A Dance of Blades

chapter 12

A squad of twelve mercenaries escorted Alyssa’s litter through the city. Anyone foolish enough to linger in their way received a quick slap with the flat edge of a blade. They stuck to the main streets, where thief guild presence was weakest, the town guards too numerous to act rashly. The distance from her estate and Leon Connington’s new mansion was far enough to be a bother, but she felt it necessary to carry her message in person. She pulled her fur coat tighter about her and waited.

When they arrived, she stepped out and surveyed the place. She’d been there once, just before completion. After Leon’s old mansion had burned down during the Kensgold, he’d rebuilt with security in mind. An enormous fence of stone surrounded his estate, perfectly smooth so there’d be no handholds. There were no trees in the yard, either, nothing to hide behind. Four men stood at the gate, wearing ornate platemail and wielding halberds.

“Greetings, lady Gemcroft,” said one. “Please wait while we summon an escort. Make sure you stay on the path, for an errant step might prove deadly.”

Bertram wasn’t there, but if he had been, Alyssa could imagine the scowl he’d have given them. For her part, she was willing to understand Leon’s need for safety. Perhaps he took it too far, but it had been his belongings destroyed in the fire, not hers. Ten armed men came from the front door, approaching in neat formation along the cobblestone path leading across the yard. When they reached the front, they unlocked the gate from the inside and ushered Alyssa through.

“Your men must stay outside,” said their leader when her mercenaries started to follow. Alyssa paused, gave him a glare to show she didn’t appreciate being told just before entering, but then accepted. If she felt safe anywhere other than her mansion, it was there. An assassin would have to be a lunatic to risk the guards, the wall, and the various traps hidden underneath the grass. The heavy boots clacked across the stone as they entered.

Leon waited just inside the door, a large smile on his face. Everything about Leon was big: his face, his eyes, his home, and most of all, his belly. Hugging him was like hugging a giant sweetroll wrapped in silk. Only his mustache was thin.

“I’m so sorry about your loss,” he said as he let go. “I’m sure he’d have been a fine man, very fine. If there’s anything you need, please let me know.”

“Thank you,” she said, doing her best to smile and forget how he’d always glared at Nathaniel , as if he were a cockroach, whenever he was in his presence. “Bertram is busy finishing the arrangements for the funeral, so I thought it best I got out of his way.”

“Of course, of course. It’d do you well to get out of that stuffy old mansion, anyway. Always told your father he should fire whoever was in charge of his maidservants. Every breath in there was like licking the bottom of a dustbin.”

Another smile. Her last head maid had died coughing and gagging on blindweed. She had a feeling Leon would have approved such a fate for letting his sensitive allergies be affected.

“Have you any news from Laurie?” she asked as they walked toward—of course—the dining area.

“Ever since the Kensgold he’s refused to come to Veldaren,” Leon said as he took her hand. “I think your father’s death spooked him more than a little. Such cowardice is inappropriate for a member of the Trifect, but what can you do?”

“Surely someone who lives with an army of mercenaries behind great stone walls has no reason to question another’s bravery,” she said, unable to hold back.

Far from upset, Leon only gave her a wink.

“It’s one thing to be brave, and another to be stupid. I won’t die to a garrote in my sleep. Neither would Laurie, if he took proper precautions.”

“Maybe staying in Angelport is his precaution.”

Leon laughed. “True, maybe it is. Still, he is going a little overboard, eh?”

They sat down at one end of a luxurious table, easily able to seat more than eighty people. Alyssa watched the servants parade a variety of treats and pastries before her. She didn’t feel like eating, but it seemed Leon would keep them coming forever until she picked. Deciding on a small flour cake topped with strawberries, she scooped a tiny bit with her spoon and ate. The flavor awakened a dormant part of her, a tiny voice reminding her of her own needs and not of others. Her stomach grumbled, and she wondered how long it’d been since she ate. She was horribly tired, and in the fog that was her mind, she couldn’t remember.

The rest of the cake vanished as she wolfed it down. Leon smiled at her and tore into his own assortment of desserts, as if he’d known all along she’d been neglecting her appetite.

“You are more than welcome to stay the night,” he said, sipping some wine from a silver goblet, but only after a servant tasted it first. “Just say the word, and I’ll let your men at the gate know they can go home.”

“Thank you, but I’d still prefer my own bed. Besides, the funeral is tomorrow, and I should make sure Bertram has everything in order.”

“Where will it be held?”

