Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

bartering of life for rule. The thought of returning to her cold, drafty cell spurred her on. When she reached a door, she glanced behind. None of the faceless had come yet.
    Glass shattered, and Alyssa cried out as shards of it cut across her face. A figure crashed in through the window. She felt arms wrap around her body.
    “Worry not for my sisters,” said a deep-voiced woman who could only be Nava. “Your life is precious. Follow me into the night.”
    Alyssa’s breathing was ragged, frightened gasps. Her pulse was a war drum in her ears. With trembling fingers she took Nava’s hand. A painful lurch later, they tumbled through the broken window and onto the cool grass of the lawn.
    “Stay silent,” Nava said, pressing a wrapped finger across Alyssa’s lips. “Not a word until we leave the gate. Understand?”
    Alyssa nodded.
    “Good. Come.”
    They were on the western side of the complex. The main gates were to the south, but instead of going there, Nava pulled her north. The stars were hidden behind clouds, and in the dim light Alyssa stumbled as she ran. Only the strong grip on her wrist kept her moving. More mercenaries spread around the house, and she heard their shouts behind her. They had not yet been spotted, but how long until they were?
    The tall gate loomed high to her left. She felt the tug on her wrist lead her closer and closer, until suddenly a hand was clasped over her mouth, holding in her startled cry as they halted all movement.
    “Shhh,” Nava hissed into Alyssa’s ear.
    The faceless woman removed her cloak, the fabric making a soft sigh as it slipped through her fingers. A single word of magic and it snapped erect. Nava flung it upon the bars, where it stuck like honey. The woman rolled through it as if the bars no longer existed, spun on her heels, and then reached back. Her hand pressed through the cloak as if it were darkness, only darkness. Alyssa swallowed her fear and took her hand. A hard jerk forward, and then she was on the other side.
    Nava snapped her fingers. The cloak returned to cloth, glinting as if a thousand stars were woven into its fabric. She wrapped it across her shoulders and took Alyssa’s hand. Together they fled from the shouts of soldiers and mercenaries. Alyssa gave one last look at the mansion, knowing in her heart that it would never be hers.
    Deep within, Maynard stepped out from the gray tunnels winding throughout his estate. His advisor, the gray-bearded man with shaved eyebrows, stood beside him. His name was Bertram Sully.
    “I knew the Kulls were desperate,” Bertram said, frowning at the mess the mercenaries were making as they stamped throughout the place. “But to hire faceless women? Have they gone mad?”
    “Perhaps,” Maynard said. “And I wonder what they could have offered as payment. However, that’s not important, not now. The priests of Karak swore to us they would remain out of our war. It would seem that promise has finally been broken.”
    Bertram stroked his beard.
    “Perhaps not. The left hand does not always know the actions of the right. If this is true, then we might have an opportunity here.”
    “And what is that?” Maynard asked. He kicked a nearby chair, knocking it to the floor. He had known the Kulls would try to rescue Alyssa, and he had hoped to capture a few of their kind in the attempt. How he would have loved to shave the head of that pompous Yoren and then hang him with his own golden locks. Instead his daughter had escaped, and over twenty of his guards were dead. From what he had seen, his own men had not scored a single cut.
    “Think on this,” Bertram said. “Should we confront the priests about the actions of the faceless, they will have few recourses. They can punish the faceless for disobedience, thereby removing the only weapon the Kulls have against us. The priests may also try to atone for the broken promise by allying with us, perhaps even giving
us
the service of the faceless. We can smite the Kulls with their own weapon.”
    “You forgot a third option,” Maynard said. “The priests deny any involvement while secretly accepting whatever bribe the Kulls offered, and nothing changes.”
    “The priests would not be so foolish as to betray the Trifect,” Bertram insisted.
    “This war has made fools of everyone,” Maynard said. “But it will not happen to me again. Set up a meeting with high priest Pelarak tomorrow night. We will force the servants of Karak to break their neutrality,