A Dance of Cloaks

chapter 12

Veliana wondered what James would think if he saw her like this. Her eyes were blindfolded by one of Eliora’s wraps. She detected the faintest hint of sweat on it. She kept her hands at her sides, thankfully they weren’t tied. Eliora didn’t seem worried that she’d run off, but she had insisted quite strongly that she not. She had sworn her life to the faceless. If she tried to leave, her life would be forfeit, for it was no longer hers. It was Karak’s.

It seemed appropriate enough, so she thanked Karak that the streets were so empty. At least, they sounded empty. Eliora rushed her along at dizzying speed. If the other faceless women were nearby, she wasn’t aware of them.

Veliana’s knowledge of the streets was superb. With every turn she tracked where they were. A few times she had to guess, and the speed in which they hurried was no help, but no matter the twists and loops they made, she was certain they had traveled into the northeastern district.

They stopped. A gate rattled. Eliora yanked the cloth from Veliana’s eyes to let her see. Before her towered the temple to Karak, impressive with its black-marble and rows of pillars. Through a trick of her eyes, she swore she saw the lion skull hanging above the door turn and rattle its teeth.

“Welcome to their home,” Eliora said.

The doors opened. They were ushered in by a young man with a pock-marked face. Once inside the main foyer, the priest left them in between the rows of pews arranged before the giant statue of Karak. Veliana looked around as subtly as she could, doing her best to look unimpressed. In truth, the praying men unnerved her, their ululations stretching too loud and too long. The very air seemed thick with energy. It felt like magic.

“Who have we come to speak with?” Veliana asked.

“For matters of such importance, we must speak with the high priest. His name is Pelarak, and the name he carries is a great honor, given by Karak himself when he ascended to his position.” Eliora gestured about the room. “Every man here would throw himself upon a sword to protect Pelarak’s life. Do not fight him, and do not argue, even if he kills me.”

“Kills you?”

“Hush,” said Eliora. “He approaches.”

An elder man approach from the front of the temple, having just prayed with a young, overweight acolyte. He wiped away a few tears from his eyes and then smiled at Eliora. By the chains he wore, and the way every other priest turned their head and nodded in reverence as he passed, Veliana knew he could only be Pelarak.

“Welcome,” he said.

“Thank you for accepting us, my glorious high priest,” Eliora said, offering a quick bow.

“It is good to hear your voice, Eliora,” Pelarak said.

Veliana found the comment unintentionally biting.

“We must talk in private,” Eliora insisted. “Our time is short, and our matters urgent.”

“I can imagine,” Pelarak said, his kindness fading away as if it were a mirage. “Who have you brought here with you?”

“That is part of what I wish to discuss.”

Pelarak gave Veliana a look that froze her blood. He was dissecting her with his eyes.

“So be it. Follow me.”

He led them to his meager chambers, holding open the door for them like a gentlemen. Once they were inside he closed the door and crossed his arms.

“You have done much without my approval,” Pelarak said. “What madness has come over you?”

“Explain,” Eliora said. She ushered Veliana toward a seat, but no one sat.

“Attacking the Gemcroft home? What part of my orders to remain neutral and apart from the shadow war did you not understand?”

Eliora shrugged her shoulders.

“The Kulls offered land for a temple in Riverrun. They have no connection to either the guilds or the Trifect.”

“Do you think Maynard cares?” Pelarak shook his head. “Karak made it clear as night that we were to remain indifferent. You have put our entire temple in danger because of your recklessness.”

Veliana would have given anything to see behind the white cloth over Eliora’s face.

“What did you tell him,” Eliora asked.

“He threatened to send the starving masses after us. I offered to aid him, but only if we admitted his daughter as a priestess to ensure he made no such threats again.”

“Alyssa Gemcroft is under our protection,” Eliora said, her voice steel.

“You answer to me, faceless,” Pelarak said, his voice rising to match her intensity. “I don’t care what you’ve done with her. I don’t care who you’ve promised her to, and I don’t care what you have to do. Bring her here.”

“As you wish,” Eliora said. She seemed to be staring down the high priest, even though he couldn’t see her eyes.

Pelarak broke his gaze with her and finally moved behind his desk to sit. Veliana sat down opposite him and crossed her arms. She hoped that the conversation didn’t last much longer. The sooner she left the temple, the better. She felt oddly comfortable among Eliora and her faceless sisters. Inside the temple, however, she felt like an intruder waiting to be caught.

“I come to ask that Veliana may be admitted into our order,” Eliora said. Pelarak raised an eyebrow.

“Women are not ‘admitted’ to the faceless, Eliora. It is a punishment and a dishonor. What has this woman done to deserve such treatment?”

“She has sworn her life to me, and to Karak.”

“Then let her join the temple, if her vow is to Karak. You hold no position to accept a life into your hands.”

Eliora took a step forward.

“My priest, with her talents at dagger and magic, I feel her place would be best…”

“I will decide what is best,” Pelarak said, his voice nearly shaking with a cold intensity. “Your kind has functioned far too long without supervision. If you cross my orders again I will disband the faceless and send you into exile. Your place is one of penance, not command, Eliora. If you value your faith in Karak, you will learn this quickly.”

