A Dance of Death (24 page)

“Doesn’t look like it,” Haern said, looking for and finding Alyssa sitting on a bench at the very front. Beside her lay Zusa, wrapped in blankets. She slept. Logan lingered nearby, polishing the altar and dais, as Alyssa nodded in greeting.

“Her convulsions have stopped,” she said as he took a seat beside her. “I think the Violet’s finally leaving her body.”

Haern nodded, glad but unable to think much of the matter, not giving what he’d just heard.

“Alyssa,” he said. “Ingram just put a bounty worth twenty acres on your head.”

Her jaw clenched, but she held her reaction well.

“I’m not surprised,” she said. “I assumed Madelyn would try to turn him against me somehow.”

Haern shook his head, and he fought to keep his fury down.

“It’s not that. It’s Laryssa. He’s claiming you’re responsible for her attack.”

“But why…no, she can’t possibly think I’d retaliate, not even for what she did.”

“It seems she does, and they claim I was the one to attack at your command. We have prices on both our heads.”

She sat back, stunned, and grabbed Zusa’s hand as if on instinct.

“What do we do?” she asked. Her voice had fallen to a whisper. “What can we do?”

Haern shook his head.

“This whole city is rotten. I don’t know what’s right. I don’t know who tells truth or lies. Let us leave. Forget vengeance on the Wraith. Once we’re back in Veldaren, you’ll be safe from Madelyn’s madness and Ingram’s guards. Let this city meet its own fate.”

“Even if that fate is war?”

“This city will have war no matter what we do! They run toward it with open arms. Do you think we can convince the elves to ignore the lynch mobs that tore their kin apart? Do you think we can convince the Merchant Lords to abandon their greed? Do you think we can make Ingram humble himself before the elves and take their side in these disputes?”

“We must do something!” Alyssa stood, as if sitting were too much for her anger. “I won’t let all of the Ramere descend into chaos. Thousands will die, and call me greedy if you will, but I cannot lose the trade, the ships, the farmland…War in the south will cause irreparable harm to the Trifect, and already we limp on decaying legs. We helped create this mess, and we will fix it. Now think! Why would Laryssa or Ingram think you were to blame?”

“The eye,” Zusa said, slowly sitting up. “And your yelling is bad for headaches.”

Haern felt her words pierce his heart with ice. Of course, his symbol. Knowledge of it wasn’t common, and he himself hadn’t used it since ending the thief war years before, but at least one person knew. The man who had used that same symbol before.

“The Wraith,” he said. “It has to be. He wants this whole mess brought to a head, and now he’s found a way.”

Alyssa fussed over Zusa a moment, who pushed her away.

“He’s attacked the elves before,” Zusa said. “You must find him, Haern. Give him to the elves, and let them take all the years they need to drag out a confession. If we clear Alyssa’s name, we might stop all of this.”

She made it sound so simple, but Haern knew it wasn’t. Finding him would be close to impossible, and as for defeating him…

“And what about you?” he asked her, trying not to let his nerves get the best of him.

“The merchants have overstepped their bounds,” Zusa said. “We must make them fear us, fear the fate awaiting them if they force Angelport to war.”

She stood on unsteady feet. Alyssa pulled her back down to the bench, and the faceless woman could not resist.

“You’re still weak,” she said. “Rest another day. We’re safe here.”

“Can the city spare another day?”

Haern frowned, and he swung his arm in a circles. Nole had done well healing his shoulder, and he finally felt like he might fight at full strength. Perhaps the city could wait, as well the merchants, but the Wraith…

“I’ll find him,” he said. “Even if I have to tear Angelport apart until I do.”

It was a hollow promise, for the city was an enormous place, but he had a feeling the Wraith would be looking for him. Looking to see if he’d join him. Part of him still wanted to. But if they were to have peace, and clear his name, he’d have to take him down.

Haern reached into Alyssa’s pocket, pulling out a handful of gold coins.

“Where are you going?” she asked as he headed for the door.

