David Dalglish - A Dance of Blades

As the door to her room cracked, the hinges wincing in protest, she saw the Watcher tighten the muscles in his body. He was preparing an action. Time was nearing its end. She couldn’t stall. She had to make a decision, the one that felt right.

“If you did save my son, you have my most sincere gratitude,” she said. “I’ll agree to your terms. Zusa told me they were fair, and I trust her. But if find this to be a lie, I will bring the wrath of the entire Trifect down upon you.”

The Watcher grinned at the threat.

“I have a date with the Serpents, so I must be going. I’ll keep your threat in mind.”

He turned to the window and ran, leaping out as if a madman. Then she saw him catch the rope still hanging, and like a spider he zipped back up toward the roof and beyond her line of sight. Zusa gingerly rose to her feet, holding her bleeding arm with her hand.

“You know what you must do,” she said, and Alyssa nodded.

“Enough!” she shouted to the men trying to break down her door. “Stand back; he’s gone.”

Zusa went over and unlocked the door. Guards spilled in, their weapons drawn as if they refused to believe her. One checked underneath her bed, while several others looked out from the window and swore.

“Are you all right?” asked Bertram, pushing through them and hugging her.

“I’m fine,” she said. “It’s Zusa who was hurt, that’s all.”

Bertram didn’t even glance the faceless woman’s way.

“Thank the gods. I wish you would spend the night with the rest of the guards. It was folly to remain in here alone in the first place.”

“I said I’ll be fine. I’m safe here, if not for a bit of a draft.” She tried to smile, but her hands were shaking, and her smile trembled on her lips. And the night wasn’t done just yet.

“Leave me,” she told her guards. “Trust me, I will be safe.”

The men grumbled, and they looked none-too-happy, but she was their employer, and grumble was all they could do. Bertram waited until the rest were gone before bowing.

“Is there anything else you need from me?” he asked.

“Send for Arthur. I need his comfort.”

“Of course, most understandable.”

When he was gone, she looked to Zusa.

“How bad are your wounds?”

“I have suffered worse.”

“You’re bleeding all over my expensive carpet.”

Zusa smiled, then suddenly let out a rare laugh.

“I guess I am.”

Alyssa walked to the door, stopped, and outstretched her hand. Zusa put her dagger into it and folded her fingers closed.

“Tell Arthur to meet me in the gardens,” she said. “I’ll be waiting at Nathaniel’s grave.”

She hurried out her room and down the hallways. Every twist and turn was second nature to her, and she managed her way out to the darkness without alerting any of her guards, or more importantly, Arthur’s mercenaries. In her garden behind the mansion, she felt the cold air bite into her skin, felt the moonlight shine down upon her. A few minutes later Arthur arrived, his arms crossed over his chest to keep in his warmth. She turned and kept her hands folded behind her back, the hilt like ice in her fingers.

“Are you safe, my dear?” Arthur asked, immediately wrapping her in his arms. “I only heard the commotion at its end, and Bertram found me before I could dress.”

Alyssa smiled at him, but when he went to kiss her, she tilted her head away, her eyes falling upon the grave marked by a stone angel, the lettering at its feet reading ‘Nathaniel Gemcroft’.

“I just want to ask you something first,” she said, her hands still behind her as if she were shy.

“Anything.”

She looked into his eyes, watching his every reaction.

“Whose body is truly in this grave?”

The hour was late, and Arthur had not the slightest reason to expect the question. He paused, and for one second, she saw the guilt in his eyes, and the fear. What replaced them was cold cruelty. Without a word, he lunged for her throat with his hands. Before they could close around her, she stabbed him with Zusa’s dagger. As his blood spilled across her hands, he looked at her with wide-eyed shock. She could almost read his thoughts as they flashed over him. This can’t be happening, not to me, not when I played this so perfectly.

She twisted the dagger, taking pleasure in the pain that crossed his face.

“I wish I could make it hurt worse,” she whispered into his ear, as if they were still lovers. And then his body collapsed, and she stepped out of the way, letting go of the dagger. She stood there, breathing heavily, and watched the blood mix with the soil. When Zusa arrived moments later, Alyssa did her best to smile.

“At least I didn’t stain the carpet,” she said, but her smile was forced, and tears ran down her face. Zusa put her arms on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“Thank you,” she said.

“For what?”

“For willing to sacrifice yourself for me.” She gestured to the body. “What do you want me to do with him?”

“Hide him for now, until we know how Arthur’s mercenaries will react. But first…the Watcher’s plan…will it work?”

Zusa shrugged. “It’s possible. He’ll have difficulty doing it alone.”

“I can’t do this anymore, Zusa. If Nathaniel’s still alive, I want him here with me. I want him safe. Go with the Watcher. Help him against the Serpents, but the Serpents only. I won’t help him harm a member of the Trifect, but for at least one more night, perhaps I can bring revenge on the guilds that have harmed us so. They stole from me, them and Arthur. Bring ruin upon them as they deserve.”

“As you wish, milady,” Zusa said. Despite the wounds on her body, she offered no protest. Dragging Arthur’s body by the arm, she hid him behind a row of rosebushes, currently nothing but thorns and brown stems.

“I’ll inform Bertram,” the faceless woman said, cleaning her dagger. “He’ll need to replace Arthur, and perhaps much of the Hadfield family, in their rule over our mines. If he acts quickly, we might find that which was stolen.”

“Thank you. I could use a moment’s peace until then.”

Zusa returned to the house, and Alyssa followed. Their paths branched, she to her room, Zusa to Bertram’s. Once back, she collapsed on her bed, eager for the night to be over. Doubt gnawed at her, and she hoped she’d done the right thing. At least in time she’d know for sure. If Nathaniel lived, then everything would be justified. Everything would be made better. She thought of the carnage and chaos she’d unleashed upon the city, all in a desire for vengeance, only for it to be Arthur’s doing, not the thieves. Not directly, anyway, though it seemed the Serpent Guild had a hand in it. Hopefully the gods might forgive her.

The door opened, and in stepped Bertram. Not surprisingly, he looked rather upset.

“I can scarcely believe what Zusa told me,” he said. “Is it true? Did you kill Arthur?”

“I did, and I was right in doing so.”

The old man locked the door, then placed his head against the wood as if he needed its support to remain standing.

“He was our last hope,” he said. “We’ve squandered our wealth on mercenaries, destroyed the Gemcroft’s reputation, and now you ruin the only chance of bringing back any respectability to our name? Why?”

He turned to her, and the look in his eyes sent a chill running through her spine.

“Bertram?” she asked, sliding her legs underneath her. “Why did you lock the door?”

The old advisor pulled out a dagger from his bed robes. For a moment his cold rage turned to pity, and she wasn’t sure which infuriated her more.

“You had such potential,” he said, stepping toward her. “Instead you’ve denied your duties. You’ve led us to ruin, destroying everything I’ve worked my entire life for. If there’s any hope for us now, it is someone, anyone, taking over.”