A Dance of Cloaks

4

G erand wound his way through the halls of the castle with an expertise acquired over the fifteen years of serving the Vaelor family line. Servants scuffled past him, and he listed off their names silently. Every new scullery maid or errand boy had to be vetted by Gerand personally. If something seemed the least bit off, he sent them away. Ever since the thief war had begun, King Edwin Vaelor had begun fearing poison, a death that could come from even the youngest of hands. Personally, Gerand found the whole ordeal exhausting. Edwin jumped at shadows, and it was Gerand’s duty to hunt them down, and it never mattered that he always revealed dust gremlins and empty corners. The monsters would come back, acid dripping down their chins and dried blood on their dagger-like claws.

Throbbing angrily, the bruise on Gerand’s forehead pulsed with every beat of his heart. He touched it gingerly, wishing Edwin had listened to his advice and outright killed Robert Haern instead of imprisoning him. The Felhorn whelp had escaped because of the meddlesome old man. Edwin’s spine seemed more akin to animal fat instead of bone, and he had been unable to execute his former teacher, no matter how estranged they might have become. Still, he would find ways to punish Robert for the blow his cane had struck him. Gerand would never say so, but he felt the castle was his, not Edwin’s, and he would command its workers and soldiers right underneath the king’s nose.

Up the circling stairs of the southwest tower he climbed, ignoring the creaking of his knees. The night was dark, and although the lower portions of the castle were alive with men cutting meat and women tossing flour and rolling dough, the upper portions were blessedly quiet and deserted. At the very top of the stairs Gerand paused to catch his breath. He leaned before a thick wooden door bolted from the outside. He removed the latch and flung it open. Inside had once been a spytower, but the strange contraption of mirrors and glass was long broken and removed. The room had also taken a stint as a prison cell, but over the past ten years it had fallen into disarray.

Waiting inside was a wiry little man wrapped in a brown cloak.

“You’re late,” the man said, his voice spoken with each inhalation of air instead of exhalation, which gave him an ill, out of breath sound.

Gerand shook his head, baffled as to how his contact always made it up the tall tower without being spotted. Unless he had the hands of a spider, he surely could not climb the outer wall. No matter how, every fourth day at an hour before dawn, Gileas the Worm waited for Gerand in the cramped room, always smiling, always unarmed.

“Matters have gotten worse,” Gerand said, rubbing the bruise on his forehead without realizing it. “Ever since our involvement with Aaron Felhorn, King Vaelor has grown even more fearful of his food and drink. He has suggested rotating his cooks and keeping them under a soldier’s watch at all times. I’ve told him a food taster would be a much simpler answer, but for a cowardly son of a bitch, he can be so stubborn…”

The advisor realized just how out of place his speech was and halted. He glared at Gileas, his warning clear, but the Worm only laughed. Even his laugh sounded sickly and false.

“As amusing as informing the king of your candid talk would be, I’d only earn myself a noose for the trouble,” Gileas said.

“I’m sure you’d hang just as well as any other man,” Gerand said. “Worms pop in half when squeezed tight enough. I wonder if you’d do the same.”

“Let us pray we never find out,” Gileas said. “And after what I come to tell you, even you may discover my presence easier to bear.”

Gerand doubted that. The Worm was aptly named, for his face had a conical look to it, with his nose and eyes scrunched inward toward his mouth. His hair was the color of dirt, another detail that helped enforce the adopted name. Gerand didn’t know if Gileas had come up with the title, or if some other man had years prior. It didn’t matter much to Gerand. All he wanted was information worth the coin and the trek up the stairs. Most often not, but every now and then…

The gleam in Gileas’s eyes showed that perhaps this was one of those times.

“Tell me what you know, and quickly, otherwise Edwin will soon believe me to be one of his lurking phantoms.”

The Worm tapped his fingers, and Gerand did his best to suppress a shudder. For whatever vile reason, the man had no fingernails.