“To buy new swords.”

A
mbassador Graeven waited outside the city, in the same spot where Eravon had been killed. It only seemed appropriate. No tents this time, just a small fire to show his position. The rain had stopped, but thick clouds remained, convincing the elf it was a brief, but welcome, respite. Hour after hour came and went, and patient as ever, he let them pass until at last his guest joined him at the fire.

“Greetings, Scoutmaster,” Graeven said, bowing. “Where is your magnificent horse?”

“I feared Sonowin would attract too much attention,” the other elf said, and he bowed low to show his respect. His hair was brown and long, carefully cut and braided so it would not disrupt his vision. His clothes were a camouflaged mix of greens and browns. When he walked, he made not a sound, and it seemed even the grass hardly noticed his passing. He was Dieredon, Scoutmaster of the Quellan elves, and one of their greatest trackers. Hanging from his back was an enormous bow, with which his skill was legendary.

“I’m glad you’ve come,” Graeven said. “The city has grown violent as of late, and I have need of your skills.”

“So I have heard. Where is Laryssa now?”

“We’ve smuggled her out of the city for her own safety. Ceredon’s ordered her to return to Quellassar, as is best. I will remain in charge of our negotiations, which brings me to why I need you.”

They both sat opposite each other by the fire, on beds of grass Graeven had carefully dried out with a burning branch during the lengthy wait. He offered Dieredon a buttered piece of bread, but the other elf rejected it.

“I am not much for human food,” he said.

“It’s grown on me.”

Dieredon looked to the city in the distance, his sharp eyes easily seeing a hundred details even Graeven could not.

“I am not alone in my arrival,” he said. “Many more have come, and it takes little to guess their intentions. Already we infiltrate the city. By week’s end, we’ll have two hundred elves in disguise among their ranks, if not twice that. The response has been overwhelming.”

“Which is why I summoned you,” Graeven said, setting aside his food without taking a bite, despite what he’d said about human food. “My position is to speak for our kind, who are united in their desire for war. I fear to utter even a word of peace lest I find myself reprimanded. Since Laryssa’s attack, it has only gotten worse.”

“Then why summon me?”

“Because you aren’t like the rest of our kin. You have spent a century in the wild, amid orcs, wolves, and humans. If there is anyone I feel I can rely on in this matter, it is you.”

Dieredon crossed his arms.

“I am no friend of man, despite my efforts. But a war against Angelport is folly. We should be above revenge and pride, yet that drives so many of our kind here. If I can help prevent such madness, tell me, and I will do what I can.”

Graeven smiled.

“Despite his bluster, I don’t think Lord Ingram actually seeks war. He’s a coward, and his fear and ignorance of us is truly impressive. It is our own kind we must appease, and I know of only one way. If you hunted down the ones responsible for the attack on Laryssa, and prove they acted on their own, we might have a chance. I’ll still need to deal with the Merchant Lords, but I think Ingram has begun to fear them as much as us. Perhaps a solution will present itself, but for now, we must worry about one thing at a time.”

“Do we know who is responsible?” Dieredon asked. “I’ve heard rumors…”

“I feel certain Alyssa Gemcroft gave the order. I heard her fury when we cast her out, reneging on my earlier offer of safety.” He handed Dieredon a small square piece of parchment, with a drawing of Alyssa he’d made with a thin stick of charcoal. “She is in hiding, and must be found. But I do not believe she was the one who acted out the attack.”

“Who was it, then?”

“I have looked deep into the matter, so trust my word in this. He is known as the Watcher, a killer from Veldaren who came south with Alyssa. The open eye is his symbol, which he drew using Laryssa’s own blood. Not only did he attack our princess, but he was arrogant enough to ensure we knew why it was done.”

“What does this…Watcher…look like?”

Graeven handed over a second square of parchment.

“It’s crude, I know, but the best I could manage. He is skilled, far more than humans are usually capable of. Do not treat him lightly. I wonder how great a match he would be against you.”

