Haern pointed. “We can hide here.”
It took a moment for Kayla to realize where they were, but when she did her eyes widened.
“Are you daft, boy? This is Keenan’s estate.”
“Exactly,” Haern said, a bit of a smile curling his lips. “The one place no one would dare look for us.”
The reasoning was sound, but looking at those enchanted bars, she was baffled as to how they would cross them.
“Follow me,” Haern said. Instead of climbing the bars, though, he turned and shimmied up the wall of a much more modest dwelling on the opposite side of the road. He clearly favored his right leg, bracing his weight on the left as often as he could. It seemed there was no way up, but his feet and hands found crevices, windowsills, and indents in the plaster. He made it seem so easy, as if a pathway were there, waiting hidden just for him.
Kayla knew she was good at climbing, but she doubted her ability to follow. Not that she had a choice, given the constant shouts of guards hunting after them. Trying not to think about it, and therefore worry, she began climbing in a reckless rush. She made it halfway up before her foot slipped. The windowsill cracked and broke. Her hands flailing wildly, she grabbed the first thing she could: Haern’s wounded leg. The boy hung from the roof by his hands, and though his grip seemed like iron, she could hear his grunts of pain. She swung her foot farther to the side, onto what remained of the windowsill. When she let go of his leg, she heard him exhale slowly, as if he fought to control his pain. A moment later he was atop the roof and gone from her sight.
The rest of the way up was easy, and when she got there she found Haern lying on his back, tears running down the sides of his face.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “We can hide here, surely the guards won’t see…”
“They will,” Haern said. “They can see us from the street. Even if it takes all night, they’ll find us.”
Kayla sighed. He was right, of course. The roof was not perfectly flat, but instead sharply angled, with triangles rising up to make a space for windows. If they hunkered down they might go unnoticed for a while, but any searching eyes would eventually spot them. Slowly Haern shifted all his weight to his left leg and tried to stand. Kayla gently put her hands underneath his elbows and helped him.
“I’ll scream when I jump,” he said. “Ignore it. I’ll be fine.”
And then he was off, showing no sign of his injury. The roof, while angled, was still wide and offered plenty of room for a running start. In between the spikes of the gate were thick strips of the dark iron, and it was for them he dove like a swan. With both hands he latched on, and when his body swung downward, he kicked off the bars with his good leg. Feet in the air, he vaulted over the spikes and landed on the smooth carpet of grass on the other side.
Kayla felt her lips tremble at the display. Perhaps it would be better to remain on the rooftop, hoping the guards would miss her. They weren’t searching for her, after all, just the strange, incredibly trained teenage boy who fought like an assassin. She couldn’t possibly mimic his act, could she?
She made her decision. With her longer legs, perhaps there was another way…
In a single quick motion she unbuckled her belt, counted to three, and then ran off the side of the house. When the fence neared, she looped the belt around one of the spikes and then did her best to hold in a shout of pain as her body rammed into the bars. She started to fall, but then the belt tightened. Using a technique similar to Haern’s, she kicked off the bars and somersaulted. Her breath caught in her throat as she passed over the incredibly sharp tips. She pictured herself impaled, her corpse upside down like some grotesque ornament, and then closed her eyes to banish the image.
Then she was over, and blessed ground met her feet. She rolled along, then scrambled toward the nearest tree. Compared to the house, it made easy climbing with its many shoots and branches. Haern was waiting for her among the leaves.
“Keep quiet,” he whispered. Tears ran down his face, but he kept the sobs out of his voice. With a slender hand he pointed through a gap in the leaves where the street was visible to them both. Soldiers ran past, torches in hand. They scoured the area, but not once did they inspect the land behind the walls.
“Laurie Keenan’s property might as well be a foreign nation,” Kayla whispered. “No city guard will dare trespass onto property of a lord of the Trifect, not in the middle of the night for a whelp like you. A smart call, though you have the courage of a lion to leap like you did. If your knee had buckled…”
“It didn’t,” Haern said. “Not until I landed.”
