David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“We deny righteousness in fear of our own safety, and in doing so forfeit the future of our children. We let them live in a dead tomorrow because we fear bleeding for it today. Ashhur has called you! He longs to forgive you! Will you accept it? Will you help remove the darkness from our city and let in the blessed light?”

As men and women surged forward, crying out for healing and prayers, Thren shook his head.

“He is too dangerous to live,” he said, glancing down at his son. “This city needs to be warned what this high-minded drivel will earn them.”

He tilted his head and scratched at the side of his nose. Kayla saw from afar and closed the distance between them. Instead of talking, though, she moved right past without saying a word. She bullied through the gathered throng to make her way to the front. Thren knelt down so Aaron could hear him through the rising volume of prayers and shouts.

“Kayla will handle Delius,” he said. “Kill his girl. Return to the safehouse when you escape.”

Thren slipped deeper into the crowd, nearing the front while staying on the opposite side of Kayla. Delius was kneeling near the center, his hands on the sides of an elderly woman. Both were crying. The scene felt strange and alien to Aaron. He had never been to any religious ceremony before, let alone a spontaneous congregation broken out in streets. The fervor of the people’s prayers was shocking.

He saw the girl standing behind her father. A hard knot grew in his stomach. Fingering the dagger Thren had given him, he eased his way around the back. The crowd was thinnest there, arranged single file with their backs to a wall. Aaron crossed his arms and watched the proceedings. He could see Kayla slowly working her way toward where Delius prayed with the others. Thren remained where he was, one row back on the opposite side.

Not sure what signal he should wait for, Aaron decided to be patient. The professional part of his mind knew the easiest time to kill Delius’s daughter would be in the chaos after Thren and Kayla struck. The Haern part of him only looked at the young girl in horror. She was so young and pretty, with red hair as fiery as her father’s. Whenever she smiled, huge dimples grew on her cheeks.

Aaron remembered Kayla returning to his room, the earrings in her hand. Rejected, and why? Because his father wanted him kept pure of women. Staring at the girl, he had an inkling as to why.

“Father,” he heard Kayla shout. “Father, please, pray with me!”

She was directly next to Delius. The man smiled at her and took her hands. He knelt beside her, and Kayla bent her head as if in prayer. They were huddled together, seeming somehow intimate and private although a massive crowd was gathered around them. Delius’s body shuddered. His head snapped back. Kayla was already running through the crowd before anyone realized what had happened. Delius collapsed on his side, the hilt of a dagger sticking out of his chest.

Shocked screams of two nearby women alerted the rest. The whole crowd fumed. Men turned this way and that, shouting for the guilty party, asking who had seen what. It was chaos, and if a few souls had seen what Kayla had done, they were not heard above the rest of the din.

Thren chose that moment to leap to the front, standing on a small stool that Delius had sat upon at times when he preached. He was already a tall man, and the stool made sure that the guildmaster towered over the rest. He put his fingers to his mouth and whistled sharply. More gasps filtered through the crowd as people realized who he was.

Aaron did not watch him. He was still staring at the girl and the horrified expression on her face. Twin paths of tears ran down her cheeks. When her lower lip quivered, he felt the cold stone in his gut turn into a blade.

“This fate,” Thren shouted, gesturing to the dead body, “belongs to any who dare turn against the rightful rulers of this city. Keep your righteousness out of our shadows. It has no place there.”

And then he turned and jumped. His hands caught the top of the wall and flipped him over, deeper into the trade districts of Veldaren.

The crowd exploded. Furious shouts coupled with heartbroken wails. Some gave chase. Aaron stood shocked, his hand clutching his dagger so hard his knuckles ached. Then the girl turned and ran. He almost didn’t notice. When he did, he shouted to her.

“Wait!”

He couldn’t believe how stupid it was to shout that. Trying to push his emotions down, he chased after. He didn’t know where she headed, or for what purpose. Perhaps she knew she was in danger. Perhaps she only wanted to get away from the massive crowd of strangers and get back to what might remain of her family.

She turned down a small alley in between two bakeries. The air smelled of yeast and flour. The girl ducked behind a large refuse container and didn’t reappear. Aaron realized she didn’t know she was being chased. She just wanted to be alone.

His dagger still sheathed, Aaron stepped around the corner of the bin and saw Delius’s daughter.

She sat with her back to the wall, her head buried in her knees, arms wrapped around her legs. Tears wet her dress and face. Her eyes were closed. Aaron could hardly believe what he saw. She was praying.

“Please, Ashhur,” he heard her say. “Please, please, oh god, please…”

He drew the dagger, never making a sound. His hand trembled as he held it. She would by no means be his first kill. All his victims flashed before his eyes, from assassins to guards to his own brother. All had been armed. All had lived a violent life. This girl had done nothing. Nothing. Gods damn it all, how could he kill her while she was praying? Praying!

Her eyes had still not opened. He had a chance. He had a choice. Kayla’s words flashed through his head.

…you must keep Haern hidden and safe. Keep him alive. Can you do that for me?

If he killed the girl, he’d be killing the part of him that he called Haern. The part that could love Kayla. The part that wasn’t wholly enmeshed with his father.

Aaron sheathed the dagger and stepped back out of sight. He leaned against the wall on the opposite side of the refuse bin. A soft sigh escaped his lips, unheard through her sobs. His eyes lifted to the sky, and there he saw Kayla watching him from the rooftops.

His heart leapt in his chest. His legs turned to water. How long had she watched? Had she even known his task in the bloody affair?

As if in answer, she blew him a kiss and then leapt away.

“Please, Ashhur, please give him back,” he heard the girl beg. “Ashhur, please, I can’t, I can’t…”

He ran, unable to listen to any more.

V eliana wondered what James would think if he saw her like this. Her eyes were blindfolded by one of Eliora’s wraps. She detected the faintest hint of sweat on it. She kept her hands at her sides, thankfully they weren’t tied. Eliora didn’t seem worried that she’d run off, but she had insisted quite strongly that she not. She had sworn her life to the faceless. If she tried to leave, her life would be forfeit, for it was no longer hers. It was Karak’s.

It seemed appropriate enough, so she thanked Karak that the streets were so empty. At least, they sounded empty. Eliora rushed her along at dizzying speed. If the other faceless women were nearby, she wasn’t aware of them.

Veliana’s knowledge of the streets was superb. With every turn she tracked where they were. A few times she had to guess, and the speed in which they hurried was no help, but no matter the twists and loops they made, she was certain they had traveled into the northeastern district.

They stopped. A gate rattled. Eliora yanked the cloth from Veliana’s eyes to let her see. Before her towered the temple to Karak, impressive with its black-marble and rows of pillars. Through a trick of her eyes, she swore she saw the lion skull hanging above the door turn and rattle its teeth.