David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

Panic and anger swirled inside Ingram. If the accusation were true, they all deserved punishment, and he’d have no choice if he wished to save face. But that meant war, a war they could not hope to win without rapid, extensive aid from the King…

“Why would elves help Alyssa?” asked Egar, since it seemed the elves would offer nothing on the matter unless prodded.

“Because she’s the one who provided them a place to stay in the city,” Madelyn said. “I know, for it was a secret of my husband’s.”

That appeared to be the final nail, and all eyes turned to Laryssa. She looked like she too was holding back fury, her crystalline face starting to crack.

“Well?” Ingram asked. “Care to explain yourself?”

“What you say is true,” the elven princess said. “But we gave her no aid, for we did not wish to risk your wrath. We turned her away. Where she is now, we do not know.”

“Turned her away?” Madelyn asked. “She must have been furious.”

Laryssa glanced her way, then nodded. Ulrich clapped, as if thoroughly amused by the performance.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said. “I hope you don’t begrudge us for doubting your word, especially with possible imprisonment at risk. That is why we have taken appropriate measures.”

Ingram felt his heart skip a beat. Ulrich’s brother Stern crossed his arms and leaned back as if telling a story before a fire.

“As of now,” said Stern, speaking directly to Laryssa, “over a hundred men loyal to myself, and therefore loyal to Angelport, have surrounded the various homes and rooms Alyssa prepared for your stay. They have no orders to kill, and will strike only in defense. All they want is to search for Alyssa and this Watcher. Surely your fellow elves won’t object?”

Laryssa’s lower lip quivered as she spoke.

“I do not believe they will take kindly to such an intrusion.”

“Oh dear,” said Stern. “I fear any confrontation will not be taken too kindly by the commoners of the city. After all, this is a matter that does not concern you. Do elves now dare interfere with the affairs of men?”

Ingram gripped the table to steady himself, and it took all of his self-control to fight down his temper. He knew he was staring war in the face, and the damn Merchant Lords had provoked it beautifully. Worst of all, he couldn’t contradict their actions, otherwise he would appear weak before the people, and the merchants the strong ones willing to act. Everyone was conspiring against him. He just wanted a few acres of land for his villages to cut down without fear of retaliation, as well as give the elves a little deserved humiliation. Was that really so terrible?

“I feel this discussion is at an end,” Laryssa said, her entourage standing.

“I would beware the streets,” Ulrich said as they turned to leave. “I fear they aren’t a safe place right now…for anyone.”

Sildur tapped the hilt of his sword.

“We do not walk in fear,” he said. Without a bow or word of leaving, they exited the room to the sound of Ulrich’s mocking laughter. When the door closed, Ingram turned to the Blackwater brothers and slammed his fists against the table.

“Have you lost your minds?” he roared.

“You have always been intolerant of their meddling,” Stern said. “Yet now, when they harbor a murderer who threatened your life, you go soft? Their protecting him could be seen as a deliberate approval of his attempt, if not an act of war. Speaking of which…”

The two brothers stood, and they bowed low.

“We should see how things have progressed. I’m sure it went peacefully, of course. It’s not like the elves want conflict.”

“Of course,” Ulrich said with a wink as they left.

Ingram caught Madelyn whispering to her giant mercenary, Torgar, and then she too stood.

“There will be no compromise made until we know how this day ends,” she said, curtseying. “And if what Ulrich says is true, I would like to be in the safety of my home before the streets turn dangerous.”

With her gone, that left just Ingram and his two lords. He looked to them both, then shook his head.

“What just happened?” he asked.

“To put it mildly,” Egar said, leaning back in his chair and chuckling, “we’re fucked.”

“There’s still a chance this might blow over,” Yor cautioned.

“It won’t,” insisted Egar.

Ingram shook his head. He’d had enough.

“Both of you, send out riders. Every soldier you can muster, I want brought into the city. Claim it’s for quelling the riots.”

“Are you sure there are riots?” asked Yor.

In answer Ingram led them from the room and to the front doors of his mansion. From the steps, they overlooked the city. Already smoke billowed from two different districts.

“Yes,” he said. “I’m sure.”

Laryssa hated the ugly layout of the city. There was nothing beautiful to it, nothing natural. They built their straight roads, their square box homes, and stamped out every bit of life that might grow in the cracks. It was only if she climbed to the rooftops could she even see the stars, all because of their torches and lamps. More than ever she yearned for the forest, especially as her company descended the hill Lord Ingram’s mansion was built upon. Below, the city seemed angry and vile. Every pair of eyes that looked upon them burned with hatred.

They were only five, all armed, including Laryssa. She feared no ruffian or drunkard striking her. Humans were only frightening if in great numbers, and even then the people so far had only flung stones from hiding. Such cowardice. Laryssa preferred the company of wild dogs to the people of Angelport. At least they would bare their teeth and fight a creature that frightened them.

“Perhaps we should stay here in the mansion until things calm down,” Graeven suggested, but Laryssa would have none of it.

“The man is a swine dressed in silk,” she said. “I will not stay under his roof, nor will I fear his streets. We must see what fate has befallen our friends.”

At first things seemed somewhat calm, the people of the city no more hostile than normal. If not for a hint of distant smoke blotting the sky, she might have thought the two Blackwater brothers lying. It was only when they reached the first gate that they saw the results of a riot. Loud screams and chanting came from down the street, and the gathered guards peered underneath their helmets with frightened eyes. A group of lowborn humans were there with them, whether watching or waiting, she didn’t know.

“You picked a bad time,” one of the guards said to Laryssa as they pushed through the commoners. “I’d turn back, milady.”

“What is going on?” Graeven asked.

“What’s it look like? Something sparked a riot up north, and it’s spreading like wildfire. Seen at least two squads head down that way, and they ain’t come back. We’ve confined it at the gates, so far as I know. You go in there with them, though, you’re likely to get hit.”

“Let them try,” Sildur said. He drew his sword, which only deepened the guard’s frown.

“Naked steel ain’t a good idea. You don’t want this crowd smelling blood, sir. Trust me on that. Go back to milord Ingram’s mansion where you’ll be safe.”

“We cannot stand idly by while a mob rips apart our brethren,” Laryssa said. “Let us through.”

“And may Celestia watch over us all,” Graeven said to himself as the soldiers parted, and they entered the strangely empty streets. It seemed those not intent on burning or breaking were in hiding. With Sildur leading the way, they traveled toward their home. A boy ran past them, blood dripping from his nose. They passed a two-story building, it’s windows billowing smoke. Broken doors marred several shops. A group of three ran toward them, saw their approach, and cut down an alley. All three held torches. Laryssa could only wonder at the twisted logic of humans. Furious at their situation, and at the elves, why then turn it on their own homes, their shops and walls? Still, it was better that than on her own kind, as far as she was concerned.