David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

“Fascinating. Put on some damn pants so we can talk. I’ll be waiting on the deck.”

He shut the door. Darrel scratched at his beard, waiting for his alcohol-filled brain to remember just where he’d tossed his pants before the two women worked their magic on his dick. Finding them behind him on the bed, he pulled them on, tightened the strings, and grabbed a nearby shirt. He was still looping his arms through it as he stepped out onto the deck of his new ship. New to him, anyway, for the diminutive vessel had sailed for many years, and only recently been purchased as a replacement for the Fireheart.

“A real beauty, ain’t she?” he said, seeing Ulrich looking over his ship.

“The best I could do at such short notice,” the merchant said, unimpressed with his sarcasm. “You’re lucky to even have a ship after what happened to my cargo.”

“You know damn well that wasn’t my fault. Three men keeping watch, and they died like they was still scabs. Every one of them knew how to kill, Ulrich, I assure you. Someone don’t want you getting the Violet. That Wraith fellow, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Ulrich bit at his lip, and the captain noticed the way the man’s hands were twitching.

“You need a drink?” he asked.

“I’m fine.”

He pulled a tiny sliver of something green from his pocket, popped it on his tongue, and then chewed.

“So what is it you’re here for?” Darrel asked, crossing his arms. He had no intention of watching his boss take little snippets of Violet, not when he couldn’t have any himself. Every shred of it had gone down with the Fireheart, burning away a fortune and nearly killing him in his sleep to boot. He’d woken by the sound of warning cries and dove into the water just in time.

“Laurie Keenan died last night,” Ulrich said, sniffing deeply. “Killed by the Wraith.”

“No shit? Who’s running the family now?”

“His wife.”

“Damn. What’s that got to do with me?”

Ulrich appeared to visibly calm, and he gave Darrel a wide grin.

“Things are coming to fruition, my dear captain, but we need to ensure everything goes our way. Madelyn’s scooping up every mercenary in the city, and throwing enough gold to break what little loyalty they had to us. We need a counter. I want you to start spreading orders to the rest of my ships, and my brother’s too.”

“What’s that?”

“No one leaves Angelport. I don’t care if the docks fill up, either. Beach along the coast if need be.”

Darrel tried to do the math, but knew that number was way beyond him.

“You’re talking a lot of waste and headaches,” he said. “Any foodstuffs will spoil, and that’s not touching the nonsense we’ll encounter in every damn port we arrive late to, assuming we arrive at all. The other merchants all right with this?”

“They will be. We need as many fighting men as possible, all loyal to us. It’s time this city learned who’s really in charge. Any friends you know, bring them on board. Plenty of men may not consider themselves sellswords, but they’ll still bleed and die for a bit of coin. I want them all.”

“What if someone leaves anyway?” Darrel asked.

Ulrich gave him a pleasant smile.

“Then all nearby ships are to board, tie up their crew, and burn them alive. No one leaves, Darrel. No one.”

Darrel shrugged.

“You’re in charge, so I’ll spread the word. What will you do in the meantime?”

“Why, give the Keenans my most heartfelt condolences for their loss, of course,” Ulrich said, smacking the captain on the shoulder before heading down the plank to the dock with a bounce in his step.

They’d scoured the entire mansion top to bottom, but of course the guards found no sign of the Wraith. Madelyn had spent the night among her servants, red-eyed and unable to sleep. They all thought she was in shock, and they were partly right. But one thing weighed on her mind, and she could discuss it with no one: what to do with Alyssa Gemcroft come morning.

When at last light shone through the windows, she bathed, dressed, and then met with Torgar outside her door. He grunted at her rough appearance.

“You look like shit,” he said.

“You look little better,” she snapped back. It was true, too. Despite his apparent lack of care, the mercenary had been a veritable demon ordering around the house guards, and to her shock, he’d even gutted two that dared mouth off, or slacken at their duties in searching the grounds. Both sported dark circles under their eyes, Madelyn from tears, him from lack of sleep.

“Sorry,” Torgar mumbled, and she could tell he was finally realizing she was the head of the household now. “He can’t be close, but we’ll keep looking, keep searching. I’ll find out how he got in, how he killed Laurie. That’s a promise.”

The certainty gave her a shiver, and she hid it with a half-hearted sob.

“Forgive me,” she said. “I have much to do.”

“Like what?”

Madelyn took a deep breath.

“Why, I must inform our guests of Laurie’s passing.”

She started walking down the hallway, and Torgar joined her in step. He reached for her elbow, to stop her, but pulled back at the last moment.

“Sorry for the boldness, Madelyn, but you should be resting. Alyssa’s already aware of what happened, I assure you. The whole damn city probably knows by now.”

Her glare made him take a step back.

“Hold your tongue,” she said. “I will do as I please, do you understand me?”

Absently he nodded, and he looked to her as if seeing her for the first time. Scowling, she continued onward. She felt herself balancing on a knife’s edge, and her outburst was a dangerous misstep. If she didn’t play the grieving widow just right, people might start asking questions, might come to certain realizations that would end with her head on a pike, or in chains before the other leaders of the Trifect. Given the respect Laurie commanded from their house guards, even they might turn on her if they knew the truth.

“Forgive me,” Madelyn said, trying to soothe things over. “I’m still not comfortable with the thought of replacing Laurie, especially when it comes to the Trifect.”

“Of course,” Torgar said, but he didn’t sound too understanding. Forcing him out of her mind, she continued to Alyssa’s room. She felt her anger rise as she pushed open the door. It was these three who had caused everything, who had forced her to do such…terrible things to her husband. Inside, she saw Alyssa already awake. She sat on the edge of her bed, with the other female servant of hers beside her. Blankets covered up to her neck, and immediately Madelyn could tell she was with fever by the way sweat covered her forehead and the pale color of her skin.

“Madelyn,” Alyssa said, standing at her entrance. “I heard and…please, I’m so sorry. Laurie was a great man.”

Madelyn nodded, unsure of what to say to that. Was her husband a great man? Perhaps once. But it wasn’t a great man she’d stabbed and torn to pieces. That was a shell, a disgrace to the strength she’d married. As she paused, she noticed Haern leaning against a wall, his arm and shoulder bandaged. It was him, she thought. He was the criminal, the killer. More than anyone, he was to blame for the Wraith’s ire against her family. Did his symbol, left at Taras’s room, not prove that?

“Lord Ingram will still be looking for you,” she told him.

“Let him,” said Haern.

“I only say this because it was my husband’s last command. He sought to protect you, and so I shall honor that, no matter how much it might sicken me. Angelport is a dangerous place, but at least here, you’ll be safe.”

“Safe?” said Alyssa. Her face was a calm facade, but Madelyn knew her mind was whirring behind it, trying to understand. It wouldn’t take her long, but still she had to put on the show. It was for neither of them, after all, but the rest of the household, if not all of Dezrel. The Trifect could not be seen killing one another.