David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“Thank you,” she said, sitting down once more by the fire.

Eliora did not respond. She moved about the camp, preparing a tent that had been left behind unassembled. From a pack nearby she pulled out some tough meat and handed it to Veliana. She wasn’t hungry but ate anyway, preferring the salty taste to the lingering offense of bile and Gileas on her tongue.

“Why did you save me?” Veliana asked.

Eliora glanced up as if the question were stupid.

“Because I wanted to.”

Veliana smirked. It felt like an answer she might have given.

“Be that as it may, I’ve sworn my life. I’d like to know what I’m sworn into.”

The faceless woman punched the last spike of the tent into the dirt with the hilt of her dagger and then stood. Without the wraps, her body looked far more relaxed and feminine. Her breasts actually had room to breathe, and Veliana couldn’t help but feel both jealousy and annoyance. To have that much beauty and hide it? What was the point in that?

The thought of beauty stung her deep. She ran her fingers along the bloody wound from her eyebrow to her chin. No one would think her beautiful now. She was a scarred freak. The eye, what was left of it, ached with every breath she took.

Eliora watched her trace her finger over the cut. Sadness sparkled in her green eyes.

“We are the faceless,” she said, looking away into the forest. Her short black hair fell across her face, hiding her pained expression. “There are only three of us, all priestesses of Karak, and all expelled. We are considered slaves to our sex, so weak and vile that we must live outside the temple with the rest of the sinful world.”

“What did you do?” Veliana asked. She forced her hand away from the wound on her face. It would do no good obsessing over it now.

“I bedded a priest,” Eliora replied. “We were caught. He was given lashes and a ten-year penance. I was forced to become one of the faceless.”

Veliana huddled closer to the warmth of the fire and let the words sink in. A beautiful woman caught in bed with a priest. Rather than deal with the issue, they forced her out, hid her beauty, and declared her vile. She felt anger stir within her stomach. How could she be sworn to become one of them? Why were the gods so cruel to put her in such a situation? Again she promised vengeance upon Thren and his son.

“Your sisters,” Veliana said. “They’re beautiful too, aren’t they?”

Eliora nodded. “They both are. Do you understand why I saved you? To see another woman hurt, humiliated, her beauty stolen by a man…I couldn’t bear it. Better that you become one of us.”

“One of the faceless.”

“My faith in Karak has not wavered,” Eliora said. She sat at Veliana’s side. Gently her fingers traced along the dagger-wound across her eye. “I will see what Pelarak can do about that. He is our greatest priest and strongest healer. I must also have his permission to fully induct you into our order.”

It was all insane. Thren might think her dead, or he might hear of Gileas’s failure. She couldn’t possibly leave James alone and vulnerable, could she? The guild needed her. James needed her. Karak was nothing. The Ash Guild was family.

“I can’t,” Veliana said. “Please. I belong to a guild, the Ash Guild. If I don’t hurry back to them, Thren might destroy everyone I know and love.”

Eliora tapped at her lips, her gaze momentarily distant.

“Thren?” she asked. “As in Thren Felhorn?”

Veliana nodded.

“Tell me everything,” she said.

P otts hated this part of his job. He could deal with Leon’s general slobbery, his impatience with setbacks, and even his temperamental, dangerous mood swings. What he could not stand, however, was informing him of current events while the man bathed in his wooden tub. Even though his rolls of fat effectively censored himself, that only seemed to make it worse. Two pretty maids worked him over with brushes, scrubbing ferociously against his skin in between splashes of hot water. Through it all, Leon giggled as if it tickled.

“I’ve been given word from the Green Castle,” Potts said after clearing his throat twice to get his master’s attention. “They’ve sent yet another wagon of wine from their stores, though they insisted we pay extra since we’ve already cleared out half of their vintage.”

“Tell them I’ll pay them that extra when I actually get the blasted wine,” Leon said, his giggles replaced by an annoying whine. “Those rogue bastards think to starve me of drink and food. It used to be just the city, but now the entire countryside is overrun with thieves and brigands. Perhaps we should send a whole army of mercenaries along the west highway. I’ll get my damn wine then.”

“Speaking of, uh, wine,” Potts said. “Our own stores have gotten uncomfortably low. My usual contacts within the city’s underground have refused to sell me even the cheapest vintage for any price, no matter how outrageous.”

“I told you they meant to starve me!” Leon howled. His fat shifted in the bath, splashing the two maids. They winced but held their tongues. Potts held his as well, not daring to say how he felt Leon could use a solid week of starvation.

“It appears Thren has begun a new tactic,” Potts said instead. “Instead of trying to bankrupt us, he does what he can to make our lives miserable. He’s disrupted Gemcroft’s caravans as well.”

“Make us miserable?” Leon fumed. “They live in guttershite and eat out of assholes yet they try to make me miserable? We must strike back. This nonsense has gone on far too long.”

“Perhaps, if you have a plan, you can bring it up at the Kensgold?” Potts suggested.

“Ugh,” Leon said, sinking deeper into the bath. More water splashed out the sides. The two maids were thoroughly soaked by now, but if they were disturbed by the contact with Leon and his dirty water, they hid it well. “I grow so tired of these Kensgolds. Didn’t they used to be every four years instead of two?”

“They did,” Potts said. “But when the Trifect declared war on the guilds, it was decided that meeting more often would be best for coordinating our efforts at destroying them.” The advisor coughed. “It was your idea, master.”

“Bah. Then I was an idiot.”

You still are, thought Potts.

“One last thing,” Potts said, determined to finish so he could leave before the thoroughly grotesque sight of Leon getting out of the tub, the water dripping down from his fat in a wide circle around the floor. The maids could never get the towels around him fast enough to suppress the horrible spectacle.

“What’s that?” Leon asked.

“It appears that the rest of the thief guilds have turned against the Ash Guild. They’ve taken nearly all of their territory except for a few streets.”

“Really?” Leon asked. “Did their guildleader die?”

“There doesn’t appear to be any good reason, not that I have heard.”

“Hrm.” Leon scratched his chin as he thought. “To have so many guilds turn on one implies a severe weakness. Thren must have turned on them. It’s the only thing that makes sense. Try to capture one of the Ash Guild’s members before they’re all dead. We might be able to snag ourselves an ally.”

“As you wish,” Potts said with a bow. He saw Leon grab the sides of the bath, preparing to stand, so he beat a hasty retreat.

K ayla sat alone in her room, feeling restless. For whatever reason, Thren had not taken her and Senke with him, only Will and his son. Senke had told her it had something to do with the Ash Guild, but would not elaborate. He had run off to do a spot of wenching, which left her alone, bored, and restless. Ever since rescuing Robert Haern from prison, her duties had dwindled down to nothing. She figured in a day or two she’d beg for something as simple as leading a caravan robbery, just so she could have something to do.