A Dance of Ghosts

CHAPTER 22

The first sign to Nathaniel that something was amiss was when he woke to find it wasn’t one of his mother’s servants opening the door to his bedroom but instead Lord John Gandrem.

“John?” Nathaniel asked as he sat up, using his lone hand to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“Forgive me for waking you so early,” John said, though he hardly sounded apologetic. He was dressed in his finest, his tunic clean and his armor shining. Something about it put Nathaniel even more on edge. John looked as if he were going to march to war, and he’d not worn his armor since the first day he arrived at their mansion.

“It’s all right,” Nathaniel said. He didn’t move to leave his bed, though, instead sitting there, waiting, not even asking a question. John clearly wanted him to ask, to broach whatever subject needed discussed, but Nathaniel wouldn’t give it to him. There were so few reasons for John to be waking him, and with how cautious he was acting, how careful, it meant it was more than simple training or an interesting piece of gossip. His thoughts leaped to his mother, and he did his best to keep his lip from quivering as he anticipated hearing something dreadful.

“Nathan…” John paused again, crossed his arms. “Your mother has proven herself unfit for leadership, at least as of recently. I don’t mean to disparage her character, but I fear losing her eyesight has sunk her into a pit she needs to find a way to climb out of.”

“What did you do?” Nathaniel asked, unable to help himself. John looked offended at the unspoken accusation, and he sat up straighter and gave him a stern glare that made Nathan dip his head in respect.

“I did what needed to be done,” he said. “For the safekeeping of your family and your own future. No harm has come to your mother, I assure you, but for now, all important decisions involving your family’s wealth and that of the Trifect will be made by Lady Melody.”

At his grandmother’s name, Nathaniel pulled his blankets higher up on his chest. The idea of her in charge left him with chills. Her secretive talks of Karak … how secretive would they remain if the house was now under her control? Would he be able to avoid them any longer?

“You betrayed her,” Nathaniel said. This time, he did not wilt, despite the glare he received as John’s face gradually turned red. “Overthrew her for my grandmother.”

“This isn’t some sort of coup,” John said. “It’s only until she realizes this is what’s best. Your mother’s life is in no danger, Nathaniel, nor is her eventual rule. But Melody has just as much right as your mother, and right now, she’s the more capable head of the household.”

It sounded like shit to Nathaniel, just lies and shit, but he kept his mouth shut, not wanting to deal with the reprimand John would give him for using such language. Instead, he finally pushed aside his blankets and stepped onto the cold floor. A glance out his window showed the morning sun just barely rising above the walls of the city. He went to his dresser as John remained standing at the door.

“When can I see her?” Nathaniel asked as he pulled open a drawer and reached for a new shirt.

“You should talk to Melody first,” John said. “Listen to her and pay your respects. Once you do, I feel you’ll be in a more proper frame of mind when visiting your mother.”

“Do you have her locked up?”

John stood up a bit straighter.

“She’s being kept in a safe place, yes.”

Not a coup, thought Nathaniel. Of course not. Only his mother was imprisoned, someone new was in charge of his family’s affairs, and the whole thing was being reinforced by John Gandrem’s soldiers.

But not a coup.

“Can I eat first?” Nathaniel asked.

“Of course,” John said, and he opened the door to leave. The hard image he conveyed softened a bit, and some of the warmth that had made Nathaniel trust the man came forth. “Nathaniel … I understand this is difficult; I really do. But we live in a very harsh world, and those at the top are always in danger of being toppled by those beneath. I fear your mother’s decisions of late put everything your family has built in danger, and it would not be the first time, either. Now is not a time for rash decisions but for calm, careful planning and acceptance of the world as it currently is. Please remember this, and do not treat your grandmother harshly. All we do, in some way or another, is for you.”

He left, shutting the door behind him. Nathaniel wanted to scream and throw his chamber pot at the man, but he kept the reaction choked down. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t help anything. To them, he was but a child, and his worth was only in his last name and in the man he might grow up to be. Right now … right now he was a scared little boy who they hoped would not cause too much of a scene as Melody seized control. Perhaps John was right. Perhaps he should just do his best to get along, to make sense of things, to see it from their point of view.

