruffled cloaks and padded feet, the assault began.

Kayla led the front, climbing up ropes that her guildmembers flung over the spikes at the top. She vaulted over, Veliana at her side and keeping up with every movement. Fifty of the Spider Guild landed on the front lawn. Once gathered together, Kayla charged ahead, her cloak flapping behind her and her hands clutching two of her throwing daggers. During their planning, the one thing they couldn’t account for with certainty was the deadliness of Gemcroft’s traps. Her heart in her throat, Kayla dashed across the grass toward the front door, praying she wasn’t one of the unlucky ones.

An explosion from behind knocked her to the ground. Rock and dirt rained atop her as several men screamed in pain. Veliana’s arms were upon her instantly, tugging her up and pushing her forward.

“Never stop,” Veliana shouted as they ran. More explosions rocked the lawn, turning its pristine slopes and gentle curves into a violent assault of fire and stone. Kayla had no idea what magic might be behind them. A few of her guildmembers had rushed ahead of her, and she watched one scream as flame burst upward from a sudden tear in the ground. The force blew him all the way back against the gate. His head snapped violently against the bars. Kayla forced herself to look away. She heard similar explosions of noise and force from other parts of the estate. It seemed the devilish traps completely surrounded the building.

When they were halfway to the front doors, windows on all floors flung open. Guards with bows and crossbows peered out, unleashing a deadly barrage. The thieves rolled and ducked, some inadvertently setting off more of the explosions. Smoke billowed to the sky. Kayla flung a dagger, wounding one guard in the shoulder. She saved the rest. The distance was too great.

A stone portico protected them from arrows at the main door. Kayla moved aside as two Spiders knelt before it and pulled out their lockpicking instruments.

“They’ll have it barred,” Veliana shouted.

“One thing at a time,” Kayla yelled back.

The rest of the Spider Guild collected underneath the covering, a few stepping out to hurl daggers or fire crossbows. Veliana watched for a moment, then grabbed Kayla’s arm.

“Move out, now!” she shouted. “Go through the windows.”

“What?” asked Kayla.

“The locks! If the same trap were on the lock…”

It was too late. The doors exploded outward, fire trailing after the shockwave. Kayla rolled along the ground, lucky to have been far enough to the side. Laying on her stomach, she looked up through the smoke and debris to see a great pile of corpses spread out along the steps leading to the door. Fellow members of her guild lay twisted and burned, some with bones poking out from their skin, others still alive and sobbing in pain.

Of her initial fifty, only fifteen remained alive and able to fight.

“Shit,” Veliana said beside her, resting on her hands and knees. “Hope the others are doing better.”

Kayla accepted Veliana’s help up. They rushed the doors, which were now wide open. Soldiers with spears braced before the entrance. Compared to the traps, though, they were a welcome relief. Kayla hurled her daggers while two others fired crossbows. The rest of the Spiders dashed between the spears, lashing out with their blades. Only six men had come to guard the front, far too few to hold them off. Once broken, the rest of the guild flooded inside. Kayla stopped at the inner foyer, slumping against a side wall and closing her eyes for a moment.

“We can’t hide this,” Veliana said, having remained at her side.

“We follow our orders,” Kayla said, her eyes still closed.

“Forget your orders. Maynard won’t fall for this trap. His yard is wrecked, his doors broken. Fuck, I wouldn’t be surprised if they can see this smoke all the way from the Kensgold.”

“We need to find out how the others fared,” Kayla said, pushing herself off the wall. “And no matter what, we need to prepare this place for burning.”

Screams filled the halls as the Spiders pushed deeper into the mansion. On the far sides, the Hawks and Ashes were certainly doing the same. The two women explored the estate. The occasional body of a guard lay in their path, but more often it was that of a young girl or boy wearing plain clothes. Simple servants, Kayla noted. She tried to steel herself against what she saw. She knew this would happen, she had warned herself plenty, but the carnage was horrific.

They stepped into a bedroom to find two Hawks standing over a young girl who couldn’t be any older than twelve. Her clothes were torn, her face bruised. Veliana inhaled sharply, recognizing one of them as Victor. The other was just pulling down his pants when Kayla flung a dagger deep into his back.

“What the fuck?” shouted Victor. Kayla twirled another dagger in hand, her eyes wide with anger.

“Clean and quick,” she said. “I made that damn clear before.”

“That what you want?” said the Hawk. “Fine. Come here, bitch.”

He grabbed the girl, flung her down onto her knees, and then slashed open her throat. The girl cried and gagged as her blood spilled across her dress. Letting go of her hair, Victor laughed as she dropped dead to the carpet.

“Hope you’re happy,” he said. “She might have had a few more minutes of fun before we did her in.”

The dagger stopped its twirl in Kayla’s hand. The two stared at one another. Veliana watched, a smirk growing across her face.

“Don’t you d…” Victor started to say before Kayla flung her dagger. It stabbed up to the hilt in his chest. His eyes bulged at her. Veliana stepped close and grabbed his hair in her hands.

“You betrayed me,” she told him. “A shame I don’t have the time to make you suffer.”

