Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

off other than a long fall.
    “What do you want from me?” she asked, praying to Ashhur that the boy didn’t draw his daggers.
    “I followed you that day,” Haern said. “You didn’t see me, but I followed. I listened to you pray. It broke my heart. Do you understand? Listening to you cry, listening to you pleading so helplessly with your god, I couldn’t…”
    He stood and turned away.
    “I couldn’t let myself become such a monster. I’ve come close. I won’t do it.”
    Delysia stood. The trouble inside him was so great, and her inner nature won out. She reached over and put a hand on his shoulder and turned him back to face her. Tears were in his eyes, wetting the cloth wrapped tight about his head.
    “I want to know how to pray like you did,” he said. “I want to have that kind of faith. Your father was dead, and you still believed. I’ve tried, but people died. I feel hollow and fake. What is it you know? What is it you do? Please, tell me, Delysia. I need this. I need something to cling to, otherwise I’ll be lost forever. I’ll become what my father wishes me to be.”
    Delysia blushed. She felt so young and foolish, and yet he was coming to her for help? She tried to think of all her father’s lectures. The memory of his kind words and warm smile only hurt her more.
    “Give me your hands,” she said. There was one thing she remembered, one moment that nothing could ruin. It was the nightly prayers her father had said with her whenever she felt scared or lost. Tears in their eyes, she knelt, her fingers still interlocked with Haern’s. The boy knelt with her.
    “Bow your head,” she told him.
    “What now?” he asked.
    “Close your eyes.” He did, and then he waited.
    “Think of everything you love,” she said. “And pray it safe. Don’t think about to whom you pray. Don’t worry about whether it’ll be heard or not. Just pray.”
    Haern opened his eyes and looked at her.
    “What if I have nothing to love?” he asked.
    The question pierced Delysia’s heart. She’d once asked that same question of her father after they’d had a bad fight. She gave Haern the same answer he had given. Never in her life had she missed her father so much.
    “Then you can love me,” she said.
    Her body lurched forward. Her mouth opened in shock, and it was only then she felt the pain. Blood seeped down the front of her dress as she fell, a small arrow shaft sticking out of her back.

CHAPTER
28
    N o!” Aaron screamed, catching Delysia in his arms. Kayla watched, her jaw clenched tight at the sight. All around him members of the Spider Guild leaped to the roof. Two houses over, Thren lowered his handheld crossbow and approached.
    “Stay away from me!” Aaron shrieked, holding Delysia in one arm and drawing his dagger with the other. The men surrounded him, their weapons drawn. None approached, all waiting for their master. Kayla slowly closed the distance, and given how distracted the young man was, he did not sense her approach.
    Thren leaped across the last gap and landed atop the house. He still held the crossbow.
    “You have disobeyed me for the last time,” Thren said. His voice was overwhelmed with rage. “Rooftop prayers? Hiding away with a priestess? What is the matter with you!”
    “Stay back!” Aaron screamed again, tears streaming down his covered face. Thren paid him no heed. He walked over and yanked the mask off Aaron’s face, not at all worried by the dagger his son held.
    “You disappoint me,” Thren said.
    That was it. She could see Aaron was ready to attack, and Kayla feared the repercussions. Taking a stone wrapped in thick leather by its short handle, she struck the back of his head. Letting out a garbled cry, he collapsed atop the dying girl’s body.
    “Carry him,” Thren ordered his men. “Leave the girl.”
    Two of them hoisted the boy onto their shoulders and made their way toward the edge of the house. A group of three waited in the street below, catching Aaron when they lowered him down.
    “Where are we taking him?” Kayla dared ask.
    “These foolish notions need curing,” Thren said as he put away the crossbow. “Ashhur is a disease infecting my son, and it seems I am incapable of removing it on my own.”
    Kayla followed the logic to its horrific end.
    “You’ll give him to the priests of Karak,” she said.
    Thren glanced at her.
    “I do not like it either, but it must be done,” he said. “They’ll crush his faith in Ashhur, purifying