A Dance of Chaos: Book 6 of Shadowdance (52 page)

Reaching underneath Thren’s shirt, he grabbed the amulet and yanked it hard enough to break the slender gold chain. Amulet tucked safely into his pocket, he rose to his feet and limped to the rooftop’s edge.

For one more day, the city was safe. In such a broken world, it would have to suffice.

He hung by one arm, then dropped to the ground. Grunting against the pain, Haern steadily limped west. By the sound of it, the battle at the walls was mostly over, the invading army defeated. Haern was barely aware of the buildings he passed and the streets he crossed. He didn’t know where else to go, so he went to the western gate. His chest felt hollow. His head felt light. Step after step, he made his way, until at last he saw a gathering of soldiers before the ruined remnants of the gate, many of them wounded.

Amid them, healing magic glowing on her hands, her white robes stained with dirt and blood, was Delysia. Haern stopped when he saw her, feeling drained of energy and suddenly unsure. He’d needed to confirm she’d survived, but beyond that? He’d hurt her so many times now. Perhaps it was best to finally leave her be, to save her from the downward spiral of his own life. Her eyes met his, and he wondered if she saw his guilt, his crippling indecision. If she did, it didn’t matter.

She came running.

Arms flinging around him, Delysia held him, her face against his chest as she let fall tears of relief.

“I’ve come back,” Haern whispered, and despite how simple the proclamation, he realized it was true enough. His arms closed about her, holding her tight as his cloaks encircled them both, and there was comfort in their shadows.

A
week later, as Haern prepared for nightfall, Tarlak stepped into his room and let out a cough to gain his attention.

“Just received word from the king,” the wizard said, lifting a scroll in his left hand to punctuate the sentence.

“What about?” Haern asked as he finished pulling on one boot and grabbed the other beside him on the bed.

“Well, you being … you know, you. The Watcher. The king’s agreed to honor the original truce, so long as the other guilds are willing to go along with it. Given how they’re all in various shades of disarray, I can’t imagine anyone risking both your wrath and the king’s paranoia instead of taking the free gold.”

“The Ash Guild might,” Haern said, rising from the bed and pulling on one of his vambraces.

“I think even Deathmask has had more fun than he’d prefer over the past few months,” Tarlak said. “Call it a hunch, but I believe he’ll lay low for a while, and manipulate the different guilds as they form instead.”

“It’s not a bad idea,” Haern said, putting on the second vambrace. “I expect I’ll be doing much the same. It seems all the old guilds are resurfacing, though mostly in name only. I need to make sure the rulers are at least somewhat sane, and will listen to reason. The last thing we need is some upstart deciding they’d rather have another war.”

Haern pulled on his cloaks, the weight and feel of the fabric giving him a slight chill.

“There’s also the matter of Thren,” Tarlak said, clearly unhappy about broaching the subject.

“What about him?” Haern asked, keeping his voice indifferent despite lurking emotions quite to the contrary.

“Well, he’s still alive. That’s issue number one. Issue number two is what do we do about him? A repeat of the thief war would be what I would call a Very Bad Thing, and it’s also possible he could use his reputation to gather the fledgling guilds under his control. Doesn’t matter if he wouldn’t have a chance of winning. That psycho tried to blow up all of Veldaren. What’s a little underground war compared to that?”

Haern shook his head, and he wished he could better explain it.

“I think Thren is finally broken,” he said. “So long as I’m alive, he won’t try anything drastic beyond reinforcing his claim on the Spider Guild, and perhaps establishing dominance over the rest. I’ll keep an eye on things, just in case, but I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.”

The wizard shrugged.

“If you say so. Oh, and while I’m remembering…” He pulled out a golden amulet, a simple-enough-looking thing with a single roaring lion in its center. “Do you want it?”

Haern frowned.

“Don’t you need that?” he asked.

“Not anymore,” Tarlak said. “Unmade the last of the tiles earlier today. It’s a lot easier to disarm a lock when you have the damn key. They’re as dangerous as kittens now, and the city guard’s had fun breaking them with sledges and shovels. I’m guessing after all Muzien put them through, it’s a rather cathartic exercise. The king also informed me of his gratitude in his note here. Shame gratitude does not mean mountains of gold. Anyway…” He offered the amulet. “Want it?”

