David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

When he finally did show, she nearly missed him. Instead of priestly garb, he wore plain clothes, dull brown pants and a gray shirt. He carried no torch, the moonlight sufficient for him. While once his hair had fallen past his shoulders, now it was gone completely, his head smoothly shaved. Time had worn his features, hardening them, but when she cast a second glance while he passed beneath her, she saw the cheeks she’d kissed, the large lips that had kissed her in return.

The plain clothing was clearly a disguise, and she wondered whom it was really for, him or her.

“Daverik,” she called out. As he turned she slid down the wall, silently landing in a crouch. Scanning the rooftops, she saw no sign of the other faceless. Good. Her attention turned to her former lover, who smiled at her and opened his arms.

“Katherine,” he said, and the sound of his voice was the key to a vault of a hundred memories. “My god, Katherine, is it really you?”

She stood to her full height, pulling her shoulders back and turning her head to the side. Though the wrappings had originally been meant to hide her beauty, they also revealed her body’s every curve. Let him see the woman she had become, she decided. Let him know what the priesthood had denied him for ten long years.

“Not Katherine,” she said. “They took that name from me when they covered my face. They lashed it out of my soul with their whips and barbs. I am Zusa now.”

A soft smile spread across his pale face. The moonlight added a blue tint to his green eyes. That she noticed it at all annoyed her.

“In all my memories, you will always be Katherine,” he said. “But if I must, I will call you Zusa.” He laughed, then shook his head in disbelief. “Even in Mordeina, I’d heard one of the faceless had revolted, and turned away from the order. I hoped it was you. You were never one for rules or limitations.”

“Neither were you, or did the priesthood take that from you, convince you that every time we fucked it was my fault?”

That smile of his faded. He took a step toward her, and she recoiled.

“They tried,” he said softly. “They said you seduced me, that your beauty was unveiled sin. At times I almost agreed. You are beautiful, Zusa, perhaps without equal. But what we did… what we had… I would never diminish it in such a way.”

Such charming, honest words. Daverik had always known what to say to her, and she felt her old wounds bleeding anew. They’d been in each other’s arms when the priests had discovered them. They’d needed no trial, no council, to confirm the obvious. While she watched, they’d lashed Daverik before the altar, let his blood run across the ancient stone. As for her, the order of the faceless awaited. They’d stripped her naked, and while Daverik watched, bound only her mouth and eyes with the wrappings that would become her ceremonial dress.

And when they carried her away, he’d said only two words, whose meaning she had always feared, and which she had never forgotten.

Forgive me.

“Why are you here?” she asked, forcing a cold edge into her voice. Daverik was just a phantom from her past, a girlhood love. They’d both been so young, so foolish. “I thought you were banished from Veldaren.”

“I was,” Daverik said, glancing about. When he saw that they were still alone, he walked over to the wall and leaned his back against it, crossing his arms. “But I’ve made many friends during my time in the west, friends whose voices carry weight among our order. Given my loyalty over the past ten years, Luther has convinced the temple to give me one final task as penance. One final way to redeem my insult to our god.”

“Your god,” Zusa corrected. “I have no love for Karak.”

This clearly pained Daverik, but he continued without remarking on it.

“The betrayal of the faceless has weighed on the priests in Mordeina. Though Pelorak initially refused, he finally accepted my return here, along with the reopening of the order. I am their teacher, their master.”

“Why you?”

“Because they felt I would best understand their weaknesses, having fallen for them myself.”

Zusa shook her head, and to show her opinion on the matter, she spit at his feet. His explanation sounded hollow, the reasoning unlike what she knew of the priesthood. He’d be forever branded as a man weak enough to give in to his passions. Why would they put women also believed to be weak into his care?

“The order should have remained dead and gone,” she said. “How many women have you enslaved?”

“It is not enslavement…”

“I asked how many.”

Daverik sighed. “Four. I doubt any are as skilled as you, but they’re learning. Karak has blessed them greatly, and I think they might even surprise you with the gifts they possess.”

Zusa smirked. “I’m sure I have a few surprises for them as well. Keep them far away from me, Daverik. The very sight of them sets my blood to boil. If you’re wise you’ll leave Veldaren immediately.”

She turned to leave, but he reached out and grabbed her arm. Her free hand moved for her dagger, but their eyes met, and she saw the incredible force of will there. For a moment she remained still, lost in time, remembering a seventeen-year-old girl hiding in a dark alley with a pretty boy willing to touch her, kiss her, in ways the priesthood had forbidden.

“They say you work for Alyssa Gemcroft now,” he said. “Is that true?”

“It is,” she said, pulling her arm free. She wanted to hurt him, to shock him, and she didn’t know why. “I am her sister, her protector. She loves me, and I her. Why do you ask?”

Daverik swallowed, and she could tell he was struggling to choose his words.

“These are dangerous times,” he said. “I don’t want to see you hurt. Lady Gemcroft is not safe from the coming storm. Things would be better for everyone if she were to become a friend of Karak.”

“Is that a threat?”

“Only a warning,” he said. “I wish I could do more.”

She took three steps and leaped high above his head, to the rooftop of a nearby home. She landed without a sound, then spun to face him.

“You’re a smooth liar,” she said. “But I am no fool. Why did they really bring you to Veldaren?”

Daverik sighed and ran a hand across his bald head. “You say ‘they’ as if the priesthood were but a single entity. There are many factions within it, many unreconciled beliefs. I am here to prepare the faceless, for what, I cannot tell you. I knew you might be here when I was asked, I must admit. Knew I might find you. I hoped… I hoped we could talk. That you might offer me, offer us a second chance.”

Zusa felt her neck flush with anger. “And if I refuse?”

He met her gaze, let her see the pain in his eyes. “You are seen by the temple as an abomination, a betrayal that stabs into the very heart of Karak. You know damn well what I’ll be ordered to do should anyone know of our meeting.”

The words were a dagger, but they did not surprise her, did not even make her flinch.

“And would you?” she asked him. “Would you try to kill me, Daverik?”

“My love, or my god. Do not make me choose, Katherine. I chose you a long time ago. I’m not sure I have the strength to do so again.”

She let the shadows swirl around her, drawing them to her as if they were liquid and she the bottom of a well. “Did you not hear me before?” she asked. “Katherine’s dead. My name is Zusa. Send your little girls after me if you must. I’ll kill them all. But don’t you dare bring Alyssa into this, or try to harm a single hair on her head. If you do, not even the walls of the temple will keep you safe from me.”

She ran, just a swath of shadow in the night. Far behind she heard him call her name, this time the correct one.