A Dance of Death (15 page)

“Say no more,” the ambassador said, offering her a wink. “Pleasant nights, milady.”

With him gone, Alyssa returned to Laurie’s mansion. Waiting at the gate, Torgar shot her a pleased grin.

“Did anyone notice my absence?” she asked.

“All lips are sealed,” said the mercenary, opening the gate so she could enter. “Now hurry. Laurie’s already left for the meeting, and I think he’ll be quite unhappy if you’re not there with him.”

T
he dark void of Zusa’s sleep slowly filled with dreams, at first calm, then terrifying. She ran through the streets of Veldaren, lions giving chase. Fire consumed their enormous bodies, their roars thundering in her ears. High above shone a blood-red moon. Twice she turned to fight them, but she was naked, and held no weapons. At last she stumbled, and knew with absolute certainty they would fall upon her. She cried out, desperate for someone to save her, when the dark-red world turned bright.

Zusa opened her eyes to see her door cracked open, allowing a sliver of light to lance across her face. She sat up, suddenly aware of her full bladder.

“Who’s there?” she asked.

The door opened further, and Alyssa stepped inside.

“Let me light a lamp,” she said, closing the door for a few moments. Zusa took the time to relieve herself, then replace the chamber pot underneath her bed. Alyssa returned with a thin punk, the tip burning. She lit two separate lamps, giving a soft gold glow to the room. With the door closed once more, she sat down on the bed beside her.

“How long did I sleep?” Zusa asked, rubbing her face with her hands. Normally she could awaken fully alert, but this time, it felt like sleep clung stubbornly to her mind.

“About ten hours,” Alyssa said. “It is late afternoon.”

Something gnawed at her, and then Zusa figured it out.

“Where is Haern?”

“Captured,” Alyssa said. Zusa felt a lump build in her throat, and then she saw her mistress’s hands were shaking. “Ingram has him in his dungeon. He plans on hanging him tonight, come sundown.”

Zusa tried to think, and she bit down on her tongue to focus through the use of pain. It had to be remnants of Violet, she decided. Seeing Alyssa’s troubled mind, she thought of what else must have happened. Ten hours gone…that meant…

“What of the meeting?” she asked. “Did that go well?”

Alyssa sighed.

“There are so many there. Laryssa and the elves, Ingram, his petty lords, and of course the Merchant Lords made sure their presence was felt. Nothing but an hour of shouting and accusations. Twice I swore it would turn to bloodshed. My head still hurts after that nonsense.”

“Anything resolved?”

The question evidently amused Alyssa immensely, and she laughed like one reaching the end of her sanity.

“Ulrich and his Lords demanded concessions of land and a halt to the killings, Ingram implied he agreed without ever saying so, and the elves threatened war should they lose a single acre of forest. Laurie and I were the only ones who even knew the word compromise. Perhaps tomorrow will go better. I hope so…”

“Forget about tomorrow,” Zusa said, wrapping her arms around Alyssa and pulling her close. Resting her head atop Alyssa’s, she stared into the flickering shadows of her room. “Haern hangs tonight, and I know that troubles you. Give me the word, and I will go.”

“I can’t. I won’t let you get yourself killed trying to break into Ingram’s dungeon.”

Zusa let her go, then removed her dress. She still felt weak, and it wouldn’t have surprised her if her fever remained. None of that mattered. Sitting naked on the bed, she began to put on her dark wrappings. Alyssa watched for a while, as if debating, then stood.

“Let me get you something to eat,” she said.

“Thank you.”

By the time Alyssa returned with a tray of bread and meat, Zusa had covered all but her face. She tore into the bread, relishing the taste of butter on her tongue. When she had first woken, her stomach felt cramped and angry, and she hadn’t thought she could eat much. Smelling the meat, and tasting the bread, had awakened a hunger that shocked her. She devoured the entire meal, wiped her lips on her wrist, and then began to cover her face with the last of her cloth wrappings.