Haern pulled Senke’s old pendant of the golden mountain from underneath his shirt, put it back.

“I have the only amulet I need,” he said. “Keep it as a memento if you’d like, or melt it down for the gold. It means nothing to me.”

He pulled his hood over his head, let the shadows envelop his face. As he straightened it, Tarlak paused, giving him an odd look.

“Is this your first time going out since…?”

“Yeah,” Haern said, interrupting his question. “It is.”

Tarlak chuckled.

“Had a hunch. Delysia’s waiting for you outside. Make sure you say good-bye to her beforehand, all right? You’re the King’s Watcher. That means showing my sister some manners.”

Haern smiled, and he felt a bit of his nervousness ebbing. He put his hand on the wizard’s shoulder, squeezed it tightly.

“Every time I’ve needed you, you’ve been there for me,” he said. “I just want to thank you for that, Tar.”

“Most welcome. Now get out there and do your job.”

Haern nodded, descended the stairs.

“At
Veldaren
, I mean,” Tarlak shouted after him, eliciting a chuckle from Haern.

As Tarlak had said, Delysia waited for him outside the door to the tower, arms crossed and a smirk on her face. She looked almost golden in the light of the setting sun.

“Is this going to become a regular thing?” he asked her as he shut the door behind him.

“I doubt it,” she said. “You overestimate my patience if you think I’ll be waiting for you every single night just to say good-bye.”

Haern laughed, hoping to hide his own nervousness with good humor. It felt like there were a hundred things they had yet to discuss, and part of him wondered if he would ever tell her what had happened between him and Zusa. Doing so could hurt her, but keeping it silent made it feel like every moment with her was a lie. He didn’t know how to reconcile it, didn’t know what was right, and he hated how it left him awkward and silent. Perhaps it would grow easier as the memory faded, no different from that of Ghost’s death.

“Just let me pretend you miss me that much every time I go,” Haern said, forcing a smile to his lips. “Surely it can’t be that far from the truth.”

She smiled, one just as forced as his own. Trying to guess the reason, he assumed it had to do with his returning to his duties as the Watcher, and he did his best to head off any worries.

“I’ll be all right,” he told her. “Tonight’s a night like any other.”

“That’s a lie, and we both know it.”

So it
was
about his safety. He fought down a sigh. He could battle Thren Felhorn as well as the Darkhand, yet still she’d fear for his safety?

“If it will make you feel better, I’ll remain low for a while, try not to get into any real skirmishes.”

“That’s not what worries me,” she said. “You’re going back to being the Watcher. What does that mean? After everything you went through a week ago…”

Haern stepped closer, and he found himself unable to meet her eye as he spoke.

“Whatever drives me, it’s more than just peace for this city,” he said. “I could have had that, if I wanted it. I could have become everything my father desired … but that’s not who I ever wish to become. Who I am, who I choose to be … it has to mean something. It has to make all these sacrifices worthwhile. And I do know who it is I wish to be. I finally do.”

He crossed his arms, uncrossed them, feeling so naked, so exposed, but he had to say it. He had to tell her, if only so he might silence the guilt eating at the back of his mind.

“I once asked you to be my rock, to be there so I knew who I was. That was wrong of me, Del. I never should have put the burden of my confusion and failures on your shoulders. That was nothing but cowardice. I want you to know that I ask nothing of you now. I ask nothing, expect nothing…”

Delysia grabbed the front of his shirt, yanked him close, and shut him up with a kiss.

“My love is a gift,” she said. “And you don’t need to ask for it, because it’s already yours.”

“But the risks I take, the battles … death will come for me, Del. Knowing that, how can I be so selfish and cruel? I never wanted to hurt you, and never wish to again.”

Delysia wrapped her arms about him, holding him close.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said softly. “Wherever you go, I will always be waiting. If you should die, I’ll wait, and I’ll pray, and I’ll look for your face when Ashhur takes me home. I’m scared of losing you, but I won’t let that fear cost me the time we have together.”

Haern smiled down at her, and he felt tears building in his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he said.

