A Dance of Chaos: Book 6 of Shadowdance (34 page)

“I’m upset because I’m worried I’m going to lose my friends and family,” Tarlak said. “You could at least acknowledge that. The city’s not equipped to handle an enemy force with so little preparation, and you are facing off against a foe that, barring our recent fun at the fountain, has never once been defeated. Bad doesn’t begin to describe this, Haern. Bad doesn’t scratch the surface.”

Haern reached out and put a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“We’ll endure,” he said. “We always have, and we always will. This invading army, there’s only so much I can do against it with my swords, especially compared to the magic you and your sister wield. But Muzien and the Sun Guild … we cannot let them continue to hold a blade over our heads using those damn tiles. My plan is in motion, and during the confusion, I think we can save the city from their hands. Can you trust me to handle them, while you handle the threat from outside the walls?”

Tarlak let out a sigh, and he brushed away Haern’s touch.

“Yeah,” he said. “I can. Won’t like it, but I can. I’ll get Thren’s toy made tomorrow. First I need to get some sleep, and I suggest you do the same. I have a feeling there’s long days and nights ahead of you.”

A snap of his fingers, and the fire dwindled down to just embers.

“Good night, Tar,” Haern said as the wizard climbed the stairs.

“Good night, Watcher.”

In the growing darkness Haern stayed, still struggling to process the new threat. There was just no space in his mind, no way for him to worry over it with the threat of Muzien looming over everything.

“One enemy at a time,” he muttered, removing his sword belt and plopping onto the couch. “Is that so much to ask, Ashhur?”

Of course it is
, he chuckled to himself. Closing his eyes, he felt his exhaustion weighing on every one of his limbs, and despite how young the night was, he fell asleep with ease.

   23   

S
ef Battleborn paced before Alyssa in the middle of their dining hall, his heavy footsteps on the carpet her tool to track his movements. The man was far from happy, but given the overall state of things in Veldaren, Alyssa thought that was to be expected.

“It’s been two days,” Sef said. “If we’re to retaliate and have it mean something, it has to be now. The longer we wait, the weaker we appear, and the more insulting it is to Victor’s memory.”

Alyssa choked down her sigh. Sef had been Victor’s most trusted and second-in-command, and due to that relationship, she’d given him responsibility for many of her house guards, as well as all the mercenaries still sworn to allegiance to her. Risky, given how little she knew of Sef, but the act had done wonders in solidifying her control over Victor’s assets, as well as hiding her guilt. Still, the problem with Sef’s loyalty to Victor, Alyssa had discovered, was, well, his loyalty to Victor.

“Getting Victor’s men killed does disservice to Victor, not the other way around,” Alyssa argued. “Any such drastic measure must be made with care and control.”

“Care we’d take, if the circumstances were better. If your … friend, Zusa, had returned to us with the information you’d promised, we’d already be on the move.”

Alyssa winced, and she lifted her cup to her lips to hide the slip. As she drank, she tried to imagine Sef from what she remembered. He’d been a large man, thick around the chest. A beard, she decided, he’d also had a beard, and not without a significant portion of gray. She had a feeling he was stroking that beard, if not pulling on it in frustration.

“Calm yourself,” she said. “You’ll add more gray to your beard if you remain like this.”

His pacing halted, just long enough for her to know the comment had hit home.
Good
, she thought. Even the little details went a long way in winning people over.

“Forgive me,” Sef said. “Inaction and I do not get along very well. If you’d rather we wait to serve vengeance to the Sun Guild, I will accept that, but please, let us at least begin our own inquiries as to their dens and hiding places. We may not find anything, but at least I won’t feel like I am sitting here on my hands.”

It was a simple enough request, and Alyssa waved him off.

“So be it,” she said. “You have my permission. Only information, Sef, and only through petty bribery. No promising a fortune, and no torturing and cutting off limbs, either. We don’t want them scattered or actively hiding, not if we can help it.”

She heard Sef’s boots clap together, and she assumed he’d bowed, so she made the smallest of nods in return.

“May you have a pleasant evening, milady,” he said. “At your leave?”

Another wave, and he left her alone in the dining hall. Sipping more of her green tea, Alyssa tried to fight down her bubbling concern for her friend. She’d heard nothing of Zusa since she fled their last awkward encounter. Given how she was going back in disguise into the underworld of Veldaren, it made sense that it might take more than a few days to finish her efforts, as well as get away safely. But even as Alyssa told herself this, she did not believe it, not for the slightest second. Was she dead? Wounded? In hiding, her identity revealed? Alyssa didn’t know, and she didn’t want to know. Despite her worry, at least she could still lie to herself, and believe that Zusa still lived.

One of the doors to the dining hall opened, and Alyssa tilted an ear toward it.

“Mistress, you have a visitor,” said a servant. “Guard Captain Antonil Copernus.”

“Bring him to me,” she said, ignoring the tightening of her throat. What news might Antonil bring? Did he anticipate the carnage that Sef wanted her to unleash? Or perhaps he’d discovered news he wished to deliver personally, perhaps about a dead servant he knew was close to her …

“Greetings, Lady Gemcroft,” she heard Antonil say from the door, and she smiled as sweetly as she could.

“Greetings, Antonil,” she said. “Please, come join me, and if you have the time, I’ll have a servant fetch you something to eat or drink.”

