A Dance of Cloaks (45 page)

A
lyssa walked ahead of Zusa on their return to the Kull’s camp, knowing her lead would make things easier for the other woman. Most of the guards stared at Zusa’s face as they passed, frightened by her skill yet drawn to her beauty.

“Alyssa!” shouted Yoren when he saw her. He stumbled over a pot, pushed aside another man, and then wrapped her in a ferocious hug. Kiss after kiss he planted on her face, and despite the loathsome being he was at night, Alyssa found herself relaxing in his arms and returning the kisses. After a moment he leaned back and let her stand, and that was when he noticed Zusa’s face.

“By Karak, girl, where’s your wrappings?” he asked.

Zusa took a step back and crossed her arms as if embarrassed.

“Gone,” she said. “Why do you care?”

Yoren didn’t seem to know how to respond, so eventually he shrugged and took Alyssa’s hands in his.

“Come,” he said. “Father will be thrilled to see you. And what of the dark paladin? Did you elude him in the night?”

“Zusa killed him,” Alyssa said as they walked around the tents on their way to the large pavilion.

“Did she now?” He glanced back at Zusa. “At times I wondered about my decision to hire you. It seems you three were well worth the coin.”

“Just one now,” Zusa said. Alyssa heard the sadness in her voice, but Yoren prattled on not noticing.

“We didn’t know what to do. Theo thought to send search parties to look for, well, your body. I meant to go to Veldaren and see if the priests of Karak had you. Better alive and imprisoned than dead in a field, I figured. But here you are! More than I could have hoped for.”

Alyssa glanced back at Zusa, who nodded. That nod gave her courage to continue.

“Please, hurry me to your father,” she said. “I have something he needs to hear.”

“On what matter?” Yoren asked.

“For his ears alone,” she said. ”If I am to rule in my father’s place, there are some details I would prefer to organize with Theo first. He is Lord of Riverrun, at least in fact if not in name.”

Yoren looked none too pleased about this request, but he delayed arguing until they were there. Theo sat in a chair, the remnants of the morning meal splayed out before him on the table.

“By the gods, Alyssa Gemcroft, safe and sound!” Theo cried, shoving against his chair to aid himself in standing. “I thought my guards were just babbling nonsense; either that or some pretty whore from the Kensgold had wandered over and been mistaken for you.”

“I’m flattered by the comparison,” Alyssa said.

“You should be girl, looking as you do. I’ve seen my dogs drag in less disheveled things than you. Twice now you’ve come to me in tatters. The Gemcroft line must be rolling in its graves.”

Alyssa felt anger mix with her self-consciousness. Indeed, the wade through the river had dirtied her dress, and she’d torn the tight silk during her frantic run. Drying it by the fire had shrunken it considerably, and she’d torn it more putting it back on. Her hair was a frightening mess, and she’d give just about anything for a hot soak. Still, she was Alyssa Gemcroft, heir to the northern mines, and she’d never willingly accept such insults.

“If you have any desire to remain in my good graces come my ascension, you should bite your tongue, or better yet, apologize for such remarks,” Alyssa said. “Compare me to a whore, then to shit your dogs drag in?”

Yoren flushed red at the sudden outburst, but Theo only laughed at the fire that suddenly burned bright in her voice.

“Quite right, and I do apologize, Lady Gemcroft. Come, let me fetch my serving women so they may bathe and dress you proper to your station.”

“No,” she said. “I have business to discuss, matters pertaining to my future holdings.”

“Surely these can wait…” Yoren began, but Alyssa cut him off.

“Now,” she said, her eyes boring into Theo’s. “Surely you would not insult a guest by denying them dealings? Or are the rumors I hear of the Kulls more truthful than I thought?”

The whole tent quieted. Theo’s smile drooped, the joy drained from his eyes.

“So be it,” he said. “Let us treat each other as partners of business. What is it you wish to discuss?”

“Not yet,” she said, glaring at Yoren. “We talk alone.”

