David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“What are you talking about?” Grayson asked, still struggling against the two blades. Thren had made sure neither punched through a vital organ, wanting to control Grayson’s death, to have it be exactly when he desired it.

“The one mocking me,” he said. “The one who has killed my members, taken their eyes, and left rhymes written in blood. The Widow. Tell me who it is.”

“I don’t know,” Grayson said. He reached toward Thren with a shaking hand, and despite his wounds, tried to grab his neck to strangle him. Thren admired his dedication, but had no time for that. He released the hilts of his swords, grabbed Grayson’s wrists, and held him down.

“You lie.”

“I was never told his name.”

Thren’s eyes narrowed. “Told by who?”

Grayson shook his head, and he laughed despite his pain.

“It’s all a game, Thren, and I played along because it suited us well. His name’s Laerek, a priest of Karak.”

It made no sense, but Thren detected no lie. “A priest?” he asked. “What have I done to them that Karak’s followers would hate me?”

Another laugh. “I don’t know, and I don’t give a shit. Laerek helped us get into the city, all so we’d help him with something later. It was too tempting to say no.”

Thren grabbed Grayson’s neck with a hand and pushed his head down. “Tell me where to find him.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

Thren swallowed, and then he nodded. “Yeah. I will.”

Grayson let out a soft sigh. His dark skin was turning pale, yet he kept total control of his voice.

“So be it. He’ll be waiting for me in an alley off Songbird Road, by that shoemaker’s place.”

Thren again sensed no lie. He stood, and his hand closed around the hilt of one of his swords.

“Thren,” Grayson said, and for the first time his voice wavered.

“Yes?”

Grayson grinned darkly. “The Sun Guild doesn’t die with me. You know that. The Darkhand will be here soon. Whatever life you have now, cherish it. Once he arrives, your time is done.”

Thren knelt down beside him so he could whisper in his dying friend’s ear.

“Let him come. This student has long ago surpassed his teacher.”

Thren stood, yanked the blade free, spun it around, and then slashed open Grayson’s throat. His body convulsed for a moment as blood spilled across his neck and chest, and then he lay still. Thren stood over him, breathing heavily, and despite himself, he felt tears run down his face.

“You loved Marion more than I,” he told the corpse. “A shame it cost you so.”

He yanked the other sword free, not bothering to clean off the blood. He still had work to do.

“Laerek,” Thren whispered as trumpets sounded, the raid on the Sun Guild nearing its end.

Alyssa tossed and turned, but she could not sleep. Zusa had still not returned, and with the sun long ago set she felt her hope dwindling. With every creak of a board she sat up in bed, looking to see if Zusa was opening the door or climbing down from the ceiling. Always nothing. She’d give so much to have the faceless woman climb into her bed, to wrap her arms around Alyssa and tell her everything was well, everything was safe. Despite her wealth, Alyssa could not buy the one thing she so desperately needed.

Still feeling anxious, she at last gave up on sleep and slipped out of bed. She threw a robe over her thin nightgown and stepped out into the hallways. It was dark despite the many candles. Something gnawed at her tired mind, but she couldn’t place what it was. Even more impatient, she hurried to Nathaniel’s room. If she was stuck awake, at least it’d be with her son. Seeing him asleep, and at peace, was often what it took to reassure her troubled mind that all was well. She’d done it plenty when he was a newborn, and though it felt weak to do so now that he was older, she didn’t care. Reaching his door, she again felt that gnawing fear, an awareness that she was missing something both troubling and obvious.

Opening the door to her son’s room, she stepped inside, and was surprised to find that he was still awake.

“Mom?”

His head tilted higher, and he clearly looked relieved. Two candles burned in a candelabra hooked to the opposite wall, filling the room with yellow light.

“Is something wrong?” she asked, sitting down beside his bed. He sat up, which revealed the stump of his arm. It was scabbed over, with several spots bleeding from his picking at it. Nathaniel seemed oblivious, just scratching repeatedly with his hand as he shuddered and looked away. Alyssa felt the worry in her gut strengthen.

“I don’t want to sleep,” he said.

“You know you need to. I can see how tired you are.”

“It’s not that,” he said. “I… I don’t want to dream. I keep seeing him, and I don’t want to anymore.”

“Him?” Alyssa frowned. “What do you mean?”

He looked feverish, yet when she touched his face, he was bathed in a cold sweat.

“Every time I dream, I see him laughing,” he said. “Veldaren’s burning, and he laughs.”

Alyssa kissed his forehead, then gently pushed him onto his back. Tucking him in, she tried to hide her own fears. Nathaniel had had night terrors before, particularly after he’d lost his arm, and it took a year for them to go away. Yet this seemed different. He’d never really been aware of what frightened him back then, why he’d awaken screaming.

“How long have you had these dreams?” she asked, trying to sound more tired than worried.

“Ever since Grandmother showed me the chrysarium.”

Alyssa forced herself not to frown. Chrysarium? What in Karak’s name was a chrysarium? It sounded like something a wizard might conjure up. That her mother had exposed him to it without checking with her first immediately made her angry.

“Honey, what did Grandmother show you?”

He shrank into the bed, scratched harder at the stump of his arm.

“She made me promise not to tell.”

“You can tell me. You know that. You can always tell me everything.”

She reached down and grabbed his hand to stop the picking.

“Tell me,” she said, letting a little of her earnestness come through.

“I saw visions,” he said. “Grandmother said they were from Karak, and it meant I was special. But I don’t want them, they’re horrible, and they won’t let me sleep!”

Alyssa swallowed, and a hundred things she might scream at Melody ran through her mind.

“Listen to me, Nathan,” she said. “They’re just visions. They can’t hurt you, and they don’t mean anything. I want you to lie here and relax. You don’t have to sleep if you don’t want to. I’m going to talk to Melody and find out what happened. If she did something, maybe she can fix this.”

“But she’ll be asleep.”

A dry smile stretched across Alyssa’s lips.

“Then I’ll wake her.”

She kissed his cheek, then stood. When she reached his door, she stopped, for she heard shuffling on the other side. For some reason her heart froze, and she remained perfectly still as the sound slowly faded away. Door open a crack, she peered through and saw a young woman with dark brown hair heading down the hall. Alyssa frowned. She didn’t look like a servant, nor was she dressed like one, yet Alyssa could not place her despite their time in the mansion.

“Nathan,” she whispered, turning back to her son. “When I step out, I want you to lock the door, all right? No questions, and don’t open it for anyone but me, you understand?”

With that she entered the hall, and then waited until she heard the rattle of his lock. Satisfied, she hurried in the opposite direction from the unknown woman, coming upon Stephen’s room, the door slightly ajar. Was the woman a prostitute, perhaps? Not that she cared to judge Stephen’s actions, but it seemed odd the guards would not escort her…