“Time is something I sadly have little to spare,” Antonil said, his voice traveling closer. “I … forgive me, I should have come sooner to extend my condolences. Victor was a good man, and a better man than this city deserved. I am sorry for your loss.”

Awkwardness bubbled up inside her, the same awkwardness she’d been struggling with since Victor’s death. Should she feign sorrow? Those close to her knew there’d been no real romance between her and Victor. How many tears were appropriate? What words should she say about the man she’d murdered in secret? She’d found carrying on had served her best, for her eyes spoke volumes, the sorrow in their darkness conveying far more than she ever could.

“Thank you,” Alyssa said, keeping her voice flat. “And yes, he was a good man.”

Antonil coughed, and she realized he was pacing before her just as Sef had. Did it have something to do with her eyes, or was it just a military sort of thing?

“I wish I had a better way to broach this subject, but I don’t, so forgive my abruptness,” Antonil said. “Given the situation, I will keep this quick. I believe an army of orcs from the Vile Wedge approaches our city, and I need as many soldiers as possible to man the walls and hold the gates. Your husband once promised me aid should I ever need it, and I come to you praying you will accept a similar obligation.”

Alyssa’s mouth dropped open, and she blinked multiple times across her glass eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“I know it sounds insane, because it is, but it’s also true. I expect them to arrive tomorrow night, leaving us very little time. I’ve made what preparations I can, and I’m coming to you in private in hopes of preventing panic from spreading throughout the city. With the men I have, I can’t even guard the entirety of the wall. My hope is to keep them near the gates, where the fighting will most likely be. Even then, my soldiers on the ground will be terribly few. I need men with experience, who know how to fight and won’t break in fear. I need your mercenaries, Alyssa, as many as you might spare. If a gate falls…”

Alyssa held up a hand, stopping him.

“Servants should be waiting just outside the door,” she said. “Order one to fetch Sef Battleborn. I want him to hear this.”

As Antonil did so, Alyssa reached for her tea, then decided against it. What madness was this, she wondered? An army of wild brutes? Did they not have enough to worry about in Veldaren? When Antonil returned, he sat opposite her at the table, and she heard him chuckle.

“You know,” he said. “A drink might not be a bad idea after all.”

Beyond thanking the servant who came with his glass, Antonil said little as they waited. Alyssa brooded silently, thinking over the numbers of her remaining forces. Three hundred of Victor’s had survived their attempt to ambush Muzien, and they’d combined with the two hundred house soldiers and private mercenaries Alyssa had carried prior to the attempt. A significant fighting force indeed, but could she risk sending so many? What happened if Muzien considered the chaotic battle the opportune time to enact his own revenge?

The door opened, and Sef announced himself before stepping in.

“Antonil, I don’t know if you’ve met before,” said Alyssa, “but this is Sef Battleborn, former soldier and friend of Victor’s, and my newly appointed master of mercenaries. Go ahead. Tell him what you’ve told me.”

Antonil repeated his warning. When he finished, she heard Sef laugh.

“Well then,” he said. “It seems fate has a fucking sense of humor when it comes to timing. What is it you want from us?”

“I want you and your men to hold the western gate,” Antonil said. “If Alyssa agrees, of course.”

“Alyssa?”

The master of the Gemcroft household sighed. Despite the weight she felt bearing down on her, the guilt and the frustration, she knew what was right.

“Every soldier at my disposal is yours,” she said. “If you are correct, and an army marches against us, I promise my men will be there without fail.”

“Excellent,” Antonil said, rising from his seat. “Your generosity may save thousands of lives, and I cannot thank you enough.”

Alyssa dismissed such praise with a wave of her hand.

“I’m not here to receive glory for doing the right thing,” she said. “Nor do I act selflessly. I live within these walls, too.”

“Perhaps,” Antonil said. “But I thank you nonetheless. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” She heard a rattle of armor, something, hands perhaps, clapping together.

“Hope to fight with you soon,” she heard Sef say.

“You as well.”

More rattling, and then the door opened, leaving Sef alone with Alyssa.

“I take it my scouting of the streets will be put on hold?” Sef said once Antonil was gone.

“I see why Victor kept you around,” she said, smiling despite herself. “You’re so skilled at deciphering the obvious.”

Another knock on the door, followed by a servant’s clearing her throat and calling Alyssa’s name. Alyssa fought down another sigh. What now?

“Yes?” she asked.

“I found … it seems someone left you a … gift, milady,” said one of their younger servants. Alyssa frowned, confused. A gift from whom?

“Bring it here,” she told Sef. “And what is it?”

Sef’s heavy footsteps thumped over to the door.

“It’s a small box,” he said.

“Fascinating,” Alyssa said dryly. “And inside?”

She heard a popping of wood, followed by a grunt.

“Well?” she asked.

Still Sef hesitated.

“It’s … it’s a note,” he said. “And a lock of hair.”

Alyssa’s heart skipped, and she felt the room about her suddenly closing in. Reaching out her hand, she accepted the lock, felt its smoothness on her palm.

“Read it,” she said, voice falling to a whisper.

Sef cleared his throat, then began reading aloud.

“‘The game is just starting, Alyssa, not ending. Your turn. Do you still have the heart to play?’”

Alyssa lifted the lock of short, soft strands, twirled them in her fingers.

“What color is it?” she asked, already knowing the answer.

“Black,” Sef said. “It’s Zusa’s, isn’t it?”

Tears gathered at the bottoms of her glass eyes as Alyssa clutched the lock tightly in her fist.