Shadowdance 05 - A Dance of Ghosts

by David Dalglish

  Haern took a step back at the rebuke, then glanced around. So many times he’d endured such rants while growing up, and it did to him now what it always did to him then: made him feel like a complete fool. His fears were naïve, his wisdom unfounded. And sure enough, he’d hidden his face all during their travel southwest, down through the green lands of the Kingstrip and past the hills of Omn as they made their way toward the Gods’ Bridges.

  He sat back down, taking meager comfort that his father could not see the way his face blushed or how frustrated he was. Of course, Thren would still sense it, read it from the way he sat, the gestures his hands made, the tiniest of inflections in his voice. But at least it’d be somewhat less obvious. He thought to give a false name but decided keeping such a thing straight in his head was pointless. Haern was a common enough name, and already it was a disguise, a burial of the Aaron he had been.

  “Haern,” he said, crossing his arms. “For now, call me Haern.”

  “Very well, Haern. Care to tell me how you really obtained that magical hood?”

  Haern tried to think of where to start, where was appropriate. In the distance, a coyote sounded, and the noise emphasized to Haern just how far from home he was, how distant the walls of Veldaren. Where he sat, there were only the woods, the animals, and Thren Felhorn … and his father more closely resembled the animals than any fellow human he’d normally associate with. The howl continued but was not taken up by any other animals, and that made it seem all the more lonely. When it stopped, Haern began.

  “I went south to Angelport at the request of a friend,” he said. “An elf was using my old mark as a way to mock his victims as well as pay homage to my own reputation in Veldaren. This elf was killing anyone he needed to bring the entire city crumbling down. He thought war would purge the evil from it, a desperately needed cleansing at the hands of his race. The reason I took that hood was to remind myself to never, ever believe as he did. My skills, my blades, they can shape the future, but it is never my place to do so as if I were a god.”

  He fell silent, and in the center of his chest, he felt a pressure growing, a strange anxiety. He knew what it was, but that just made it all the stranger. He wanted to know what his father thought of it. Why, he could not say. The man was a monster, he knew that, he truly believed that. But for some reason, that didn’t seem to matter.

  While Haern had thought Thren would immediately mock him, instead, his father stayed relaxed by the fire, leaning against his tree. His left hand slowly picked at a leaf beside him, systematically stripping it so only the stem remained.

  “Humility is rarely a virtue I practice,” Thren said when the leaf was naked. “I’ll admit there are times when accepting your own limitations can save your life, as well as lead to necessary growth in skill, but you taking that hood for such reasons is nothing more than a self-serving lie.”

  Haern opened his mouth to ask why, then closed it. Thren would tell him why, of course. He always did. Better to remain silent, hide behind the shadowed mask so his father would not see just how deeply his words stung.

  But for once, Thren did not continue. His own face had grown distant, his gaze elsewhere.

  “Why?” Haern asked when it was clear he would not continue.

  Thren looked up, and there was something hidden in his face, something … proud.

  “Because you are a god among the people of Veldaren,” Thren said. “You command the fear and loyalty of so many, it makes a mockery of our own king. With your blades, you have shaped Veldaren’s future more than any other man and woman alive. Yet that power scares you, doesn’t it, Haern? Better to tell yourself you aren’t that powerful. Better to tell yourself it isn’t your place to make such decisions over the lives of others. You’re a giant stooping down to pretend to be a man. You convince no one but yourself.”

  “You would call me a fool?”

  “No. I merely question the man who is afraid to be everything he was meant to be.”

  The comment stung far worse than it should have. Haern knew who his father had intended him to be. He’d wanted a perfect killer, denied friends, starved of affection, left without faith or family. Only the skills to take a life, and the ruthless training to lead his father’s guild. Haern was never meant to be anything other than an echo of Thren living on after his father’s death.

  “Who are you to decide what I was meant to be?” Haern asked him, unable to keep the bite from his voice.