“How will I find him?” Dieredon asked, tucking both drawings into a pouch at his belt.

“If you find Alyssa, you will find him. He seems protective of her, perhaps because she has hired him, perhaps because they are lovers. It is little matter. With Alyssa found, he will come for her, if he is not with her already.”

“I will do what I can, though I must travel in disguise, and that will slow things down.”

“Make haste,” Graeven said, standing. “Remember, everything I do, I do for Quellassar. We must not relinquish the slightest scrap of land to the humans, I understand that now, but neither can we let a war begin that we are not prepared to win.”

“It might not be within our power to stop.”

Graeven’s eyes twinkled, and he smiled in the absence of starlight.

“Within the land of humans, Dieredon, everything is possible. These events are ours to control. Bring me Alyssa and the Watcher, and I will do the rest.”

Dieredon nodded, and he turned once more to the city.

“I may have to kill to succeed,” he said.

“Our cause is just. Celestia will understand, and give you her blessing. The few you kill outnumber the thousands you save. Remember, if you see our brethren in disguise, keep your task to yourself. Their minds are set, and they will not appreciate any attempt toward peace.”

“I understand. Go in peace, ambassador, and may Celestia watch over you.”

“And you as well.”

Dieredon scattered the fire with his foot, then headed for the city. Graeven watched him go, for a moment doubting the wisdom of sending the Scoutmaster after the Watcher. In the end, he shrugged his shoulders, and decided it was worth the risk.

D
ejected, Haern returned to the temple just before the break of dawn. He’d scoured the city, twice interrupting an attempted theft, and once a rape, always careful to wound without killing. Still no sign of the Wraith, despite the possible attention. At least the rain had subsided, and no riots had broken out, which was a blessed relief.

As he walked to the door, it opened, and Logan startled for a moment finding him standing there so close.

“Heading out?” Haern asked.

“Errands,” Logan said, hurrying away.

Inside, he found Alyssa still asleep on one of the benches, wrapped in a cocoon of blankets. Zusa sat beside her, and she nodded in greeting. Haern nodded back, and he began to sit when Nole appeared from his room.

“Finally back?” the priest asked.

“I am,” Haern said, keeping his voice low so he wouldn’t wake Alyssa. “Though I have little to show for a night’s rest wasted.”

“Come, use my bed then,” said Nole. “It is softer than the benches, and I have no need of it.”

Haern didn’t want to be a bother, given the kindness the priest had shown them over the past few days. Still, the benches were hardly comfortable, even with the padding of blankets. He removed his sword belt, pulled back his hood, and followed. The priest’s room was small and bare, but it had a bed, and Haern sat on its side. The mattress was stuffed with feathers, and it felt divine after hours hunched over the side of buildings, watching and waiting.

“I’m sorry it isn’t much,” Nole said, tidying up his small desk, and rolling up various scrolls. “You must be used to better, having come from Veldaren. Have you seen the temple there?”

Haern laid his swords down in a corner, then set his newly purchased cloak atop them.

“A few times,” he said, kicking off his boots. “It is a fine building.”

“Fine?” Nole chuckled. “Fine does not do it justice. Great pillars, walls carved of marble from distant quarries. I hear they’ve begun coloring their windows, so that the light swirls like a rainbow as it enters the temple.”

The priest looked around his room, carved of plain wood, and he gestured out the door, to where simple benches rested atop uncarpeted floor.

“Sadly, I must make do with so very little.”

“I take it Angelport is not so free gifting its coin?” Haern asked, laying down on the bed, his back popping multiple times as he did.

“I think the wealthy and the poor are all the same in every city, Haern, at least when it comes to their coin. No, the gods are not very important to the sailors and workers of Angelport. I have a small congregation every sixth day, but their tokens are only enough to keep me and Logan fed, and stave off the debtors for another year. Perhaps we do not impress them, perhaps I am an uninspiring servant of Ashhur, but at least Karak’s presence here is just as weak.”