A Dance of Death (20 page)

“I doubt it. Goodbye, Ulrich.”

“May you endure,” Ulrich said in return. He stepped out, and found Torgar waiting not far down the hall, a wineskin in hand.

“You listening in?” he asked.

“Not particularly,” said Torgar. “Don’t expect much interesting conversation between her crying and your ass-kissing.”

Ulrich pulled the door shut behind him.

“I was told you’d lead me to Zusa’s room. She’s leaving for Veldaren soon, and I wish to say my farewells.”

The sellsword lifted an eyebrow.

“That so?”

“It is.”

Torgar shrugged.

“Whatever.”

He turned toward the back of the mansion, and Ulrich’s heart began to race as he followed. Such a simple piece of intrigue, for sure. Did the newlyweds have a falling out with Madelyn? Were they injured? And what might happen if Torgar realized he’d been duped? Glancing about, he had a sudden, more dire thought. What would happen if Torgar decided to draw that giant sword of his and ram it through Ulrich’s chest? Given their guards and wealth, the Keenan mansion might as well be a foreign nation. His brother might try for revenge, at least, but that’d be little comfort if he was deep in a grave…

Near the servants’ quarters, they stopped before a door, and Torgar gestured for him to enter.

“It ain’t locked,” he said. “I broke it.”

Another strange oddity. He pushed it open and stepped inside. The room was empty, the bed sheets ruffled and stained with blood. Torgar stepped in, saw the same, and then drew his sword.

“Fuck!”

It was then Ulrich saw the dead guard slumped in the corner to his right, his skin a pale white and his head at an awkward angle. Still clipped to his belt was an empty scabbard.

Suddenly Ulrich realized it wasn’t just an oddity anymore.

“Time to go,” Torgar said, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him out of the room. Normally Ulrich would have taken offense, but he knew a precarious situation when he saw one.

“Of course,” he said. “I should prepare for the meeting, anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Torgar said, clearly not listening. Instead of the front door, Ulrich found himself heading toward the back. At the first hallway crossing, Torgar spotted a guard and began shouting.

“Where are they?” he roared. The guard paled and took a step back, and even Ulrich felt intimidated.

“Who?” asked the befuddled guard.

“Who else? Alyssa and her pets! Gods, what I’d give for someone who knows what the fuck they’re doing.”

As Torgar ordered for them to sound an alert, Ulrich could only begin to wonder the reason why Alyssa was being treated like an escaped prisoner. He knew the Trifect had its occasional infighting, but nothing like one taking the other hostage.

Torgar kicked open the backdoor, and more shoved than led Ulrich through. The two guards, one on either side, lay bleeding on the ground. He couldn’t tell if they were dead or unconscious, but it certainly seemed the former. Seeing this, Torgar looked ready to explode. More than ever, Ulrich felt ready to be gone.

“I can show myself out,” he offered.

Torgar shot him a look, at first with eyes wide and feral. Ulrich’s throat tightened, and he felt no better when the sellsword suddenly grinned at him.

“Scared to get a little blood on your hands?” he asked him.

“Scared it’ll be my own blood, yes.”

The backyard was not as guarded as the front, for it lacked any passage or gate through the brick wall surrounding the estate. Near one wall lay three more bodies, their blood soaking into the grass and staining the nearby bricks.

“Not even an alarm,” Torgar muttered. “Couldn’t even raise a damn alarm.”

He let out a cry, and from either side of the mansion mercenaries came running. Ulrich followed Torgar toward the bodies as he went to examine them, feeling unsure if he would be allowed to leave or not. So far the sellsword had made no outward threat, but still, he couldn’t shake the feeling his life hung by a thread.

“Climbed over,” Torgar said as the first arrived.

“Shit,” said the first mercenary. “How’d this happen?”

“Love to know myself,” said Torgar. “You three, form up squads, and get it done five minutes ago. Scour the area outside the mansion. I want those three found.”

“What three?” asked one of the mercenaries.

