David Dalglish - A Dance of Blades

“I’m sorry,” Veliana said, sheathing her daggers and leaning against the wall. She sounded terribly out of breath. “I should go.”

“No,” Zusa said. “I have a question for you as well. Someone murdered Alyssa’s child. I must discover who.”

“Someone killed Nathaniel?” she asked. “I thought you’d persuaded her to move him up north and out of the city.”

“I had. She called him back. He died on the northern road.”

“It wasn’t the Ash Guild, I promise. I’d never let Garrick do something that low, and he’s not yet reached a point where he can plan something so large behind my back.”

“Are you sure?”

She paused a moment, thinking, and then sighed.

“No, I’m not. His control might be greater than I’ve realized. My opinion of him was far too low, and it has blinded me to his ambitions. He’s not content to be a puppet. Still, I can’t think of a reason why he’d have killed Nathaniel, nor how he’d even know the boy was on his way. Is there anything else?”

Zusa took her dagger and scrawled the symbol found at the caravan exactly as the soldiers had shown her.

“That,” Zusa said. “Tell me all you know of him, this…Watcher.”

“We first heard of him about three years ago, but honestly, he might have been killing us for longer. Given the amount of infighting, and the Trifect’s war against us, we probably blamed others for his early murders. But then we started finding these runes, an eye here, or the letter ‘W’. Perhaps he thought us dense, or his confidence hadn’t grown yet. Either way, he started killing more, and leaving his marker larger, clearer, and often in blood. He kills thieves of all guilds, with seemingly no preference. Every guild has accused the others of secretly harboring him, but we’ve never had an ounce of proof. Whoever he is, he has a profound hatred of all thief guilds, and he’s also incredibly good. Far too many have died by his hand, and those who survive can only speak of a face shrouded in shadow and hidden by a hood and many cloaks.”

“Has he ever attacked the Trifect?” Zusa asked.

Veliana shrugged. “If he has, we don’t know about it. Not that any would tell us. But if this is the first you’re hearing of him, then I doubt he’s struck at the Gemcrofts before.”

Zusa frowned, for this didn’t match up with the surrounding events. Why would this Watcher turn on them if his enemy was the thieves?

“I must find him,” Zusa said. “Is there anything you know that can help me?”

“Find him? What for?”

“He killed Alyssa’s son. I must give my lady her vengeance.”

“If the Watcher killed him, something else is going on. Perhaps he thinks you’ve secretly colluded with one of the thief guilds. Maybe he was confused. Or maybe he’s just insane and out for blood. We know nothing of him.”

“Regardless the difficulty, he is my prey, and must be found. My honor is sworn upon it.”

“Then I wish you luck,” Veliana said as she sheathed her daggers and swung her cloak over her shoulders. “Many have tried, and no lead we’ve ever found has panned out. He might as well be a ghost. If you wish to find him, your best bet is to scour the streets at night and listen for the sound of combat. If you don’t catch him in the act, I doubt you ever will.”

“Will you not stay, practice your spells?”

“I should be going. Deathmask seeks his answer, and I must prepare until then.”

“Good luck,” Zusa said, bowing. “May you make the right decision, and in time, find peace with my lady and her family.”

Veliana pushed open the door, and as the chill wind blew in, she sadly shook her head.

“Long as Thren Felhorn lives, this war will continue. Too many fear him, and many more live in the palm of his hand without ever knowing. He’s a bitter, angry man. Sometimes I think all of Veldaren will burn before the end.”

“Perhaps it is not Garrick you should plot against, but Thren,” Zusa said.

Veliana’s smile turned bitter.

“We did, once,” she said. “I’ll see you next week. Safe travels.”

“To you as well.”

Zusa had hoped discussing with Veliana would illuminate matters, but instead it made things worse. An assassin killing thieves for several years, and not once had any of the guilds discovered his real identity. Who could be that skilled? And what had drawn that skill against her lady? What would happen if she did find him? Did she have the ability to take him down?

Only one way to find out, of course. Dawn was fast approaching, less than an hour away. Still, in that last twilight moment, perhaps she might find word of the Watcher.

She scoured the rooftops, an eye always kept on the streets. She saw several deals, a whore earning her pay, and two men dying so their killers might make off with their gold. No Watcher. Up on the rooftops, she was alone.

“You must have left people alive,” Zusa whispered to herself as she watched the sun rise. “You’ve hurt many opponents, though none will work together. But I am not one of them. I will piece it together. I will discover who you are. Perhaps, in time, I will be the one leaving my mark for you.”

She returned to the Gemcroft mansion, and in her room she slept through the day. Come nightfall, she had an underworld to interrogate.

*

H aern woke to the sounds of the door banging open against the snow. A sliver of light lanced across his eyes. Dawn was fast approaching, but the snow magnified what little light crept over the horizon. He rubbed his eyes, then looked again. Matthew was dressed in many layers of coats and furs, and his two older sons were dressed similarly. A glance around showed the daughters still slept.

“Need to break the ice so our cattle can drink,” Matthew explained, keeping his voice low so not to wake the others. “Forgive me, but it’s an early morning here on the farm.”

“Forgiven,” Haern said, rising. He pulled his cloak tight about himself. He needed to piss, and he wasn’t looking forward to the excursion in what little clothing he had.

“Here,” said Matthew, tossing him a coat. “It’s an extra, and with what you paid me, you certainly deserve it. I have a feeling you won’t be staying ‘round much longer.”

“Your feeling is right,” Haern said, inspecting the coat. It was old, the fur too faded for him to accurately guess what animal it had been made from. Still, the lining remained intact and well-cared for. He slipped it on and nodded his thanks.

“Come on,” Matthew said to his boys. “Let’s go. My wife’s in the kitchen cooking if you’d like a bite to eat, Haern.”

“I would, but let me take care of other things first.”

When he came back inside after finishing his business, he passed through the curtain into the kitchen. Sure enough, the lady had cooked him a bowl of oatmeal and flavored it with honey.

“Thank you,” Haern said, accepting the bowl and using his fingers to scoop it into his mouth. “What is your name?”

She kept busy scrubbing and tending to the rest of breakfast, all so she could avoid looking him in the eye.

“Evelyn,” she said.

“Thank you for the meal, Evelyn. How fares the boy?”

“I looked in on him while you slept. His fever still burns, and don’t think he’ll get to keep that right arm. Don’t worry, though, if it comes to that. I’ve done it before, and not just on animals. For most my neighbors, I’m the closest to a healer we got.”

“Your husband explained my request?” Haern asked.

She finally looked at him, and he liked the strength he saw in her.

“He told me enough, and I have a brain to figure out the rest. We’d have taken him in without the coin or need for threats. I pity the life you’ve led if you thought either was necessary.”