Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

an outfit designed for travel: a tightly fitting dress with a plunging neckline. The outfit exposed her slender legs, which she had stretched out from underneath the tarp in hopes of getting what little sun she could before winter arrived in full, along with its dim light and numerous clouds. She’d tied her brown hair into a ponytail so long that it wrapped twice about her waist before clipping into her silver-leaved belt.
    “The king, may Karak curse his name, imposed an outrageously high tax on all goods entering the city,” Laurie said as he accepted her outstretched hand and kissed her fingers. “So it appears we must camp outside the walls.”
    “Must we?” asked Madelyn. “You’ll deny us a roof over our heads all for a silly tax? Bribe the guards and get us through. I’ve heard quite enough of the serving girls bitching about the bumpy trip. I don’t want to imagine how they’ll whine about this.”
    “Guards won’t take bribes,” Torgar said. “King’s riding them hard on this one. And if it is a roof you want, milady, we have more than enough tents for that. We’ll erect you a fine pavilion to call your own.”
    Madelyn rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her husband. She’d never liked the smelly sellsword, especially the way he looked at her. When it came to dress, attitude, and words, she knew how to drive men wild, and in doing so control them. When it came to Torgar, though, she never felt that control. Instead she felt like he was the one ready to dominate her, status and repercussions be damned.
    “What about Maynard and that fat Connington fellow?” she asked. “Will they bring their wealth out of the walls and join us here in the wild?”
    “We’re within spitting distance of the walls,” Torgar said. “This ain’t the wild, woman.”
    “Remember what I said about your tongue and the ravens?” asked Laurie. “Think on that for a while, and leave me be with my wife. Oh, and find Taras. He’s probably getting friendly with the camp followers.”
    “As you wish,” Torgar said with an exaggerated bow.
    “Must you make him so involved in your decisions?” Madelyn complained after the sellsword was gone.
    “His usefulness makes up for any of his faults,” Laurie said. The wagon jostled and slowed, so Laurie pulled back a bit. He looked around as he did, then swore.
    “Forgive me, I must go. The wagon leaders are unaware of our change of destination.”
    Madelyn watched him ride around the wagon and out of sight. She tucked her legs underneath her knees, realizing she would see more of the fading sun than she’d prefer over the next couple of days. The journey north from Angelport had been far from pleasant, even with the cushions and the company of her servant girls in the giant wagon. They were so excited by arriving at the city that she’d forced them away so she could have a moment of peace.
    The lady gazed around at the multitude of gently sloping hills covered with grass that grew up to the thigh. Hopefully that thick a bed of grass would soften the rocks that seemed to lurk everywhere just below the soil. She and Laurie had made love once on the grass during their journey north, and her back had ached for days because of it. She’d rather be bedded on a plank of nails. At least that way the pain would be uniform across her body.
    She felt unease growing in her stomach. Seeing the many hills, void of walls, lampposts, and guards, seemed to have awoken an old fear within her. It was one thing to trust her guards; it was another to lock her door and bar it with a thick plank of wood. Here she would have … what had Torgar called it? “A fine pavilion to call her own”? She couldn’t lock a pavilion. By the Abyss, they didn’t even have doors to shut, just thick flaps.
    “They’ve been told,” Laurie said as he came back, startling her. “Something amiss?” he asked when he saw her jump.
    “No, only thinking. Are you sure this is wise? With the thief guilds still trying so hard to survive, wouldn’t it be safer in our estate?”
    Laurie settled his horse into a gentle trot that matched the wagon’s speed.
    “Truth be told, I think we’ll need to be diligent no matter where we hold the Kensgold. But do you know what I see when I look at those hills? I see no rooftops for assassins to hang from. I see no shadows in which to hide. I see no crawl spaces, basements, hidden ways, or forgotten doors. Whatever traps Thren and his pets have