David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

Eliora’s whole body went rigid. The wrappings around her face blasted off, revealing her beautiful face locked in a grimace of pain. Ash billowed from her nostrils and open mouth. Her entire weight hung by the fierce grip of his hand.

“Chaos…must…end!” screamed Ethric. He slammed her head-first to the dirt. As she gagged, trying to force air through a charred throat, the dark paladin picked up his sword.

“Karak will abandon you,” she said, her voice hoarse and weak.

“Don’t you see?” Ethric said, showing her the blaze of dark flame on his blade. “My faith is strong, and his presence is stronger. You’re the one abandoned, heretic.”

With one vicious stroke, he cut off her head. So hot was the flame on his sword that her body never bled, the flesh and veins cauterized by its heat.

“Two left,” Ethric said, leaving the body to rot. “Take her soul, Karak. Punish her as you please.”

Eliora had told him enough. Before he’d left, Pelarak had informed Ethric of the entire matter of Alyssa Gemcroft, the thief guilds, and Theo Kull. Tax collector Theo Kull. At first he’d thought Alyssa was secreted away somewhere with the other faceless. To be with Theo Kull meant servants, living quarters, and mercenaries. Pelarak had never mentioned them being inside the city, which meant only one thing…they lurked outside the walls, and a collection that large could not hide from him.

Ethric traveled south toward the gate, determined to see his business done before nightfall.

M adelyn Keenan sat in a small room that made her wagon outside the city seem like a castle. She had a plain wooden chair with no padding, a bare desk, and a bed stuffed with straw, not feathers. She wore a clean white dress given to her after she bathed. She still smelled the blood that had covered her hands and face.

Young girls had come and gone the entire day, attending to her needs. No one had ordered her to stay, but the unspoken desire seemed obvious enough. Madelyn lay on the uncomfortable bed, accepting pillows, warm tea mixed with honey, and the occasional girl coming in to ask if there was anything else she could do.

Calan had promised to send word of her safety to her husband, but Madelyn had not seen the high priest since arriving at the temple. He’d said something about attending others, and something more about patrols, and then he’d left. She wished she’d gone with him.

The walls were bare wood. The floor was stained a dark brown. There was nothing to read, nothing to do. She felt more a prisoner than she’d ever felt in her life, and this was in a place supposedly there to aid her.

At last, when she thought she could take no more, the door opened and Calan stepped inside.

“Forgive my intrusion,” he said as he closed the door. “The hour is late and I had much to do. So much, truly, that should have been done long ago.”

“And what is that?” Madelyn asked, not really caring but not ready to have the conversation turn to her. She wanted time to regain her composure.

“Protect the city,” Calan said, as if it should have been obvious. “There is much you need to hear, Lady Keenan. Things are changing, starting now. Will you listen?”

“I don’t have much choice,” Madelyn said, crossing her legs and trying to appear ladylike in the plain dress.

“You are free to go whenever you like,” Calan said. “Though I think you might have a difficult time convincing your remaining mercenaries. They quite like it here. Most appear to be sleeping well for the first time in many nights.”

“It’s the first night they won’t have to stand at their posts,” Madelyn said. “Of course they’re eager to laze about while taking my coin.”

Calan shrugged as if this were all irrelevant.

“I have been high priest for only a day, Lady Keenan, so forgive me if I say things you already know. My predecessor was a man named Calvin. Most brilliant when it came to the scriptures but most timid when it comes to your Trifect and the thieves’ guilds. He was adamant we stayed out of your war. We watched as each side killed hundreds of innocents, and then did our best to clean up the damage.”

“We have done no wrong,” Madelyn said, picking at the fabric above her knee. “The guilds are illegal, immoral, and a drain on this city.”

“As I’m sure the Trifect has done nothing illegal or immoral over the past five years,” Calan said, his round face darkening a little. “But I am not here to assign blame, Lady Keenan, only to talk.”

Madelyn made a small gesture with a hand, urging the priest to continue.

“Forgive me, milady. The days have been rough on us all. We are not used to such strife within our temple, but I’m sure that is something that you would care little about. Still, listen a little longer, if you will, for all of this will make sense by the time I am done.

“A few days ago a priest of our order, a man named Delius Eschaton, was killed in cold blood in broad daylight. We have little doubt that Thren and his guild were responsible, yet they are beyond the justice of the king. We almost convinced Calvin to act then, but Delius was going against our orders in his tirades against the guilds. To our shame, policy and rule won out over blood and loss. Then that night, we received his daughter secretly, for the guild had sent an assassin to kill her. From what we heard, he nearly succeeded.”

The old man paused for a moment. Madelyn rubbed her hands. The warm bath she’d taken had done wonders, but still she saw the faded red stain of blood deep in the cracks of her skin.

“I’m waiting for where this affects me,” she said when it seemed Calan was in no hurry to continue. She guessed he was waiting for something from her. The name Eschaton sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place it.

“Such callousness,” Calan said. “Still, I should not have expected different. That little girl, sobbing in fear as she said goodbye to the only home she’d ever known, was the final catalyst. When Calvin refused to act, we forced a vote and removed him as high priest. I took his spot, and that is what you should be clearly aware of, Lady Keenan.”

Madelyn tried to summon a bit of her noble contempt, regardless of her modest dress and loose, undecorated hair.

“The doings of old men in stone temples is none of my concern,” she said as she stood and crossed her arms. “I congratulate you on taking control, but it is time I left. I want to return to my home where I can be in safety.”

“Calvin’s removal and my ascension are the only reason you are alive, Madelyn,” Calan said. His voice had grown quieter, and though the words themselves were harsh, his tone was not. If anything, he sounded like he was talking to a foolish child. “Riots and looting have gone on long enough. We set out in an attempt to restore order, and that is how we found you surrounded by men of the Spider Guild. Tell me, do you think you’d prefer Thren’s company to the room you have now?”

“A prison is a prison,” Madelyn said, but her voice was already faltering. The old man had saved her, and here she was bickering and trying to insult him. What was wrong with her?

“I am not holding you prisoner,” Calan insisted. “I am preventing you from walking off the edge of a cliff. Already I have sent a runner to your husband to inform him of your whereabouts. Would you wait for him to send you a guard, or would you prefer to brave the night streets alone?”

“But the rest of my men…”

“They are only three,” Calan said. “And how many women would you take with you? Don’t be foolish.”

The high priest rubbed his hand against the side of her face, and for a reason she could not understand, she held back her derisive slap.