“Alyssa!” Torgar roared. “Who else could I be talking about? Now go!”

As they burst into action, Torgar grabbed Ulrich by the shoulder and dragged him toward the front. Halfway there, out of sight of any possible witnesses, the sellsword pulled him close enough for Ulrich to smell the wine on his breath.

“You listen well, you little runt. Not a word of this gets out to anyone, understand? It does, I know who talked. I don’t like people who talk about things that got nothing to do with them. They end up dead. Have I made myself clear?”

“You have, though remember, I don’t take kindly to people who make threats,” Ulrich said, standing erect even though he knew he looked ridiculous before the imposing sellsword.

“Threats? I’m not making threats, Blackwater. I’m stating a damn
fact.
Now get out of here. I’ve got work to do.”

He shoved Ulrich toward the front gate and, no fool, Ulrich hurried away. The guards at the front looked him over, then let him pass. Outside the walls, Ulrich smoothed his clothing and glared at the mansion. Hardly a moment later, the first of several squads emerged, each heading in a different direction to search. Amused by their urgency, he wandered down one of the side streets that led to the back alley behind the Keenan estate. Leaning against the wall, he watched with a smirk as two different squads raced in and out of view, making a lot of noise but discovering little.

That smirk changed to a full-blown grin when, after the squads were gone, he saw a familiar blond-haired man suddenly step into view far down the street, turn, and beckon behind him. Trying not to look suspicious, Ulrich wandered their way as Haern vanished from view. Alyssa appeared next, and it seemed like Zusa leaned against her, needing help to stand. When the two women were outside his line of sight, he ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Staying at least one block behind, he followed them as they made their way through the back alleys of Angelport. Once far enough from Madelyn’s mansion, they traveled along the main roads, blending in with the sea of people. But Ulrich knew who they were despite the plain clothes they wore, no doubt as a disguise. He followed until they reached a place they seemed to deem safe, and stepped inside.

Ulrich could hardly contain his joy.

“The elves?” he said, letting out an uncontrollable laugh. “Oh my dear Alyssa, you couldn’t have made it any easier for me if you tried.”

He hurried back for his own mansion, eager to change and then speak with his brother. They had so much to discuss.

H
aern collapsed onto the floor beside the bed the elves had placed Zusa in, dropping the sword he’d taken from their guard back at the mansion. It clanked heavily against the wood. Gingerly touching his shoulder, he felt blood from the reopened wound. It’d torn during his fight with the three near the outer wall. With secrecy so urgent, he’d forced on through the pain.

“Thank you for taking us in,” Alyssa said to ambassador Graeven, who smiled at her and gently patted her hand.

“Our doors are open, for this is your home, too,” he said.

“Things are not so simple,” said an elegant elven woman in a green dress, coming to join them after hearing the commotion from their entrance. “Who are these two, and why have you brought them?”

Haern would have been more impressed with her beauty if he hadn’t been so dead tired. Based on her appearance, and how Alyssa bowed her head in a way she would never do to anyone below her station, Haern figured her the princess, Laryssa. Alyssa had said little on their trek there, but the one thing she had reinforced was that no matter what Haern did, he treated her with the utmost respect.

Given how precarious their position appeared to be, Haern didn’t want Alyssa to lie about his nature, for he could only guess how well they might read her expression, or how furious they’d be if they later discovered the lie.

“I am the Watcher, who Lord Ingram sought to hang,” he said. “Zusa rescued me, and injured herself in return. I was wrongfully imprisoned, and will swear so until my death.”

Laryssa looked none too pleased, and neither did the many elves who gathered around, discussing in rapid elvish. Only the ambassador seemed unconcerned.

“Then why are they here?” she asked Alyssa. “Why not keep them with you, where you might bear the risk yourself?”

“Because with Laurie’s death, Madelyn Keenan has turned against me. She imprisoned me in my room, under the pretext of safekeeping. In time, she would have executed me. I’m certain of it.”