Yoren scoffed but Theo was in no mood.

“Leave us,” he said to his guards as well as his son. He pointed a finger at Zusa. “But she goes too.”

Zusa bowed. The pavilion emptied until Theo sat alone, his fingers rubbing his silver knife.

“You may sit if you desire,” he offered. Alyssa refused.

“I have a question for you,” she said. “My father has vexed you time and time again. Do you know why? Because you are a mere tax collector in a far away city, scheming and fighting to take over a mere pittance of my father’s property.”

“Where is your question, girl?” Theo asked, his hand clutching the wide tableknife dangerously tight.

“I can give you far more than some miserable land in Riverrun,” Alyssa said. “Which is more important to you, your wealth, or your son?”

“What nonsense is this?” Theo roared. Alyssa reached into her skirt and drew the dagger hidden within its secret pocket. Two steps put her an arm’s length from Theo’s throat. The big man wisely paused, still clutching his tableknife as he tilted his head to one side.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I am still waiting for a true question, as well as an offer of deals and trades. But you are a woman, and unaccustomed to such matters, so I will be patient and give you another chance.”

“I will not marry Yoren,” she told him. “You will not inherit the Gemcroft line. But if I am declared Lady of the estate, then I will reward you handsomely. My father has several mines in the northeast, not far from your little town. Your taxes and harassment have made them near unprofitable. I’ll give them to you, as well as the properties you seek within Riverrun. You gain all this in return for disavowing any possible marriage between myself and your son.”

Theo rubbed his chin.

“You seem to forget something,” he said. “With your marriage, all of those would become mine in time, or at least my son’s. Why would I give up so much just to gain what I would already have? And don’t say because you threaten me, for I am not scared of your little toy.”

Alyssa smiled. She was tired of being someone’s plaything. It was good to finally be in charge. In the distance she heard a couple of scattered shouts from the guards.

“I knew you would say so,” she said. “And even if you promised, I would never believe it. You speak in lies, all you Kulls do, and I was stupid to have believed them for so long. But give me my inheritance, Theo, and I promise to keep my word.”

“Is that so?” Theo asked. “Just because you…”

And then he lunged at her, his arm swinging in a sideways arc to bat away her dagger. Alyssa parried it smoothly aside, stepped closer, and then smashed her elbow into his throat. Theo fell back into his seat, gasping for air. The tableknife thudded to the dirt.

“I’ve had enough training to deal with someone as slow as you,” she said. “Are you listening, Theo? And are you watching? I hope you are.”

More guards shouted, this time closer. The tent flap flung open. In stepped Zusa. Blood covered her wrappings. In her hand, held out like a gift, was the head of Yoren Kull.

“Well done,” Alyssa said with a smile. Guards gathered at the entrance to the tent. Alyssa pressed the tip of her dagger against Theo’s throat and then turned to the men.

“Step inside, he dies,” she told them. A quick nod from Theo ensured they obeyed. Despite her ragged appearance, her mussed hair, and her dirty face, Alyssa felt like herself once more, only stronger and wiser than when her father had cast her into the cold cells below their household.

“Tell us your orders, Lady Gemcroft,” Zusa said.

Alyssa looked back to Theo, her smile growing wider.

“Mercenaries,” she said. “They work only for coin.”

And then she thrust the dagger. With their only hopes of payment dead, either stabbed or beheaded, the mercenaries switched allegiance with practiced ease as Zusa cried out the wealth of the Gemcroft family line.

“You have your army,” Zusa said, sliding up next to her moments later.

“Because of you,” Alyssa said, taking Zusa’s hand and then kissing it in mid-curtsey.

Her beautiful face no longer hidden by veil and wrappings, Zusa smiled and curtseyed in return.

26

T
he outer limits of the Kensgold were filled with sellswords and the poor. The food and drink radiated outward from the many banquet tables and kegs. Thren had debated a more thorough disguise than his low hood, dirtied face, and slight limp, but decided against it. With near a thousand faces swarming about the area he’d need a fraction of his skill to go unnoticed. He could have stripped naked and still struggled to gain attention considering the amount of sex going on everywhere. No doubt the whores would be sore for weeks, but even the ugliest clutched gold tightly within their fingers.

