Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

Yoren felt a conversation passing unspoken between them.
    “What is it you need from Karak’s most zealous servants?” one asked at last.
    Yoren licked his lips.
    “They say you can handle even the most impossible task,” he said. “So let’s see how good you really are. As for what I need, it is rather simple. For the daughter to inherit, the father must go first.”
    He grinned at them.
    “I need you to kill Maynard Gemcroft.”
    At least she had a blanket. For that, Alyssa was grateful. The cells underneath the Gemcroft estate hadn’t been built with comfort in mind, and it had been ages since the light of the sun touched the gray stone. While growing up, she had heard one of her father’s men brag about how the stone walls had been cut just the right way to ensure a draft always blew to every corner of every cell. Soaked in moisture that dripped from the ceiling and unable to avoid the constant, chilling blow of air, many prisoners had broken down in desperate clamoring for warmth. While the deep cold of snow and ice eventually numbed the skin, the Gemcroft cells chilled relentlessly.
    With that draft in mind, her father’s head guardsman had given her a thick blanket. Still, no matter how tightly she wrapped it around her body, she always felt a draft sneaking up her leg or down the small of her back. She trembled, remembering tales of men who had been imprisoned naked. Growing up, Alyssa had always thought such a simple chill merely uncomfortable. After all, how could a bit of cold air really break a man? But now, given just a taste of the drafts, she understood its potential for torture, especially over the course of months, if not years.
    And that wasn’t even counting the actual torture that went on, something she was obviously spared.
    Alyssa wasn’t sure how long she’d been in her cell, though judging by her meals it hadn’t even been two days. The first day she’d shouted and threatened and demanded her release. When she finally crumpled into a corner, huddled underneath her blanket, most of her anger had subsided. A deep core remained in her breast, but she did her best to keep it contained. She had more important things to deal with.
    There was only one thing that could have rankled Maynard so, and that was any mention of the Kulls. Along the eastern coast, the Kulls were in charge of acquiring the king’s taxes, among many other responsibilities. That alone had caused strife between them and her father, strife Alyssa thought childish. Her father often prattled on about how the Kulls were using the tax money to build their own trading empire along the coast, slowly pushing Maynard out, and that it was only his superior number of guards that kept Theo Kull, the elder and ruler of the family, from seizing his lands. But that was business, all business, and Alyssa had seen no proof of any such claims in her time with Yoren.
    Alyssa pulled the blanket tighter, scrunching her knees against her chest to preserve every shred of warmth.
    He’ll come for me
, she thought. Her father would have to. He just wanted to show her how seriously he took her words. When the door opened, and he appeared holding a torch in one hand and another blanket in the other, she’d forgive him for this punishment. She’d wrap her arms around him, kiss his cheek, and willingly tell him everything. Theo and Yoren had no sinister plans. They had no ulterior motives. The Kull family was only trying to protect its interests, for if the Trifect fell, then the scum of the underworld would turn its hungry maw upon the Kulls next.
    “You know how you stop a raging bull?” Yoren had asked her. “Kill it before it starts running. It has already gored the Trifect. It needs to die before it turns its horns to us.”
    Maynard did not come that second day.
    On the third morning he appeared with two guards. One held another blanket, while the other carried her food. Maynard stood between them, his arms crossed. He wore no cloak or vest, as if the sweeping chill meant nothing to him.
    “Believe me, my daughter, when I say I have no ill will toward you for this foolishness,” he said. Alyssa fought down an urge to stand and fling her arms around him. “But you must tell me what the Kulls are planning. They are liars, girl, liars and thieves and conniving men, so tell me what it is they want.”
    She shook her head. Her anger lashed out, temporarily uncontrolled.
    “They’re mad at your incompetence, same as me,” she