She pulled up his pant leg and looked. His knee had already turned a shade of blue, with the very center an ugly brown. When she touched it with her fingers, she could tell it was badly swollen.
“We need it wrapped and iced,” she whispered. “And you need to give it rest.”
Haern nodded. “How long can we hide here?” he asked.
Kayla shrugged. “We’re pressing our luck as is, but if we stay away from the mansion we should be safe. I hear all his traps are within its halls.”
Haern leaned his head against a branch and closed his eyes.
“Don’t let me fall,” he said. “Please?”
“Sleep if you must,” she said, reattaching her belt. “I’ll keep us safe.”
CHAPTER
3
Maynard Gemcroft paced the halls, his bare feet cushioned by the thick carpet. He paced far from the windows. Even though he had paid handsomely for thick glass, he did not trust it. A heavy stone followed by a single arrow was all it’d take to lay him out on the carpet, bleeding red on the blue weave. A thin, wiry man, he lived amid constant protection with over a hundred guards. One of the three lords of the Trifect, he controlled the Gemcroft empire from within his fortress-mansion, hiring mercenaries, plotting guard routes, and approving a dozen trades a day. Only the king was as well protected.
Yet two days prior, Maynard had nearly died.
A guard opened a door and stepped inside. His teeth were crooked, and when he talked the sight of them disgusted Maynard. He wore chain armor, with a dark sash wrapped around his waist signifying his allegiance to the Gemcroft family line.
“Your daughter is here to see you.”
“Send her in,” Maynard said as he checked his robes and smoothed his hair. He always prided himself on his appearance, but lately he found less and less time to primp and preen. It seemed as if every other night he awoke to alarms and cries of trespassers. Come the morning, somewhere on the grounds, yet another guard would lie dead. It made keeping their ranks full a nightmare.
The guard stepped out, and his daughter entered.
“Alyssa,” said Maynard as he approached with open arms. “You’ve returned early. Were the men in the north too boring for you?”
She was short for a lady, but her slender body was supple and strong. Maynard had never seen a man best his Alyssa in any feats of dexterity, and he knew she could outdrink many as well. Her mother had been a wild one, he remembered. A shame she had slept with another man. Leon Connington’s gentle touchers had never been given a woman so fine.
Alyssa brushed a hand over the red hair cropped around her shoulders and woven into tight braids. Her fingers pulled aside an errant strand and tucked it behind an ear. Her green eyes twinkled with mild amusement.
“Boring does not go far enough to describe them,” she said in a husky voice. “The women there preen and prattle like they’ve never heard of a cock, and so the men oblige by never pulling it out to teach them otherwise.”
She snickered as Maynard felt his neck flush. He knew she was just trying to embarrass him. John Gandrem ruled the Northern Plains from Felwood Castle. The lord had, through his letters, kept him painfully aware of whom Alyssa had slept with. When any one of them could produce a potential heir to the Gemcroft fortune, even the most private details had to be known.
“Must you use such … such … common language?” Maynard asked
.
“You sent me to live with common women. Fosters and sitters whose entire wealth couldn’t buy the privilege to clean the … filth from my bottom.”
She winked at her father.
“I did so for your own safety,” Maynard said. He caught her nearing the windows and put himself in the way. When he opened his mouth to explain she pressed a finger against his lips and kissed his forehead.
Servants arrived to inform them that the evening meal was ready. Maynard took his daughter’s hand and led her through the mansion to the extravagant dining room. Suits of armor lined the walls, holding erect lances decorated with silken flags of kings, nobles, and ancient members of the family. Over a hundred chairs waited at the giant table, their dark wood upholstered in purple. Decorating the top were twelve roses, each in a ruby-encrusted vase.
Twenty servants stood ready, although only the two leaders of the family would eat first. Maynard took a seat at the head of the table as Alyssa sat to his left.
“Don’t worry about the food,” he told her. “I have everything tasted.”
“You’re the worrier, not me.”