She sipped her wine. The alcohol tasted strong, and she pushed it away, fearing how much it might affect her.

“My mansion. We’ll bury Nathaniel in the garden out back.”

“Beautiful.”

She debated, then called over a servant and asked for another pastry. The woman bowed, and moments later, returned with a cake topped with blueberries. Alyssa wondered how much Leon spent keeping such stock deep in winter. Did he have some secret to keeping it from spoiling? She made a note to ask him, once she had more free time on her hands.

Halfway through her second cake, she decided she could delay no longer.

“There is another reason I’m here,” she said, pushing her food away. “I will soon be putting something in motion, and I’ve come to ask for your cooperation.”

“Oh?” he said, that one word pregnant with meaning. The way he lifted his eyebrow, the way he let his lips linger in an ‘O’ shape…he knew he was about to be asked something he wouldn’t like. He could read her too well. She had to improve. She felt like an imposter walking in her father’s shoes. No wonder Bertram always harped on at her to host more, visit more. Her social skills were lacking their proper finesse.

“We’ve crossed ten years of this nonsense with the thief guilds,” she said. “I once thought my father inept, but I’ve come to see how difficult it is finding these rats and bringing them to their proper fate. Worse, I thought we could make peace, at least, to reach a level of understanding. There will always be those who steal from us, but neither of us should fear death in the night. They live off our trade, after all, and should that trade end, they will be like leeches sucking a corpse without blood. But this won’t happen. Though it may sting, we must pull them off. My son died because we have gone soft, tried to pretend they would finally calm down and leave us be. No longer.”

“Does this have something to do with what Potts has been telling me about you hiring every mercenary able to lift a sword?”

“It does.”

Leon sighed and, shockingly enough, pushed his own plate away.

“Listen, you’re just a silly girl trapped in your position, so I’ll do my best to save you from this embarrassment. You can’t find them all, Alyssa. You’ll never win. You’d sooner drive out every flea from the southern district than bring the guilds down. Half those you’re paying will just sit in taverns and claim they killed a rogue or three before dinner. How will you know? How will you keep track? Every damn beggar you passed by on your way here might have been a Serpent, or a Spider, or a member of the Ash. Can you know for sure? Can you prove it? You’re throwing your money in the damn gutter. I’ve killed more thieves trying to sneak onto my grounds than I have actually going out and looking for them.”

She felt her neck reddening, but she pressed on anyway, his arrogance be damned.

“They want us to think that,” she said. “But it isn’t true. They act as if they’ll endure, but their organizations can crumble, their loyalties break. They threaten us with poison and razor wire, and they’ve convinced the city that they are the ones to fear, they are the vicious ones. It is our fault for believing the lie.”

A guarded look crossed Leon’s face as if realizing how far off his first read of her had been.

“What exactly are you planning?” he asked.

“We break into every building. We search every crack of every wall. I have many men skilled in interrogation, and the men we’ve hired are even better at it. We’ll find where they run, every time. These men have no pride, no honor. They’ll point us the right way until they run out of places to hide. Every guildleader will fall, as will their replacements. If they wear a cloak, they die, regardless of the color.”

Leon looked ready to explode.

“Are you out of your mind? We haven’t had that level of conflict since this started, not even during the Bloody Kensgold. You’ll get every single one of us killed, and all because of some…of some…bastard?”

She stood and flung what was left of her cake into his face.

“Father was right,” she said as he wiped icing from his cheek. “Your cowardice is as big as your gut. I will not fear them anymore, and neither should you. Come the end of Nathaniel’s funeral, I will unleash my wrath upon the city that has sheltered the murderer of my son. Now if you would kindly request a servant to escort me to the door.”

He chewed on his lip a moment, his fat face blotched red. At last he clapped and did as she requested.

“Wait,” he said, just before she exited the room. “Just how many men have you hired?”

“Close to two thousand,” she said, and she felt a sense of victory at the way his jaw dropped. “As I said, Leon, I will destroy them. I will destroy everyone who dares try to stop me. Even the king. Even the Trifect itself.”

He muttered something, but she did not hear it. Still furious, she turned and followed the servant lady out, more than ever wanting to be home to plan with her mercenary captains. Hiding was no longer for her. It was time to act. Come the funeral, it was a lesson the whole city would learn.

