Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

door. “Perhaps during his questioning he’ll forget the fact that we walked through the front gate and door with the whole world watching.”
    “The whole world is sleeping,” Kayla said, her voice sounding very tired.
    “No it’s not,” Will said. “Not the part that matters to us. But the old man would not make it through the tunnel. Which order do you want to disobey: the ban on the door, or the command to bring Robert here by morning?”
    Their voices grew softer as they hurried deeper into the mansion. When they were far enough away, Aaron darted after.
    He stopped for just a moment at his father’s study, peering around the corner of a hall. Sneaking in through the door would be tough. He desperately wanted to know what was going on, but whatever the matter, he would probably hear the dreaded “You’re not old enough” speech and then be sent to his room.
    Decision made, Aaron waited until the door closed before he bolted to its side, pressed his ear against a crack by the hinges, and listened.
    In his dream he was lively and youthful. Darla was at his side, her thin arms wrapped about his body. He nuzzled his face against her neck, inhaling deeply. Instead of her normal perfume of roses, he smelled blood. Something hard struck his face, and then he opened his eyes.
    Darla vanished, the arms around him gone too. He was on his knees, stained with blood and filth. Before him, his face an unreadable mask of stone, stood Thren Felhorn.
    “Welcome to my home,” Thren said, his icy voice robbing any meaning from the greeting. “I trust you’ll find it more comfortable than your last abode.”
    “I take whatever comforts are afforded to me,” Robert said, dismally wishing he could be back in his dream. He wanted Darla, his beloved wife Darla, not a heartless interrogation. If he only closed his eyes, perhaps she’d be waiting for him, her face shining with light as it had in the prison…
    Another blow to his face jolted him awake. The giant man towered over him, blood on his knuckles. Robert chuckled. Compared to the pain in his shoulders, the punch was little more than an annoyance.
    “I know you must be tired,” Thren said, walking out from behind the table. A hand on one knee, he knelt before Robert. “Tired, and in pain. I do not wish to add to either, old man, but I will. Tell me, what was your part in all of this?”
    “My part?” Robert asked. “My part was to hang from chains. What is it you speak of?”
    Thren narrowed his eyes, but he stayed his hand.
    “The king dared cross a line he should never cross,” he said, his voice quieting. “My son … did you have a hand in my son’s capture?”
    “Capture? So he didn’t escape?” Robert let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Thren, I tried, but he was just a boy, trained perhaps but … do you know if he is alive or dead?”
    Thren only shook his head. “You were fond of this saying yourself, Robert. Do not ask questions you already know the answer to.”
    The old man rubbed his chin, letting his tired, sluggish mind slowly work through the cobwebs.
    “He died,” he said. “If he lived, you would not waste time rescuing me, nor would you wonder what role I played. When the soldiers came, I helped him escape through a window, but they must have surrounded my home too well. Listen to me, Thren. I was no party to his death, but I know of your reputation. If your son is dead, my life is forfeit. I ask you make it quick. I am an old man, and have waited long enough for the mystery of the hereafter.”
    Thren stood, drawing one of his short swords. The sound it made as it cleared its sheath made Robert shiver. The three who had rescued him stepped aside, leaving the matter solely to their guildmaster.
    “Swear it,” Thren said as he pressed the tip of his sword against Robert’s neck. “Swear you had no involvement with the king. Speak truth, old man, and go into the afterlife without the weight of lies about your neck.”
    Robert slowly stood to his full height.
    “Truth or lie, I die the same,” he said. “And I do not fear the fate your sword promises.”
    Anger flashed across Thren’s eyes. His mouth curled downward as his frown deepened. The whole room quieted, the very air thickening with the certainty of impending death. Then the door slammed open, Aaron’s angry cry breaking the silence.
    “He did nothing wrong!” Aaron screamed. “Nothing. Don’t you kill him, don’t you…”
    The big man grabbed him by the neck