David Dalglish - A Dance of Ghosts

He walked to the door, patted Sef on the shoulder, and then together, they stepped outside.

Gathered in loose formation by the door were three hundred soldiers, the ones most loyal to Victor’s family. Victor knew he should feel pride at their supporting him, but those three hundred had also been paid. It seemed even the loyal must still be bought.

“Kill them all,” he said to Sef. With a quick set of hand motions, Sef sent in several squads of the three hundred. They stormed through the door of the tavern, and shouts of warning quickly sounded from within, followed by the clash of metal and cries of pain.

“Inform the other mercenaries they are to be dismissed,” Victor said to Sef. “Tell them they will be paid in time if they are patient, but the moment I hear what I consider dangerous talk, they will be executed on the spot.”

“They’re not going to be happy about their captains’ deaths,” Sef said. “They might seek vengeance.”

“Then they can get in line.”

As the sound of combat from inside began to die down, Victor turned away and walked down the street. Sef hurried to join him and he asked where he intended to go.

“Anywhere,” Victor said. “Anywhere but here. I need some fresh air. I need to remind myself why I even bother with this damn city.”

Sef hardly looked pleased, but he accepted the answer and walked alongside him. Victor’s first thought had been to go to the market, to buy himself a small trinket or perhaps something fine to eat in an attempt to cheer himself up. The coming days would be ugly, for once the various mercenary groups elected new captains and finished with their interpersonal bickering, they’d be back again to demand money … and he doubted those who did would come alone like their former captains had.

As they walked, Victor noticed how quiet the street seemed, how few people milled about. He felt his instincts begin to cry danger, but the moment the group of five stepped out from one of the alleys ahead, he knew it was too late.

“Victor…” Sef said beside him, reaching for his ax, but Victor grabbed his wrist so he would not ready it.

“Stay calm,” Victor said. He glanced over his shoulder, saw three more stepping out to block any retreat. One held a drawn dagger, the other two large crossbows. All of them bore the pointed star of the Sun Guild. Bringing his attention back to the front, he braced himself for a potential fight. He’d long known of the Sun Guild’s advance, but since their return to Veldaren, he’d yet to strike at them and they at him. Hand settling on the hilt of his sword, he prayed it would remain that way.

Of the five approaching, the one in the center stood out above the rest. He wore a long leather coat that had been stained a dark black, his umber hair tied into braids and pulled back from his face. His long ears were scarred at the top, revealing his elven heritage. Most obvious of all, though, was the blackened hand when he lifted it in greeting, making his following introduction unnecessary.

“Greetings, Lord Victor Kane,” said the elf with the scarred ears. “I am Muzien the Darkhand, master of the Sun Guild.”

“Shit,” muttered Sef.

“Your reputation precedes you,” Victor said, louder. “I wondered if you would someday come calling.”

Muzien smiled, and he seemed so pleasant, so calm, it made Victor all the more nervous. Only a man of absolute confidence could enter such a meeting in broad daylight and be so relaxed.

“Every man and woman of importance within this city shall have their time before me,” Muzien said, and he continued his slow pace, arms clasped behind his back as if he were on a careless midday stroll. “Whether they spend it on their knees or facedown in a pool of their own blood will be up to them.”

Again, Sef looked ready to grab his ax, but Victor glared his way, ensuring such a foolish action did not happen.

“Consider me flattered you think of me as a man of importance,” Victor said, trying to keep his voice light. The last thing he wanted was to reveal fear before someone such as Muzien. It’d be like throwing bloody meat before a pack of hungry wolves.

“How could I not?” Muzien stopped just outside sword’s reach, the remaining four with him lingering behind. The elf crossed his arms before him, and he narrowed his eyes as an amused smile spread across his lips. “After all, are you not the man who was to come into this city and cleanse it to its very core? Were you not here to deny us our shadows, to bring us into the light so we might wither and die? My, how people talk of you. All my ears hear are pomp and pride and an idiocy so stubborn, it must be religious zeal. So, here I am, and here you are, yet you do not act against me. My men live, and trust me when I say this, Victor, they still find plenty of shadows.”

“Circumstances change,” Victor said, trying not to let his bruised ego dictate his speech. “Surely you can understand that better than most.”

“Indeed, I can.”

Muzien gestured to his left, to where a stone tile bearing the symbol of the Sun Guild was freshly dug into the earth just before the entrance to a brothel.

“Circumstances have changed,” the elf said. “And it is not to your advantage, you petty lord of a beggar kingdom. Sell all your lands and all your titles. Bring to me the sum of your wealth and lay it before my feet so I may spit on it as unworthy of the time it’d take to stoop down and take into my hands. I have no desire to deal with you. I don’t want to see your men, I don’t want to hear word of your inquisitors, your books, or your record keepers. All your systems and courts mean nothing to me. They will not save you, nor will they stop me, so if you wish to live, you will abandon whatever idealistic notions you have and return to your home.”

“Things aren’t so simple as that,” Victor said, and this time it took more effort than he thought he could muster to keep his temper in check. Never before in his life had he been treated as so thoroughly inferior. “I have no intention of leaving, and if you kill me, the other lords of the land will realize how great a threat you are.”

“The other lords will see you receiving the fate they all anticipated the moment you marched into this city with your banner held high,” Muzien said. “Do not try to play politics with me, human. You’re not skilled enough for the dance.”

The elf snapped his fingers, and the rest turned to go.

“This city is mine,” he said. “Like the sun, from the ground I rise. I control the thief guilds along with the common folk in their slums. The merchants and the lords will soon follow. When kings are in my pocket, you will find yourself alone, and when you do, pray it is far, far from here.”

And with that, he marched away. Sef and Victor remained still, both trembling with rage. A glance behind them showed that the Sun Guild rogues with their crossbows and knives had also left.

“That fucking elven bastard,” Sef said. “You’d think he has the king’s crown jammed up his asshole with how he struts about, acting like he owns everything he sees.”

Victor shook his head, thinking of the reports he’d read recently.

“He’s not that far off,” he said. “Come on, while we still have our dignity.”

They continued their walk, Sef mumbling curses, Victor silent with his mind racing. If Muzien was confident enough to openly mock him, then his takeover of the underworld had to be nearly complete. Nearly, but not quite, because at least one guild still resisted him … at least, as far as Victor knew. He had to find out for sure. He had to know if his lone ally in the darkness was still willing to be his loyal monster.

“Change of direction,” Victor said. “We’ve a graveyard to visit.”