Maynard thought she might have reacted differently if she’d known seven tasters had died over the past five years, including one only two days ago.
The first course was steamed mushrooms smothered with gravy. Servants flitted in and out of sight, always bustling, always hurrying. Alyssa closed her eyes and sighed as she bit into one of the mushrooms.
“You have your quirks, but at least you ensure quality meals,” she said. “The servants in Felwood seemed to think a skinned cat was a delicacy. Every other meal I spent the evening pulling hair out of my teeth.”
Maynard shuddered.
“They have always been fair when dealing with me, so I felt them a safe home for you, especially so far away from Veldaren. Please, don’t jest about such crude things while we eat.”
“You’re right,” Alyssa said. “We should talk business instead.”
The next course arrived, an unknown meat smothered with so much gravy and seasoning that she could barely see it. The smell made her mouth water.
“Business is exhausting,” Maynard said. “And in more ways than one. I would prefer we not discuss it while we relax.”
“You would prefer we not discuss it at all. I went away a young girl, but I’ve had plenty of time to learn. Years, in fact.” There was no hiding her resentment. “How many years has this embarrassing war with the thief guilds lasted?”
“Five years,” Maynard said, frowning. “Five long years. Don’t be bitter with me for sending you away. I just wanted you safe.”
“Safe?” Alyssa said. She put down her fork, pushed away the plate. “Is that what you think? You wanted me out of your way, you always have. Easier to plot murder and money when your little girl isn’t underfoot.”
“I have missed you dearly,” Maynard insisted.
“You showed it poorly,” she said. The words stung him like a needle to the chest. “But enough of this. I am a Gemcroft, same as you, and this pathetic conflict shames both our names. Gutter vermin and lowborn cutthroats defeating the entire wealth and power of the Trifect? Pathetic.”
“I would hardly say we are being defeated.”
She laughed in his face. “We control every gold and gem mine north of the Kingstrip. They have bastards and whoresons robbing caravans and peasant workers. Leon Connington keeps Lord Sully and the rest of the Hillock in his pocket. They have lice and fleas in theirs. And what about Laurie Keenan? Half the boats on the Thulon Ocean are his, yet I worry his sea dogs will start thinking those boats better protected in their hands instead of his.”
“You forget your place!” Maynard said. “It is true we have much more than they, but therein lies our danger. We pay a fortune for mercenaries and guards while they bring in men off the street. We have our mansions and they have their hovels, and you tell me which is easier to hide? They are like worms. We cut off a head only to have two worms grow from the parts.”
“They don’t fear you,” Alyssa said. “None of you. Spineless men, you will lose everything but what you hold in your hands, hands that shrink with each passing day. Do you know how many of your own mercenaries give a portion of their coin to the guilds?”
“I know more than you could possibly dream,” Maynard snapped. He leaned back in his chair. His shoulders felt heavy and his arms made of stone. So many times he had heard this same argument from reckless fools. It saddened him to realize his daughter was now one of them. Still … if Alyssa had such thoughts, he doubted they were originally her own. She had been out of the city for far too long to be so aware. Who was feeding her this information? Who was twisting his daughter for their own gain?
“Tell me, O wise daughter of mine,” Maynard said, “tell me how you know all these little details?”
“How I know doesn’t matter,” Alyssa said a bit too quickly.
“It is all that matters,” Maynard said. He rose from his chair and clapped for his servants. “Yoren Kull has been whispering in your ear, hasn’t he? I forbade Lord Gandrem from allowing him contact with you, but where there’s walls there’s rats, isn’t that right?”
“He’s not a rat.” Her voice was losing a bit of its certainty. She did fine when on the offensive. Now that his eye was on her, she faltered. “And what does it matter? I stayed with Lord Kull during the winter months. His castle is closer to the ocean where it’s warm.”
“Lord Kull?” Maynard laughed, reminding himself to reprimand Lord Gandrem for such a lapse in judgment. “He and his father collect taxes from Riverrun. My servants live in a better home. Tell me, did he seduce you with whispers of power and a glass of wine?”
