A Dance of Shadows

CHAPTER 17

Grayson knew he should be infuriated by the defeat, but he was far too amused. He’d gathered together men of all guilds, united with promises of the Watcher’s death and a luxurious future. At each guild he’d been treated like a prince, and cheered with raised glasses despite its knowing so little about him. Only a rare few had glanced his way with untrusting eyes, realizing what the others did not. He was a fearsome man, and a thief, but a thief from a distant nation, one with foreign guilds.

Foreign guilds eyeing Veldaren with hungry mouths open.

“To the Watcher’s killer,” said one of the members of the Spider Guild as Grayson stepped into the guild’s tavern, the man lifting his glass in a mocking toast. Grayson grinned at him, the look sapping away whatever cheer the man had.

“I stuck my sword through his gut and out his back,” Grayson said. “Perhaps this Watcher of yours is a devil after all. No man lives through that.”

The thief was smart enough to say nothing, only shrug and resume drinking. Still grinning, Grayson looked about the tavern, counting numbers. A pathetic remnant of what they’d been, especially compared to when he and Thren had been working together so many years ago. Hardly a merchant would quake at seeing the ragtag group of fifteen men drinking and bandaging wounds. Thren would recruit like mad to replace his numbers, but it would take time. With so much death and conflict, and so little coin in return, he’d gain only the desperate and delusional.

Now that he thought of it…

He found Thren drinking with a group of three in a far corner. Stealing a drink from the man who had mocked him, Grayson guzzled it down as he walked over to Thren’s table, slamming his empty cup atop the hard wood. Three of them jumped, but not Thren.

“So how goes your night?” Grayson asked, grin spreading.

“As poorly as your ill-conceived plan,” Thren said, leaning back and looking as if he had not a care in the world. He couldn’t pull off the image completely, though. Thren was never much of a bluffer, Grayson knew, never had been and never would be. His eyes always gave him away. Too much intensity.

“That so?” Grayson glared down at the man opposite Thren, who glanced at his guildleader.

“Go check and see if any others have made it back, Martin,” Thren said.

Martin shrugged and gave up his seat so Grayson could take it.

“I must say, I thought things would go differently,” Grayson said, his elbows on the table. “With the rioters loosening up the guard, should’ve had easy pickings. Sadly, looks like the looters got the bulk, and we just shed the blood.”

“Blood that shouldn’t have been shed,” Thren said, tilting his head slightly. His eyes narrowed. “You are no master here, no leader. Whatever your influence with the Suns, this is Veldaren, not Mordeina.”

“Don’t remember you forbidding it,” Grayson said, and he laughed at the way Thren twitched. He was furious, Grayson could tell, but something kept him in check. Was it the way the attack had failed? Perhaps, but with his guild suffering such losses, that couldn’t be enough. Had to be something more. Had to be…

“So where were you during all this?” Grayson asked, looking over to the bar and frowning when he realized he would have to fetch a drink himself. “With you at our side, I daresay we still might have broken through. Might have even taken down the Watcher.”

Thren stared him in the eye, not moving, not answering. So smug. It was answer enough.

“Yeah, guess it’s foolish of me to think you’d have helped,” Grayson said, standing. “You couldn’t kill the Watcher all these years, doubt you’d be able to now. Shit, you’d probably take his place if you could.”

It was as direct a challenge as he could make without proof. Instead of rattling Thren, it only made him smile.

“You’ve attempted to usurp control of my guild,” Thren said as the thief on either side of him stood and reached for his weapons. “You lied about killing the Watcher, and led my men to their deaths in a battle you had no stake in. You are no longer welcome in my home. Go elsewhere, old friend, for you cannot stay here.”

Grayson’s hand drifted to his sword. All about, the tavern had gone deathly quiet. Hopelessly outnumbered, Grayson knew he could not win, not then.

“You fear me a threat, yet cannot run, so you would banish me instead,” he said. “You are a coward. You’ve never had the strength to face an opponent that might defeat you. Keep pretending you’re strong. Keep pretending you’re in control. That’s what you did when Marion died. Why not continue?”

Thren was on his feet in a heartbeat, short swords drawn.

“Say it,” he said, ice in his voice. “Say what you’ve always wanted to say, so I can kill you.”

“Say what?” Grayson asked, purposefully putting his back to Thren and walking to the exit. “That you killed my sister? I would if it was true, but it ain’t.”

He stopped at the door, no one having the courage to get in his way. He looked over his shoulder, gave Thren one last smirk.

“She killed herself the day she married you.”

The door slammed shut behind him, and Grayson laughed. It’d been so long, he’d forgotten how great it felt to raise the ire of one so focused and controlled. But his humor hid the scars that Grayson himself had nearly forgotten. His poor Marion, in love with that fool. Now she was dead, and both her sons as well. All because of Thren.

It would be such a pleasure killing him.

Entertaining the image of himself plunging his sword through Thren’s throat, Grayson made his way toward the southern district. He might be late, but that was of little concern to him. The others would not leave. They’d need to hear how things had gone down. Whistling a tune, he cut through the alleys until he reached Songbird Road. Keeping an eye out for the stores, when he saw the shoemaker’s place he stepped into the alley beside it, all smiles to the two men who waited there for him.

“Your women performed admirably,” Grayson told Daverik, who glared at him. “Granted, four went in, and only two came out, but they got my friends past the gates and that’s all that really mattered.”

