Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

as perverse joy in seeing one of noble birth sunk to his level and then put at his mercy. When shadows began coalescing behind his back, she openly smiled.
    “I think you can wait a bit longer,” Jorel said.
    “A blanket might have saved your life,” Alyssa replied. Jorel gave her a funny look but did not respond. When he turned to leave, a serrated dagger awaited him. It sliced his throat and splattered blood across the floor. The blood slid off the faceless woman’s robes like water.
    “He never would have served you,” the woman said. “But there are others that will, and we must spare them if we can. Otherwise, your rule will be disputed and last as long as a sputtering candle in a storm.”
    “My rule?”
    Alyssa waited until the faceless woman opened her cell, then grasped the door with one hand and held it firm.
    “Tell me your name,” she said.
    “I have no name,” the woman replied.
    “You said you are faceless, not nameless, now tell me.”
    Alyssa could not see the woman’s eyes through the white cloth, but she had a feeling that behind it and the wrappings hid an amused smile.
    “A strong candle,” the woman said. “My name is Eliora.”
    “Then listen well, Eliora,” Alyssa said. “I will not accept rule of my household over the murdered body of my father. Whatever you were paid or promised, I can match it. All I ask is that Maynard be captured, not killed.”
    “You assume much. How do you know we have been sent to kill your father?”
    “Why else would you mutter nonsense about candles and my rule?”
    Eliora let go of the door and stepped back so Alyssa could exit.
    “You are clever, child, and you are also correct. This world is chaos, but I will do what I can. Be warned: your father may already be dead. If that is the case, turn your anger on who hired us. Do not blame the sword for the blood spilled, only the hand that wielded it.”
    The faceless woman led her up the winding stairs out of the dungeon. They encountered no guards, dead or living. As they ascended, Alyssa heard the ruckus the dogs were making. Eliora must have noticed the look on her face, for the hounds sounded as if they were ravenous for blood.
    “They are frightened and angry,” she explained. “It is a simple spell we cast upon them to draw the guards out of the estate. My sisters are all inside, I assure you.”
    Alyssa nodded but said nothing.
    The stairs ended in a cramped room with bare walls and a lone door, the outside of which was normally bolted. Eliora gently pushed it open; Jorel must have gone down without alerting anyone, otherwise they would have locked it behind him.
    “How many are with you?” Alyssa asked. Eliora shot her a glare.
    “We are three,” she said. “Though we may be less if you continue braying louder than a mule.”
    With so little time between her arrival and subsequent imprisonment, Alyssa had not taken stock of her father’s defenses. She knew they could not be light. No matter how much she might belittle the thief guilds, she was not an idiot. Without adequate protection, cloaked men with daggers would be lurking under every bed and within every closet.
    Of course, those defenses seemed to have meant little to the faceless woman, and that thought gave Alyssa a chill. Surely the Kulls were behind their hiring, but what if it had been Thren Felhorn handing over the coin instead? Suddenly her father’s difficulties in dealing with the guilds didn’t seem quite so pathetic. Clearly the Kulls meant for her to take over the Gemcroft estate. Once in a position to rule, she would keep all that in mind when deciding how to deal with her father.
    Men shouted in the far distance, their voices muffled through the walls.
    “That would be Nava,” Eliora whispered. “She is looping the compound, killing guards foolish enough to leave themselves vulnerable. Hurry now. We go to your father’s room.”
    The plush carpet felt wonderful to her bare feet. Even better was the warm burst of air blowing across her skin. She remembered how warm her father kept the mansion, and how she used to stretch out before the large fires roaring in the multitude of hearths throughout its halls. Winter still approached, but already Maynard had begun fighting the chill. Alyssa almost stole away from Eliora for such a fire, desiring nothing more than to huddle close and burn away the deep frost that had settled into her bones. The biting words the faceless woman might say kept her from doing