  “Just a man slowly getting older,” Thren said, laying down and closing his eyes to sleep. “But I know denial when I see it. All I said was that you are a god among the people of Veldaren. Never once did I say how you should wield that power.”

  The darkness was deepening, the sound of the cicadas growing loud enough to overwhelm. In that midnight cacophony, Haern pulled his knees to his chest, crossed his arms over them, and stared at the man that had been his father.

  “Why did you never kill me?” he asked, softly enough he wasn’t even sure if Thren would hear. But he did hear, and after a moment, he answered.

  “My men whisper that I couldn’t even if I tried. Your reputation has surpassed mine, or have you not noticed?”

  Haern swallowed, and he felt naked as he spoke.

  “For years, I struck at your guild, killing those loyal to the Spider. I ended your war with the Trifect, effectively putting all thief guilds on a leash, and no matter what Deathmask tells me I know it was against your wishes. Yet night after night, I prowl, and never once have you tried to bring me down. No ambushes. No plots. Tonight, you ask me for my name … have you not once searched for it? You ask of my face … have you never looked for those who have seen it? I know you, Thren. I know you were never afraid of me, so why was I left alone? Why did you not crush me when you had the chance?”

  On and on droned the cicadas.

  “Your inaction can only be two things,” Haern whispered. “Either I meant something to you … or nothing at all.”

  A lengthy silence, followed by a sigh.

  “You presume much,” Thren said without ever opening his eyes. “You want to know why I never did? Because I didn’t want to.”

  “That’s not a reason.”

  “You’re right,” Thren said, rolling over and putting his back to Haern. “It’s not a reason. It is the reason for all we mere mortals do, and it is the only one I’ve ever needed in my life. Perhaps you’d best learn that yourself.”

  Haern rose from the fire and stalked off into the forest. He’d done it before when they first traveled, needing space, needing a winding path between him and the fire so he might sleep feeling safe. The following morning, he’d find Thren waiting for him on the road west, tired and in a sour mood. He always did.

  Picking a tree at random, he put his back against it, wrapped his cloak about himself, and tried to sleep. Sleep didn’t come easily, and it wasn’t that much of a surprise. Instead, he heard his father’s voice echoing in his ear, again and again.

  You convince no one but yourself.

  … no one but yourself …

  … no one …

  At last he slept, and his dreams were of Robert Haern, teaching him in the darkness.

  CHAPTER

  2

  Alyssa lay on a padded couch braced against a large oval window that opened out into a garden, not that she could see it. The colors of the petals were but memories now since Stephen Connington took her eyes. Sunlight shone upon her, the warmth comforting. Eyes closed, she did her best to absorb it, to remember brighter times. Before the loss of her sight. Before the dooming of her family line.

  The door opened, and she heard footsteps of someone entering.

  “Lady Gemcroft?” Victor asked after clearing his throat.

  Alyssa held back a sigh as she tilted her face so that her glass eyes would be gazing in his approximate direction. A practiced smile twisted her lips. For a moment, she wondered if Victor had ever seen an honest smile from her. If not, would he ever know the difference
? She doubted the glass eyes would ever help, either. Her servants insisted they were expertly crafted, pale blue with hints of veins in the corners, but she knew that whenever she wore them, people always sounded the slightest bit unnerved. Or perhaps that was only due to them not knowing how to appropriately behave in the presence of a blind woman who still wielded incredible influence and power. If she were a beggar on the street, she had a feeling every last one of her guests would know exactly how to treat her.

  “Victor,” she said. “Have you come to see me again already? I daresay any spare time of mine I find quickly occupied by your arrival.”

  She tried to keep the bite out of her words, but could tell she failed. Part of her had wanted to ask why he bothered coming to her so recently after his last visit. All of them, no matter how kind or earnest he behaved, always came down to the same purpose: he desired her wealth and her mercenaries to use in his ill-conceived scheme to clean up the streets of Veldaren.

  “I hope you don’t find the time ill spent,” Victor said, and Alyssa chuckled.

  “Ill spent? Of course not.”

