Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

guarded them. Leon would have no repeat of the peach-pissing disaster. A few women went with them, trailing just behind. They were the first of what would soon be an army of camp followers.
    The wagons circled the hills, held back from the peaks by Keenan’s men. Tents occupied every open spot. Prostitutes drifted among the mercenaries, latching onto those who appeared handsome or wealthy. More wagons arrived, these carrying wood and utensils for building fires and cooking the enormous amounts of food soon to follow. Old tables snaked throughout the camp, mismatched in color and style.
    By midafternoon the noise had grown so loud that those within Veldaren could hear the cacophony. Merchants not directly associated with the Trifect packed up their wares and shifted west, setting up shop beside the gates or along the winding path leading toward the camps. Coin was traded between a thousand hands. Lord Maynard Gemcroft’s wagons arrived next, loaded with silks, chains, jewels, earrings, and a veritable army of mercenaries with swords drawn. The camp followers bedecked themselves in decorations far above their station, knowing the Kensgold would be their best night in years. Gold flowed at the Kensgold, as they always said.
    The meat wagons arrived late from the southern farms, much to the ire of Leon Connington’s cooks. Leon had appointed himself master of the meal, but that meal could not truly begin until the first cows arrived for the butchers. They dug a ditch in the dirt south of the hill and let the blood flow. Flies buzzed about it, stubbornly withstanding the chill of the newly arrived winter. As cooks cut and chopped the meat, small fires spread across the hill, surrounded by stones and covered with spits and cauldrons. Until the meat was ready, the men and women gorged on biscuits, honey, and rolls basted with spices.
    Plenty of it was free, but far more was not. It never seemed to matter. The consumption grew. Atop the larger hill was a great pavilion, and within feasted the highest members of the Trifect. Leon had staggered up the hill, all fat and sweat and silk, and boisterously clasped Laurie’s hand.
    “I tell you, it’s been many years since I feasted in the open air,” he nearly shouted. “And the taxes? Preposterous! Thank the gods you thought of this place. You saved me a fortune on the cattle alone.”
    Leon’s family was distant, since he was unmarried and was yet to declare an official heir. Various aunts, uncles, and cousins traveled with him, decadent in their clothes and obstinate in their attitudes. Laurie quickly ushered them all into the pavilion, promising warmth, food, and drink … much of it Connington’s, but still he offered.
    Maynard Gemcroft was the last of the three to arrive. He traveled in a caravan of over two hundred mercenaries, along with another hundred servants, tasters, singers, jugglers, and other performers. While Leon had declared himself master of the meal, Maynard had taken over the entertainment.
    Slowly joining them in a steady stream were friends and families of the mercenaries, the cooks, the servants, the wealthy and the poor, along with many members of the thief guilds, their daggers poisoned and their eyes wide at the proliferation of gold and silver.
    An hour before nightfall, the Kensgold officially began.

CHAPTER
31
    W hile the Kensgold was gearing up, the leaders of the thief guilds met in a strange place for their kind: open air in broad daylight. They stood before the large fountain in the very center of Veldaren. Any gathering of so many leaders needed to be somewhere neutral, with many exits, otherwise no one would come. Given the absolute chaos of the Kensgold outside the city, traffic was almost nonexistent within. As if infected with a massive plague, the whole city had emptied outward, flooding the surrounding hills with torches, campfires, tents, and song.
    Thren was the first to arrive. Any delay on his part might worry the others. Kadish Vel of the Hawk Guild was next, looking ugly as ever with his red teeth and loose eye patch. Then came Norris Vel, brother to Kadish and newly appointed master of the Serpent Guild after Thren had killed Galren, their old leader. The Shadow Guild had a new leader as well, a bulky man named Gart.
    “Just Gart,” the man said when introducing himself to Thren. His hands were meaty and his voice slow. “My last name’s a bitch.”
    “What happened to Yorshank?” Thren asked.
    “I’m slow,” Gart