“You’d only miss me for a little while,” she said, standing on her toes so she might kiss his forehead. “And even then, I promise, I’ll be waiting. Now go and stalk the shadows, Watcher of Veldaren. You have a city that needs you.”

Haern hugged her again, and he could not believe the relief he felt.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

Gently separating their bodies, he pulled his hood low over his face and adjusted his cloaks.

“Safe travels, Watcher,” she said, turning to leave. “I’ll be here when you return.”

“Always?” he asked her.

“Always.”

With her smile in mind, he ran to the city, ran to the rooftops and the dark alleys that were his comfort, his battlefield, his home.

The very first time she’d entered the Gemcroft mansion, Zusa had rescued Alyssa from the cold prison built beneath. Now, as the rows of servants, soldiers, and wagons rolled out, she felt she had rescued Alyssa once again, not just from her mansion, but from the whole damn city of Veldaren. It had been a prison far more encompassing, and far harder to escape, but Zusa was determined to make this freedom last. The city of thieves and murderers would not control them anymore. It’d taken weeks of planning, shifting trade agreements and policies, appointing various stewards who would remain in the city, none of whom would have enough power to become a potential threat …

“Zusa!”

She turned, saw Nathaniel calling out to her from the seat beside his mother in their carriage, beckoning her.

“Will you join us?”

Zusa smiled at him, and normally she would have, but she’d caught a familiar face lurking on a nearby rooftop, so instead she remained at the front door of the mansion, cupped her hands on either side of her mouth, and shouted back.

“I will soon enough! Keep your mother company for me.”

Nathaniel beamed and bobbed his head in answer before snuggling closer to his mother. The sight warmed Zusa’s heart. It’d taken days before Nathaniel had shown any sign of recovering from whatever he’d endured at the western gate. Karak had been involved, that was all Zusa had gleaned, and the knowledge soured her stomach. But upon learning they’d be moving to Riverrun, abandoning their family home in Veldaren, the boy had steadily improved. Truth be told, he acted like a great weight had been removed from his shoulders, and he was hardly the only one who’d had that reaction.

As the great caravan rolled west, Zusa calmly walked to the end of the property, locked the iron gate behind her, and then crossed the street. Curling around to the side of a building, she easily climbed up, finding the Watcher waiting for her on the slanted rooftop. He smiled at her from underneath his hood, then gestured to the caravan.

“I heard the rumors, not that I believed them,” he said while crouched at the rooftop’s edge. “I thought Veldaren was Alyssa’s city?”

“If this city belongs to anyone, it’s you,” Zusa said, smiling. “Lady Gemcroft has finally decided the safety of her family is more important than putting up a powerful facade. We’re leaving this sick, rotten city. If Nathaniel wants to return when he comes of age, so be it. Until then, we’ll live in Riverrun.”

Haern nodded as he watched the train of people and wagons roll on. Zusa sensed he was uncomfortable. Hardly surprising. They’d yet to speak of their night together. She’d been terribly vulnerable, and perhaps it had been the same way for him. Given the shadows across his face, hidden even in the midday light, she had a feeling Haern was not one used to letting his guard down.

“Zusa,” he said, still not looking at her. “About last time we…”

She grabbed his hand and shushed him.

“You gave me comfort when I needed it,” she said. “Let it remain just that, and nothing more.”

Except it had been more, and she almost said so, but it was not what he wanted to hear. He looked down at her hand holding his, then cupped it with his other before he stood.

“There’s someone I think I love,” he said. “She’s gentle, good at heart … but given this brutal life I lead, the risks it’d bring her just by being with me…” He tilted his head at her, laughing to reveal his embarrassment. “It’s sad, but you’re the only person I know to talk about this with. Am I a fool to hope for some sort of happiness? Is it selfish of me to endanger her so?”

Zusa used her free hand to slowly pull back his hood to reveal his handsome face, his square jaw, his beautiful blue eyes. She wanted to see him like that one more time, to have a face to remember instead of his low hood and shadowed visage. Standing on her toes, she gently kissed his lips, then pulled back so she might meet his gaze.

“You’re a kind, wonderful man,” she told him. “Be with who you love, and damn any fear that keeps you apart. You deserve happiness in this life, Watcher. We all do.”