A Dance of Cloaks (15 page)

Will entered, an old man held in his arms. It took a moment before Aaron realized who it was: Robert Haern, the kindly teacher that had risked his life to help him escape the soldiers. His face was thinner, his hair dirtier, but enough of the man remained to clearly identify him. Aaron felt an initial inclination to reveal his presence, but he fought it down. They had entered the front door. No one was permitted to use the front door.

“He still with us?” Kayla asked, gingerly touching a gash on her forehead with her fingertips.

“He lives,” Will said. “His sleep is deep.”

“We’ll let Thren wake him up,” Senke said as he ducked his head outside, looked about, and then shut the door. “Perhaps during his questioning he’ll forget the fact that we walked through the front gate and door with the whole world watching.”

“The whole world is sleeping,” Kayla said, her voice sounding very tired.

“Not all,” Will said. “Not the part that matters to us. But the old man would not make it through the tunnel. Which order you want to disobey: the ban on the door, or the command to bring Robert here by morning?”

Their voices grew softer as they hurried deeper into the mansion. When they were far enough away, Aaron darted after.

He stopped for just a moment at his father’s study, peering around the corner of a hall. Sneaking in through the door would be tough. He desperately wanted to know what was going on, but whatever the matter, he would probably hear the dreaded ‘you’re not old enough’ speech and then be sent to his room.

Decision made, Aaron waited until the door closed before he bolted to its side, pressed his ear against a crack by the hinges, and listened.

I
n his dream, he was lively and youthful. Darla was at his side, her thin arms wrapped about his body. He nuzzled his face against her neck, inhaling deeply. Instead of her normal perfume of roses, he smelled blood. Something hard struck his face, and then he opened his eyes.

Darla vanished, the arms around him gone, too. He was on his knees, stained with blood and filth. Before him, his face an unreadable mask of stone, stood Thren Felhorn.

“Welcome to my home,” Thren said, his icy voice robbing any meaning from the greeting. “I trust you’ll find it more comfortable than your last abode.”

“I take whatever comforts are afforded to me,” Robert said, dismally wishing he could be back in his dream. He wanted Darla, his beloved wife Darla, not a heartless interrogation. If he only closed his eyes, perhaps she’d be waiting for him, her face shining with light as it had in the prison…

Another blow to his face jolted his eyes awake. Will towered over him, blood on his knuckles. Robert chuckled. Compared to the pain in his shoulders, the punch was little more than an annoyance.

“I know you must be tired,” Thren said, walking out from behind the table. A hand on one knee, he knelt before Robert. “Tired, and in pain. I do not wish to add to either, old man, but I will. Tell me, what was your part in all of this?”

“My part?” Robert asked. “My part was to hang from chains. What is it you speak of?”

Thren narrowed his eyes, but he stayed his hand.

“My son,” he said, his voice quieting. “Did you have a hand in my son’s capture?”

“Capture? So he didn’t escape? I’m sorry, Thren, I tried, but he was just a boy, trained perhaps but…is he alive or dead?”

Thren only shook his head. “You were fond of this saying yourself, Robert. Do not ask questions you already know the answer to.”

The old man rubbed his chin, letting his tired, sluggish mind slowly work through the cobwebs.

“He died,” he said. “Otherwise you would already know what role I played. When the soldiers came, I helped him get out, but they must have surrounded my home too well. I was no party to his death, but that matters not. Your son is dead, and therefore my life is forfeit. I ask you make it quick. I am an old man, and have waited long enough for the mystery of the hereafter.”

He gave no indication that he lied. Thren stood, drawing one of his shortswords, the sound it made as it cleared its sheath making Robert shiver. The three who had rescued him stepped aside, leaving the matter solely to their guildmaster.

“Swear it,” Thren said as he pressed the tip of his sword against Robert’s neck. “Swear you had no involvement with the king. Speak truly, old man, so you may go into the afterlife without the weight of lies about your neck.”

Robert stood to his full height.

“Truth or lie, I die the same,” he said. “And I do not fear the fate your sword promises.”

Anger flashed across Thren’s eyes. His mouth curled downward as his frown deepened. The whole room quieted, the very air thickening with the certainty of impending death. Then the door slammed open, Aaron’s angry cry breaking the silence.

“He did nothing wrong, nothing. Don’t you kill him, don’t you…”

Will grabbed him by the neck and yanked him away from Robert. Thren watched his son, his visage not changing in the slightest. The tip of his sword still pressed against the old man’s neck.

“I see the boy lives,” Robert said. The movement rubbed the tip against his flesh, drawing a tiny drop of blood. “Yet still I face death. What crime have I committed now?”

“You still lie,” Thren said. His voice seemed torn out from a deep cavern, reluctant and heavy. “Kayla told me of Gerand’s exit. You spoke with him before the attempt on my son. I want the truth, all of it. Any more lies and I will force the heavens to wait for your arrival while you rot in a cell.”

Robert glanced at Aaron, who stood with Will’s arm wrapped around his chest. His lip quivered, but he showed no tears, and the old man felt a strange sense of pride. That was a boy worth training, he realized. One who could risk defying the will of his own father, and reveal his own inappropriate spying, all to spare a life he deemed innocent.

