David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“They won’t let me come back,” Zusa said as he opened the door. “You know that. What would stop me from leaving once I am free of the temple? What would keep me chained and bound to the faceless? The moment I accept myself into the faceless is the moment I die. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? At least my soul would be saved.”

She could not deny the hurt she saw in Daverik’s eyes at her words.

“Someone will bring you food in a few hours,” he said. “Rest well.”

The door closed, plummeting her into darkness. The water glowed a soft blue, yet it cast no light about the room. The sight of it made her head hurt and her stomach twist, so she closed her eyes, shifted her arms as much as she could given the constraint of the manacles, and tried to sleep.

One after another died to the executioner’s ax, and the sight slowly calmed Victor’s nerves. The deal he’d made with the thief Alan had left a bad taste in his mouth. The results, however, were undeniable. The Spider Guild was all but crushed, except for one niggling detail that kept Victor pacing everywhere he went. Somehow, Thren Felhorn had escaped. The one person who mattered, and he had gotten through their lines.

“It’s been a good day,” said Sef, joining him there in the shadow of the castle as the sun began to fall.

“Could have gone better,” Victor said, nodding toward the executioner’s block. “Thren should be up there, bound and gagged.”

“We’ll have his head hanging from the city gates soon enough,” Sef said. “But the whole city’s buzzing about it. People are far more willing to talk to our men now, their lips loosening. I think after last night everyone expected a war, for something like what happened before. But instead they got a bunch of dead thieves and their symbolic leader broken and in hiding.”

“So what you’re saying,” Victor said, finally cracking a smile, “is that it was a good day?”

“That’s correct, sir.”

Victor laughed. “Was there something you needed?”

Sef nodded. “His Majesty’s adviser is ready to speak with you. He said he’d meet you in his chambers in the castle to discuss your request.”

“Tell Gerand I’ll be there shortly,” Victor said, turning back to the platform. “There’s still a few more awaiting the ax.”

Sef bowed low.

“Of course. Enjoy your show.”

Thieves, murderers, and lowborn thugs trudged up the steps, their crimes labeled, categorized, and proven to the necessary extent. Then came the ax. For Victor it wasn’t enjoyable, and truthfully he would have been disturbed to feel that way upon seeing another man die. No, as the ax fell, and the head separated from the neck, he felt his city taking one tiny step closer to peace. It carried the same satisfaction as pulling a tick from a dog, or yanking a weed from a garden. A sick, immoral life was snuffed out. It would commit no more crimes, frighten no more innocents, and take no more lives.

Step by step. Up the stairs, before the executioner, and then the chopping block. Step by step.

When it was done, Victor went into the king’s castle and trudged up the stairs to Gerand’s room. He knocked on the door, and was quickly let in. Gerand’s room was a tidy place, well furnished for its small size. Taking a seat at his desk, Gerand motioned for Victor to sit in the only other chair, which he did. It was overly stuffed, and far from comfortable.

“I thank you for coming to see me so late,” Gerand said.

“I should be thanking you for not making me wait another day,” Victor said. Gerand smiled at the comment, but he didn’t look amused. It was almost like a trained response to anyone attempting wit.

“I’ve gone over your request,” Gerand said, leaning back in his chair. “And while your results are impressive, and the costs you listed for hiring your soldiers fair, I am not sure the king’s treasury is ready to pay just yet.”

“Why is that?” Victor asked. “Have I not crushed the strongest, most dangerous guild in your city’s history? Surely that is worth a partial advance on the compensation I was promised.”

“Perhaps.” Gerand tapped his fingers together, collected his thoughts. “You see, Victor, while His Majesty might be rash and willing to agree to things without much thought, I try to be a bit more… patient. I like to peer deeper into things, and I’ve done so with your family. I know who you’ve done business with, every trader and every merchant.”

Victor’s eyes narrowed. “Is that so?”

“It is. When the king’s adviser comes calling, people tend to talk. No one wants to let things become… unpleasant. And since you’ve given me the costs of training and hiring your men, it was a simple matter to compare that to what I learned of your wheat trade. Do you know what I found out?”

“What is that, adviser?”

Gerand breathed in deep, wrapped his fingers together. His face was emotionless, a well-controlled mask to hide whatever it was he felt.

“You’re broke, Victor. You can’t afford your own army.”

The words sent a chill down Victor’s spine, but he did his best to hide it, just as Gerand hid his own emotions.

“That’s preposterous,” he said.

“Is it?” asked Gerand, his eyebrows lifting. “Your lands are not large, and such skilled men as yours are not cheap, especially for the danger they face and the time you’ve committed them to. Perhaps a few you’ve promised a pittance of land, but you don’t have much to give. Others are loyal to your house, but sworn men like that are few and far between, especially for such an average family line as the Kanes. Even if you’ve been saving for the past five years or so, which I honestly believe you have, within a few weeks your men will want another portion of their pay and you simply won’t have it. Which of course brings us to your request for an advance.”

Gerand leaned back, clearly giving Victor an opportunity to speak. Victor tried to think, to know what was expected of him.

“What I’ve done has helped this city,” he said, deciding to be honest in his appeal. “You have to know this. After everything I’ve accomplished, surely His Majesty can issue in good faith a portion…”

Gerand waved a hand, interrupting him.

“His Majesty will do as I say in this, so long as I convince him he’ll sleep safer at night. I am the one you must convince, so direct your arguments to me. What makes you think I should trust you with such wealth?”

“You’ve seen my men combing the streets. You’ve seen the scum I’ve brought to your judges. Even the Trifect has opened its books to me. For what reason would you doubt me?”

“Stay calm, friend,” Gerand said, rising from his seat. “I have no time for anger or personal insult. And forgive my manners… would you care for a drink?”

The adviser poured them each a glass of wine, and Victor accepted his reluctantly. Once Gerand had taken a sip, Victor did so as well. It was a fine vintage, and despite himself Victor drank half the glass.

“So you wonder why I should doubt you, after all I’ve seen,” Gerand said, setting his glass beside him on his desk. “That is exactly the point. I’ve seen you driven to put your life in danger, risking every shred of your wealth to hire and train men to accomplish this fanatical quest. I can only imagine how many moneylenders are eyeing your wheat fields even as we speak. Yet what I don’t know is why . What could possibly push you to such lengths?”

“Why does my reason matter so long as my motives are pure?” Victor asked.

“Are they pure? I don’t know. You see, it matters because I do not like entrusting the streets to a madman, and to me you carry the look of a madman. It sparkles in your eyes. Sane men do not do what you’ve done, especially out of altruism. I’m sorry, that is something I feel in my gut. So tell me something I can believe, that will convince me to open the treasury to you, and I will do so.”