“Executed?” asked Graeven, sounding stunned. “Surely not? She is part of your Trifect.”

“The Trifect is crumbling,” Alyssa said. “If not broken already. Madelyn has seen to that.”

“This matters little to me, Lady Gemcroft,” said Laryssa. “Our conflict with Angelport is far greater than any minor dispute between you and your associates. We cannot risk being found harboring fugitives. You must go.”

“Surely they can stay until they have recovered,” Graeven said, looking to Haern. “How bad are your wounds, Watcher?”

“Just Haern,” he said. “And I’m fine. It’s Zusa who worries me.”

Behind him, Zusa lay very still upon the bed, the only sound that of her heavy breathing. With Alyssa’s help she had managed to run, though Haern had been prepared to carry her the final stretch of the city streets. The faceless woman had proved her strength, and refused. Still, she seemed to be paying the price, breathing in thin, pained gasps.

“Wounded or not, this is not a risk we are in a position to take,” said the elven princess. “The slightest misstep, and we shall come to war. I do not trust this city’s lord to react properly should he find out.”

As she spoke, Graeven leaned closer to Zusa, a frown spreading across his face as he listened to her breathing.

“Her blood is poisoned by leaves of the
nyecoa
bush,” Graeven said, pressing his fingers against her throat to feel a pulse. He pulled back her eyelids so they might see the yellow in her veins.

“Nyecoa?” asked Alyssa.

“A plant that grows from the roots of our trees. What you humans call Violet.”

“Poisoned?” asked Haern, feeling a distant touch of panic in his chest. “What do you mean poisoned? Will she get better?”

“Without our care?” Graeven glanced to Laryssa. “Unchecked, it will grow only worse. She will die in two days, maybe three.”

The room grew silent but for the quiet muttering of a few male elves. Laryssa stood there, making eye contact with the ambassador. It was as if they could read one another without a word between them. At last, the elven princess spoke.

“We are grateful for your kindness, Alyssa, but we know it was done with your own aims in mind. If you stay, then we must go, and our final word with Angelport will be one of war should they continue to press our borders. The life of a single human servant is not worth the thousands that might die if Ingram discovers we helped you.”

“Servant?” said Alyssa. “She is no servant, she is my friend, and you must help her!”

“Make your decision, Lady Gemcroft.”

Haern watched her struggle, and he wished he had an answer. They’d come to the elves for aid, with Alyssa insisting it’d been offered to her by the ambassador. Sadly, it appeared his sway was nothing compared to the princess. Where else might they go? The few servants and mercenaries they’d brought with them to Angelport were back at Keenan’s estate, suffering who knew what fate. They were lost, alone.

“You would cast me out?” Alyssa asked, her voice cold. “Is that the truth of this?”

No hesitation. Laryssa nodded, and behind her, the various elven men spoke their agreement.

“Will you speak of this, when asked? Or has my friendship been mistrusted so deeply you believe I have no other motivation than greed?”

“I will speak no lies,” Laryssa said. “To stain my honor in such a way is disgraceful. We are people of our word, Alyssa. It would be best if you humans learned this.”

They waited, all eyes on Alyssa. Haern wanted to be furious, but he was too exhausted, too distracted by the ache of his bandaged shoulder. He knelt by Zusa’s bed, and he took her hand in his. It felt aflame with fever, and that heat ignited something deep inside. Turning to the elves, he stood, and he felt the cold anger of the Watcher overcoming him.

“Cowards,” he said. “You use caution to mask your fear. You speak the word ‘war’ to hide your inability to act. We come seeking aid, yet you would turn us away to further your own ends, then throw it back in our face to justify it? Your very presence in this city means people might die. Bite the hand that once offered you aid; it is your choice. But know the wild dogs of this city can smell blood, and you won’t remain hidden for long; not from them. Not from me.”

“Quiet, Haern,” Alyssa said, glaring.

“Is that a threat?” asked Laryssa, standing perfectly still. Only her mouth moved. “Is it, Watcher?”