David Dalglish - A Dance of Blades

Once they were out of sight, he came back inside and plopped into a chair beside the fire. His upper body started shaking, and he closed his eyes to try and hold back a sudden bout of nausea.

“We’ll bury the armor until we can sell it in the spring,” he told Evelyn, talking in hopes of stopping the violence replaying over and over in his head. “Same with their swords. We’ll unbridle the horses and send them on their way, hopefully far, far away. As for…you know…we’ll give ‘em to the hogs.”

His wife made a soft cry. He shuddered but forced himself not to dwell on it. They’d do what they must, no different than ever before. Opening his eyes, he looked to the curtain, wondering if that blasted boy still slept, or if he were in there cowering in terror.

“Not worth the coin,” he said, just before leaning to one side and vomiting.

A squad of twelve mercenaries escorted Alyssa’s litter through the city. Anyone foolish enough to linger in their way received a quick slap with the flat edge of a blade. They stuck to the main streets, where thief guild presence was weakest, the town guards too numerous to act rashly. The distance from her estate and Leon Connington’s new mansion was far enough to be a bother, but she felt it necessary to carry her message in person. She pulled her fur coat tighter about her and waited.

When they arrived, she stepped out and surveyed the place. She’d been there once, just before completion. After Leon’s old mansion had burned down during the Kensgold, he’d rebuilt with security in mind. An enormous fence of stone surrounded his estate, perfectly smooth so there’d be no handholds. There were no trees in the yard, either, nothing to hide behind. Four men stood at the gate, wearing ornate platemail and wielding halberds.

“Greetings, lady Gemcroft,” said one. “Please wait while we summon an escort. Make sure you stay on the path, for an errant step might prove deadly.”

Bertram wasn’t there, but if he had been, Alyssa could imagine the scowl he’d have given them. For her part, she was willing to understand Leon’s need for safety. Perhaps he took it too far, but it had been his belongings destroyed in the fire, not hers. Ten armed men came from the front door, approaching in neat formation along the cobblestone path leading across the yard. When they reached the front, they unlocked the gate from the inside and ushered Alyssa through.

“Your men must stay outside,” said their leader when her mercenaries started to follow. Alyssa paused, gave him a glare to show she didn’t appreciate being told just before entering, but then accepted. If she felt safe anywhere other than her mansion, it was there. An assassin would have to be a lunatic to risk the guards, the wall, and the various traps hidden underneath the grass. The heavy boots clacked across the stone as they entered.

Leon waited just inside the door, a large smile on his face. Everything about Leon was big: his face, his eyes, his home, and most of all, his belly. Hugging him was like hugging a giant sweetroll wrapped in silk. Only his mustache was thin.

“I’m so sorry about your loss,” he said as he let go. “I’m sure he’d have been a fine man, very fine. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” she said, doing her best to smile and forget how he’d always glared at Nathaniel, as if he were a cockroach, whenever he was in his presence. “Bertram is busy finishing the arrangements for the funeral, so I thought it best I got out of his way.”

“Of course, of course. It’d do you well to get out of that stuffy old mansion, anyway. Always told your father he should fire whoever was in charge of his maidservants. Every breath in there was like licking the bottom of a dustbin.”

Another smile. Her last head maid had died coughing and gagging on blindweed. She had a feeling Leon would have approved such a fate for letting his sensitive allergies be affected.

“Have you any news from Laurie?” she asked as they walked toward-of course-the dining area.

“Ever since the Kensgold he’s refused to come to Veldaren,” Leon said as he took her hand. “I think your father’s death spooked him more than a little. Such cowardice is inappropriate for a member of the Trifect, but what can you do?”

“Surely someone who lives with an army of mercenaries behind great stone walls has no reason to question another’s bravery,” she said, unable to hold back.

Far from upset, Leon only gave her a wink.

“It’s one thing to be brave, and another to be stupid. I won’t die to a garrote in my sleep. Neither would Laurie, if he took proper precautions.”

“Maybe staying in Angelport is his precaution.”

Leon laughed. “True, maybe it is. Still, he is going a little overboard, eh?”

They sat down at one end of a luxurious table, easily able to seat more than eighty people. Alyssa watched the servants parade a variety of treats and pastries before her. She didn’t feel like eating, but it seemed Leon would keep them coming forever until she picked. Deciding on a small flour cake topped with strawberries, she scooped a tiny bit with her spoon and ate. The flavor awakened a dormant part of her, a tiny voice reminding her of her own needs and not of others. Her stomach grumbled, and she wondered how long it’d been since she ate. She was horribly tired, and in the fog that was her mind, she couldn’t remember.

The rest of the cake vanished as she wolfed it down. Leon smiled at her and tore into his own assortment of desserts, as if he’d known all along she’d been neglecting her appetite.

“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” he said, sipping some wine from a silver goblet, but only after a servant tasted it first. “Just say the word, and I’ll let your men at the gate know they can go home.”

“Thank you, but I’d still prefer my own bed. Besides, the funeral is tomorrow, and I should make sure Bertram has everything in order.”

“Where will it be held?”

She sipped her wine. The alcohol tasted strong, and she pushed it away, fearing how much it might affect her.

“My mansion. We’ll bury Nathaniel in the garden out back.”

“Beautiful.”

She debated, then called over a servant and asked for another pastry. The woman bowed, and moments later, returned with a cake topped with blueberries. Alyssa wondered how much Leon spent keeping such stock deep in winter. Did he have some secret to keeping it from spoiling? She made a note to ask him, once she had more free time on her hands.

Halfway through her second cake, she decided she could delay no longer.

“There is another reason I’m here,” she said, pushing her food away. “I will soon be putting something in motion, and I’ve come to ask for your cooperation.”

“Oh?” he said, that one word pregnant with meaning. The way he lifted his eyebrow, the way he let his lips linger in an ‘O’ shape…he knew he was about to be asked something he wouldn’t like. He could read her too well. She had to improve. She felt like an imposter walking in her father’s shoes. No wonder Bertram always harped on at her to host more, visit more. Her social skills were lacking their proper finesse.

“We’ve crossed ten years of this nonsense with the thief guilds,” she said. “I once thought my father inept, but I’ve come to see how difficult it is finding these rats and bringing them to their proper fate. Worse, I thought we could make peace, at least, to reach a level of understanding. There will always be those who steal from us, but neither of us should fear death in the night. They live off our trade, after all, and should that trade end, they will be like leeches sucking a corpse without blood. But this won’t happen. Though it may sting, we must pull them off. My son died because we have gone soft, tried to pretend they would finally calm down and leave us be. No longer.”