For a long while, Eliora remained silent. When she moved, it was sudden.

“Come,” she said, grabbing Veliana’s arm and yanking her to her feet.

“Where are we going?” asked Veliana.

“I said come.”

If Pelarak was upset at her leaving instead of staying to be a priestess, he didn’t show it. He remained in his seat as they left, not bothering to see them out. Veliana wasn’t sure if it was a conscious choice or not, but Eliora didn’t blindfold her when they exited the temple. As they marched south, Veliana interrupted the silence between them.

“You didn’t tell him about Thren’s plan,” she said.

The shadows seemed to curl off Eliora’s body like mist off a pond. It was if anger fueled them.

“Pelarak would only ruin whatever we may do,” Eliora said. Her voice trembled with rage. “If we do as he says, the Kulls will be furious. How dare he deny me an apprentice. How dare he!”

As they neared the wall, Veliana glanced over, an idea blossoming in her mind.

“Who do you serve,” she asked.

“Karak,” she replied.

“I mean in these more mundane matters. Is it Alyssa or is it the Kulls?”

“The Kulls have offered land for a temple in Riverrun, a prosperous town that has long denied us permission to establish a presence.”

“Land owned by the Gemcrofts, correct?”

Eliora halted and looked at Veliana. At least, she assumed she looked at her by the way her head tilted. It was hard to know with that damned cloth over her face.

“What are you saying?” Eliora asked.

Veliana shrugged.

“Seems if you’re doing all this for the land, then the Kulls are irrelevant. We just need a promise from Alyssa.”

Eliora crossed her arms.

“What do you get out of it?” she asked.

“Give me two days,” Veliana said, winking. “I need to find out what happened to my guild. I’ll do anything I can to take Thren down a notch. Can you keep Alyssa safe and out of Pelarak’s hands until then?”

The faceless woman thought for a long time. The shadows swirling about her slowly cooled.

“One day,” Eliora said. “Then return to me. I am not releasing you from your oath.”

Veliana drew her two daggers and laughed.

“I wouldn’t dare risk you lovely ladies coming after me when I sleep,” she said. “But I’ve sworn vengeance on Thren. Long as you’re helping me do that, I’ll behave…enough.”

Eliora watched her go back into the heart of the city. She crossed her arms. Their plan was already fragile. Cutting out the Kull family would make matters even more precarious. Everything seemed to hinge upon the Kensgold.

A Kensgold that would be starting in less than a week.

“Forgive me if I go against your wishes, Karak,” Eliora whispered as she turned and dashed into the dark alleys. “But Pelarak is only a man. He is not you. We will do your will as we know best.”

The bar was empty but for an unconscious man slumped over a table, a lone serving wench cleaning around him with a cloth, and two lovers feeling each other up in the corner. Gileas would have preferred them all gone, but he couldn’t afford to be choosy. With Veliana still alive, his days were numbered. He sat in the opposite corner of the lovers. He leered at them, enjoying the sight of the woman’s thigh. When she finally glanced over and saw him, she flipped a finger at him and then returned her attention to her man.

Gileas noticed the man entering the tavern but pretended not to. He kept his head down, staring at the table as if stuck in a drunken stupor.

“Strange place for a worm,” said the man as he sat down across from him.

“Soil beneath the wood floor,” Gileas grunted. “And you’re late, Senke. I’m pushing my luck as is.”

Senke chuckled as he glanced about the room. The serving wench seemed determined not to acknowledge his existence, so he decided against a drink.

“You told Thren of some rather valuable information,” Senke said, sounding vaguely amused by the idea. “I’m not sure if I believe you have it or not, but apparently my master is willing to give you a chance.”

Gileas handed over a yellow piece of paper. Senke flipped it open, read it, and then raised an eyebrow.

“This is her location?” he asked. “You’re sure?”

“Would I lie to the great and mighty Spider Guild?” he asked. “Spiders kill worms, or at least, they would if they fought.”

“Yeah, but worms eat the spiders after they’re dead.”

Gileas laughed as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever heard. Senke shifted in his seat. He hated dealings with the Worm. It always left him feeling dirty afterward.

“A good laugh is priceless, but my information is not,” said Gileas. “Where is my pay?”

Senke reached into a pocket of his long gray cloak and pulled out a small bag of coin. He tossed it onto the table.

“You’ll get the second half when the information pans out,” Senke said. Gileas snorted.

“Keep the other half for yourself, or donate it to some orphans. What I have is all I need to leave for a more, hrm, friendly environment? Once a few certain people are dead, I’m sure I’ll come back to sell you the rest of my little secrets.”

Senke shrugged.

“Your loss. I’ll find some orphanage suitably rundown to match your charming personality.”

Gileas laughed. “To think I’ll miss your wit,” he said.

“And to think I’ll miss your lies.”

Senke tugged at his hood in a mock salute, then left the tavern. Gileas nibbled on the ends of his fingers, waiting a minute or two to make sure Senke wouldn’t see him leave. He heard the door creak. He looked up. No one was there.