“You’re avoiding my…”
“No,” Maynard said, his voice growing stern. “You’ve been tainted with lies. We are still feared, but the guilds are feared even more. They are desperate. However long you felt those five years drag, I assure you, they’ve moved at far more brutal pace here. These thugs, these vermin, they kill with abandon. Worse, someone whispers in the ear of King Vaelor, always blaming us for the violence. The crown refuses to help us, as do his soldiers. The nobles who do publicly side with us gag on their food or have their children vanish from their bedchambers.”
He slammed his palms against the table, holding himself up with quivering arms.
“We may have all our wealth,” he said, his soft voice penetrating the sudden quiet. “But they have Thren Felhorn. And right now, our wealth means nothing compared to that.”
He clapped again. Servants crowded around them. Alyssa felt uncomfortable in their presence, and then the guards arrived.
“Take her,” Maynard said.
“You can’t!” she shouted as rough hands grabbed her arms and pulled her flailing from the table.
Maynard forced himself to watch as they dragged her away. He said nothing. There was too much chance he’d reveal his pain.
“What do you want us to do with her?” asked his keeper of the guard, a simpleminded man made useful by his muscles and sheer devotion to his work.
“Put her in one of the cells,” Maynard said as he sat at the table and picked up a fork.
“The gentle touchers would make her talk sooner,” said the guard. Maynard looked up, appalled.
“Never,” he said. “She is my daughter. Give her time to cool underneath the stone. Once she’s ready to open her eyes to how things truly are, I can show her just how bloody this war has gotten. It was my fault to leave her away too long. No idea, the stupid girl, she has no idea how terrible things have been. She says she is a woman grown, and of that I have no doubt. Let us hope her cunning surpasses even my own, and she sees Yoren for the liar he is. I will not have my wealth stolen from me by the pathetic son of a tax collector.”
CHAPTER
4
Several hours passed. If Kayla had had any doubt as to the boy’s importance, the tenacity of the soldiers’ search erased it. Carefully she pushed the
blond hair off his face and looked at his soft features. He was cute for his age, just barely entering the transition into manhood. With his baby blue eyes, he’d no doubt break a few hearts … and with his skill, a few bones as well. But who was he? She rarely forgot a face, and she doubted she’d have ever forgotten his, but so far she had come up empty.
With the sun finally beginning to creep above the city walls, Kayla nudged him awake. He snapped his eyes open and stared at her without a word. It was as if he had grown inward and shy now the danger was past. She thought to ask him of his father, then decided against it. No matter who he was, she’d been careful to foster no enemies among the thief guilds.
“Should we head west?” she asked. He nodded. “I thought so, but we have a slight problem. How do we get over the gate?”
He didn’t know. It seemed that when the hounds were at his heel, he was a fountain of ideas, but when things quieted down, the fountain ran dry. She almost smacked him upside the head and threatened to cut his throat if he didn’t produce an idea, but the thought was so absurd she laughed.
“I guess we wait,” Kayla said. Her stomach was rumbling, and she badly wanted someone to look at Haern’s knee. When she glanced about, she had little faith in the tree’s cover once the sun reached its fullest. If discovered, she would probably wish for the comfort of the noose. Inside Laurie Keenan’s compound, he ruled, not the king.
“What if someone else opens the gate?” Haern whispered. “Maybe we can run through.”
“Maybe,” she said absently. But even maybe was pushing their luck. They needed someone to open the gate without noticing them hiding first, and then they’d have to escape the guards on their frantic dash to the street, all while hoping no archers in the windows feathered them dead. But if they were to do something, they needed to do it before the rest of the estate began its daily routines. Even though Laurie and his family lived in a second home south in Angelport, Kayla knew they still kept guards and a skeleton crew of servants to keep the place safe and clean. If any one of them spotted the two, they didn’t have a beggar’s chance of convincing anyone they weren’t pawns of the thief guilds, sent to kill yet another lackey of the Trifect.
Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks Page 4