Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

three before looking.
    A couple of onlookers were gathered around her. It appeared someone had caught her. He couldn’t hear their voices from so far, but he saw them pointing to her face, and one man beside her shook his head, his look a mixture of anger and pity. Haern sighed. The wounds, blood on her wrists, and tattered clothing told them a story they expected from such a wreckage. Now for his own safety. Haern kicked out a last few shards of glass, stood on the edge of the window, and pulled himself up to the roof.
    From there he leaped to a nearby tree, slid down, and vanished amid the mob.

CHAPTER
35
    T he proceedings bored Torgar tremendously. The sheer amount of revelry around him only worsened his torture. A thousand gallons of alcohol flowed throughout the crowd, the sound of cheers, sex, and fighting roaring for miles, yet he was separated from it all.
    “Sit up,” Taras whispered next to him. “You’re slouching.”
    Torgar straightened, cracking his back as he did. Sometimes he wondered if boredom was more dangerous than actual combat. Certainly seemed as deadly an opponent. He sat at the incredibly long table set up in the pavilion atop the larger of the two hills chosen for the Kensgold. Members of all three families of the Trifect sat in the hundreds of chairs. He saw ugly cousins, distant relatives, soldiers, and merchants of all kinds. They bickered among themselves, hoping to achieve a better appearance through the sparring of their tongues or the collaborative wealth of their name.
    Nonsense, all of it. Torgar knew he could kill every one of them to a man, yet they peered down at him as if their noses were a mile long and he were hard to see. At the head of the table Laurie, Leon, and Maynard talked, sometimes openly, sometimes quietly and hunched together. Taras sat beside his father, listening when it seemed appropriate. Torgar gave the boy credit: he seemed to understand plenty, and he even chipped in once or twice without earning scorn from any of the three. Leon and Maynard seemed to be enjoying themselves, but Laurie was clearly upset. The empty seat beside Torgar was the reason.
    Stupid bitch
, thought Torgar.
Just had to go running off for her precious walls. Nursing babes are tougher to scare than that broad.
    He might have said it out loud, but he’d been denied the amount of alcohol he’d wanted. Still, his master wanted him at Taras’s side, to serve as protection to both the boy and the father. Judging by the haughty grumbling about him, the only danger was from a flying plate of warm food.
    “What are they discussing now?” Torgar asked Taras. He tried to whisper, but his deep voice wasn’t suited for it.
    “They’ve finished their trade contracts,” Taras said, glancing back at the mercenary. “They’re discussing the thief guilds now.”
    “Not much to discuss,” Torgar said. “We double up some patrols, hire a few more mercenaries, but it’s like swatting at flies buzzing around your horse’s ass.”
    He caught a finely dressed woman in her thirties glaring at him from the opposite side of the table, so he shot her a wink.
    “Forgive the color,” he said. “My brain is mud and my tongue is blue. I’m only here for my lord.”
    She sniffed at him and turned toward a lady to her left. They began whispering, each clearly unhappy with his presence. Torgar sighed. By the gods, did he hate being there.
    “They’re thinking of going to the king,” Taras said.
    “Good luck with that,” Torgar said. “Got a better chance…”
    He choked down another colorful comment as a priest of Ashhur walked into the pavilion.
    “Who in blazes let him in here?” Torgar asked. Taras, too busy listening to his father discuss bribes, didn’t notice. The mercenary captain stood and moved to intercept the priest. The man of the cloth seemed lost amid the sea of people.
    “Welcome to our gathering,” Torgar said as he grabbed the priest’s hand and shook it. The priest, a younger man with neatly trimmed hair and a shadow of growth on his chin, looked thoroughly relieved.
    “I must admit, I’m a bit lost,” the priest said. “I need to speak with Laurie Keenan, though I don’t know his face from the thousand others.”
    “I’m head of mercenaries for Lord Keenan,” Torgar said. “He’s busy plotting and planning, so just tell me what you’d tell him and I’ll see if it’s worth interrupting him for.”
    The priest didn’t ask for proof of his rank or