Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

employer or anything. Torgar felt relieved that he’d gotten ahold of the priest first before he blabbed his message to the closest curious Gemcroft relative or Connington sellsword.
    “It involves his wife, Madelyn,” the priest began.
    “Hrm, hold up,” Torgar said, pushing his large forefinger into the priest’s face. “Not another word. Let’s go somewhere with less ears, eh?”
    The priest nodded. Torgar led them out one of the side flaps of the tent, nodding at the mercenaries stationed there as they passed.
    “What’s your name?” Torgar asked as they walked.
    “Derek,” said the priest. “You may call me Derek.”
    “Then Derek you are!” said Torgar, laughing in an attempt to put the man at ease. Leaving the tent didn’t seem to help calm him as much as Torgar had hoped. Glancing around at the sheer decadence, Torgar realized why. He wondered how many pillars of Ashhur’s faith were being broken even as they spoke.
    “Ignore the show,” Torgar said, grabbing the priest’s shoulders. “Now what is this message about?”
    “We found Mrs. Keenan under attack on her way to her estate,” Derek began. “We rescued her before she could suffer any real harm. We hoped she’d stay the night in safety at our temple. Many of her guards did. Yet come the morning, it appeared she had run off.”
    Torgar felt anger bubbling in his chest. While he had been escorting Taras with invitations to the Kensgold, another of his charges had been assaulted in the streets. Since he’d received no word otherwise, he’d assumed Madelyn had made it home safe. But had she actually?
    “Why did you take so long to bring us word?” Torgar asked.
    “We sent a priest to inform your lord of her staying at our temple.” Derek glanced about, his face twitching nervously. “The message never made it to your camp. We recently found out he was murdered. Calan, our high priest, sent members of our order to your estate to see if she were there. She’s not. Did she not come here?”
    Torgar’s look was answer enough.
    “Then you must tell your master,” Derek insisted. “His wife is missing, and we fear one of the thief guilds were the ones to take her.”
    “If they did, she may not be alive,” Torgar said, sighing. “We’ve received no demands.”
    “Actually,” Derek said, reaching out a trembling hand, “I think you have.”
    Within his shaking fingers was a scroll sealed with wax. The wax itself was smooth, showing no insignia. Torgar took it, raising an eyebrow as he did.
    “A man in a gray cloak stopped me on the way here,” Derek said. “He gave me the scroll and told me to deliver it to whomever I gave my message to. He swore I’d die if I opened it, or even tarried.”
    He stepped back a little, as if the note might erupt and kill them all. Torgar broke the seal and unrolled it. The message was short and took him little time to read despite his terrible skill at it.
    Laurie Keenan,
    End the Kensgold. Leave Veldaren tonight. If not, Madelyn dies. Then Taras. Then you.
    A Spider.
    Torgar rolled up the note and held it so tight the paper crumpled and the wax cracked and fell to the ground in tiny pieces.
    “Listen to me, Derek,” Torgar said. “Stay here at the Kensgold. They’ll kill you on your way back, do you understand?”
    “I’m not afraid to die,” Derek said, but he certainly looked fearful.
    “Scared or not, there’s no point in walking back into their trap,” the mercenary captain insisted. “But go off and die if you want. I’ve got more important things to do.”
    He hurried back into the pavilion, honestly not caring whether or not the priest remained. Laurie was laughing loudly when he arrived, either not noticing or not caring about Torgar’s absence.
    “Milord,” Torgar said, kneeling down beside Laurie’s ear. “We need to talk.”
    “Just a moment,” Laurie said, patting the mercenary on the shoulder. “Leon here was just telling a wonderful story about…”
    “Now,” Torgar insisted. The mood soured immediately. Leon gave him a glare that said in no uncertain terms that he’d be joining Will as game for the gentle touchers if he were Leon’s mercenary. Laurie looked at Torgar for a moment, seeing the urgency in his eyes, and then turned to the others.
    “A moment, if you will,” he said, standing. Taras followed unasked.
    “What is so damn important that I must appear subservient to my own mercenary?” Laurie asked once they were outside the tent.