David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

Gileas noticed the man entering the tavern but pretended not to. He kept his head down, staring at the table as if stuck in a drunken stupor.

“Strange place for a worm,” said the man as he sat down across from him.

“Soil beneath the wood floor,” Gileas grunted. “And you’re late, Senke. I’m pushing my luck as is.”

Senke chuckled as he glanced about the room. The serving wench seemed determined not to acknowledge his existence, so he decided against a drink.

“You told Thren of some rather valuable information,” Senke said, sounding vaguely amused by the idea. “I’m not sure if I believe you have it or not, but apparently my master is willing to give you a chance.”

Gileas handed over a yellow piece of paper. Senke flipped it open, read it, and then raised an eyebrow.

“This is her location?” he asked. “You’re sure?”

“Would I lie to the great and mighty Spider Guild?” he asked. “Spiders kill worms, or at least, they would if they fought.”

“Yeah, but worms eat the spiders after they’re dead.”

Gileas laughed as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Senke shifted in his seat. He hated dealings with the Worm. It always left him feeling dirty afterward.

“A good laugh is priceless, but my information is not,” said Gileas. “Where is my pay?”

Senke reached into a pocket of his long gray cloak and pulled out a small bag of coin. He tossed it onto the table.

“You’ll get the second half when the information pans out,” Senke said. Gileas snorted.

“Keep the other half for yourself, or donate it to some orphans. What I have is all I need to leave for a more, hrm, friendly environment? Once a few certain people are dead, I’m sure I’ll come back to sell you the rest of my little secrets.”

Senke shrugged.

“Your loss. I’ll find some orphanage suitably rundown to match your charming personality.”

Gileas laughed. “To think I’ll miss your wit,” he said.

“And to think I’ll miss your lies.”

Senke tugged at his hood in a mock salute, then left the tavern. Gileas nibbled on the ends of his fingers, waiting a minute or two to make sure Senke wouldn’t see him leave. He heard the door creak. He looked up. No one was there.

“Hrmph,” he said.

A dagger plunged into his back. He shrieked. The lovers in the corner dashed out the door, the guy struggling to pull up his pants and looking damn foolish doing so. The wench shouted something about no blades, but Gileas didn’t hear it. He twisted to one side, hoping to keep the blade from pushing in further, but then a hand grabbed his head and slammed it against the table. Stars swam before his eyes.

The dagger yanked out. Gileas clutched his arms against his chest, rocking back and forth as pain shot through his body. Warm blood ran down his spine.

“Hello, Vel,” he said as Veliana sat down opposite him. Twirling in her left hand was a bloody dagger, flecks of it splattering across the table. The tavern owner neared and started to speak, but a single glare from Veliana shut him up.

“This is guild business,” she said. That was all the tavern keeper needed to hear.

“I just saw a Spider Guild officer leaving the bar,” she said, when the man was gone. “What did you sell him, Worm?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Only lies and promises and empty air.”

She grabbed his hand and thrust the dagger through his palm. To his credit, he didn’t scream.

“Try again,” she said.

“You’re a bloody fool,” he said. “I wouldn’t have killed you. I never would have. So angry…”

“Look at me!” she shouted. She jammed a finger toward her scarred eye. “Look!”

The pupil was milky-white, the outer edges rimmed with blood. From her forehead to her cheek, the inflamed scar ruined whatever beauty she might have had.

“You think I give a rat’s ass if you meant to kill me or not?” she asked.

Gileas coughed. He felt like his back was on fire. With how wet his cough sounded, he wondered if she had pierced his lung. It wasn’t fatal, not yet…

“I can pay you, enough for a healer. They might not remove the scar, but heal the eye enough-”

Veliana yanked the dagger out and then rammed it back downward, this time penetrating his wrist. He screamed.

“What’d you sell him?” she asked. “You already sold me out to Thren. Who else did you ruin? What remains of my Ash Guild?”

Gileas laughed in spite of the pain it caused him.

“They’re hiding, Vel. Hiding. But worms crawl everywhere. Thren knows where they are now. He knows, and you’ll all die. He’ll have his plan, his stupid, idiotic plan.”

Realization hit Veliana like a cold fist in her gut.

“You told Gerand the truth,” she said. “You didn’t lie like we paid you. You told the king’s advisor the goddamn truth.”

Gileas’s black-toothed grin was all the answer she needed.

“You son of a bitch,” she said, her voice seething with rage.

“Who knows who Gerand’s told?” Gileas said. He coughed, and blood spilled across his lips. “Who knows what plans they’ve spun? The Kensgold will be a fun night. I can’t wait to watch.”

“You’ll watch nothing,” Veliana said. “You’re going to do Dezrel a favor and fucking die.”

She yanked her dagger out and thrust for his chest. The dagger punched through his clothes but pierced no flesh. They were empty, and already falling as if dropped from the ceiling. The clothes piled on the chair, looking like some strange joke. Veliana stared at them, her mouth open in shock. She had thought the first time she had been delusional from her pain and trauma. This time, she knew magic was at work.

She picked up his shirt and shook it. Nothing. She used her dagger to shift his trousers side to side. Still nothing. Curses on her lips, she turned to leave when something caught her eye.

Crawling on the floor toward a small crack was an eight-inch black worm. As it flexed, she saw a thin cut along its side.

“No way,” she said. No wonder he had been nicknamed the Worm. He’d probably given it to himself to mock every single person he dealt with. Every joke about living in mud, digging through walls, listening with ears clogged with dirt…it was all true.

It was almost to the crack. Veliana hurled her dagger, wanting to get nowhere near the strange creature. Purple fire swarmed around the blade, created by her meager magical talent. The dagger pierced the worm just above its midsection. It twisted and squirmed, its body cut in half. Still it crawled toward the crack, leaving its lower half behind.

Veliana crushed it with her heal. Innards spurted across the floor. She held in a wave of vomit. For some reason, it reminded her of when he had kissed her. Pieces of the worm sizzled in the purple fire of her dagger. She pulled it free, wiped it clean on her pant leg, and then sheathed it. It took a couple kicks to get the worm body through the crack. The carcass was shockingly heavy for being only a worm.

When done, she turned and saw the tavern keeper looking at her with wide eyes.

“Burn the clothes,” Veliana said as she tossed him Gileas’s bag of coins. “Consider that ample payment for keeping your mouths shut.”

With no time to waste, she hurried out the door. Everything was a mess. Whatever plans she had made with Eliora were shot. If the king knew of Thren’s plans for the Kensgold, then most likely the Trifect did too. Everything would change.

Before she could worry about that, she had to deal with her most pressing danger: Thren knew where the Ash Guild had holed up to hide. Once he found out, he would assault immediately. Felhorn had long learned to never let an enemy last a second longer than necessary. She ran a list of safehouses through her mind, trying to decide which one James would flee to first.