“Very well,” Robert said. “I speak not to save my own life, but for the sake of the boy. When you first asked me to train Aaron, I meant to say no, but Gerand found out about the proposition and went to the king. They decided I should use the opportunity to learn more about you. All we hear are half-whispers, rumors, and exaggerated tales of your amazing excellence. The chance to learn even a shred of truth about the war being waged outside the castle walls proved too alluring. I had my orders, and that was to train the boy while keeping my eyes and ears open.

“Gerand, however, had other plans. The Trifect has gotten to the king somehow. Troops surrounded my home after you left. When Gerand informed me of his plan, I struck him with my cane and then released Aaron. That is my tale. I am an old advisor doing the will of his king, and though you may call me a traitor to your name, I was betrayed all the same. Do to me what you will.”

Robert and Thren stared eye to eye, neither flinching. Aaron watched the clash of wills with a growing feel of anxiety. He had never felt so helpless. It wasn’t like Robert had been exceedingly kind, but he had known things, and out of all his teachers, he had been the one to truly treat him like an adult. Robert had expected greatness. He had tested him with the darkness of his room, not frustrated him with beatings and curses like some of his teachers.

Aaron wanted to say this, but he knew his father would not be swayed by pity or requests for mercy. He would do what was best for the guild; he always did. Thren looked from the teacher to the student, and all there could see he had reached his decision.

“While in my services, you betrayed information about me and my son. I have killed men for less.”

The words hung in the air. Aaron fought down an impulse to shout in denial. Something about the way his father stood, without any anger or fury, hinted at something more. Thren looked far too pleased with himself.

“However,” he continued, “you also saved the life of my son knowing the punishment you would receive in turn. So now I face a dilemma, for anyone who saves the life of my son I reward greatly. How do I reward a man whose life is forfeit?”

Robert sensed the opening being given and took it.

“Let me swear what little remains of my life to you,” he said. “I shall be your slave and do whatever tasks you set before me, however difficult or demeaning.”

Senke winked at Kayla. Aaron saw it and felt his heart soar.

“A worthy suggestion,” Thren said. “For the sake of my son, I grant your request. You will have food and lodging here in my estate, and you shall train my son when you are not aiding with various duties that Senke will set up for you.”

Robert bowed low.

“Thank you,” he said.

“To your feet,” Senke said. “I’ve got a room near Aaron’s that should do nicely. Clothing might be a bit rough, but the former occupants left a few extra outfits they couldn’t cram into their wagons, so we’ll make do.”

Aaron turned to follow them as they left, but Thren cleared his throat. At the sound, the boy paused.

“Leave us,” Thren said to Will and Kayla. The two quickly obeyed. Thren shut the door behind them, then turned and crossed his arms over his chest. Aaron fought an impulse to lower his head. He was with his father; he would not show fear or weakness.

“You wish to speak with me?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“You spied on our proceedings,” his father said.

“It is what you train me for.”

“You misdirect me with your answer,” Thren said, his eyes narrowing. “Trained or not, that does not explain your actions. Why did you listen in? Is it because of Robert? You were with him only a day. He cannot mean enough to risk my wrath.”

“I want to know,” Aaron blurted, his voice no longer a whisper. He pressed on before he lost his nerve. “What we do, what we are. I train and train, but I am still treated as a child. I know so little of the city, and if it weren’t for Kayla, I’d be in a dungeon, or dead, father.”

“That still does not give you permission to spy on my activities!”

Thren expected his son to cower. Grown men felt the pale touch of death when he shouted in his full anger. Aaron blinked, tilted his head, and then spoke so softly.

“But spying on you is how I saved your life.”

The battle-hardened guildmaster was struck by the simple pronouncement. He looked at the young man before him and remembered when he had been just a child, a child that could stab a man with a dagger to protect his father.

He killed so young,
Thren thought.
Yet I coddle him from the bloodshed raging around us. I fear for his safety, yet he is fearless before death, before injury, before even me…

“Though you disappoint me with your trespass, perhaps part of the blame is mine,” the elder Felhorn said. “From now on, you will be at my side at all times. My life is not safe, Aaron, and you will soon know that. But know that regardless the risk, I will bring you with me.”

“I’m not scared,” Aaron said.

“A foolish boast. Even I am sometimes afraid, as will you often be.”

The boy let a smile creep at the corners of his mouth.

“Scared or not,” he said, “I’ll never show it.”

Thren believed him.

7

V
eliana stormed toward the back of the tavern, so mad she didn’t care if anyone saw her. An unmarked door suffered her wrath as she kicked it open. Inside, several men sat around a badly worn table. Two jumped at her entrance, simple thugs playing at guardsmen. When they reached for their blades, another of the men shook his head and slapped an open palm atop the table.

“No bloodshed,” the man said. “Put your swords away. Veliana did not come here to slit our throats.”

He saw the rage burning in her eyes and thought perhaps he was wrong, but he would not admit so openly. His thugs sat down, their hands lingering on their hilts. Veliana remained standing, though she at least had the decency to close the door behind her before she continued talking.

“What game do you play, hawk?” she asked him.

Kadish Vel, master of the Hawk Guild, smiled at the question. It was no secret he liked games; he would let the puppet of the Ash Guild explain further lest he reveal more than what she already knew. When he smiled, his teeth flashed red in the dim light. His underlings claimed it was from the blood of women he dined upon in the waning hours, though the rest of the city knew it was from his addiction to chewing crimleaf.