“My ears are often full of mud,” the ugly man began, “but sometimes I hear so clearly, I might believe myself an elf.”

“No elf could be so ugly,” Gerand said.

Gileas laughed, but there was danger in it, and the advisor knew he should choose his words more carefully. In those cramped quarters, and lacking any weapons or guards, the Worm had more than enough skill to end his life.

“True, no elf so ugly, but at least I am not as ugly as an orc, yes? Always a light of hope, if you know where to look, and I pride myself in looking. Always looking. And I listen too, and what I hear is that Thren Felhorn has a plan in motion to end his war with the Trifect.”

“I’m sure it’s not his first, either. Why should I care about his scheming?”

“Because this plan has been sent to the other guildmasters, and all but one have agreed.”

Gerand raised an eyebrow. To have so many guilds agree meant this was not some fantasy of assassination or burning buildings.

“Tell me the plan,” he ordered. The Worm blinked and waved his finger.

“Coin first.”

The advisor tossed him a bag from his pocket.

“There, now speak.”

“You command me like I am a dog,” Gileas said. “But I am a worm, not a dog, remember? I will not speak. I will tell.”

And tell he did. When finished, Gerand felt his chest tighten. His mind raced. The plan was deceptively simple, and a bit more brutish than Thren most likely preferred, but the potential was there…potential for both sides to exploit.

But only if the Worm speaks truth, he realized.

“If what you speak of comes to pass,” he said, “then I will reward you a hundredfold. Tell no one else.”

“My ears and mouth are yours alone,” Gileas said. Gerand didn’t believe it for a second. He left the room and shut the door behind him, for Gileas demanded secrecy in his method of departure, just as he did his arrival. His head leaning against the splintered wood of the door, Gerand allowed himself to smile.

“You finally erred,” he said, his smile growing. “About bloody time, Thren. Your war is done. Done.”

He hurried down the steps, a plan already forming in his mind.

V eliana waited in the corner of the tavern, a small place frequented more by soldiers than rogues of the undercity. Her beauty was enough to keep her welcome, and her coin smoothed over things with those who still persisted in questioning. If she ever wanted something done without the denizens of the night knowing, it was in that tavern.

The door opened, and in walked Gileas the Worm. He saw her at her regular seat and smiled his ugly smile.

“You are as beautiful as you are intelligent,” he said as he took a seat.

“Then I must be a horrible sight,” she replied.

Gileas scoffed.

“Forget it,” she said. “Tell me, did he believe you?”

The Worm grinned, revealing his black, rotting teeth.

“Every word,” he said.

K ayla wasn’t sure what she expected of Thren’s safehouse, but the elegant mansion surrounded by steel bars was certainly not it. She asked for an explanation from Aaron, who kept making excuses to see her.

“Some rich merchant fled to Mordeina,” he said, his voice much quieter than it had been during their flight from the soldiers. “All his helpers stayed to keep the mansion clean, warm, and safe. My father moved in shortly after. I’ve even heard he keeps a few business contracts with various men about the city while pretending to be a friend of the real owner.”

“What happens when the merchant returns to his home?” she had asked.

“He will not return until our war is done,” Aaron said. “By then, we will need this place no longer.”

Kayla thought the logic sound, but in the back of her mind she wondered what might happen if the merchant showed up with his possessions and servants and the rest of his guards. She doubted it would be Thren that ended up looking for a new home.

As she walked through the estate, marveling at various paintings of the faraway lands of Omn, Ker, and Mordan, she let her mind wander to her own situation. She had avoided guilds, instead relying on her information and her contacts to keep her warm, fed, and safe. Now she had allied with the most dangerous man in Veldaren, and for what? A vague promise of wealth, the same vague promise that she had mocked hundreds of others for following.

No, it wasn’t the wealth. It was the power, she realized. He had offered her a role at his side, the highest reward he could bestow. If the entire city quaked in fear at the name of Felhorn, might not the same one day happen for Kayla? Foolish fantasies, perhaps, but she could not shake them away. They sucked wisdom from her heart like leeches. She distantly hoped that her folly would not be too severe.

