A Dance of Blades (32 page)

H
aern found Deathmask and his Ash Guild back in their hiding hole, and they greeted him like a long lost friend.

“Behold the legend,” Deathmask said, but his laughter cut with dark humor.

“Gerand’s told me of the Spider Guild’s acceptance,” Haern said, not wishing to waste any time. “As for the Conningtons, some old man named Potts has assumed control while his relatives bicker and position themselves. Potts has also agreed to the terms. Only two guilds have refused, but they’re both currently leaderless.”

“Already we move in on their territory,” Veliana said. “Same for the Spiders and the Wolves. Whoever finally takes control will readily agree, just to save themselves from a combined assault.”

“So this is it then,” Haern said. He looked to Deathmask. “Gerand will arrange a set of terms to distribute payments to be divided equally among the five guilds. I imagine that much wealth will divide much better among you four than say the two hundred or so of the other guilds.”

“That thought had come to mind,” Deathmask said, grinning. “It’s going to be rough these next few days. Everyone will be testing limits, seeing what they can get away with, and if you are capable of holding things in line. I’d say you normally could pull it off, but right now you look like an animal after a carriage has rolled over it a few times.”

“I’ll be fine,” Haern said. “And I’ll be watching you as closely as any other guild. Don’t forget that.”

Deathmask laughed.

“We aren’t allies, Watcher, and I never intended to be. Keep your eye upon me all you want. You won’t find anything, and your blades will never touch my skin. Go worry about those who truly present a danger to this truce. We’ll be here reaping the rewards.”

Haern bit back a retort and then left. With much of his business done until nightfall, he debated where to go. In the end, he went back to the closest thing he had to home. On the Crimson, he found a wagon sitting in front of the Eschaton’s place, half-loaded with trivial things. How none of it had been stolen yet seemed a miracle to him, until he remembered the very truce he’d just set up. Well, that was a start. He went to knock on the door, but it flung open. A tired, surprised Tarlak stood before him, a pile of books in hand.

“Oh, you,” he said.

“I’ve come to…”

“Save it, Haern. I’m sure you did your absolute best, and I doubt Senke would have changed a thing. Well, other than him dying. He might have…look, the offer still stands. No speeches, no apologies, no nonsense requirements. I bought a tower on the outskirts of the King’s Forest, and I plan on making it a far better home than this dung hole. You want to come, be useful and grab a box.”

Haern stepped aside, and Tarlak set his things on the wagon. Glancing inside, he saw Brug packing up various smithy tools. Delysia helped him, the two joking with each other in hushed tones. He could see the redness in their eyes even from there, but they were moving on best they knew how. The priestess saw him, and despite the loss of a friend, she smiled and beckoned him inside.

“Why not,” Haern said as Tarlak came back to the door. He stepped within, grabbed a box, and hoped that just perhaps the newly titled King’s Watcher might finally have a home.

A Note from the Author:

I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.

Writing a sequel to Dance of Cloaks was rather daunting. Granted, I had much of the plotline still in my head from when I first finished Cloaks, right when the five year jump forward was supposed to hit. But Cloaks was an experiment on my part, and like most experiments, not all of it was a success (or any of it, as some sadly thought). I loved getting deeper into the world, its factions, and its politics, and I think many did, too. But when even those who loved the book are asking me for appendices and notes to help keep track of people, well, then something went wrong on my end.

So that was challenge number one. I wanted to keep the various factions all interconnecting, to keep a feel of conspiracies and underhanded dealings, but at the same time, I want people to follow along. This doesn’t mean dumbing it down. I just wanted to achieve a far better clarity to what was going on. I feel very, very confident I pulled this off here in Blades.

Challenge two was Thren Felhorn. So many people liked his character, listed him as a memorable monster. I loved it. But there’s a problem. See, this whole Trilogy of books was originally intended to be a backstory for Haern the Watcher, who I first introduced in Cost of Betrayal, the second book in my Half-Orc Series. Well…Thren’s sort of alive then. See the problem? How do you make the main villain of a book one you can’t kill? Many readers wanted Thren dead in Cloaks (and I don’t blame them) so to keep him as the main focus, the main threat, yet having many readers knowing he can’t die, and others frustrated when he doesn’t, would be a massive mistake. The solution? Make him the spectre in the background. Hint at his influence, show some of his deeds, but let other bastards like Arthur or Oric take over his role.

For those who want to see Thren’s fate, check out Cost of Betrayal. The writing is worse than either Cloaks or Blades, but there’s a certain naïve desire to shock and entertain on part of that young author that many of you might enjoy. Knowing what I know now, I’d probably have done the whole Thren/Haern bits in Cost differently, but oh well. Better to keep moving forward than obsessing over the past.

If you want to contact me, email me at [email protected] or thru my website at http://ddalglish.com. To all of you who have spent the time dwelling in my world: thank you. Everything I do is for you, dear reader, and I cannot be any more grateful. I have a brief one-shot novel for Jerico the Paladin I’m currently writing, and then it’ll be off to Haern. A Dance of Shadows will be the final book, one last chance to enjoy the Watcher in his prime. I can’t wait, and hopefully, neither can you.

David Dalglish

April 11, 2011