“Don’t get yourself killed,” Alyssa finally said, stepping behind Zusa and taking the cloth from her hands. “I’ll hate myself forever if you do.”

“You’ll hate yourself even more if you do nothing,” Zusa said, smiling underneath her mask. When Alyssa finished tying the last strand, she gave her a kiss on the forehead.

“Guards are nothing to me,” Zusa said. “Rest, and learn what you can about the Violet. I’ll return with Haern. I promise.”

“I’ll show it to Laurie,” Alyssa said. “And I’ll hold you to that promise.”

Zusa shot her a wink as she put on her cloak.

“I’ve defeated dark paladins, mercenaries, and even fought the Watcher to a standstill. I fear no dungeons, Alyssa, no jailors. When I return, it will be with Haern, my promise unbroken.”

Without another word she grabbed her daggers and dashed down the hall.

I
n pure darkness Haern sat and listened to the distant moans. He could see their vague shapes through the bars of his cell, lit by light of slender windows that he now lacked. Not long after Alyssa’s departure, the jailor had come with a few bricks to jam into the window.

“Consider yourself lucky,” the jailor had said. “They just want it dark. No clubs or pins for you. Damn shame. I’d have loved to make you sing.”

Haern had given him no reply, for he had no fear of torture. He was the King’s Watcher of Veldaren, son of Thren Felhorn. To think a single lowly jailor could break him in a day was insulting.

Hour by unknown hour, time passed. Haern tried praying to Ashhur, but each time he thought of the kid he’d killed in Veldaren, and of those who’d swung from gallows, his name on the lips of their executioner. His prayers stumbled and ended. Worse was Senke’s amulet of the Golden Mountain. They’d taken it from him before chaining him to the wall. He would have given anything to have that meager comfort hanging from his neck. Thinking of Senke only opened old wounds, and he tried to push the memory away, no easy task in the suffocating darkness. All the while, the wound in his shoulder ached with steady throbs.

If he slept, he didn’t know it, but he must have. Something pressed against his shoulder, and he startled awake. He saw nothing close, but then a voice whispered in his ear. The sound chilled Haern’s blood, and for the first time, forced him to admit how vulnerable and helpless he was.

“Greetings, Watcher,” whispered the Wraith. Haern could almost imagine his grin floating beside him. “I must admit, finding you chained like this disappoints me greatly.”

“Why are you here?” Haern asked, keeping his own voice a whisper. He had no doubt the Wraith would execute him immediately should he try to catch the attention of the guards.

“To talk to you, of course. Why else? I’ve given some thought to our last discussion, and I feel I judged you too quickly. I cannot have misread you so thoroughly after your domination of Veldaren. You see, Watcher, you’ve been dragged into a game with many pieces, yet you are ignorant of their positions on the board. There are few rules, and already you’ve broken one.”

“And what rule is that?”

“Never, ever let compassion blind you to the truth.”

The Wraith chuckled. Something slender and sharp ran along Haern’s neck. When it pricked open a tiny cut, Haern didn’t even flinch.

“Tell me, Watcher, do you know why the elves are here? How about the Trifect? Do you think Alyssa came here solely because of me? And what of the Merchant Lords? Have you wondered about their part to play in this, or do you even know who they are? You would condemn me for killing members from all parties, yet you know so little. You killed leaders of the Trifect and the thief guilds. The men and women I kill are no less guilty.”

The side of the blade smacked the side of Haern’s face, and he felt blood trickle down his cheek from another cut.

“Tell me, how am I different than you?”

“I never reveled in my killings.”

“You are wrong,” the Wraith whispered, his tone chilling. “These killings give me no pleasure, no joy. Perhaps with some of them I am amused by their deaths, but they are the truly despicable. Surely you cannot deny the same feeling as you slaughtered Veldaren’s worthless scum.”

Haern turned toward the Wraith, and in the darkness, he thought he could see the faintest outline of the man’s hood.

“Then why the grin?” he said.

“In the face of such madness, what can one do but smile?”

“And kill.”

The Wraith laughed.