The hall of paintings ended at Thren’s room. She knocked twice, then waited patiently. A moment later, the door crept open, and a mailed hand waved her in. She entered, passing between two guards with their dirks drawn. Inside was a plush room of velvet reds and silky purples. The enormous bed, its wood painted silver and its knobs carved into the shape of owls, had once occupied the center, but it was now relegated to a far corner. In its place was a plain table with eight chairs, seeming like a strange joke with its dull finish and undecorated nature amid a sea of decadence.

Thren sat at the center, facing the door. He waved her to him. Two other men sat with him, one on each side. She recognized neither.

“Kayla, I would like you to meet two of my closest friends,” Thren said. The man on his left stood and outstretched his hand. She took it and accepted his kiss on her wrist.

“My name is Senke,” he said. “I am honored to be in the presence of such beauty.”

He was a handsome man, although some of that was hidden by the numerous scars along his cheeks and neck, like fleshy pale crosses.

“Senke is, to put it bluntly, my enforcer,” Thren said. “He ensures my orders are obeyed, without any troublesome deviations.”

As Senke sat down, the other man stood. His skin was dark, and his eyes were darker. He had thin lips and wide eyes, and his clothes seemed about twenty years out of fashion. His enormous frame seemed to dwarf the table.

“My name is Will,” he said. He did not offer his hand.

“Will trusts no one,” Thren said as the giant man returned to his seat. “And I may be partly to blame. He has been with me since the very beginning, and every turncoat or sellsword knows that if he deals with me dishonestly, he will find Will beating down his door.”

“I don’t like liars,” Will said, as if that explained everything.

“Neither may be the smartest council,” Thren said, smiling a little at Senke’s feigned insult, “but they are honest with me. Too many quiver at the notion of the word ‘no’ when in my presence. However, I do not think you are a succubus that will drain my life dry while whispering sweetness into my ear. I can judge the character of a man, or woman, just by being in their presence. In you, I sense the ability to call me false. Am I correct?”

Her eyes darted between the three. She was being tested, she knew, but the correct answer seemed in doubt. Telling them she wasn’t an ass-kisser was too obvious, too easy. Something was off, but what?

Then she knew.

“You want me to agree,” she said, a smile growing against her will across her lips. “You want me to appear the fool, agreeing with you in that I will never agree without reason. You cannot judge me by my mere presence. My answer, though, will tell you much. So let me ask you, did I pass or did I fail?”

Senke laughed.

“You passed girl, and you know it. Aaron said you were special, but I thought that was just the crush of a young boy for a lovely lady. Clearly, he is smarter than we give him credit for.”

Thren nodded in agreement.

“You have risked your life for my son. Again, I thank you. Matters of similar importance have come about, and I want you to aid me in this endeavor.”

Kayla took a seat before them and crossed her legs.

“What might that be?” she asked.

“Those that betray me must be punished,” Thren said. “Loyalty until death. Death to the disloyal. I have based my entire life around those two laws, and I will not break them now. The king has imprisoned Aaron’s former tutor, an elderly man named Robert Haern.”

Kayla’s cheek twitched at the name, and Thren misinterpreted it as recognition.

“Indeed, the king’s former tutor was also my son’s. When the soldiers stormed his home, Aaron insists he helped him escape. I must know if this is true. I must know what part Robert played in that fiasco. If he saved my son’s life, then I owe him dearly. If he was a willing member…”

Will cracked his knuckles.

“You want us to break him out of prison,” Kayla said. “You have never done so for any of your other members, but now for this old man you will risk all our lives?”

Senke nudged Thren’s elbow, clearly amused. Thren was not.

“Someone was behind the attempt on my son,” he said. “Someone with the power of the castle. I must know who. I will not assassinate a king until I am certain of his guilt.”

His tone made it perfectly clear he was not joking. Kayla felt a knot swelling in her throat, and she swallowed it down.