  Her smile said otherwise.

  “Is it all right if I sit?” Victor asked, and at her gesture he sat down in a chair opposite her. He made sure to make plenty of noise so that she might follow him, but she didn’t bother. Instead, she turned back to the window, closing her eyes and placing her face back into the streaming sunlight. The warmth of the sun … if it hit her face just right, she could pretend to see its golden glow through her eyelids.

  “Your beauty is radiant today,” Victor said after a lengthy pause.

  “So my servants tell me,” she said. “Their word is all I have to go on now, and I must say, it makes the process of their powders and perfumes all the more tiresome.”

  “Even if you were to forgo it, you would still steal the breath of any man in this city.”

  Alyssa smirked, and her fingers idly tapped against the glass of the window.

  “I doubt you’ve come just to flatter me,” she said, refusing to look his way. “It’s the Sun Guild again, isn’t it?”

  “It is,” Victor said. “Their rapid expansion cannot be ignored any longer.”

  “You and the Ash Guild chased them out, I thought?” she said. She knew the answer, of course, but she felt it prudent to remind him of how he had already failed once in his goals. Maybe with enough attempts, some wisdom might break through that thick skull of his.

  “It was only temporary,” Victor said. “Muzien the Darkhand came soon after, and he brought a second wave of guildmembers that Veldaren’s soldiers cannot, or will not, stop from overwhelming the remaining thief guilds.”

  “Fascinating,” Alyssa said. “But I’ve ceased caring about what these wretched criminals do to one another.”

  “But you must care,” Victor said. “If Muzien succeeds in taking total control of Veldaren’s underworld, I fear even the power of the Trifect will crumble. The Spider Guild hurt you, but this elf is different somehow. The guilds fear him in a way they never feared Thren. Thren was one of them, better than them perhaps, but still one of their own. Muzien … he’s a beast, a ghost, a demon in gray. No one will be safe once he brings his attention to those beyond the poor hovels and back alleys.”

  Alyssa turned away from the window, and she leveled her glass eyes at him. Though she kept her face an emotionless mask, beneath her temper began to flare.

  “No one will be safe?” she asked. “Do you mean me, Victor?”

  “I do,” he said, and she was stunned by his audacity. “Muzien will kill you, your family, your son…”

  “Shut your mouth,” she said, interrupting him. Rising to her feet, she took a step toward him, then reached out until her hand brushed his chest. That located, she grabbed his shoulder and used her other hand to clutch at the top of his tunic. Leaning down, she put her glass eyes mere inches from his own. Let him stare into those lifeless orbs, she thought. Let him see all she had endured before his ever coming into her life.

  “Do you think I am blind to the world around me?” she asked. “My family, my legacy, teeters above a ravine filled with lions. I fear Nathaniel will never live past his tenth birthday, let alone inherit the fortune that is rightfully his. But you … you would dare come in here and throw that fear in my face, and for what? What is it you want, Victor? Is it money? Soldiers? Validation for your failed crusade? Tell me, so I can deny it and banish you from my life forever.”

  Victor stood, and he grabbed each of her wrists and freed himself of her grasp. When he refused to let go, she pulled back, just once, but he held her there. Alyssa’s heart began to pound, and she wondered if she had pushed him too far. Still, she was not alone with Victor. If the man made another move, a single wrong word …

  “For once, open your ears and listen,” Victor said. “Do you think I am as callous and cruel as others you’ve known? I see the soldiers positioned at every door, and it’s not your crest they wear on their chest. I can help you, Alyssa, and believe it or not, I’ll do it because I feel it is the right thing to do, not just for you, not just for me, but for this whole damn city. Too many are ready to let it burn so long as they get theirs first, but I want to build something. I want to inspire, to salvage a golden coin lodged deep in the center of a pile of shit. It’s not my fault if you can’t see that!”

  Alyssa jerked against his grip, his words infuriating her. He let go as suddenly as he’d grabbed her, and with her hands now free, she raked her nails across his face. Victor stumbled backward, most likely into the couch just behind him.

