Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

ask.
    “Are you Nava?” Alyssa asked, trying her hardest not to sound afraid. Her voice came out sounding weak but annoyed. Given the circumstances, she thought that was acceptable. The dagger shifted against her skin, and from the brief pause, she figured the woman was surprised.
    “Not Nava,” she whispered. “Zusa. Now where is my sister?”
    “Eliora went ahead,” Alyssa said, telling no more than what was asked for. She tried to remind herself that this was
her
home, and that she should be the one asking the questions, but her logic was weak against the serrated edge pressed against her soft skin.
    “I hope you’re not lying,” Zusa said. “False tongues are often split.”
    The dagger scraped across her neck. Alyssa was certain blood would run down her chest, but none did.
    “It’s not a lie,” she said. “Now remove that blade. I am Alyssa Gemcroft, and it was your task to free me from my prison. Threaten harm upon me, and you risk the boon you were promised for this affair.”
    The dagger left her neck, and Alyssa felt proud of how she’d handled the situation. When she turned, she was surprised to see another of the faceless women had joined them. Disguised as she was in her black and purple cloth, Alyssa had not a clue who it might be, but then she heard the soft whisper and knew.
    “Maynard is not in his room,” Eliora said. “Something is amiss.”
    “Find him,” Zusa said. “Time is our enemy.”
    The dogs howled louder as both faceless women turned to Alyssa.
    “Where is your father?” they demanded.
    “I don’t know,” she said, taken aback. “The hour is late; he should be in bed. Maybe something needed his attention, or his sleep was troubled and he took to wandering…”
    “Or he was waiting for us,” Eliora said. “May Karak damn them all. Move, while Nava still buys us time outside.”
    They hurried down the hall, Alyssa’s mind racing. She wondered if her father had any hidden rooms or safe places tucked away in corners of the estate, but she remembered none. She had been a rambunctious girl, and curious too. If there had been any, she would have known.
    Unless Father added them recently
, she thought. With five years of secret war, he would have had plenty of time to build and remodel.
    Their path led them to the dining hall, which looked naked with the empty chairs, covered table, and unlit chandeliers. The shouts of the guards grew louder. The faceless women tilted their heads toward each other, as if sharing a thought. Guards were pouring into the mansion.
    “Alerted,” Zusa said. “But how?”
    Alyssa knew of no other way to describe it: the bare wall to her left dissolved. What should have been solid stone crumpled and curled, red smoke wafting off it. Inside was a room of which she had no memory. The walls were gray plaster, undecorated and leading farther into the mansion. Filling that room were more than twenty guards, armored in steel and armed with swords. Tabards emblazoned with the Gemcroft sigil covered their tunics.
    “Sister, with me!” Zusa shouted, drawing her dagger and lunging toward the soldiers. Eliora was quickly behind her. The guards attempted to flood into the room, but they were held back at the narrow exit. Those in the front battled with the faceless women, but their movements seemed slow compared to the grace of their opponents’. Alyssa thought they’d struggle against the guards’ heavy armor, but the faceless women’s serrated daggers sliced through the mail as if it were butter. The metal melted and smoked purple after each cut, helpless before a powerful magic.
    The women held strong, but they were pushing back a river with only daggers. Five died at their feet, but the rest pressed forward, shoving aside their dying comrades. As the guards spread out to surround them, the two assassins flipped back and away, their bodies curling around sword strikes as if their bones were water.
    “Run, girl!” Eliora shouted. Alyssa sprinted down the hall and into a long corridor. She glanced out the rows of windows, her heart shuddering at the sight. Pouring through the front gates in frightening numbers were various mercenaries wearing the Gemcroft standard. Whatever her punishment would have been in the cell, Alyssa realized that her attempt to escape and supplant her father would increase it tenfold.
    Screams chased her down the hall. Escape was all that mattered now, she realized. There would be no grab for power, no careful