David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

It wasn’t that Daverik was afraid of it, though. He was a priest of Karak, and his god’s gifts were strong in him. No, he feared to miss his meeting, yet when he stumbled off Songbird Road past a shoemaker’s shop he found that he was indeed too late.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rubbing his chin. The temple was planning on keeping out of the upcoming festivities, but Daverik knew he could give orders to his faceless if he so desired. The question was, what path was the right one to take…

“You just missed him,” said a deep voice, startling Daverik. He spun about to see Grayson leaning against the wall of the alley, mere feet away. Somehow Daverik had walked right past him without ever seeing him, something he knew should have been impossible; yet he also knew that with Grayson’s skill he could have accomplished such a trick with ease.

“A shame,” Daverik said. “Would you care to tell me what Laerek said?”

“About my actions tonight?” Grayson said, pushing off the wall. His hands rested comfortably on the hilts of his swords, dwarfing them with his giant fingers. “No, I won’t tell you shit. But he did tell me what your part of tonight would be, just before he ran off to hide like he always does. Such a cowardly little bugger.”

“Laerek has need of such caution,” Daverik said, disliking the idea of such lowborn scum as Grayson criticizing a man like Laerek. “The goal we strive for is dangerous, and the lives of thousands rest on our hands.”

“I don’t give two shits about your goals,” Grayson said. “I don’t know them, don’t want to know them. All I care about is that you do what you promised to do. The Sun Guild is taking over, and tonight will mark the beginning of the end for the piss-poor guilds that currently claim Veldaren.”

“Exciting,” Daverik said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. “But instead let us talk about what Laerek said my orders were to be.”

“They’re simple enough,” Grayson said, pacing a few steps in the alley toward its exit. “I have need of your faceless. A party’s going to take place in Alyssa Gemcroft’s mansion, and I plan on playing host. They’re to come with me, and help eliminate every last one of that miserable family line.”

Daverik froze, thinking of Zusa and how she would react should Alyssa’s life be in danger. Even worse, how she’d react upon seeing one of his faceless joining in the violence.

“No,” he said.

“No?” asked Grayson. “Come now, we all have our orders, remember?”

“Your orders are wrong,” Daverik said. “Alyssa was supposed to have time. Melody needs to…”

“And speaking of Melody,” Grayson interrupted, “that’s the other sticky measure. Your faceless are to ensure she doesn’t die during all of the, well… excitement. Everyone else is fair game, but Melody needs out of there. I’m assuming she’s important, at least to you or Laerek or whoever’s actually running this game.”

Daverik looked up and down the alley, frantically trying to think of a reason to deny the request. He didn’t want Zusa’s life in danger, and more important, he didn’t want to perform such an obvious betrayal. If he was to awaken any dormant feelings she had for him, the worst thing he could do was piss her off… or get her killed.

“No,” he said again. “I won’t do it, Grayson. Your orders are wrong, or hasty, or unnecessary. My faceless are staying out of this.”

It was as if a new man had come and replaced the old Grayson. His smile went dark, eyes malicious. His voice, already deep, went even deeper.

“No, they aren’t,” he said. “Alyssa has mercenaries, lots of them, and I expect both the city guard and that idiot Victor’s men to be patrolling the streets. I need your faceless with me, need their particular talents to get past the walls. You have no say in this, no choice.”

“You don’t command me,” Daverik said, wishing he could match the man’s booming voice.

“Don’t I?” Grayson asked, taking a step closer. His hands had drifted back down to his swords, his fingers curling around the metal.

“I am far from helpless,” Daverik said, and dark fire smoldered across his hands. He met Grayson’s eyes, saw the bitter amusement in them.

“You’re not,” said Grayson. “But are you faster?”

Daverik looked to the blades, back to his eyes, and then let the fire extinguish itself.

“They’ll be there,” he said, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Good man!” Grayson said, and suddenly he was charming again, all smiles and white teeth. “I knew I could count on you. Just trust Laerek to know what he’s doing. He might be a young jittery bastard, but at least he’s a man with a plan, right?”

Daverik had no desire for banter, and his face was locked in a frown as he made to leave, his mind racing for ways to somehow turn events to his desire, or even outright betray Grayson. But it seemed Grayson was no fool as to that either.

“And Daverik,” he said, grabbing his shoulder. “Your little girls don’t show up, then I go to the temple myself. Tell me, what would the rest of your fellow priests think if I tell them who you’re working for? I’m thinking all these midnight visits wouldn’t be necessary if they approved. Am I right?”

Daverik’s glare was answer enough. The big man laughed, pushed him away.

“Get on out,” he said. “There’s not much time left, and I have a rabble to rouse.”

“Have fun,” Daverik muttered, rushing back toward the temple.

“Fun?” cried Grayson. “Trust me, my friend, if there is one thing I will be having tonight, it is wonderful, bountiful, obscene amounts of fun!”

His laughter followed Daverik out of the alley, into the street, and all the way to the temple entrance. Each and every step, mocking, always mocking.

Haern felt the darkness peeling away into layers of dreams that came and went. Within were friends and foes, even those long dead. As the dreams faded, he realized he slumbered, and a pain in his head suddenly roared to life. Slowly he opened his eyes, almost regretting the return. His skull throbbed, and the pain in his side was frightening in its strength. He tried to remember where he was, what he was doing. He was on a rooftop, hiding from his unknown assailant. No, there weren’t any stars, so where…

“Haern?”

He knew that voice. Something soft and warm took his hand, and he looked down. Delysia’s hand. It was her face he saw next, tears in her eyes.

“Del,” he said, and despite his pain, his exhaustion, he smiled. “You found me.”

“My brother did, to be fair. How do you feel?”

“Like I was run through by a bull. Do you have any water?”

A moment later she handed him a glass. He tried to sit up, but the movement was unbearable. Carefully he lay back down and sipped the cold water. It felt divine on his parched throat.

“How long?” he asked, setting it aside.

“Almost a full day. You lost a lot of blood, as well as took a vicious hit to your head.”

“Yeah,” Haern said, the attack replaying in his mind. “I remember that. Felt like a horse kicked me. Could hardly see straight afterward. Where’s Tarlak?”

He saw a shadow cross over her face.

“Don’t worry about that right now. You need to rest.”

Haern frowned. “Something wrong? Is he all right?”

She nodded, but still refused to say anything. He tried to think through his headache. He’d been bleeding, inches from death, by the time he fled from his attacker. What was the reason for the attack? Did the man work for the guilds, perhaps one of the three families of the Trifect? And what in blazes was Tarlak out there doing that worried Delysia so?