Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

no easy feat. Men have wanted him dead for a decade, yet he remains as powerful as ever.”
    “I want his head,” the king said. “Not excuses.”
    “I am giving you neither,” Gerand said. “Only word of what is to come. My men have crawled about the city and spent much. We gained little in return, but all it takes is one whisper, one turncoat, and the whole fortune is worth the coin. And that is what I have: a turncoat.”
    King Vaelor sat erect in his seat.
    “You found a member of his guild to turn against him?” he asked, unable to hide his excitement.
    “I cannot say,” Gerand insisted. “Surely you understand. I will say nothing of who he or she is, other than that the price was absurdly high. I dare not risk a single whisper reaching Thren. The plans we knew for the Kensgold were but a hoax, and my little bird has informed me of the real plan. If all goes well, I will deliver his head to you on a platter by tomorrow morning.”
    “Excellent,” the king said, slapping his thigh with his hand. “What will I do when you’re gone, Gerand?”
    The advisor smiled. He had every intention of being around long after King Vaelor was gone, not the reverse.
    “A king of your majesty and skill will always find a way to reign,” he said.
    King Vaelor laughed.
    “So true. But what am I to do? With no squabbles, no royal visitors, and no feasts planned, I am sorely pressed for entertainment.”
    “For that, I have found a solution,” Gerand said. He clapped twice, and one of the guards at the throne room’s main entrance threw open the doors. Ten girls wearing silks that hid nothing walked into the room, bells jingling from their wrists and ankles.
    “Dancers,” Gerand said. “Come all the way from Ker. They are known as the Naked Bells, and I have spent a great amount of the crown’s coin for their appearance.”
    Slowly the women began their gyrations.
    “Naked Bells?” King Vaelor asked, licking his lips. “Yet I see so much silk.”
    “Give us time to earn our name,” one of the women said, her voice husky and foreign.
    The Naked Bells took almost half an hour to fully deserve their name. Gerand watched the dancers with more than a casual interest. Ever since Thren had captured his wife, he’d been worried sick, but he’d also been left to his own devices to satisfy his carnal desires. The exotic women shifted and danced with professional expertise, every movement designed to flaunt a certain curve, emphasize the length of their legs, or bring attention to their lips, breasts, or waists.
    Every passing minute saw one of them discard a piece of her silk. The king had watched the entire proceeding with rapt attention. No doubt he would claim two or three to come with him to his bedchambers. The king had no wife, and plenty were unhappy with this fact, but he was still young enough that Gerand had managed to quell most grumblings. Besides, he figured that if worse came to worst, there’d be a handful of bastards to choose from. He watched the naked women dance, the bells on their wrists and ankles jingling, and wondered if one might be the future mother of a king.
    One in particular had caught Gerand’s eye. Her hair was a deep red, just how he liked. Her breasts were smaller than the others’, but he found that attractive as well. Most important, she had been the last to strip completely naked. Or perhaps it was the way the king’s eyes lingered on her the longest. Gerand consoled himself by remembering that they were hired to please the king, so please him they would.
    No
, Gerand thought.
She’ll be mine, king or no. I may have a touch of gray in my hair, but I’m far more a man that that stupid brat.
    The Naked Bells’ undulations increased in intensity. The bells, all different sizes and pitches, rose into a beautiful chaos of sound. The redhead swirled before King Vaelor, almost within his touch. Out of all of them, only she clutched the bells of her wrists in her hands to stop their ring. Gerand watched, curious as to why. With all the others focusing their noise in a final hurrah, why would she…
    And then he saw her fingers twist at a bell, pulling something out from its clapper.
    “Stop her!” Gerand shouted, pointing. From the corner a soldier lowered his crossbow and fired. The bolt struck the redhead in the neck. Her blood splashed across the king’s face. The sound of her skull striking the cold stone made Gerand’s stomach twist. A thin needle rolled from her dead