Despite the light streaming through his slender window, much of his room was still dark. Nathaniel pulled off his old shirt and slid on the new one, and as he pushed his head through the collar, he nearly screamed at the sight of Zusa crouching right in front of him, her body bathed in shadow.

“Shhhh,” Zusa said, shoving her hand over his mouth and holding him close. Her eyes darted to the door, and she tensed to see if somehow any had sensed her arrival despite Nathaniel having not made a sound. When it was clear no one was at all aware, she pulled back her hand and then kissed him atop the forehead.

“I am so glad you are safe,” she whispered. “I feared the worst when John’s men began spreading the news of Melody’s control.”

“I don’t think they’ll hurt me,” Nathaniel said.

“I don’t think they will, either,” Zusa said. “It’s your mother I fear for. If she’s to have any hope, we must act now.”

Her haste, her desperation made sense to Nathaniel. John had often drilled into him the importance of time, of how each day a man sat on a throne strengthened people’s belief that it was his, no matter his birthright or claim.

“What will you do?” Nathaniel asked. “Kill them all?”

He’d meant it as a bitter joke, a way to convey to Zusa his inability to see what she might accomplish on her own. The way her face darkened and the sheer stubborn ferocity he saw in her eyes made him think twice.

“They have her held in the mansion’s old cells,” she said. “At least a dozen soldiers bar the way, more than I fear I can handle on my own. But your mother has allies outside the household, Lord Victor in particular. I would ask for his help first before I try assaulting John’s fighting force alone.”

“Then why haven’t you gone to him already?” he asked. “Leave me. I’m safe here.”

Zusa shook her head.

“Time is of the essence, little one. Each passing day strengthens Melody’s claim. I need Lord Victor to act without alerting John or Melody to his possible interference. That means I need someone he’ll trust more than myself, without question, without hesitation. That’s you, Nathaniel. Your testimony will push him to action; now, are you ready? Doing so puts your life in danger, more so than if you remained behind.”

In the end, it was no decision, only a matter of finding the necessary bravery. Deep in his heart, he knew his mother had earned far better loyalty and respect than to have her household stolen away from her in the deep of night. He would not sit idly by in a comfortable prison while his mother’s only true friend risked her life to free them.

“All right,” he said. “Tell me what to do.”

She took his hand in hers and crouched down so her beautiful brown eyes could stare into his.

“Hold on,” she said, “and trust me.”

Zusa grabbed his blanket with her other hand, pulling it off the bed. Together, they moved into the corner of the room, and she held the blanket above them, blotting out what morning light could reach them. He felt her hand tighten, sensed the woman tense.

“This will be … uncomfortable,” Zusa said. “Once we’re outside, there’s no turning back. No matter what, run where I tell you to run, and do not once stop. No one will hurt you, but they’ll hurt me, and I have no intention of leaving you behind.”

“I understand,” he said.

“I pray you do, Nathan. Close your eyes. It helps lessen the discomfort.”

He did, and he felt her strong arms close about him, pulling him to her breast. It made his skin tingle, and he was glad for his fear, for it kept him from focusing on the strange feelings that filled him with being so close to the woman. Her grip tightened, and suddenly, it felt like he was falling. Everything darkened, the blanket vanished, and then the shadows were replaced with the bright morning light outside. Together, they rolled, Zusa coming up on her knees and Nathaniel doubled over, clutching his stomach as he retched uncontrollably.

“Vomit later,” Zusa said, one hand on his wrist, the other grabbing a coiled rope that seemed to have been waiting for them beside the wall. They were in the garden, with a few trees separating them from the large fence protecting the mansion grounds. John Gandrem’s men patrolled the area, and a squad of three nearby noticed their sudden appearance and let out a cry of alarm. With a fierce tug, Zusa pulled him to his feet, and he flailed his legs to keep pace as she made for the nearby wall. The squad of three moved to intercept, and with Nathaniel slowing her down, she knew they would not make it in time.

