David Dalglish - Cloak and Spider

He turned, knelt before the two so they might see eye to eye. His presence held Thren captive, the strength of his will a frightening portent of all to come.

“In the coming days, you will discover whatever limits your body had were merely lies,” he said. “In the coming months, I will subject you to what other men might call torture. In the coming years, you will learn to how to bring death to the invincible, how to wield a blade with the skill of a god. Every king must have his heirs, and I will have heirs worthy of my legend. You will know pain, you will know fear, and at times you will cry out for death to spare you.”

Muzien stood, beckoned them with his blackened hand.

“Never forget,” he told them, “that the door is always open. Never forget, my children, that in your time of suffering, you chose not to step through it.”

“This feels like a lot of effort for a simple party,” Marion Lightborn said as the carriage rolled through the crowded streets of Mordeina. “Will it really be as dazzling as you say?”

Kyle Garland sat opposite her in the carriage, and he gave her a patronizing smile.

“How many times must I tell you, it is not a simple party.”

Marion shifted the length of her skirt, made of a fine red silk that came to a stop just above her knee. With her sitting, it had pulled even higher, and she caught Kyle stealing glances, no doubt hoping to see beyond the dark skin of her thighs.

“Let me count,” she said, putting a hand to her chin and pretending to think hard. “At least twice a day the past month you’ve bragged about how great this Kensgold thing will be, at least three times a day told me of its amazing importance. Oh dear me, I fear my little head will not be able to count that high, after all.”

Kyle shifted in his seat, never comfortable when he was being mocked no matter how lightly. He ran a hand through his long dark hair, a nervous tic of his.

“My dear, if you just want me to put your nerves at ease, I assure you that the evening will be worthwhile, even for you.”

Marion batted her eyes at him.

“What do you mean, even for me?”

“I mean that I go because it is expected,” Kyle said. The carriage hit a bump, and the jolt knocked his right elbow against the side. He sucked in air through his gritted teeth, then let it out with a curse. With his left hand he rubbed a ring on his right forefinger, one containing an enormous ruby set into an elaborate band of gold, the rubbing another nervous tic of his.

“Expected,” he resumed. “When all the families of the Trifect gather, it’s career suicide not to attend if at all possible, this one in particular. It’s the first Kensgold held west of Neldar, which means anyone with even the slightest reputation will be begging, borrowing, and stealing to make it inside. I’ll have a dozen new trade contracts for our finest leaf and wine shipping east within a week of the Kensgold’s end. Perhaps for you it’ll be…duller, but at least the food will be good, and each Kensgold has a wide variety of entertainment. Surely a juggler or storyteller…”

“A juggler!” Marion interrupted. “Praise the gods, I might get to see a juggler!”

Kyle laughed, and he pinched her knee.

“Complain all you want, but I assure you, tonight will be fun.”

Marion smiled at him.

“I hope so,” she said.

The carriage rolled to a stop, and Kyle glanced out the window.

“We’re here,” he said. “Do your best to behave.”

“Behave?” Marion asked. “And to think you always seem to be trying your best to have me not behave. Or is that only for the bedroom?”

The man’s neck flushed red, and he did not respond as he opened the door. After stepping out, he turned and offered her his hand. She took it, then curled her arm around his and nestled her neck against his shoulder. Her dark hair spilled down along the front of his white sleeve, a startling contrast. When she stole a glance at him, he looked so pleased his head was ready to burst. Marion knew what she was to Kyle, a pretty decoration for him to show off to his friends and colleagues, but it didn’t bother her much. Stealing a glance at her own red dress, she had to admit she made a fine decoration, one to be envious of indeed.

“Master,” said a voice behind them. “The guards are many, and the area safe, so long as you stay within the walls.”

Marion turned to see Kyle’s two private bodyguards hopping down from the driver’s seat of the carriage after a servant rushed up to take over. Both were female, and wore tightly fitted black shirts, slender pants, and thick boots of dark leather. Strapped to their sides were long curved daggers. Most disconcerting to Marion were the featureless masks covering their faces, smooth and white. Only their eyes were visible, and it was the eyes Marion used to distinguish between them. One had green eyes, the other brown. It was Green who was talking, her voice slightly muffled by her mask.

“I’m glad you approve,” Kyle told her. “Though I still want you close. The last thing I need is someone eyeing the Heart of Ker and getting sticky fingers.”

“You worry about nothing,” Marion said, squeezing his arm and urging him along. “Now come. I want to find myself a juggler.”

The three wealthy families of the Trifect all lived in the east, but they still owned many homes and businesses all throughout Dezrel. Before them was a great mansion owned by Maynard Gemcroft, the place alight with torches burning behind colored glass. The grounds between the wall and the mansion were filled with men and women talking, all in their very finest outfits. Servants flitted everywhere, carrying a seemingly endless horde of things to eat and drink. At the gate Kyle bowed to the middle-aged advisor who checked everyone’s invitations.

“I don’t need to present my invitation, do I, Bertram?” Kyle asked when it was their turn.

“Lord Garland,” said Bertram. “No, you do not, for I sent yours personally. It is your wine I prefer above all others when a hard day needs to be put behind me.”

He beckoned for them to pass through the soldiers guarding the gate, and together the group of four passed. Once they were inside, Marion saw Kyle’s eyes begin to wander. At first they went to the older men scattered about, wealthy traders who had built vast empires across the land of Dezrel. After that to the many women wearing silken outfits that more often than not enhanced, and hid little of, their curvaceous bodies. They clung to the arms of their men, mouths closed, eyes alight, as if being in their very presence was a blessed gift. It made Marion sick to think that she was one of them.

“Is this where we part ways?” Marion asked as Kyle led her to a group of five men standing about the lawn, drinking wine from tall glasses.

“Are you sure?” Kyle asked, looking her over. She could tell he wasn’t sure she’d been at his side long enough for her to be easily labeled as his, but she did not care.

“Yes,” she said, gently slipping from his arm. “Enjoy your talks and deals. I need a bit of wine in my stomach before I will enjoy my time.”

She made her way through the crowd, careful not to brush against anyone. The last thing she wanted was for someone to initiate conversation with her. Finding the nearest platter of wine carried by a servant, she snagged a glass and then looked for a table somewhere. There were dozens set about, mostly occupied, but she found one in the corner with only two seats, both empty. Sitting in one with her back to the wall of a garden, she sipped her wine. It was weaker than she’d expected, but at least it tasted phenomenal. Distant music of violins and cellos wafted over her, and she closed her eyes to try to relax.