“Yes, and kill. Kill, as you have killed. Inspire fear, as you inspired fear. That night, I went to administer the same justice you have dealt out a hundred times. Why did you defend them, Watcher? I have tried to discover the answer, but nothing I’ve come up with seems satisfactory. Was it truly what you said?”

“Innocents would die. I had no choice.”

“Innocents always die. Do you think your little games in Veldaren harmed only the guilty?”

“Not children!”

A hand pressed over his mouth.

“Quiet, fool,” the Wraith whispered. “Such outbursts…and why do we speak of children? Does your conscience suffer? Is that what prevents you from thinking clearly? Children suffer through the actions of their fathers and rulers. Nothing will ever change that. Would you let the faults of this world prevent you from fixing that which can be made better? You coated your swords with blood to end the struggle between the guilds and the Trifect. Why do you hesitate to do so again?”

Haern closed his eyes and tried to think. Too much made sense. Too much of what the Wraith said struck home. Did he really think he’d been above it all when he slaughtered members of the thief guilds? He’d done it in the name of peace and safety. What of the Wraith? What guided his actions? The man was right; he knew far too little of the games nobles and merchants played in Angelport. Swallowing his pride and anger, he spoke words that tasted bitter on his tongue.

“What is it you hope for? If I’m to help you, I must know the end you seek.”

“The end is precisely what I seek. You’ve walked into a house of cards, Watcher. I will bring it all crumbling down. Every piece, every player, seeks to flood Neldar with drugs and war. Ask questions. Open your eyes. If I told you, you would not believe me, so hear it from their own lips. Then come to me, and try to tell me I am in the wrong.”

Haern felt more than heard the Wraith turn to face the door to his cell, which by the glint of distant torchlight, he could tell was slightly ajar.

“Your friends come for you,” whispered the Wraith. “Many of the guards are…sleeping deeply, shall we say. I can go, and let your rescuers find you with ease, or I can sound the alarm and bring the rest of Ingram’s guards flooding into the dungeon. Which is it to be, Watcher? Is there hope for you, or should I let the gallows remove your thorn from my side? Answer me. I’ll know if you lie.”

Haern took a deep breath and tried to think over all he’d heard and seen. In the end, he remembered what he’d told Ulrich back at Laurie’s mansion. The Wraith had left the child alive. Somewhere in him was a sense of control and decency, despite the chill his presence gave him that seemed contrary to that in every way. No matter how hard Haern wanted to pretend otherwise, he could not sit there in the dungeon and claim to be any more innocent. He’d filled the gutters of Veldaren with blood to achieve his aims, however lofty. Condemning the Wraith for doing the same, without looking into matters further, was hypocritical beyond measure.

“I make no promises,” Haern whispered. “But I will discover the truth of this city, one way or another. If I’ve been played the fool, by anyone…”

“So be it. Perhaps there is hope for you yet.”

The cell fell silent but for the soft clink of the door shutting. Haern closed his eyes, hung his head, and wondered if he’d lost his mind. He thought of the rage he’d felt when Alyssa had come, and how he’d promised to make the man pay. A large part of him still felt that way, but he didn’t know if it was the better part of him, or just his battered ego.

A hand clamped over his mouth, and he startled.

“Quiet,” a woman’s voice whispered. “Someone has been here before me.”

“The Wraith,” Haern whispered when she removed her hand.

“Will he stop us?”

He shook his head.

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Then let us hurry.”

He heard a clinking sound from above as Zusa began picking the locks of his chains. Haern kept his breathing steady as his pulse began to rise. No matter how many guards Zusa and the Wraith took down on the way in, escaping would be no easy task. The sheer fact that it was still daylight would prove problematic. With a loud rattle, one of the chains slipped loose and hit the floor. Further down the corridor, several prisoners called out in mocking tones.

“How bad is your wound?” Zusa asked.

Another chain slipped free, this one carefully brought to the ground. Haern tested his shoulder, and he had to bite his tongue to hold in a pained cry.