Shadowdance 05 - A Dance of Ghosts (25 page)

Damn you, Muzien,
Antonil thought.
Just you wait until the Watcher returns.

Haern had come to him just before his departure from the city, letting him know things might grow a little more restless than usual while he was off doing whatever it was he planned on doing. Antonil knew not to ask where he went, only trusted the mysterious protector of Veldaren to be doing what needed to be done. Still, “restless” did not describe the upheaval taking place during the weeks of his absence. It wasn’t chaos; it wasn’t like the early days of the thief war with mercenaries storming the streets, fighting the guilds in open warfare. It wasn’t even like Lord Victor’s initial attempts at cleaning up the city. Everything about it felt too insidious, too inevitable. Street by street he walked, seeing stone tiles proclaiming the territory of the Sun Guild, and he knew there was painfully little he could do about it.

But he had to try, and that’s why he arrived at Victor Kane’s repurposed tavern and dipped his head in respect to the guards at the door.

“I wish to speak with your master,” he said.

They did not have to ask who he was, his polished armor and royal tunic on his chest clearly labeling him as a servant of the king. One of the guards banged on the door, and when it opened, he spoke to the man within.

“Sir Antonil wishes to speak with Victor,” said the guard.

The door shut, and moments later, it opened completely, and a soldier gestured for Antonil to enter. He did, stepping into the dimly lit tavern, only now it served just Victor and his men. Many of the tables had been pushed aside, leaving a wide-open space before the bar. As Antonil walked in, he noticed bloodstains on the floor, and in nearly shocking amounts. He knew there’d been a battle inside it before, when Thren made a move to kill Victor, but that was months ago. Surely it should have been cleared up by now.

“Welcome to my home,” Victor said, sitting at one of the few remaining tables. He had two tall drinks before him, the glasses overflowing with foam, and he gestured for Antonil to take a seat. Antonil did so, and after hesitating, decided that despite the early hour, he really could go for a drink.

“So, what brings you here?” Victor asked, his own drink going untouched.

“Insanity,” Antonil said, thudding his glass back down onto the wooden table. “Insanity brings me here. Insanity in my king, insanity in his advisors, insanity in the streets, the guilds, everywhere. The whole damn world’s gone insane.”

“Since entering Veldaren, I’ve often wondered if I’m the only sane person left,” Victor said, grinning.

“That, or the only one insane enough to fight against the way the world is moving,” Antonil said. “But in the end, it doesn’t matter.” He glanced over his shoulder, to the man guarding the door. “What I speak, no one but us must hear. Are we safe?”

Victor nodded.

“My men are loyal. Whatever you need to say, say it.”

Antonil took in a deep breath, drank a bit more from his glass, and then let it out.

“I’m here to commit treason, Victor.”

To his credit, Victor handled the news well enough.

“Go on,” he said.

“Muzien and his Sun Guild have gotten to the king, and he’s given them complete immunity in all things. My guards aren’t to touch them, aren’t even to give them strange looks no matter what crimes they commit. I swear, this whole city’s rotting beneath me, and no matter how hard I try, the wood keeps peeling, the stones keep cracking. I won’t let this happen. I won’t sit back and watch my beloved city break. Not without a fight.”

Victor pushed aside his alcohol and leaned forward on his elbows.

“What are you telling me?” he asked. There was no denying the eagerness in his voice, in the way his eyes shone.

“I can’t fight Muzien, not openly,” he said. “But I have men who are loyal, and access to the king’s armory. If you’ll stand against him, I will ensure you have soldiers and weapons for them to wield. Our nation has not fought a war in over a decade, but I feel this is the closest we will be in my lifetime. I have no intention of losing.”

Antonil stood.

“You marched into this city proclaiming to cast out the men hiding in the shadows. By Karak, you even swore to remove the shadows themselves. Well, the city’s only darkened, Victor, and I need all the help I can get. Will you accept? Will you put your neck on the line where I cannot?”

Victor pushed aside his own chair as he stood.

“You are a rope thrown to a drowning man,” he said. “Give me soldiers, and I will save our city. I swear it upon my life and the honor of my family.”

Antonil could hardly believe the words he was saying, but it felt good. Terrifying, but good.

“When do you need my men?” he asked.