“Keep running,” Zusa said, thrusting the coiled rope before him. He let go of her wrist to take it, and he held it to his chest as if his life depended on it. The rope was heavy, and with his having but one arm, it forced him to double over a bit to use his stomach to help hold on. Walking in such a way was awkward, his movements slow, but he pressed on anyway. Ahead of him, he watched Zusa draw both of her daggers and approach the squad of three that blocked her way.

“Move aside,” Zusa told them.

“We’ve been ordered not to harm you,” said one of the guards. “Not unless you give us no choice.”

“Move out of our way, or stand your ground and die,” Zusa said, daggers twirling in her hands. “That’s the only choice I leave you with.”

They were three, well armed and armored, while she was a lone woman with slender daggers. Nathaniel knew they would not listen, not with several more men running from further up and down the mansion grounds. So he kept going, following Zusa, trusting her. The woman crouched down, and she looked like a snake coiling for a strike. One of the three moved to attack, and that was enough to send her into motion. Zusa spun, a rotating blur, her dagger smacking aside the guard’s thrust with ease. She continued forward, arm lashing out, deflecting a stab from a second guard, then assaulting the first with brutal efficiency. Nathaniel’s eyes widened at the blood that flew from the man’s neck and face as her daggers raked across him.

The other two tried to cut her down while she had her back to them, but before they could even complete their swings, she had already turned, dropping to her knees and arching her back so their weapons passed harmlessly above her. And then she was snapping forward, legs kicking, daggers thrusting. At such close range, they could not hope to withstand such skilled brutality. One tried to flee, but he died with a dagger to the neck. The other tried to wrestle her to the ground, but she stayed just beyond his grip, her blades finding the gaps in his armor at the neck and beneath the arm. Within moments, he was bleeding, and as Nathaniel ran through the bodies, he saw the man fall, screaming out in pain from yet another deep cut.

“Hurry!” Zusa shouted, pulling the rope from his hand and racing to the wall. Looping one end into a knot quickly enough that it seemed like magic, she flung it so that it looped over one of the spikes at the top, pulled it tight, then offered it to him. Nathaniel felt his neck flush, and he lifted his only arm.

“I can’t climb,” he said.

Zusa hesitated the slightest moment, and he realized she’d not even thought of such a problem when planning his escape.

“Damn it,” she said, pushing the rope against his chest. “Hold on!”

More soldiers were coming, and Nathaniel stood there, feeling helpless and a burden as Zusa leaped screaming into the first two to near. He saw the fear on their faces at her attack, knew from countless lessons with Lord John that the fight was already won before it even began. Steel flashed, blood flew, and then Zusa came rushing back to him, having earned them another brief moment of reprieve before more arrived.

“You may not climb, but you can run,” Zusa said. “When I pull, you run, understand?”

He didn’t, but he nodded anyway. With only two steps to build speed, Zusa vaulted into the air, soaring as if she weighed nothing. As she passed over the gate, her dagger lashed out, cutting the rope and grabbing it with her other hand. As she disappeared over the other side, Nathaniel realized her weight would pull him, and attempting to help, he put a foot on the wall and tried to lift into the air. With shocking strength the rope yanked him upward, and he moved his feet one after the other in an attempt to keep up. Faster and faster he climbed until he was reaching the spikes at the top.

Momentum carrying him forward, he did the only thing he knew to do: at the very top, he jumped. Soaring over the spikes of the fence, he saw Zusa waiting for him, and she did not betray his trust. Into her arms he landed, firm but gentle.

“Well done,” she said, taking his hand and setting him down. “Now come. Victor’s place is not far. If you tire, let me know so I may carry you.”

They hurried, Zusa glancing behind her several times to see if any chased. Twice, she looked worried, and she tugged him along at a speed his feet could barely maintain. Down streets and alleys they twisted, and he doubted they took anywhere close to a direct path, all to fool any potential followers. At last, when it felt as if his legs could take no more, and he was finding a way to swallow his pride and ask to be carried, they arrived.