“What do you want of me?” she asked.

“I will be leading this endeavor,” Senke said. “Will is coming, too. We need a third, but it’s possible the attack on Aaron was orchestrated with the help of someone within our organization. We need someone clean. So what do you say? Want to help break into the dark dungeons of Veldaren?”

Insane, Kayla thought. Absolutely insane. We will be caught, and killed, all for an old man who may know nothing, nothing at all…

Thren was watching her, they all were. She knew what denying a role would mean. She would never join their private talks again. There would be no seat for her there, not when her cowardice could win out over her loyalty. All hopes of wealth and power and fear would be lost forever.

“I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll most likely die, but I’ll go.”

“That’s my girl,” Senke said with a wink. Will only grunted.

Knowing the dungeon could be the death of the old man at any time, they made their plans for that night. Many hours later, a new collection of daggers clipped to her belt, Kayla met the others in the deep recesses of the safehouse.

“Thren’s built tunnels leading out to a couple different homes and alleys,” Senke said as he adjusted his gray cloak, cinching it tighter about his body. Kayla caught sight of a long dirk tucked into his belt, its sides painted red. The blade curved up and down like waves of the ocean, and she shuddered at the thought of it piercing her flesh.

“No one sees us,” Will said. “Not going. Not coming. You understand?”

“I’m no child,” Kayla said. Will had painted his face gray to match the color of his cloak, and when he smiled at her he seemed like a graveyard wight come to feed.

“Maybe,” Will said. “But when blood gets spilled, we’ll see if you cry like one.”

“A silver tongue you have, my friend,” Senke said, slapping Will on the back. “It is a wonder you must pay the ladies to stay in your presence. I would think they would be paying you.”

“After they see what I have, they do,” Will said. He glanced at Kayla, as if expecting her to blush, but she only rolled her eyes and gestured for them to move on ahead.

“The tunnels are waiting,” she said.

“Be serious if you must,” Senke said, “but remember to smile. It lights your face up so beautifully when you do.”

This time she did blush, and when she noticed the begrudging annoyance on Will’s face, she let it bloom full red.

Senke pulled up a few boards underneath a painting of a broken castle. Cut into the packed dirt was a hole curving deeper underneath the house, like some oversized rabbit hole.

“There will be no light,” Senke said. “I’ll go first. Try to crawl slow and steady, and under no circumstances panic. If you get too close to me, I might kick you in the face, and I’d feel just horrible. It might feel tight at times, but keep crawling, and remember that if Will can fit, you surely can.”

“I’ve never had a problem with enclosed spaces,” Kayla said.

“What about the dark?” Will asked.

“I said I’ll be fine.”

Senke winked at her.

“I hope you are. Count to five, then follow.”

Head first, the rogue climbed into the hole and was gone. After a count of five, Kayla followed. At first she could see, but when the tunnel curled lower the light of the mansion faded, and she stared into what looked like the gullet of some enormous monster. Her heart fluttered, but she imagined the jokes Senke might make of her, as well as what would happen when Will bumped into her from behind. Most likely push her on, she realized. Hand after hand, she crawled into the darkness.

Gradually the tunnel narrowed. Instead of crawling on her hands and knees, she fell to her stomach and pulled herself along. So much work just to keep one safehouse secret, she thought with some annoyance.

“How long did it take?” she asked, and was startled by how loud her voice sounded. Some part of her seemed to think the darkness would swallow her words, smothering them in the void.

“Take to do what?” she heard Will ask from further back in the tunnel. His deep voice rumbled in the dark, and she held in a curse as her head thumped the roof of the tunnel. She felt like a skittish rabbit.

“To dig all this,” she said, hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious in her voice.

“Two weeks,” Will said. “All day. All night. Two died in this tunnel alone.”

Kayla shuddered. She decided not to ask how many died digging the rest of the tunnels that no doubt snaked out in all directions from the mansion. Occasionally her fingers would brush against wood supports, and each time her heart was thankful. Any sense of humanity in the darkness, however remote, was a blessing.