Victor scratched at his chin as he thought, his eyes staring into nowhere.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ll come to you when I am ready. There is one more ally we need, and with your promise, I feel I can at last win them to my side. We must be strong, and when we strike, it must be overwhelming. Right now, Muzien views us as ants, insignificant to his plans, and we must keep him thinking as much. By the time he realizes his error, I pray we’ll be hoisting his head on a pike over the walls of the castle.”

He offered his hand, and Antonil clasped it and shook.

“Good men like us,” Antonil said, “we are the only hope this city knows.”

“This city doesn’t want good men,” said Victor. “I’ve watched it chew up and spit out dozens of men who thought themselves good, who thought they might bring about change. We commit treason and plot death in the shadows. We’re no longer good, but we’re what this city needs.”

Harsh words, but Antonil could not deny them.

“May it be enough,” he said, and with a salute, he exited the tavern and made his way back to the castle, to inform the soldiers of the city that until further notice, the Sun Guild ruled the streets.

T
he hour was early when Zusa heard word of Victor’s arrival at their gates.

“I can send him away,” she told Alyssa, who was lounging in a warm bath beside her.

“He will only come with the same promises as before,” Alyssa said, eyelids closed and head tilted back so her long red hair was fully submerged. “Gods, I am tired of listening to it. I’m not sure there is a more stubborn man alive on the face of Dezrel.”

Zusa sat at the edge of the tub, dressed in her elaborate dark wrappings, and she drummed her fingers atop the hilt of one of her two daggers.

“I can make him stay away forever,” she said.

“He’s stubborn, not dangerous,” Alyssa said, and she laughed.

“I merely meant to frighten him.”

Alyssa turned her head to the side, and Zusa easily recognized it as the equivalent of a glare ever since her mistress lost her eyes.

“Is that so?” Alyssa asked.

Zusa scratched at her neck.

“Maybe?” she said. “He
is
rather annoying…”

Alyssa laughed again, and it warmed Zusa’s heart to see her do so. They were in an extravagant washroom, full of mirrors, white walls, and gold-tinted frames, and the air was heavy with the scent of lilac. Alyssa was nearly hidden by the steam, they’d heated the bath so hot, but it was one of the few things that could truly relax the lady in charge of the Gemcroft fortune.

The door cracked open, and a female servant stepped in and bowed with her hands behind her back.

“Milady,” she said, “Lord Victor refuses to leave the gates and insists I relay another message.”

“What is it?” Alyssa asked, her good humor replaced by annoyance.

“He says he must speak with you, and it is most urgent.”

“He always insists that is the case,” Zusa said.

The servant woman blushed.

“Yes,” she said, “but—but this time he said to tell you that he has spoken with Antonil Copernus, and that he has learned of matters most urgent to the well-being of this city … and of a potential ally.”

It was the clear the woman knew she was relaying information that was both private and dangerous, and she grew more nervous with every word. Alyssa let out a sigh, and at her nod, Zusa rose from her seat at the tub and gestured for the woman to go.

“Bring him, and put him somewhere he can wait,” Zusa said. “Alyssa must first dress appropriately for the meeting of a man of such … high regard.”

The servant curtsied again, then hurried out of the room. At the shutting of the door, Alyssa rose from the tub.

“My towel,” she said, holding her left arm out and waiting.

Zusa retrieved one from a cabinet, then sat patiently as Alyssa dried herself. She pondered over what Victor had come for this time, how it might change things.

“If Antonil has sworn to help Victor against the Sun Guild, it may only make matters worse,” she told Alyssa.

Alyssa pulled the towel from her body and wrapped it about her head. That done, she reached out and waited for Zusa to take her hand and guide her from the tub. From there, Zusa led her from the room into the adjacent bedroom, where atop the bed, the maidservants had already laid out her clothes for the day, a simple enough dress the color of grass. A younger girl waited patiently in the room to help, but Zusa dismissed her with a wave and began dressing Alyssa herself.

“Muzien’s left us alone,” Alyssa said, and she sounded troubled. “Compared to the other guilds, he’s almost … civilized.”

“You fool yourself if you think it will last,” Zusa said, lacing up the back of the dress. “We will be next, I assure you.”

“We don’t have to fight him,” Alyssa said, and Zusa’s deft fingers stopped their weaving.

“I fear I misheard you,” she said.

