Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

glanced around, as if looking for spies listening in on their conversation. “Fuck me like a Kerran whore. You’re Haern. You took a new name.”
    At Aaron’s icy look, Senke broke out into nervous laughter.
    “Up, down, and sideways, as our dear Kayla likes to say. I know grown men who would have crumbled and confessed sooner than you did, boy. How old are you again?”
    Aaron ignored the question, focusing instead on mopping up the rest of the blood. Senke saw the sheet he held was completely soaked so he retrieved another. He tossed it over Robert’s body, shaking his head as his grin faded.
    “We’ve all got secrets, Aaron,” Senke said as he rubbed his chest again. “Some we tell, and some we keep hidden. Yours must stay hidden. Do you understand that? If anyone finds out what you did, they’ll go to Thren in a heartbeat. I don’t want to imagine your father’s fury. He’ll kill everyone who knew about it, including me and Kayla. I don’t know about you, but I’m quite happy with living, and would like to continue doing so for the next couple of decades.”
    “I don’t see a way out,” Aaron said as Senke tucked the sheets around the body. “And what was the point? I prayed, and people died. Hardly mercy. Ashhur’s not even real. He’s … he’s just a fucking dream.”
    Senke
tsk
ed at him.
    “Such language,” he said as he knelt down. He looked to the door, as if expecting it to bang open at any moment. Just in case, he put his back to it and acted as if he were busy wrapping the body. While Aaron watched, he pulled out a small medallion of the Golden Mountain from underneath his leather armor.
    “I’m not the most faithful,” Senke said as Aaron’s eyes widened in shock. “I treat it more like a good-luck charm than anything else. Doing what we do makes prayer hard sometimes, you know? But whatever you want to say, or want to learn, I’ll do my best. I might be signing my death warrant, but if you need help with girls, love, or faith, you can rely on me. You’re a good kid, Aaron. I’m not proud of all I do, but it’s better than what I did before joining the Spider Guild.”
    Aaron stopped scrubbing, seeing that whatever blood was in the carpet wasn’t going anywhere through his meager efforts. He tossed the wet crimson sheet on top of Robert’s body, glad that his head was covered. He didn’t want to see those sad eyes staring up at him.
    “Everyone needs friends,” Senke said. “Even people like you and me. Thren seems determined as the Abyss to keep you from having any. Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve been making plans to get out for a while now. Until then, you can trust me, and talk to me about anything. Understand?”
    Aaron nodded.
    “What do we do about the body?” he asked.
    “Leave it here,” Senke said. “We’ve done enough. I’ll get a few of our lower ranks to smuggle it out one of the tunnels. I think it’s time you and me got something stiff to drink.”
    Aaron smiled.
    “Senke … thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
    Senke winked.
    “Keep it to yourself,
Haern
.”

CHAPTER
23
    F or over a mile stretched the wagon train. Some wagons were covered with dried hides and white tarps, while others were open and piled high with pumpkins, squash, and winter corn. In one wagon was a whole troop of dancers, singing and laughing at the sight of Veldaren’s walls. Another two were full of hard men, their faces and hands scarred from the sellsword life. All around the wagons walked servants, cooks, highborn maidens, and lowborn camp followers. At the far end trailed a small herd of cattle and sheep, ready for butchering. When the Kensgold started, they would have fresh blood and meat for their festival.
    Ahead of it all rode Laurie Keenan.
    “We’re bringing twice what we brought last year,” said Torgar, riding next to him. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
    “I know more than most,” Laurie said, his voice oddly soft and gentle. “Like how I know you should watch your tongue, Torgar, lest I cut it out and feed it to the ravens.”
    The sellsword captain laughed at his employer. Laurie was a smart man, but he was often full of idle threats and ambiguous comments. His eyes were dark, his complexion more so. Riding next to the sellsword, he seemed skinny and weak. He wore his hair long and braided, in the popular fashion of Angelport where the caravan had originated, following the highway out from the Ramere and north