David Dalglish - A Dance Of Death

But as the patrol passed, he heard something that struck him as strange, so much that he snuck down to the streets and followed: gold bounty. They called for all interested to head to the square, and Haern diverted his path. At the gallows, a handful of men gathered, and by their dress Haern guessed them various mercenaries, as well as a few curious peasants eager to share what they’d heard with their friends over drinks. A messenger stood on the wood platform, looking thoroughly miserable in the rain. He kept a sealed scroll underneath his cloak, protecting it best he could.

“Any word what this is about?” Haern asked, sliding up to one of the regular folk.

“They ain’t said yet,” the man answered, scratching at his neck. “But sounds like the reward’s plenty, so it’s got to be big, right?”

“So it’d seem.”

They’d set up two torches burning on either side of the raised platform, and both flickered and died as a sudden gale blew through them. The messenger cursed, barely holding onto the scroll. Looking like he’d had enough, he opened it and began hollering at the top of his lungs.

“Having been given sufficient proof, milord Ingram Murband declares Alyssa Gemcroft an enemy of both the elves and Angelport, having been responsible for the grievous attack on Laryssa Sinistel of Quellassar. A reward of twenty acres of Ingram’s land, to be done with as he or she would please, will be given to whoever brings Alyssa to the city guard. No reward shall be given if she is dead. Another ten acres of land is offered for the man known as the Watcher, who serves Alyssa, and carried out the attack. Reward will still be given if brought his corpse. So orders our lord of the city, may the gods protect his name.”

Haern’s jaw fell open as the news spread like lightning through the crowd. What madness was this? Fading away into the dark alleys, he ran back to the temple. Logan was waiting for him at the door, letting him in and handing him a dry cloak to wrap about his body.

“The rain letting up?” the young man asked.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Haern said, looking for and finding Alyssa sitting on a bench at the very front. Beside her lay Zusa, wrapped in blankets. She slept. Logan lingered nearby, polishing the altar and dais, as Alyssa nodded in greeting.

“Her convulsions have stopped,” she said as he took a seat beside her. “I think the Violet’s finally leaving her body.”

Haern nodded, glad but unable to think much of the matter, not giving what he’d just heard.

“Alyssa,” he said. “Ingram just put a bounty worth twenty acres on your head.”

Her jaw clenched, but she held her reaction well.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I assumed Madelyn would try to turn him against me somehow.”

Haern shook his head, and he fought to keep his fury down.

“It’s not that. It’s Laryssa. He’s claiming you’re responsible for her attack.”

“But why…no, she can’t possibly think I’d retaliate, not even for what she did.”

“It seems she does, and they claim I was the one to attack at your command. We have prices on both our heads.”

She sat back, stunned, and grabbed Zusa’s hand as if on instinct.

“What do we do?” she asked. Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “What can we do?”

Haern shook his head.

“This whole city is rotten. I don’t know what’s right. I don’t know who tells truth or lies. Let us leave. Forget vengeance on the Wraith. Once we’re back in Veldaren, you’ll be safe from Madelyn’s madness and Ingram’s guards. Let this city meet its own fate.”

“Even if that fate is war?”

“This city will have war no matter what we do! They run toward it with open arms. Do you think we can convince the elves to ignore the lynch mobs that tore their kin apart? Do you think we can convince the Merchant Lords to abandon their greed? Do you think we can make Ingram humble himself before the elves and take their side in these disputes?”

“We must do something!” Alyssa stood, as if sitting were too much for her anger. “I won’t let all of the Ramere descend into chaos. Thousands will die, and call me greedy if you will, but I cannot lose the trade, the ships, the farmland…War in the south will cause irreparable harm to the Trifect, and already we limp on decaying legs. We helped create this mess, and we will fix it. Now think! Why would Laryssa or Ingram think you were to blame?”

“The eye,” Zusa said, slowly sitting up. “And your yelling is bad for headaches.”

Haern felt her words pierce his heart with ice. Of course, his symbol. Knowledge of it wasn’t common, and he himself hadn’t used it since ending the thief war years before, but at least one person knew. The man who had used that same symbol before.

“The Wraith,” he said. “It has to be. He wants this whole mess brought to a head, and now he’s found a way.”

Alyssa fussed over Zusa a moment, who pushed her away.

“He’s attacked the elves before,” Zusa said. “You must find him, Haern. Give him to the elves, and let them take all the years they need to drag out a confession. If we clear Alyssa’s name, we might stop all of this.”

She made it sound so simple, but Haern knew it wasn’t. Finding him would be close to impossible, and as for defeating him…

“And what about you?” he asked her, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him.

“The merchants have overstepped their bounds,” Zusa said. “We must make them fear us, fear the fate awaiting them if they force Angelport to war.”

She stood on unsteady feet. Alyssa pulled her back down to the bench, and the faceless woman could not resist.

“You’re still weak,” she said. “Rest another day. We’re safe here.”

“Can the city spare another day?”

Haern frowned, and he swung his arm in a circles. Nole had done well healing his shoulder, and he finally felt like he might fight at full strength. Perhaps the city could wait, as well the merchants, but the Wraith…

“I’ll find him,” he said. “Even if I have to tear Angelport apart until I do.”

It was a hollow promise, for the city was an enormous place, but he had a feeling the Wraith would be looking for him. Looking to see if he’d join him. Part of him still wanted to. But if they were to have peace, and clear his name, he’d have to take him down.

Haern reached into Alyssa’s pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins.

“Where are you going?” she asked as he headed for the door.

“To buy new swords.”

Ambassador Graeven waited outside the city, in the same spot where Eravon had been killed. It only seemed appropriate. No tents this time, just a small fire to show his position. The rain had stopped, but thick clouds remained, convincing the elf it was a brief, but welcome, respite. Hour after hour came and went, and patient as ever, he let them pass until at last his guest joined him at the fire.

“Greetings, Scoutmaster,” Graeven said, bowing. “Where is your magnificent horse?”

“I feared Sonowin would attract too much attention,” the other elf said, and he bowed low to show his respect. His hair was brown and long, carefully cut and braided so it would not disrupt his vision. His clothes were a camouflaged mix of greens and browns. When he walked, he made not a sound, and it seemed even the grass hardly noticed his passing. He was Dieredon, Scoutmaster of the Quellan elves, and one of their greatest trackers. Hanging from his back was an enormous bow, with which his skill was legendary.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Graeven said. “The city has grown violent as of late, and I have need of your skills.”

“So I have heard. Where is Laryssa now?”

“We’ve smuggled her out of the city for her own safety. Ceredon’s ordered her to return to Quellassar, as is best. I will remain in charge of our negotiations, which brings me to why I need you.”