Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

fingers. The rest of the Naked Bells stepped back, some crying, others staring coldly at the loss of one of their own.
    “What is going on here?” the king shouted. Gerand retrieved the pin and held it up for the king to see.
    “Do you see the flecks of green?” Gerand asked. “Venom of the hourglass scorpion, I’d wager. It takes several hours to flow through the blood and affect the heart, but once it does, death is inevitable. Someone paid her to kill you.”
    King Vaelor’s face turned a deep shade of red.
    “Thren!” he shouted. “It’s that bastard Felhorn! I want him dead, do you hear me?”
    “I have my plans in motion, Your Majesty.”
    “Do you know where he is?” the king asked, still shouting.
    “Where he is to be, yes,” Gerand admitted. “But we’ve not yet received the signal…”
    “Send my soldiers,” the king said. “All of them, every man able to hold a sword. He dies tonight, do you understand? Send them. Now!”
    “Yes, milord,” Gerand said, bowing low.
    King Vaelor stomped about, furious and frustrated. At last he pointed to two of the girls, then snapped his fingers.
    “Remove their bells,” he said. “Search them thoroughly. I won’t let that fucker ruin my entertainment, but I won’t be stabbed in my own bedchambers either.”
    Guards neared and undid the leather straps of the bells on their wrists and ankles. The girls reluctantly joined the king in his bedchambers, soldiers following behind with their swords drawn. Once the door was shut, Gerand sighed and turned to the rest.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. He met the eyes of the guard captain, nodded. Gerand left, not wanting to watch as the remaining guards cut them down and covered the throne room with their beautiful, beautiful corpses.
    Senke walked through the halls of the Connington mansion feeling a bit let down. While the doors and windows were thick, the lawn had few traps, and the ones it did have were designed to alert, not kill. The inside was even emptier. By his count, ten soldiers had been left behind as guards. They had died quickly and easily. Other than that, the mansion was vacant.
    Gart marched alongside Senke, his mood far more sour.
    “No pasty rich people to smash,” he grumbled. “This is stupid. I bet Maynard had men left. I should have gone there. Why did Thren make me go here? I wanted head-smashing!”
    “Shut up, Gart,” Senke said. “You’ll still get your chance, remember?”
    Gart shrugged.
    “Where’s Norris?” he asked.
    “That I don’t know,” Senke said. “Him and his Serpents should be setting up the oil for the fires.”
    The two leaders neared the rows of windows that viewed the front lawn.
    “Windows won’t open, so we’ll focus on holding the doors,” Gart said. He pointed outside the gates to the houses on the far side of the road. “We’ll have archers there. Once Maynard comes, we squash them in between.”
    “Simple enough plan,” Senke said. “Should work, though. Did hardly a scratch to the manor, so there’s no reason for him to be alarmed.”
    “He’ll be alarmed,” Gart said, pointing farther to the east. “Look. Smoke.”
    Senke lowered his head a little and peered out. Sure enough, a thick plume of smoke rose high from the eastern district.
    “That’s Maynard’s place, all right,” Senke said. “Do you think they already set it aflame?”
    “I look like a soothsayer?” Gart asked. “Go run and ask if you want answers. I got none but my fists.”
    “That might explain Thren’s delay,” Senke muttered.
    “What’s that?” asked Gart.
    “Nothing. Nothing. Let me go check on my men. Stay here and watch for any early arrivals. Try to wait until they’re inside to attack. I wouldn’t be surprised if Maynard sends someone to check on his home once he sees the smoke from afar. Let them go if possible.”
    “I’m not an idiot,” Gart grumbled.
    “Prove it,” Senke said as he hurried off. He glanced at the setting sun as he passed by another row of windows. Where was Thren? Why was he so late?
    With so many treasures scattered throughout the mansion waiting to be looted, Senke went unnoticed as he walked. He’d already marked his way of escape once the chaos began. It was a slender door that led up to an attic. He’d checked it once, and in the back was a round, dusty window. From there he could reach the roof, and once upon the roof, he could pick any direction he desired to escape. But the plan was worthless without