The tunnel veered upward sharply. Kayla wasn’t sure how long she had crawled, though the pain in her back insisted at least half an hour. Her mind guessed a more reasonable ten minutes. Soon dim light lit the tunnel, but to her eyes it was a blazing beacon, and seeing it, she smiled. Her head emerged in the middle of a sparsely decorated home. Senke helped her out of the tunnel, his hands a bit too friendly around her waist as he did. She was so glad to be out of the tunnel, she let it slide.

Will was not far behind her. A bit of dirt had joined the gray paint on his face and hands, only improving the wight image she had of him.

“Where are we?” Kayla asked. With only darkness visible outside the lone window, she had nothing to go on but a vague sense of direction while crawling.

“A home Thren’s bought and hollowed out,” Senke explained. “We swing by occasionally to make sure no vagabonds take up residence. There’s also a few friends of mine that have the dreadfully difficult duty of pretending to live here every couple of days so no neighbors get curious.”

“Night’s moving,” Will said. “Shut up and move, Senke.”

Senke laughed. “Yes, milord.”

They slipped out and hurried north. Attached to the castle like an extra foot, the prison was a giant cube made of thick stone bricks. Only the top floor poked half above the ground, the rest stuck deep into the earth. Barred windows lined both sides, the cells of the lesser offenders. Kayla highly doubted they would find Robert Haern so easily. She doubted their plan almost as much.

Anxious, she ran the plan over in her mind. With just the three of them, brute force would not do, not with so many guards stationed throughout the dungeon. Even worse, it could provoke a far greater retaliation if they left a massive trail of bodies. They needed stealth, they needed quiet…and they needed a tiny bit of magic.

“I thought the castle was warded against magic,” she had asked when they explained the plan.

“The castle is,” Thren had said. “But the prison is not the castle.”

Kayla wondered how such stupidity could have come to pass. Most certainly it involved money. Whatever the reason, the weakness was their boon. They had procured a simple spellscroll, which Senke kept hidden in his cloak. When they reached the prison they would sneak around to the back, slip past any guards, and then use the scroll to enter the prison. Once inside, they would have about ten minutes before their exit vanished into the ether. The three had worked out a few strategies to distract, disable, and render unconscious any guards they might encounter. Picking Robert’s lock would be child’s play to someone like Senke. After that, it was a quick trip out of the prison and back to the safehouse.

“Why are we bringing Will?” Kayla had asked once she could pull Senke aside. “With his size, he cannot be an expert at silence and shadow.”

“That big lug?” Senke had laughed and then grinned at the giant man. “He’s coming with us in case stealth isn’t enough.”

As they neared the prison, she hoped that Will would be of no use to them whatsoever. Of course, she was in a doubtful mood. By night’s end, Will would crack a few heads. She had little doubt of that fact.

“I count only six,” Senke whispered as he and Kayla hunched around the corner of a home and watched the guards make their rounds. Will hung back, either not wanting to crowd them or not caring how many they faced.

“Three at the gates,” Kayla said, tracking the movements of them all. “Two more traveling around in a circle. Another is stationary at the southeast corner. We should assume another guard is out of sight at the northwest corner.”

“Seven, then. Still, far less than I was worried about.”

“The soldiers are inside,” said Will. When he first spoke, Kayla instinctively tensed, expecting his booming voice to alert guards for miles, but instead out came a controlled whisper, deep and quiet. She chastised herself for such naivety. Will had not risen to such high ranks within the Spider Guild by being foolish or unskilled. Big as he was, she started wondering if he would be better than her at stealth and hiding. Her pride said no, but a nagging voice of reason in her mind insisted otherwise.

“Far more men within,” Senke agreed. “Mostly bunched at entrances to all three of the lower floors. They’re far more afraid of people breaking out instead of breaking in. We must use that to our advantage, but also remember, the escaping may be much more difficult.”

