David Dalglish - A Dance of Shadows

“They will not be pleased.”

Despite his mood, Victor let out a laugh. “Do you think I care? If they cause problems, then I will deal with them in my own way. You need not worry away the last gray hairs you have, Henris.”

“Of course, of course,” Henris said, bowing. Victor rubbed his eyes, then realized the old man was not leaving.

“Is there something else?” he asked.

“Indeed,” Henris said. “I have here documents given to me by Terrance Gemling, adviser to Lady Alyssa Gemcroft. They’re shipping manifests, recording their transactions with John Gandrem in regards to their mines farther north. If you’d look at the logs, particularly the third row…”

“Spare me,” Victor said. “What are you trying to tell me, Henris? In plain words, preferably.”

The old man licked his lips. “Plain words? Alyssa has been cheating the king out of taxes for the past four years, perhaps even longer.”

Victor stood, feeling his jaw tighten. “You are certain?” he asked.

“As I could ever be,” Henris said, offering him the documents. “It is all here, hidden of course, and cleverly so.”

Victor paced before his fireplace, flicking through the sheets. They were just numbers to him, pages of names, places, costs.

“Is this everything?” he asked. “If I’m to go to the king, I’ll need every bit of proof I can get to convict a lady of the Trifect. Is there anything else?”

“You hold in your hands the only proof I could obtain,” Henris said. “The rest they themselves will surely have destroyed.”

“Good,” Victor said. “Good.”

He turned and threw the papers onto the fireplace. Henris let out a cry, took a step forward, and then stopped when he looked into Victor’s glare.

“Get out,” he ordered, and the old man quickly obeyed.

As the door slammed shut, Victor plopped back into his chair and stared at the paper curling and blackening in the fire.

The king was a puppet, and his puppet master had turned on Victor. His men were fiends addicted to gold and nothing more. The guilds stabbed and bickered with one another, finding peace only when they could turn on a mutual enemy such as the Trifect. He was tiring of the games, and even worse, he was failing at them. But all was not lost. Both Deathmask and the Watcher had taught him something, a lesson he would use in the coming days. His stroll about the city that morning had only confirmed it.

The city itself was infected, rotting away to the core. In all of its dark corners were monsters. And to defeat the monsters, he needed monsters.

He thought of Alyssa’s beauty, her storied reputation, and, most important of all, her vast wealth.

Monsters… and allies.

Victor poured himself a drink, toasted the burning evidence.

“To a whirlwind courtship,” he said, laughed, and drank.

No one had slept the rest of the night in the Connington mansion. Guards rushed about, suddenly without anyone in charge, and each one nervous about what the death of Stephen meant to him. Lord Gandrem assumed control with ease, settling into a role he’d known his entire life. He knew how to give men orders, how to instruct them, in ways others wouldn’t understand. His place in charge of them would only last a few days, at least until proceedings could begin, and a temporary steward could be placed in charge of the Connington fortune. Zusa respected him, yet feared him as well, for every time she looked she saw Melody there at his side, his hand in hers.

Zusa walked down the hallway, glaring at any guard who looked twice at her. Morning had come, yet the tension remained. It’d been a long couple of years establishing Leon’s heir. With no remaining sons, illegitimate or otherwise, it’d be a terrible squabble among the scattered remnants of the Connington family. She felt anger directed at her in the guards, guards who had been treated and paid well, all of that potentially ended by her single thrust of a dagger through their master’s eye.

Alyssa lay on her bed, Nathaniel at her side, when Zusa stepped into the bedroom.

“Is all well?” she asked. Nathaniel glanced up at her, and she saw the exhaustion in his eyes, which were bloodshot and wet with tears. Zusa smiled at him, wishing she could lend him strength… not that she had much left to lend.

“I’ve known better days,” Alyssa said. A cloth was over her face, hiding the empty sockets. “The priests say they can do nothing. I’ve sent Terrance to find the finest glass-smith in the land. I may not be able to see, but I’ll have eyes, damn it, beautiful green eyes…”

She was crying, and no squeezing of her hands by her son seemed able to stop it. Zusa felt a burden growing in her chest. She wished she could say something, do something, to make it all better. But she could perform no miracles with her daggers and cloak.

“Nathan, I need a moment with your mother,” she said. Nathaniel instinctively held his mother tighter, and Zusa smiled to show nothing was wrong. “It is no worrisome matter,” she insisted. “I just wish a few words in private.”

“You can wait outside the door,” Alyssa told him.

Nathaniel nodded, then blushed upon realizing she couldn’t see it.

“Yes, Mother,” he said.

Zusa shut the door behind him, then turned back to Alyssa.

“He’s so frightened,” Alyssa said, putting a hand on her forehead. “I can’t blame him. Even with Stephen dead, he thinks the guards will turn on us at any second.”

“A wise boy to fear it,” Zusa said, sliding up beside the bed. “We should return to our own mansion whenever you are well. I would entrust your life to them no longer.”

Alyssa nodded. “I’ll tell Terrance to make the preparations.”

Zusa sat down, and she struggled to find the proper words. “I killed him,” she said. “Not just Stephen, but the man who gave him orders. I tried to make it painful, but I didn’t have time. I had to get back to you.”

Alyssa reached out her hand, and Zusa took it, pressed it against her cheek. “I’m sorry,” Zusa whispered. “I should have been here. I should have been faster, shouldn’t have gotten caught…”

“It’s not your fault,” Alyssa said. “I shouldn’t have been so… blind.”

She laughed, laughed even though she could hardly breathe, even though she sniffled from her tears, which soaked into the cloth. Zusa squeezed her hand tighter, then kissed her fingertips. “Not again,” she said. “I won’t let you ever be in danger again. I failed you before, but I swear to fix this. I swear I’ll find a way.”

“Forget me,” Alyssa said. “Nathaniel is all that matters now. His role in our dealings needs to be increased tremendously. Every vulture will be circling. If Nathaniel is to be my heir, he needs to take it now, and show Dezrel his strength.”

“But he’s so young…”

“And he’s endured more than most have in their lifetimes. Gods help me, I’m blind, and he’s lost an arm. The vultures won’t just be circling, they’ll be pecking at our corpses.”

Another bitter laugh. Zusa hated to see her so, but she also couldn’t deny her argument. Everyone would be searching for weakness now. Potential replacements for Nathaniel would come out of the woodwork.

“I’ll kill them all,” Zusa whispered. “Any challenger, any threat. I won’t lose you, Alyssa. I don’t think I could endure it.”

Alyssa reached out, and Zusa leaned close so she could wrap her arms about her. As they embraced, Alyssa kissed her neck, then pressed her forehead against Zusa’s breast. “You can’t kill the world,” Alyssa told her. “And they must come to fear Nathaniel, not you. Just promise that if something should happen to me, you’ll raise him as your own.”