Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

to his obvious limp. She assumed they passed through enemy territory. Whose, she did not know, considering she wasn’t affiliated with any of the guilds. She’d rather sell information in her own quiet way and avoid the death warrant that joining one almost always entailed. No intelligent person could say the Trifect was winning its little war, but it certainly had eliminated a large portion of Veldaren’s underworld. The thieves recruited with promises of wealth and murder, while the wealthy nobles handed over real coin. Kayla knew which one she preferred to accept as payment.
    A shrill whistle rang out above them. To either side of the group were giant homes, four stories tall, each one crammed tight with families barely able to scrape together a living. A few of the green cloaks looked up, but saw nothing.
    Kayla, however, had much sharper eyes than they, and what she saw was the barest hint of a gray cloak leaping across a building. She felt her heart race, and though it was a gamble, she had to take it. The men looked far too worried. If there was to be a rescue, it’d be now.
    “Keep going,” the bearded man said. Kayla let her body slacken, and she acted as if a fainting spell were coming over her.
    “What is your—Aw shit, someone grab her,” she heard one of them say. Acting weak wasn’t a tough chore. After a night spent fighting guards, leaping over gates, climbing trees, and running for her life, she was plenty exhausted. Someone grabbed her arms and another her neck, but a clever twist of her body pulled her free. Like a dead fish she flopped to the dirt, biting down hard on her tongue upon landing. When she coughed, blood flecked across her lips.
    “Get her up,” the bearded man ordered. “Quick, I said get her up!”
    Another whistle from above. Now all the Serpents looked up, and a few saw the gray cloaks. Hands reached underneath her armpits to yank her to her feet. She thought she might resist, but then two sharp whistles stopped them.
    “Let her go, Galren,” a voice shouted from down the street. Kayla felt a slight gasp escape her throat. She had heard that voice once before, only once, but that was enough for her to forever remember its hard tone.
    “This is no concern of yours,” said the bearded man, apparently Galren.
    A man stepped out from an alley, his face hidden by the hood of his cloak.
    “It is my concern,” he said. “And you’re a damn fool if you think otherwise. Veldaren is my city, Serpent,
mine
, and I know more of your guild than you do. Did you think you could kidnap and sell my son without my knowing?”
    “Your
son
?” Galren sounded like he might wet himself.
    Kayla contained her shock no better. The boy, the strange boy she’d thought to capture and sell … was Aaron Felhorn, Thren’s son? She felt caught between horror and hysterics. The moment she’d tried to demand a ransom, Thren would have hunted her down and executed her in as brutal a manner as possible. But then again, everything she’d done had kept the boy alive. That would protect her. Galren and his Serpents, however, were dead men. It was that simple.
    Thren had come for what was his.
    “Yes,” Thren said, approaching with his bare hands hovering just above his short swords. His next words came out almost a whisper. “My son.”
    Gray cloaks descended from the rooftops. Arrows shot from windows. Death came upon them swiftly, and only Galren remained standing after the sudden assault, his arms pinned behind him, a waiting present for Thren as he approached. Without a word the guildmaster slashed open the bearded man’s throat, then quickly stepped aside to avoid blood splashing across his clothes. A little stained his hands, but he wiped them clean on a cloth provided by one of his men.
    Haern stood and bowed to his father.
    “You have much to tell me,” Thren said, motioning for him to stand. He then pointed to Kayla, who had gotten to her knees and lowered her eyes in respect. “But first I must know what her role was in all of this.”
    Haern answered without hesitation, and to his father’s surprise he did not whisper.
    “She saved my life,” he said. “And not just once, but many times.”
    Thren sheathed his sword and offered a hand to Kayla. She took it, her mouth hanging slack.
    “I do not know your name, nor who you might have sworn your life to,” he said. “But I offer you a place at my side, so that I might one day repay you for the kindness you have shown my