Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

said. “Will you harm her?”
    Ethric laughed at their foolishness.
    “We want her safe, you damn simpletons,” he said. “She is our own protection against Maynard Gemcroft. We have a common enemy, yet you cower and feebly strike against me. Pray I never see you again.”
    He left their camp, circling around Theo’s guards. The footprints were chaotic, but seeing a set leading directly south from the camp, Ethric gave chase. Two of the faceless women were dead, the third fleeing with his prey. His task was almost finished, and the night was young. Offering a prayer of thanks to Karak, Ethric ran on.

CHAPTER
27
    O nce he was certain everyone was asleep or occupied, Aaron donned a pale gray cloak and slipped out of his room. Something weighed heavily on his mind, and he knew of only one person who could answer him. Problem was, that person was currently hidden deep inside the temple of Ashhur. He doubted the priests would let him in to see Delysia, and equally doubted they would let her out.
    Aaron had been shown how to hide, how to kill, and how to steal, but never once had he been shown how to break into a place with the goal of talking. The night had potential to be an interesting one.
    The hallway was empty. He ran, tumbling into a nearby room. One of the floorboards was loose, and it came up easily when Aaron pulled on it. Below was a tunnel connecting to the others that spread underneath the estate like those of an anthill. Ensuring his dagger was tucked tightly into his belt, Aaron climbed down and replaced the board above his head.
    The way was tight and dark. For a moment Aaron heard a noise, and he feared someone might be approaching from the other direction. He’d have no excuse or reason to explain his leaving. Thren would be furious. He heard another noise, sounding like the board he’d just replaced. Then silence. After five long minutes, Aaron resumed crawling, certain that no one was following him.
    When he climbed out of the tunnel, he was underneath a giant, empty pile of crates that were never cleaned or removed from the alley in which they stood. Aaron pulled a thick strip of cloth from his pocket and tied it to his face, adjusting it so the eyeholes matched up perfectly.
    He was Aaron no longer.
    Haern dashed down the street, his pale cloak fluttering behind him. A moment later another figure emerged from beneath the crates and gave chase.
    Madelyn felt sleep tugging at her eyes, but she refused its temptation. She wanted her eyes bloodshot and her actions slow and uneven when she met her husband. His anger would only grow at his seeing her thus.
    Light spilled in from a crack in the doorway. Madelyn felt her heart halt and her fingers tighten on the dagger. So Calan had lied, just as she’d feared. They would kill her after all.
    The door opened. Blinded by the sudden light, Madelyn winced and held a hand over her eyes. She saw a small figure, too small to be an assassin.
    “Oh,” she heard a girl say. “I didn’t know…”
    Madelyn lowered her hand as the girl thankfully closed the door halfway. In the dimmer light, she could see. The girl stood with her hands behind her back. She wore a plain white dress that hung all the way down to her ankles. Her unadorned hair spilled down either side of her face, a beautiful red. Madelyn’s best guess put her at no older than ten.
    “I’ve been awake,” Madelyn said. She realized she still clutched the dagger, and lowered it to the bed. That seemed to calm the girl a little.
    “I was sent to get, um…”
    She blushed and pointed at the chamber pot in the corner. Madelyn rolled her eyes.
    “Just leave it,” she said. “Come back for it in the morning.”
    The girl paused, clearly trying to decide which orders to follow. Madelyn stared at her face, seeing an odd familiarity. When the girl turned to leave, Madelyn spoke a name.
    “Eschaton?”
    The girl jolted as if shocked.
    “How do you know my name?” she asked, turning back around.
    “Just your last, girl. You’ve yet to give me your first.”
    The girl blushed.
    “Delysia Eschaton. It is a pleasure to meet you, milady.”
    She gave a curtsy that was skillful as it was absurd in the plain long dress.
    “I knew your father,” Madelyn said. “Many years ago, when he was still a lord. You have his hair and eyes. We weren’t close, but we talked on occasion. Then he let his faith override his senses and vanished into these cloistered halls.”
    Delysia didn’t appear to know