  “I may be blind,” Alyssa said, pointing a finger at him, “but I can see what you can’t. Your attempts at fixing Veldaren are the hopeless, pathetic excuses of a little boy pretending at power. Your parents died in the riots years ago, and now you think you can come in like a god among us and wipe away every crime, every black heart. Gods forgive me, I was even foolish enough to believe for a moment you could do it. But no more. I won’t endure your hollow attempts at flattery. I won’t entertain your madness. You are not welcome in my home; now go.”

  “No.”

  She tensed when he said it. Ahead of her, she heard the floor groan from him taking a step.

  “I said leave,” she repeated.

  “And I said … no.”

  His hands took hers. She tensed, a knife-edge away from screaming for her guards. Not yet, though. If she were in danger, Zusa would have already sprung into action from her hiding place.

  “My flattery is not hollow,” Victor said, and there was a change in his tone. This wasn’t prepared. This wasn’t practiced banter and honeyed lies to win her over. “You are a beautiful woman, your wealth legendary, your personality a mixture of fire and diamonds. I do not love you, Alyssa, but I would protect you as fiercely as any man has protected a woman in all the kingdoms. Your family line teeters on death. Nathaniel’s legitimacy will never be accepted; you know that. Not unless another vouches for him and adopts him as his own.”

  He pulled her closer, pressed his forehead against hers.

  “You are one of the very few people who have stood before the scum of this city and vowed to take no more,” he said, his voice growing soft. “I would be proud to have you at my side, and proud to raise an intelligent boy like Nathaniel. What we could accomplish together would shake the world. But if there is to be a future for us, for any of us, then Veldaren needs to be tamed. We cannot build a castle upon a foundation of rot. You say you once believed I could succeed. Believe in me again.”

  With a shaking hand, she pushed him back, and he allowed her to do so. Her chest felt hollow. He wanted to ignite hope in her, she knew, and the pleading honesty in his voice tore at her worse than anything he’d said before. What he asked of her … five years ago she might have leaped at the chance. But now … now she couldn’t. She didn’t feel the strength left in her to challenge the might of the city. Every time she dared hope, every time she tried for happiness, there was always a man or woman
waiting with a dagger. Sometimes, it was her enemies. More often, it seemed it was those she should have been able to trust most. Why couldn’t they let her raise her son in peace? Why couldn’t Nathaniel grow up happy and beautiful and loved, instead of with vultures circling above their household and hungry eyes staring from all sides?

  “Leave,” she said. “Please, just leave.”

  Victor stood and stepped away, footsteps leading toward the room’s exit.

  “You’re afraid,” he said. “And you have every right to be. The pointed star marks over half the streets of Veldaren, and soon Muzien will seek to paint it across your doorstep. But don’t let that fear deny you hope. You are capable of great things, Alyssa, both you and your son. And at my side, we can reach them still, reach higher than you have ever dreamed. These setbacks have not shaken my confidence, nor my desires. They have only forced me to raise my ambition even higher.”

  “I could never trust you,” Alyssa said. “Too many have betrayed me already, and you would only be the next.”

  He laughed from the other side of the room, the sound both amused and terribly sad.

  “My dear Alyssa,” he said. “Of all the men in Veldaren, I am the last who would ever betray you. For good or ill, I am a man of my word, and if I say I would die for you, I mean it. If you wish to seek out those who would turn against you, begin looking closer to home.”

  With that, the door opened and shut, and with him gone, she turned and swung her fist toward the glass of her window. It struck, she heard a crack, and letting out a gasp of frustration, she dropped down into the couch, holding her bruised hand to her chest. Tears began to grow along the edges of her glass eyes, and she hated herself for it.

  “He should not speak to you in such a way,” said her closest friend. Strange as it might seem to someone else, it was no surprise to Alyssa that the voice came from the high corner of the room. No doubt Zusa had hidden there the entire encounter, daggers drawn and eager to carve an extra smile or two into Victor’s face.