“A foolish waste,” Daverik said, turning to the other man there with them. “And an order that never should have been given.”

The man was a young and scrawny priest named Laerek. He wore plain brown pants and a white shirt, the only thing revealing his priestly nature being the necklace of the Lion that hung around his neck. His face flushed red, and at Daverik’s glare he looked away. Grayson shook his head, hardly able to believe he was stuck taking orders from such a pip-squeak. The man was twitchy, never able to sit still. During their meetings his eyes were always flitting to the exits, the windows above, the rooftops. Gods, he’d probably give the moon a sideways glance if he thought there might be people watching from atop its pale glow.

“I only follow the commands sent to me,” Laerek said. “Commands you yourselves agreed to follow, so do not take your anger out on me.”

“Come now,” Grayson said, putting his arm around Laerek. The man flinched at the touch. “You shouldn’t be upset. I’d say tonight went fairly well.”

“Was Alyssa killed?” Laerek asked.

“Of course not,” Daverik said. “Zusa protected her from my faceless, and then Victor arrived with the Eschaton. Together they chased away the rioters.”

“Don’t forget the Ash Guild,” Grayson added.

“Indeed,” Daverik said coldly. “Yet another foe my faceless would have better served removing.”

“Please,” Laerek said, pulling away from Grayson. “I know this is difficult, but you two knew the dangers when we started. Right now we must adapt to the situation at hand until I receive new orders. Grayson, tell me, who now remains the largest threat to your guild’s take-over?”

Grayson crossed his arms, pretended to think even though the question wasn’t difficult in the slightest.

“I’ll be bringing in the crimleaf next,” he said. “Doing that puts us at our most vulnerable, and out of everyone that threatens my plan, the Ash Guild is the most dangerous. They’re unpredictable, powerful, and led by a madman. Beyond that, there’s Lord Victor, who’s proving both persistent and meddlesome. Oh, and the Eschaton Mercenaries. They showed last night the danger they pose if left unchecked.”

Laerek bobbed his head up and down.

“So be it then. I didn’t want to, but I must. I must.”

Something about his tone worried Grayson, so he refused to let the matter die.

“Must what?” he asked.

Laerek met his eyes, looked away.

“The Bloodcrafts are currently in my master’s employ. They’ve been waiting just outside the city.”

Grayson let out a whistle.

“You brought those crazy bastards all the way from Mordeina? Must be more desperate than I thought.”

For once the young priest was able to look in his eyes. For once Grayson saw the fear that drove him to their clandestine meetings, the faith that gave him the nerve to withstand being in the presence of the Sun Guild’s second-most notorious killer.

“What we do, we do not just for Veldaren,” he said. “All the world will never know the debt they will owe to us three if we succeed.”

Grayson shrugged. He had no idea what their little goals were, but so long as his Sun Guild got to move into the city and take away all the wealth and power of its thief guilds, he was happy to play along.

“And if we fail?” he asked, mostly out of amusement.

“Then the world suffers and dies in darkness,” Laerek said. “The Bloodcrafts will take care of the Ash Guild and the Eschaton. What about Lord Victor?”

“Victor is a fool,” Daverik said. “Let his little crusade burn out on its own. Someone from the guilds will do our job for us and slip a bit of poison into his drink. Besides, no matter how hard he pretends, he’s a stranger to this city. It’s people like the Ash, who know its darker secrets, that we must fear first.”

“Very well,” Laerek said. “Good night, gentlemen. Carry on as before, and meet me in six days.”

“Wait,” Daverik said, just as Grayson and Laerek were about to leave. Grayson paused, glanced behind him as the two priests talked.

“What of Alyssa and Zusa?” Daverik asked. “I needed more time with Zusa. She’s not ready to listen yet, not willing to remember…”

Laerek let out a sigh.

“Moving against Lady Gemcroft was… premature. My own fault for deciding it would be best to remove her now, when it seemed certain Grayson could overthrow the mansion during the riot. My apologies, Daverik. I will give you and Melody more time.”

“Thank you,” Daverik said, dipping his head low. Laerek did so in return, then rushed off to go wherever it was he stayed in the city. Grayson waited until Daverik caught up with him, then bumped him with his shoulder.

“Worried about your girlfriend?” he asked, face all teeth and smiles.

“You’re a vile man,” Daverik said, shaking his head. “And you could never understand my worries.”

“Understand them more than you’ll ever realize,” Grayson said, laughing. “It’s you who will never understand how simple and common your little puppy love is. Let the bitch go, and find yourself a nice whore. Keep her at your side until you can’t afford her no more, and then see how much clearer your head is afterward. You might realize you don’t quite miss Zusa so much after all.”

The very mention of the woman’s name seemed to spark a fire in the priest, and the earned glare was all the more rewarding for it.

“Careful,” said Daverik. “One day you will go too far.”

“And one day I won’t be working for Laerek back there,” Grayson said. “Then we’ll see who needs to be careful. Just between you and me… I don’t think I’m the one who’ll have to watch his step. Come then, the city will be mine, the Sun Guild claiming every shred of territory. And you, well, you’ll have your four faceless. Oh, I’m sorry. Two.”

Still laughing, he put his back to Daverik and strolled into the dark streets of Veldaren.

Gods damn it, he thought, what a wonderful, wonderful night.