*

Arthur looked about the room with total disgust. He’d worked with mercenaries before, but to invite them into his home? So disgraceful. They gathered in the dining hall, over twelve of them. They were the captains, the ones with at least a hundred men at their disposal. They chatted with one another, killing time until Alyssa returned. They were a motley bunch, wearing various combinations of armor, ribbons, and tunics to distinguish themselves. Arthur dared not imagine how much coin was flowing into their pockets for simply picking their teeth and eating Alyssa’s food.

“Not sure how much fun this’ll be,” said one, a bald man with a shaved head. “Proper fight is on a battlefield, not crashing into people’s homes and searching for rats.”

“Killing’s killing,” said another. “Since when you started getting picky?”

“I’ll take the money, but don’t mean I can’t want a nice open place to swing my ax.”

“Probably need that space, too, otherwise you’ll cut your own f*cking head off.”

“F*ck you, Jamie. You probably can’t wait to start. Your men will feel right at home wading through open sewers.”

Arthur turned to leave and found Bertram standing behind him at the door, looking just as miserable.

“The stains they leave on the carpet…” he said, shaking his head.

“A price of doing business, I suppose.”

The old man nodded as he watched the captains bicker. Arthur joined his side, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Have you talked with Alyssa lately?” Bertram asked after a time.

“Just this morning. Her mood has soured the closer the funeral approaches. I’d hoped she might grieve like any other regular girl, but instead she’s out for blood.”

“She wants that boy’s killer found.”

“I’m working on it, but he’s proven an elusive little f*ck.”

Bertram chuckled. “It seems that way, yes. There are a thousand thieves in this city. Finding one over another must be difficult. Still, you might look at it a different way. Knowing one thief from another is just as difficult.”

Just like last time, Arthur wondered if he were being tested. This time the wording seemed too strong to be coincidence. He decided to go out on a limb.

“I’m sure that even if we do catch the Watcher, it’ll be tough proving that’s who he is,” he said.

“No one seems to know,” Bertram agreed. “Though I trust you in these matters, and would vouch for your opinion.”

Arthur’s eyes lit up.

“Is that so?” he said. “I don’t think it will be long before I have a man to present to her. The city might be large, but there are too many eyes, too many mouths, for a man to hide. But I’m glad to know your trust in me is so great.”

“I trust you more than I would any of them,” Bertram said, waving a dismissive hand at the mercenaries. “The Hadfields have always been good friends of the Gemcrofts. I can only do so much. Alyssa needs help in matters such as these, a guiding voice amid her grief. If only you could talk to her, get her to listen…”

“I understand,” Arthur said. “I have my own matters to attend, but I should return before nightfall, or close to it. When I do, I’ll see if Alyssa will open up to me.”

“Thank you,” Bertram said, bowing low. “Now, if you will, I must try to convince those men that while the wine is a courtesy, it is certainly not free if you drink it by the barrel.”

“Gods give you luck with that.”

Arthur left the dining hall, retrieved his coat and sword, and exited the estate. Normally Oric would have gone with him, but he had headed north after bringing back Nathaniel’s supposed remains. Arthur was skilled with a sword, though, and he knew his way. Besides, once inside the Serpent’s territory, he’d be treated like a king.

Only minutes from Alyssa’s mansion, he noticed the first of many escorting him along the shadows. Their cloaks were green, so he relaxed. No doubt William Ket, leader of the Serpent Guild, wanted to protect his investments. Arthur couldn’t blame him. He took a few turns, vanishing deeper into the dark, dilapidated part of the city. Several more followed him, and for a moment, he swore he even saw someone along the rooftops. When he arrived at the guildhouse, his escorts came into view of its torches, and they motioned for him to enter.

Amid the emerald cushions and gold-framed paintings, Arthur sat and waited for William. A pretty lady wearing thin veils, and nothing else, approached and asked him his preference of drink. Normally he refused, always fearing some sort of poison or drug, but tonight he needed the help.

“The strongest of whatever you have,” he said. “Oh, but make sure it doesn’t taste like piss.”

“As you wish,” she said, batting her beautiful green eyes at him. He watched her go, admiring her figure. With enough coin, he knew he could have her. Shame he had to spend the night at Alyssa’s mansion. Tight figure like that, there was so much he could do to…

“Arthur! Welcome!”

Arthur stood and tore his attention away from the little tart.

“William,” he said, offering his hand to his younger brother, who had been William Hadfield before he’d changed his name to Ket to protect his family from embarrassment. “My apologies for being gone so long.”

