David Dalglish - A Dance of Cloaks

“I heard others talking,” Delysia said. “They said they’d send someone so he’d know.”

“But are you sure?” she asked, letting her face harden just a little. After a moment, Delysia shook her head.

“No,” she said. “I guess I’m not.”

Madelyn let the silence return. She’d finished two thin braids, so she began tying them together, high up near the top of Delysia’s head. Lacking material, she tore a bit of her own dress and used it to tie the braids firm.

“Your brother is all you have left,” she said, injecting a combination of curiosity and worry into her voice. “Do you know where he is now?”

“He’s apprenticed to some wizard,” Delysia said. “I could never pronounce his name right. Malderad? Maldrad? Something like that.”

“Yes, wizards often have funny names,” Madelyn said. “They think it gives them an air of mystery, but mostly it just makes them look like fools.”

Delysia giggled softly.

Madelyn chose that moment to pull back her hands and set them on her lap. The sudden stop made Delysia turn to see what was the matter.

“I could take you to him,” Madelyn said. “Surely you heard among the whispers who I am, Delysia. I am Lady Keenan, and wealthier than the king. It seems cruel to keep you hidden here when your brother is out there alone and in danger. What if he returns to Veldaren? What if the thief guilds send for him too?”

Delysia twisted her fingers together, then grabbed her elbows and shivered as if she were cold. Madelyn paused a moment, then drove the final nail home.

“Delysia, does he even know your father’s dead?”

Her eyes widened. She shook her head.

“Someone should tell him,” Madelyn insisted. “I think it should be you. Come with me.”

Delysia’s eyes widened as if she were waking from a spell.

“I’ll get in trouble,” she said. “Grany put me here, and here’s safe. Who will I stay with, and what if Maldrad doesn’t want me? I can’t.”

This was it. This was the moment. Madelyn stood and crossed her arms, acting every bit the scolding parent.

“You can and you will, Delysia. I must return to my husband. You must return to your brother. Isn’t that what you want? Forget what others expect of you. They don’t decide your life. That isn’t their right. I will ensure everything goes well for you, all for being a friend to me in my dark time. Help me, Delysia. Please. I’m asking you.”

Delysia wilted under the barrage of words. She slowly nodded.

“You promise to take care of me?” she asked.

Madelyn smiled her sweetest smile.

“I promise,” she said.

“Fine. Everyone else is asleep except me. Bertram was to help me with my nightly duties, but he’s so fat he dozed off in his chair. I don’t know if the door’s locked.”

“Only one way to know,” Madelyn said, taking Delysia’s hand. “Lead me there.”

H aern scratched at his mask, wishing he had found something smoother to wear. When finished, he wrapped his cloak tighter about him. Other than his blonde hair, he was a mess of gray lurking in the shadows. The temple was before him on the other side of the street. Haern hid beside a shop set up to take advantage of the temple’s traffic, selling a multitude of sweetcakes and treats that got devoured after every service.

Looking at the temple, Haern wondered how the abyss he was going to get inside. He saw no windows, just rows and rows of columns. The columns themselves were too smooth and wide around for him to scale. The giant front doors were closed. They were unguarded but most likely locked and barred from the inside. The roof was triangular, sharp in the middle but nearly flat at the edges, created by a clever interlocking of additional tiles. Two statues loomed on either side of the short white steps leading up into the temple. The left was of a noble-looking man in armor holding a set of scales. The right was a young woman with her arms raised to the heavens as if singing in praise.

“Never abandon as hopeless something you’ve never tried,” he whispered aloud. One of his earlier swordmasters had favored that saying. There was only one place left Haern could check, and that was the roof. So to the roof he went.

He’d taken nothing with him but his cloak and his knife, so Haern did what he could. At full speed, he curved to one side and leapt into the air. He kicked off the statue of a woman, vaulting himself atop the other statue. Not letting his momentum slow, he leapt again, his whole body reaching for the edge of the roof where it was flat.

His fingers brushed it, slipped, and then he was falling.

The front of the temple had large inset sections depicting mountains, fields of grain, and a rising sun. Below those carvings was a second edge jutting out just before the pillars began. Haern banged his elbow against the edge, spun in the air, and then grabbed on. A sharp intake of air was the only cry he made.

He swung one foot up to the ledge, glad for once that he was still somewhat young and small. With his feet turned sideways, he had an inch and a half to stand on. More than enough. He stood upon it, his back to the carvings, and looked down at the street. He saw no one. It seemed whatever activities might be normal for the night, they took place nowhere near the temple.

He was about to turn and jump for the roof when he heard a loud crack from the doors below.

“Hurry,” said a woman’s voice just above a whisper.

“I am,” whispered back a younger girl. Haern’s heart leapt. He recognized that voice. Then the two walked out from underneath him, hand in hand. Haern saw the red hair and knew for certain.

“Shit,” he said, realizing where he still was. For all his efforts to get to the roof, Delysia had come out on her own, and now there was no easy way down…

Haern slipped back down to his fingers, took a deep breath, and then tried to fall forward instead of straight down. The higher up the steps he landed, the better. Luck was with him, for he landed on the very top step, giving him plenty of room to roll. His knees still ached, and there was no way for him to remain silent, but that was better than a painful tumble down the sharp edges of the steps.

Knowing time was short, he ran down the steps, chasing after the two women who had hurried north from the temple. As if fleeing, the two ducked between some stores. Haern felt his heart stutter. The way the older woman had led, it seemed like she’d dragged Delysia. Something wasn’t right at all. He sprinted faster, his dagger drawn.

W hy are we going this way?” Delysia asked once they hurried into the alley.

“I think I heard someone following us,” Madelyn said, glancing back toward the street. “We have to be careful. Come closer.”

Delysia realized the woman had taken out her dagger. Why had she taken out her dagger? And if she was afraid of someone following, why was she keeping her back to the road?

“I want to go back,” she said, stepping further into the alley. “I don’t want to go anymore.”

“I can’t have anyone warned,” Madelyn said. The compassion drained from her eyes. “Your father was always a fool, Delysia. Kindness made him blind, and you’re no different.”

Delysia turned to the run but the alley dead-ended at a thick wooden wall connecting the two stores. She spun back around and put her back to the wall. Madelyn stood in the center of the alley, dagger still in hand. There was no way past her; no way out.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she said, tears growing in her eyes.

“No,” Madelyn said. “You won’t.”

Something knocked the dagger from her hand. Madelyn’s mouth opened, and then a dirty boot struck the side of her face. Delysia let out a small cry as Madelyn went down, her hands outstretched to slow her fall. She rolled when she hit the ground, but Haern was already there, scooping up the dagger and kicking her in the stomach.