He died, Veliana’s dagger rammed deep into this throat. Tears ran down Kayla’s cheeks as she stared at all the blood. She did her best to hold in her sobs, but one still escaped. Her shoulders shook.

“You aren’t made for this,” Veliana said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Go back. Appoint someone else to be in charge.”

Kayla thought of all the sacrifices she’d already made to put herself in this position. After tonight, she would be in Thren’s highest graces. She would almost be a queen in power. But when she looked over at Veliana and saw the honest compassion in her eyes, her resolve broke.

“Thren wants us to kill you,” Kayla whispered.

A shadow seemed to fall over Veliana’s face.

“What?” she asked.

“Once the mansion is secure, we are to help the Hawks kill you all,” Kayla explained. “Please, you must get out now.”

“But we gave in,” Veliana said. “We gave him what he wanted.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kayla said. “James resisted once. He might again. This night is Thren’s victory, don’t you understand? Not over just the Trifect, but over everyone. He’s even planned to kill the king. After tonight, the city is his.”

Veliana slammed the door to the bedroom shut and spun to face Kayla.

“We have little time then,” she said. “Were your men to wait for a signal?”

Kayla shook her head.

“The Hawks were to start it. We just needed to stay out of the way and help if needed.”

“Shit,” muttered Veliana. “I need to warn James. We need to get him out of here, now!”

Kayla shook her head, then wiped away a few of her tears.

“Can’t you hear?” she asked. “It’s already started.”

Veliana paused to listen, the color draining out of her face. Screams had indeed continued. Each had thought at first that it was Gemcroft’s guards, or perhaps remaining members of his household. But they were too many and too scattered for how much time had passed. The Hawks had turned on the Ash, without warning and without mercy.

“They have twice as many as we,” Veliana said, her eyes wide with shock. “We thought to flee, or turn on them. Never did we think so soon, so…”

She stopped and looked at Kayla.

“You knew,” she said.

Kayla weakly nodded her head.

“I did,” she replied.

“You let us walk into this damn trap, all because of Thren, all because of that stupid egotistical twat. I’ll make him pay. I’ll…his son. Where is his son?”

“Aaron?” Kayla asked as she took a small step backward, her hand resting on her belt of daggers. Veliana drew her own two and then pointed one at Kayla’s neck.

“You know his plans,” Veliana said. “I may not be skilled enough to kill Thren, but I can kill his son. Where is he?”

Already conflicted, Kayla hesitated. Veliana was faster. She dodged to one side, avoiding the hurled dagger, and then kicked Kayla in the head. As Kayla collapsed, Veliana fell upon her, her knees on her wrists and her dagger at her throat.

“Tell me,” Veliana seethed, her face inches from Kayla’s. “Tell me, or I’ll do to you what was done to me.” Her wounded eye was ugly and red, and Kayla stared at the milky pupil in horror as Veliana’s dagger slowly trailed up her neck toward her left eye.

“I sent him away,” Kayla said. “He was watching us, so I made him promise to leave us be. He’s turned against his father. He wants to stop all this, but he’s just a boy. Just a stupid boy.”

Veliana left her dagger pressed against Kayla’s face as she thought. If Aaron was anything like Thren, then his promises were both true and false. He’d follow the letter, but not the law. He wanted to stop Thren, and he’d promised Kayla to leave her be. That left one option.

“He’s at Connington’s estate,” Veliana whispered. “He must be.”

She stood and slowly backed away, watching for the slightest movement on Kayla’s part.

“You gave me warning,” Veliana said. “For that I let you live.”

“Aaron has done no wrong,” Kayla said, her voice a fraction above pleading.

“Neither did she,” Veliana said, pointing at the body of the dead girl. She put her ear against the door, listening. When all was silent, she kicked it open and ran. Kayla crawled to her knees and sat there, not bothering to find out if Veliana escaped or not. She stared at the bodies around her and wondered how she had fallen so far. All she had wanted was a bit of coin, but Thren had given her a taste of power. He’d hinted at something even greater. Now an ocean of blood swirled across the mansion floor, its guilt on her as much as anyone else. Except Thren.

As if her thoughts had summoned him, Thren Felhorn stepped inside the room and glanced about. Dimly she wondered how much time had passed.

“The Ash Guild is no more,” he said, sounding disinterested. He stepped about, seeing the dead Hawks and the young girl. “What is going on here, Kayla? Get off your knees. You aren’t some low-rent whore.”

“We lost too many,” Kayla said. She felt cold inside. Her skin tingled, and she felt certain death awaited her. “We failed you. We can spring no trap here.”

Thren tilted his head to one side. He cupped her chin in hand and forced her to look him in the eye.

“I planned for everything,” he said. “Even this. And you haven’t answered my question.”

She glanced at the two dead rogues.

“They disobeyed orders,” she said. “I made them pay for it.”

Thren smiled at her.

“Death for disobedience,” he said. “A woman after my own heart.”

He kissed her forehead.

“Come with me to the Kensgold. We have much to do. We have struck at Connington and Gemcroft, but the Keenans have so far gone unscathed. That changes now.”

Thren left the bedroom and headed deeper into the mansion.

As if lost in a nightmare, Kayla followed.