“No need,” said William. He was as tall as Arthur, and had the same eyes and hair. “I figure you have your hands full handling a grieving mother, am I right?”

“Hands aren’t full just yet, but she’ll give in to me in time.”

The lady returned with his drink, and he accepted it gratefully. After a sip to test its flavor (about somewhere between sewer water and burning oil) he took a large gulp. As it set his throat aflame, he chuckled at his brother.

“You’ve been late with your last shipment,” he said, holding back a cough. Damn that stuff was strong. “I’m a little curious as to why.”

William’s smile drooped, but only for a moment before he fixed it, this time far more fake.

“I should have figured a leisurely chat was not in store for me this evening. The gold was stolen from us as we smuggled it into the city, and through no fault of our own.”

“No fault? Is that so? A convenient excuse to not pay me my half, wouldn’t you think?”

William sat down, and Arthur followed suit. The two stared at one another, a quick, silent exchange. Arthur knew William was trying to decide how much he should tell, and what his reaction might be. For once, he hoped his little brother told the truth, the whole damn truth.

“Have you heard of the Watcher, by any chance?”

Arthur was too surprised to hide his reaction.

“Should I take that as a yes?” William asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I have, but tell your tale first, and then perhaps I can better explain mine.”

William waved over another servant girl, who brought him a vintage of wine in a long slender glass.

“Well, whoever that bastard is got lucky,” he said after taking a sip. “Stumbled upon us while we were lifting the crate over the wall. Killed my men, took the bags of gold, and then do you know what this motherf*cker did? He scattered it across the street. Middle of the day, high market, and he just tears them open and flings ‘em to the crowd. Not the first time he’s done that to us, either, but usually with smaller amounts. Scary, really. If he’d throw away that much coin, then there isn’t a chance we can bribe or deal with him. He’s out to kill us, all of us, not just Serpents. Wish I knew what we’d done to piss him off.”

“Normally I’d doubt the ability of one man to kill so many of yours,” said Arthur, “but I’ve seen it for myself. Lost six soldiers to the Watcher. Wrote his name with their blood. He took some of the gold, but not all, thank the gods. Another day or two and I’ll have the rest outside the walls and ready for you. Alyssa thinks all of it was stolen, which will help make up for what we lost.”

“I can exchange most of it into Neldaren crowns with my merchants, and amusingly enough, by buying large quantities of food and wine from Keenan. Something quite appropriate about laundering the Trifect’s gold using the Trifect themselves. Any large increase will take some time, though. When will you be ready to pick up your portion of what we’ve exchanged so far?”

“Keep it safe for now. Things are too chaotic. That’s one of the other reasons I’ve come. Tomorrow is Nathaniel’s funeral, and come nightfall, you need to make sure your men are prepared. Alyssa’s hired at least a thousand mercenaries, perhaps far more. She’s going to let them loose upon the city.”

William’s face darkened. “Is she mad? What could we have done to spark such animosity…unless you blamed her son’s death on us?”

“I told her the Watcher was in the pay of the guilds to keep her from asking too many questions. I never could have expected this reaction.”

William flung his half-empty glass to the floor. “Of course not. You’ll throw us to the wolves to make your life easier. Always have, always will. What do we do now? We can’t face that many on our own.”

“Then don’t do it on your own. Spread word to the rest of the guilds. I want Alyssa humiliated by this course of action. She needs to doubt herself, her decisions, so she might trust me more. She is not in my pocket, not yet. In time she will be, I have no doubt, but until then I need your help.”

The redness gradually left William’s neck as he leaned back in his chair.

“I think I can convince the others, though I have little time. A single night to prepare a counter-ambush? Thank you for not telling me sooner. I like having to pull plans out of my ass.”

A hardness entered Arthur’s words.

“You chose this life, not me. I came here the moment Alyssa was away, now deal with it.”

They glared at one another, but finally William relented.

“So be it. But what will you do about this Watcher? He’s making life miserable for the both of us. If he left the city, then he’s certainly caught wind of our scheme, or at least part of it. A wrong word whispered to Alyssa and you’ll hang.”

“We’ll hang, you mean.”

William smirked at him.

“I live my life in the shadows. She already wants me dead, and is about to spend a fortune trying to achieve that tomorrow night. But you? You live your life in the light. The only place you can hide would be with me. Are you prepared to crawl through the gutters and eat shit to save your own ass?”

“I think I might prefer the noose.”

William stood, their conversation clearly over.

“Then you need to make sure the Watcher f*cking dies.”