“Hrmph,” he said.

A dagger plunged into his back. He shrieked. The lovers in the corner dashed out the door, the guy struggling to pull up his pants and looking damn foolish doing so. The wench shouted something about no blades, but Gileas didn’t hear it. He twisted to one side, hoping to keep the blade from pushing in further, but then a hand grabbed his head and slammed it against the table. Stars swam before his eyes.

The dagger yanked out. Gileas clutched his arms against his chest, rocking back and forth as pain shot through his body. Warm blood ran down his spine.

“Hello, Vel,” he said as Veliana sat down opposite him. Twirling in her left hand was a bloody dagger, flecks of it splattering across the table. The tavern owner neared and started to speak, but a single glare from Veliana shut him up.

“This is guild business,” she said. That was all the tavern keeper needed to hear.

“I just saw a Spider Guild officer leaving the bar,” she said, when the man was gone. “What did you sell him, Worm?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Only lies and promises and empty air.”

She grabbed his hand and thrust the dagger through his palm. To his credit, he didn’t scream.

“Try again,” she said.

“You’re a bloody fool,” he said. “I wouldn’t have killed you. I never would have. So angry…”

“Look at me!” she shouted. She jammed a finger toward her scarred eye. “Look!”

The pupil was milky-white, the outer edges rimmed with blood. From her forehead to her cheek, the inflamed scar ruined whatever beauty she might have had.

“You think I give a rat’s ass if you meant to kill me or not?” she asked.

Gileas coughed. He felt like his back was on fire. With how wet his cough sounded, he wondered if she had pierced his lung. It wasn’t fatal, not yet…

“I can pay you, enough for a healer. They might not remove the scar, but heal the eye enough--”

Veliana yanked the dagger out and then rammed it back downward, this time penetrating his wrist. He screamed.

“What’d you sell him?” she asked. “You already sold me out to Thren. Who else did you ruin? What remains of my Ash Guild?”

Gileas laughed in spite of the pain it caused him.

“They’re hiding, Vel. Hiding. But worms crawl everywhere. Thren knows where they are now. He knows, and you’ll all die. He’ll have his plan, his stupid, idiotic plan.”

Realization hit Veliana like a cold fist in her gut.

“You told Gerand the truth,” she said. “You didn’t lie like we paid you. You told the king’s advisor the goddamn truth.”

Gileas’s black-toothed grin was all the answer she needed.

“You son of a bitch,” she said, her voice seething with rage.

“Who knows who Gerand’s told?” Gileas said. He coughed, and blood spilled across his lips. “Who knows what plans they’ve spun? The Kensgold will be a fun night. I can’t wait to watch.”

“You’ll watch nothing,” Veliana said. “You’re going to do Dezrel a favor and f*cking die.”

She yanked her dagger out and thrust for his chest. The dagger punched through his clothes but pierced no flesh. They were empty, and already falling as if dropped from the ceiling. The clothes piled on the chair, looking like some strange joke. Veliana stared at them, her mouth open in shock. She had thought the first time she had been delusional from her pain and trauma. This time, she knew magic was at work.

She picked up his shirt and shook it. Nothing. She used her dagger to shift his trousers side to side. Still nothing. Curses on her lips, she turned to leave when something caught her eye.

Crawling on the floor toward a small crack was an eight-inch black worm. As it flexed, she saw a thin cut along its side.

“No way,” she said. No wonder he had been nicknamed the Worm. He’d probably given it to himself to mock every single person he dealt with. Every joke about living in mud, digging through walls, listening with ears clogged with dirt…it was all true.

It was almost to the crack. Veliana hurled her dagger, wanting to get nowhere near the strange creature. Purple fire swarmed around the blade, created by her meager magical talent. The dagger pierced the worm just above its midsection. It twisted and squirmed, its body cut in half. Still it crawled toward the crack, leaving its lower half behind.

Veliana crushed it with her heal. Innards spurted across the floor. She held in a wave of vomit. For some reason, it reminded her of when he had kissed her. Pieces of the worm sizzled in the purple fire of her dagger. She pulled it free, wiped it clean on her pant leg, and then sheathed it. It took a couple kicks to get the worm body through the crack. The carcass was shockingly heavy for being only a worm.

When done, she turned and saw the tavern keeper looking at her with wide eyes.

“Burn the clothes,” Veliana said as she tossed him Gileas’s bag of coins. “Consider that ample payment for keeping your mouths shut.”

With no time to waste, she hurried out the door. Everything was a mess. Whatever plans she had made with Eliora were shot. If the king knew of Thren’s plans for the Kensgold, then most likely the Trifect did too. Everything would change.

Before she could worry about that, she had to deal with her most pressing danger: Thren knew where the Ash Guild had holed up to hide. Once he found out, he would assault immediately. Felhorn had long learned to never let an enemy last a second longer than necessary. She ran a list of safehouses through her mind, trying to decide which one James would flee to first.

Faster and faster she ran, praying no guild caught sight of her desperate run. Her guild was dying, and the scent of blood would bring every last cutpurse down on their heads.