“No, you didn’t. We don’t need the Watcher’s truce. There was a time we merely endured the thief guilds, accepting their take as a part of doing business. Why not return to that? Muzien may seek the same. It was Thren who sought to unite them, to lift up the underworld as if it were a conquering army.”

Zusa turned Alyssa around so she might look upon her face. With Alyssa’s eyes unfeeling glass, there was nothing she could read in them, but there was no hiding the defeat she heard in the woman’s voice, the tension in her neck, the exhaustion tugging at her lips.

“Now is not the time to surrender,” she told her mistress. “You have been strong your whole life, and—”

“And I am tired of being strong,” Alyssa said. Water built around her eyes, dripping down in slender tracks. “Look what being strong has cost me. I’ve lost my father, I’ve lost friends, my sight … it’ll cost me you one day, I know it, and it will cost me my son. I cannot do this anymore. If Victor wants to fight a war, I won’t help him do it. I won’t give him my hand just so he can lead me into more fire and bloodshed.”

Slowly, carefully, Zusa wrapped her arms around Alyssa’s neck and pulled her close. She said nothing, only held her as her mistress silently cried.

“What about Nathaniel’s future?” Zusa asked after the moment passed, and she sensed Alyssa’s composure returning.

Alyssa stepped away, and she turned so Zusa might finish putting on the dress.

“It’s the only thing I have left,” she said.

“And is that not something worth
fighting
for?”

Alyssa crossed her arms, and Zusa wondered where the laughter had gone she’d seen only moments before. Where was the joy? Was the mantle of leadership truly so heavy?

“What is it you want from me?” Alyssa asked her. “Truly, what? Do you want to see me married? Do you want us to run from Veldaren, dragging Nathaniel with us so we might escape and leave the scum to pick apart our remains? Or do you want me to die fighting a war we cannot win, spilling blood as I have spilled it so many times before?”

Zusa took Alyssa’s hand into hers, and she squeezed her fingers tight.

“I’d have you know joy,” she said. “I’d have you feel safe. I’d see you smile again and give not a damn for what all others would think or do.”

Alyssa smiled at her, and it was so sad, it broke her heart.

“My hope for that is gone,” she said. “It left me the moment Stephen ripped the eyes from my face.”

She gestured to her dress.

“Am I presentable?”

Zusa swallowed down a knot in her throat.

“Beautiful as always,” she said.

“Good. We have left Victor waiting long enough.”

She offered her hand, and Zusa took it and led her down the hall. After asking a servant for Victor’s whereabouts, she found him waiting in the garden behind the mansion, nestled between the long east and west wings of the building. He sat on a cracked marble bench, chin resting on his fist as his eyes stared far into nowhere. As usual, he looked prepared for war instead of a casual conversation. When he noticed their arrival, he bolted to his feet, then bowed low.

“Lady Alyssa, Zusa,” he said, addressing each in turn. “Thank you for agreeing to visit with me on this fine morning.”

“Better sense would have had me send you away,” said Alyssa as she sat next to him on the bench. Zusa remained standing, lurking behind the bench with her fingers tapping the sides of her daggers. With each passing day, her trust of Victor had shrunk. It was more than just his stubborn display the last time he’d spoken with Alyssa, at how he’d laid his hands upon her. There was a hunger in his eyes, a desperation that belied his handsome smile. The morning sun might have lit up his blond hair like spun gold, but to her eyes, he was the rotting corpse of a beggar with outstretched hands.

“Better sense,” said Victor, leaning back and feigning being relaxed. “Now, when have either of us been known to be well in supply of that?”

“I’m not here for idle banter,” Alyssa said, not bothering to hide her annoyance. “You’re lucky to be in my presence after your last visit, so make this quick. You said you brought word from the Guard Captain … What is it, and how could it possibly change any answer I’ve given you before?”

Zusa slowly paced behind them, only half listening to Victor as he began making promises of Antonil’s aid. It was intriguing, of course, but she doubted it would influence Alyssa’s decision. Victor wanted her hand in marriage, and it’d take more than some extra soldiers and illicit coin to win that. Her eyes were on the garden, the soft violet columbines and pink roses buzzing with the occasional insect. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss. It was like a familiar presence in the back of her mind, no stronger than the buzz of the honeybees flitting from flower to flower.