David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“Karak has abandoned you for your heresy,” he said, his sword held in both hands, the tip touching her breast.

Nava laughed even though the movement obviously pained her.

“Alyssa is gone, you fool,” she said. “Zusa has her. You’ll never see her again.”

Ethric stabbed his sword down and twisted. When he yanked it free, he spat on her corpse. He strapped his sword to his back and returned to the bonfire. All around men were desperately tossing dirt with shovels to put out what fires they could. The rest of the mercenaries crowded before Theo and Yoren, who both stood with their swords drawn.

“Where is she?” Ethric asked as he approached. “Where is Alyssa Gemcroft?”

“Taken by the faceless,” Yoren said. “What now, paladin? Will you give chase?”

Ethric glared at them, then to the hills beyond. The last faceless woman must have fled with Alyssa while he fought. He knew he could never track her, but the royal girl was a different matter. If he hurried, he might catch up to them…

“I go for the girl,” he said. “If you want her back, then seek out Pelarak and the priests of Karak.”

“We just need her alive,” Theo said. “Will you harm her?”

He raised his sword, as if the paladin’s answer would affect his decision. Ethric laughed at their foolishness.

“We want her safe, you damn simpletons,” Ethric said. “She is our own protection against Maynard Gemcroft. We have a common enemy, yet you cower and feebly strike against me. Pray I never see you again.”

He left their camp, circling around Theo’s guards. The footprints were chaotic, but seeing a set leading directly south from the camp, Ethric gave chase. Two of the faceless women were dead, with the third fleeing with his prey. His task was almost finished, and the night was young. Offering a prayer of thanks to Karak, Ethric ran on.

O nce he was certain everyone was either asleep or occupied, Aaron donned a pale gray cloak and slipped out from his room. Something weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew of only one person who could answer him. Problem was, that person was currently hidden deep inside the temple of Ashhur. He doubted the priests would let him in to see Delysia, and equally doubted they would let her out.

Aaron had been shown how to hide, how to kill, and how to steal, but never once had he been shown how to break into a place with the aim of talking. The night had potential to be an interesting one.

The hallway was empty. He ran fast, tumbling into a nearby room. One of the floorboards was loose, and it came up easily when Aaron pulled on it. Below was a tunnel connecting to the others that stretched out from underneath the estate like an ant hill. Ensuring his dagger was tucked tightly into his belt, Aaron climbed down and replaced the board above his head.

The way was tight and dark. For a moment Aaron heard a noise, and he feared someone might be approaching from the other direction. He’d have no excuse or reason to explain his leaving. Thren would be furious. He heard another noise, sounding like the board he’d just replaced. Then silence. After five long minutes, Aaron resumed crawling, certain that no one was following him.

When he climbed out of the tunnel, he was underneath a giant, empty pile of crates that was never cleaned or removed from the alley. Aaron pulled out a thick strip of cloth from his pocket and tied it to his face, adjusting it so the eyeholes matched up perfectly.

He was Aaron no longer.

Haern dashed down the street, his pale cloak fluttering behind him. A moment later, another figure emerged from beneath the crates and gave chase.

M adelyn felt sleep tugging at her eyes, but she refused its temptation. It didn’t matter that she believed no harm would come to her. She wanted her eyes bloodshot and her actions slow and uneven when she met her husband. His anger would only grow at seeing her this way.

Light spilled in from a crack in the doorway. Madelyn felt her heart halt and her fingers tighten on the dagger. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps they would kill her after all.

The door opened. Blinded by the sudden light, Madelyn winced and held a hand over her eyes. She saw a small figure, too small to be an assassin.

“Oh,” she heard a girl say. “I didn’t know…”

Madelyn lowered her hand as the girl thankfully closed the door halfway. In the dimmer light, she could see. The girl stood with her hands behind her back. She wore a plain white dress that hung all the way down to her ankles. Her unadorned hair spilled down either side of her face, a beautiful red. Madelyn’s best guess put her no older than ten.

“I’ve been awake,” Madelyn said. She realized she still clutched the dagger and lowered it to the bed. That seemed to calm the girl a little.

“I was sent to get, um…”

She blushed and pointed at the chamber pot in the corner. Madelyn rolled her eyes.

“Just leave it,” she said. “Come back for it in the morning.”

The girl paused, clearly deciding which orders to follow. Madelyn stared at her face, seeing an odd familiarity. When the girl turned to leave, Madelyn spoke out a name.

“Eschaton?”

The girl jolted as if shocked.

“How do you know my name?” she asked, turning back around.

“Just your last, girl. You’re yet to give me your first.”

The girl blushed.

“Delysia Eschaton. It is a pleasure to meet you, milady.”

She gave a curtsey that was skillful as it was absurd in the plain long dress.

“I knew your father,” Madelyn said. “Many years ago, when he was still a lord. You have his hair and eyes. We weren’t close, but we talked on occasion. Then he let his faith override his senses and vanished into these cloistered halls.”

Delysia didn’t appear to know how to react.

“I hope what memories you have of my father are pleasant ones,” she said at last. “Though it pains me to talk of them. I should go.”

“Stay,” Madelyn said, an idea growing in her head. “I’ve been locked alone in here for many hours, and it’d be good to have someone to talk with.”

Delysia opened her mouth as if to protest, then decided otherwise. Madelyn patted the space beside her on the bed, and Delysia reluctantly took a seat there.

“Do they require you to have such plain hair?” Madelyn said as she brushed a hand through the fiery red.

“No. I haven’t had time. I’m so new here.”

Delysia tensed a little when Madelyn began braiding it, then slowly relaxed. Having spent a lifetime in courts, dinners, and extravagant parties, Madelyn had long ago learned how to read and manipulate others. Delysia was adrift, alone, and scared. Most importantly, she seemed to be craving a mother figure by how quickly she’d relaxed after the braiding started.

Madelyn frantically racked her brain. Delius Eschaton-he’d been married, but what had happened to his wife?

“I’m so sorry about your mother,” she said, deciding to keep it vague. No child as young as Delysia would be willing to discuss such a matter in depth. What was more important was the comfort Madelyn eased into her voice, the tender honesty and empathy.

“Daddy…he helped us through,” Delysia said. Her whole body seemed to be shivering. “I miss him. I miss my brother. I miss my mom and my Grany. I don’t want to be here, I want to be home, I want to be…”

She broke down in tears. Even with her manipulation, Madelyn was surprised by its speed. The girl must have been on edge the whole day, just waiting for something to set her off. Knowing her timing must be perfect, Madelyn let Delysia cry just long enough before wrapping her shoulders in a hug.

“There now,” she said. “Cry if you must. I know how you feel. I miss my husband. I worry for him, too. For all he knows I’m hanging upside down from chains in one of Thren’s hideouts. If only I could feel him in my arms again.”