David Dalglish - Cloak and Spider

“Is this seat taken?” a man’s voice interrupted her thoughts to ask.

“Perhaps,” she said, opening her eyes, “depending on who is seeking to claim it.”

Before her was a well-dressed man with short blond hair and intense blue eyes. He was young, seventeen, perhaps eighteen at most. His vest was slightly open, and she could tell through the thin white shirt beneath that he was fit. At his waist was a short sword, its sheath tied shut with a comically oversized white ribbon.

“It’s not the chair I’m hoping for,” he said, still standing. His voice was deep, commanding. “But the company instead.”

“Then have the chair,” she said. “We’ll decide on the company as we go along.”

He slid into the seat, then leaned back. The man openly stared at her, and she realized she’d not been told his name.

“Will you not introduce yourself?” she asked.

“My name is Thren,” he said. “Of a family of no importance, I assure you, but at the same time the importance of my being here is of the utmost. So here I am.”

“Marion Lightborn,” she said, and she caught how Thren’s eyes sparkled at the name. “I’m here with Kyle Garland.”

“Such a shame,” said Thren. “I was hoping you’d come alone.”

“Don’t fret,” she told him. “Pretty blue eyes like yours, you should find many women eager to vanish into one of Maynard’s rooms for a quick, private conversation.”

Thren chuckled.

“I could take one of those women as easily as I take this seat. But it’s not the seat I want, remember?”

Despite herself, she blushed.

“Indeed,” she said.

Thren looked over his shoulder, scanning the surrounding groups that chatted nearby. Their voices were like a buzz amid the music, which sadly was not loud enough to drown them out.

“Is that him?” Thren asked, gesturing toward a pack of six. Marion sipped her glass of wine.

“That it is,” she said. “The one in white, dark hair, gold on the cuffs. Such a fine dresser, my date.”

“The devotion you show your lover is one bards would sing of for years, should they ever spend time in your presence.”

Marion laughed.

“He is not my lover. I am willing to do much for wealth, but not that. Not him.”

Thren leaned toward her, and his smile widened at that.

“You impress me more and more,” he said.

“You give me too much credit. I’m still a whore. I’m just more selective about it is all. Besides, so far I’ve been given weeks of fine food, drink, and clothes to wear, and I haven’t had to spread my legs once. All I’ve had to do is promise to spread my legs come a day that is always soon, always just on the horizon.”

“That gem on his finger,” he said. “Is that the Heart?”

Marion finished her drink.

“Kyle’s pride and joy. The Heart of Ker, supposedly dug from the sands not long after the black spire crumbled and the sands were swallowed by the grasslands. Yes, that’s it. He keeps it with him always. The only things that stay closer to him are his bodyguards.”

“Bodyguards?”

Marion searched, gestured to one of them lurking along the wall.

“The women in the white masks.” She turned back, shook her head. “I wish you could see them sparring sometime. If they weren’t fucking Kyle every night, I wouldn’t think they were human.”

Thren let out another chuckle, and he rose from his seat.

“I think your lover has spotted me,” he said, bowing low. As he did, Kyle strode over, an unpleasant look on his face.

“Marion, my dear,” he said, kissing her cheek. His eyes never left Thren’s face. “I see you have made a new friend.”

Thren grinned.

“I wouldn’t call me a friend,” he said. “Good day, Lord Garland. Oh, and nice ring. Wouldn’t mind having one like that for myself.”

He sauntered off, as if amused by Kyle’s jealous reaction. Kyle slipped into the other seat, still glaring at Thren’s back.

“Who was that man?” he asked.

Marion let a small smile spread on her lips.

“He said his name was Thren.”

The blood drained from Kyle’s face. Up from his chair he bolted, forcefully grabbing her hand as he stared into the crowd.

“Thren?” he hissed. “As in Thren Felhorn ?”

“Perhaps, why?”

Kyle looked down at his ring, then clenched the hand into a fist.

“That man’s the Darkhand’s apprentice,” Kyle said, craning his neck. “He’s robbed several of my caravans already, and…damn it, I can’t see him anymore!”

His two bodyguards, who’d been lurking against the side of the mansion so their master could bargain and banter in privacy, saw his distress and hurried over.

“What is the matter?” asked Green.

“Thren’s here,” said Kyle.

“Bertram let him in?” asked Brown.

“Or he climbed the wall,” said Green.

“It doesn’t matter,” Kyle said. “We have to leave, now. He made his intentions quite clear. He wants my ring. He wants the Heart of Ker!”

“Calm down,” Marion said, pulling her hand free of his. “You don’t know that. He just said it was a nice ring. Even if that was Thren, and he’s here to rob people, there’s hundreds here whose purses he might take instead.”

“He was mocking me, you stupid woman,” Kyle said. “What do we do, what do we do?”

“We should leave,” Green said.

“There are two days left, I can’t leave yet,” Kyle said. “Safe, we have to get somewhere safe until I can talk to Bertram in private, let that idiot know his security isn’t doing its damn job.”

“To your room then,” said Brown.

Marion was more dragged than led through the party toward the main entrance of the mansion. The doors were propped open, and inside the halls she saw plenty more people scurrying about. Stairs immediately before her led to the higher floor, and Kyle took them without hesitating. At the top, an older man and his wife were coming down. Kyle paused for a moment to smile and intrude into their conversation.

“Bartholomew, old friend,” said Kyle. “Forgive my hurry, but I’d love to talk later. Tell me, which room is yours so I may visit when things calm down later tonight?”

“First on your left once you reach the end of the hall,” said the gray-haired man. “And try not to come too late. Once these old bones get a bit of alcohol into them, sleep doesn’t lurk far behind.”

Kyle laughed, and Marion did her best to put on a pleasing face.

“Come on,” Kyle said once they were past. Down the hall they walked, then turned left. At the first in a sea of doors they stopped, and Kyle checked the knob.

“Locked,” he said, stepping aside so one of his bodyguards could slide forward. She pulled two thin wires from her pocket and, kneeling down, inserted both into the lock.

“We’re breaking into the old man’s room?” Marion asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I’d rather think of it as switching rooms until I can be assured of my safety,” Kyle said.

With a click the lock tumbled, and the bodyguard pushed open the door. Together they stepped into a well-furnished room, the grand bed covered with seemingly endless number of blankets, great curtains furled before two large windows. Marion wrinkled her nose as behind her Green shut the door and relocked it.

“Smells like…something,” she said. “Like dusty clothes in a dustier closet.”

“For once will you stop complaining!” Kyle yelled, whirling on her. Marion took a step back, and she averted her gaze.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I fear I erred in talking to Thren and put us all in danger. Please forgive me.”

When he said nothing she took a step forward and kissed his cheek.