“What reason brings you here?” asked one of the soldiers guarding the door to what might have been an inn prior to being boarded up.

“I need to speak with Victor,” Zusa said.

“And who might you be?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” she said. “But with me is Nathaniel Gemcroft.”

That was enough to get them moving. Into the building they went, and it was dark and stuffy. They stood in the center, ignoring the tables, until from down the stairs came the regal Lord Victor. The man smiled widely, and he dipped his head in respect to his guests.

“Welcome,” he said. “Unexpected company you may be, but please, consider yourselves at home. Sit and let my servants get you something to eat or drink if you’d like.”

Once Nathaniel was comfortably seated, as well as having turned down the offered meal despite the hunger in his stomach, Victor sat opposite him. The lord did his best to look relaxed, but Nathaniel could sense the serious atmosphere filling the room, and he felt ready to shrivel beneath the man’s fierce stare.

“So,” Victor said, “I suspect something significant is occurring for you two to be here, so would you care to explain just what that may be?”

Zusa spoke up first, and Nathaniel was glad for it.

“Melody Gemcroft has enlisted Lord John Gandrem’s aid in overthrowing Alyssa for control of the Gemcroft fortune,” Zusa said. “We have little time before she consolidates her power.”

Victor’s face darkened.

“You have proof?” he asked.

At that, Zusa gestured toward Nathaniel, and he felt his skin shrivel.

“Tell me everything,” said Victor, leaning forward, smothering him with that hungry, intelligent stare.

“John came into my bedroom this morning to wake me,” Nathaniel said. “He said … he said my mother is not fit to rule, and that Melody’s claim is just as strong. She’s in charge now; that’s what he said.”

“For how long?” Victor asked.

Nathaniel shrugged.

“Until he thinks my mother ready.”

Victor looked to Zusa, and he rose from his chair.

“I take it time is of the essence?” he asked.

“Too many of our business associates, even those of the Trifect, will gladly accept Melody’s takeover,” Zusa said. “Especially if they think Melody easier to manipulate or bully than Alyssa.”

Victor went to the door, opened it, and spoke to one of his guards stationed outside.

“Send for Guard Captain Antonil,” he said. “Tell him it is of the utmost urgency, and tell him I come calling for the aid he once promised.”

That done, the man strode back into the room, hand on the hilt of his sword.

“After Muzien’s display in the marketplace this morning, Antonil will do everything he can to aid me and, by extension, anyone who will stand against the elf,” Victor said.

“Muzien?” asked Zusa. “I don’t understand; what does he have to do with-”

“It doesn’t matter. When I say Alyssa will stand against him, her past deeds should convince Antonil. His men will join mine in an attack on the mansion. Once Alyssa is freed and Melody our prisoner, any and all chance of a coup dies.”

Victor moved closer to her, leaning down and whispering even though Nathaniel could still hear.

“I mean this,” he said. “Both Melody and John must not suffer harm. I want to question them, to know how much of this was planned and for how long. Keep your daggers under control when we assault the mansion. Is that clear?”

“I will lead the attack,” Zusa said. “Beyond that, I am Alyssa’s servant, not yours.”

Victor ignored her, instead kneeling down in front of Nathaniel so they might look eye to eye.

“I’ll save your mother,” he said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it. “Have no fear of that. And even if something should go wrong, remember you’ll always be safe in my care.”

Nathaniel tried to smile, to thank the man, but Victor was already moving on, calling out for his men, organizing, preparing.

“Zusa?” he said as the woman lurked by the door, watching.

“Don’t worry,” she said, glancing his direction. “I will be there, leading the way.”

“You won’t let them hurt her, will you?” Nathaniel asked, unable to shake the dread building in his heart.

Zusa shook her head, blood on her clothes and drying in her hair.

“Alyssa is not the woman who must fear this morning,” she said, and there was death in her smile.