At the base of the two hills the parked wagons formed a perimeter, their gaps lined with mercenaries. Thren did not challenge their ring, instead joining the crowd that lingered nearby in the hope of catching the more private and privileged festivities. Beside him was a hastily constructed wooden platform kept empty by a couple of Connington’s soldiers. Thren didn’t know its purpose but assumed some sort of loud singer or shameless erotic dancing troupe. He didn’t care to find out, either. Where he stood was the southernmost portion of the larger hill, exactly where he’d told the Wolf Guild to meet him.

His patience was nearing its end when thirty minutes later a man in a brown cloak and gray shirt approached.

“You stand well enough for one with a limp,” the man said.

“The knee don’t like bending,” Thren replied, feigning an Omnish accent. “What right you got to be asking?”

“The right of a wolf,” the man said, flashing him a toothy grin. His makeup was heavy, but Thren recognized those sharpened canine teeth.

“Your disguise trumps my own,” Thren said.

“I was to be here longer than you,” said Cynric, guildmaster of the Wolves. A pungent dye covered his gray hair with a layer of brown, the dirt on his face hiding his pale skin and ritual scars.

For a moment each held their tongue, staring up the hill at the elite of the Trifect. Neither sensed watching eyes or attentive ears around them so they continued.

“I’ve thirty men throughout the crowds,” Cynric said. “They await my howl. I’ve counted the number of guards, ignoring those on the outer ring. Over four hundred protect the main hill, and another two hundred the smaller. Our claws our sharp, but they do little against steel armor. I hope you have a better plan.”

Thren nodded, hearing nothing he hadn’t expected.

“The plan is in motion, Wolf. We do not attack them here. Your men are a diversion, nothing more.”

Cynric chuckled.

“I had thought as much. We played the fool for you. Care to share the real plan? I’d hate for my Wolves to miss out on the bloodshed.”

“Once the Kensgold nears its end, you will join me in assaulting the Gemcroft household. Guildsmen will have already taken over their estate and set up traps throughout. We will seal their exit once they realize the trap is sprung and try to flee.”

“They’ll be like a wounded doe,” Cynric said.

“You and your hunting analogies,” Thren said, and he laughed in spite of himself.

Trumpets sounded from atop the hill. A steady procession of sellswords moved directly toward them, Connington in tow. From the west, mercenaries lifted a giant cage on poles from atop a wagon and brought it toward the stage.

“What is going on?” Thren asked, bracing himself. Because of the trumpets, the crowd had surged in his direction, packing it so tight that he’d have a devil of a time pushing his way out. Given their position, he and Cynric had a front row seat to whatever foolishness was about to begin.

“Connington has bragged about a special event planned to start the Kensgold,” Cynric explained, not even bothering to whisper. The chaos around them would drown out anything they said. “As to what, I don’t know. None of my men and women could find out through coin or flesh.”

Thren nodded, feeling uneasy. He didn’t like surprises, and even worse, he hated lacking a quick exit. Shoving aside a hundred bodies was no easy feat.

“Come, come,” he heard Leon Connington shout as he hobbled after his guards. Maynard and Laurie traveled with him, and at the sight Thren felt his heart jump. All three members, there in the clear.

“I don’t supposed you have a crossbow on you?” he asked Cynric. Sadly the man shook his head.

“Damn.”

The Trifect families stopped short of the stage far up the hill, keeping a good distance between them and the crowd. Mercenaries surrounded them, looking serious and stiff in their patchwork armor. Grunting from the weight, the group of sellswords placed the covered cage down in the center of stage. The crowd murmured, wondering what exotic creature might be captured within.

An old man approached the stage and held up his hands for silence. Thren recognized him as Leon’s advisor from the Potts family.