They waited a few more minutes, counting how long it took the roving patrol to loop around.

“We’ll have maybe thirty seconds,” Kayla said. “Unless you want to take out the two guards.”

“Take them out, we gain another minute to get in,” Will said. “But then we lose the rest of the night in getting out.”

Senke nodded. If they could sneak in, their entrance would be unnoticed. Dead or unconscious guards, however, tended to attract attention.

“What about the guard at the northwest corner,” Kayla asked.

“We don’t know for sure he’s even there,” Senke argued.

“Then let’s go find out.”

They climbed up to the roof of the home they hid beside. As they prepared to move west along the rooftops for a better view, Kayla wondered at Will’s dexterity. He climbed as well as her, and although he weighed more, the boards and plaster made no extra groans or creaks compared to her.

Lady luck was not with them. Leaning against the corner, whistling a tune, was their unknown guard.

“Damn,” Senke whispered as he lay on his belly peering off the roof. “That complicates things tremendously.”

“We need him diverted,” Kayla said. “But that may mean only two of us going inside.”

“We go as three, or not at all,” Will said.

The woman spun at him and glared.

“Then give us an idea, ox.”

As if this were a serious request, Will nodded and crossed his arms.

“Fine. Wait for me.”

Will climbed down, his giant girth looking comical as he hung from slender handholds. Once on the ground, he strode up to the guard without any attempt to hide his presence.

“What is he doing?” Kayla asked.

“Calm yourself,” Senke said. He put a hand on her shoulder, and this time she did pull away. If he was offended, he didn’t show it. “Will knows what he’s doing. And if he doesn’t, well, we’re up here and he’s down there, right?”

She didn’t reply. Silent, they watched as Will waved at the guard, a noticeable drunken gait suddenly overcoming him. He said something, but what they could not hear. The guard pointed away, as if shooing a mutt. Will turned, as if considering, and then spun around, his massive fist clobbering the guard. His beefy arms wrapped around the guard’s neck as he fell, tightening, twisting, and then the guard went still.

Kayla counted in her head, tracking how long until the patrol would find them. Will had thirty seconds, forty at most.

If Will was worried, he didn’t show it. Calmly, he picked up the body and propped him against the wall. He crossed the guard’s arms, adjusted his legs a tiny bit, and tilted his helmet so that it appeared he had nodded off. He kicked the legs a couple of times until they locked.

A moment later and Will was climbing up the house, rejoining them on their rooftop perch.

“Surely they will wake their friend,” Kayla said, not impressed with the ploy. “Once he’s awake, they will search for us.”

“You don’t know guards,” Will said. A crude smile spread across his lips. “Why is he in back and alone? Because he’s not liked. You will see, but for now, hurry. Our chance approaches.”

They skirted around the light of the various torches hanging from large brass rings off the sides of the prison roof. They were nearing the giant wall surrounding the city, and therefore were out of homes to climb across and use to hide their presence. Only their cloaks and the shadows offered them protection, but they used them with the calm skill of experienced thieves.

When the two patrolling guards walked around the corner, Kayla felt a bit of vindication at how quickly they noticed the guard sleeping. One yanked the helmet off him, while the other prodded him in the stomach with the hilt of his sword. When he did not awake, the first guard slapped him across the face, and then he finally startled. She listened as the guards mocked him, grabbed his arm, and then marched him toward the front.

“He’s to be punished,” Kayla whispered, suddenly feeling very foolish.

“Go, now,” Will said.

The three of them ran behind the soldiers and to the back of the now unguarded prison. They made not a sound. Senke knelt beside the center of the wall and unrolled the scroll from the pocket in his cloak. He pressed it against the stone and whispered the activation word. The scroll sunk inward, dissolved, and then with an audible pop that made all of them wince, it vanished.

Senke slowly pressed his hands against the bare stone, a grin spreading across his face as it passed through like a desert mirage. His arm sank in further, and after a wink to the others, he dove head-first inside. Kayla followed.