Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

His head leaning against the splintered wood of the door, Gerand allowed himself to smile.
    “You finally erred,” he said, his smile growing. “About bloody time, Thren. Your war is done. Done.”
    He hurried down the steps, a plan already forming in his mind.
    Veliana waited in the corner of the tavern, a small place frequented more by soldiers than by rogues of the undercity. Her beauty was enough to keep her welcome, and her coin smoothed things over with those who still persisted in questioning. If she ever wanted something done without the denizens of the night knowing, she arranged for it in that tavern.
    The door opened, and in walked Gileas the Worm. He saw her at her regular seat and smiled his ugly smile.
    “You are as beautiful as you are intelligent,” he said as he took a seat.
    “Then you must think me a horrible sight,” she replied.
    Gileas scoffed.
    “Forget it,” she said. “Tell me, did he believe you?”
    The Worm grinned, revealing his black, rotting teeth.
    “Every word,” he said.

CHAPTER
10
    T he temple to Karak was a most impressive structure cut from black marble and lined with pillars. A roaring lion skull hung above the doorway. The priests within were quiet, subdued men wearing black robes and with their long hair pulled tight behind their heads. They wielded powerful cleric magic, and had done all in their power to further the cause of their dark god of order. They played no part in the policy of the king, not officially, but Maynard Gemcroft knew that the priests had informed the royal crown of the dangers involved in exposing their presence to the city. If war was ever waged between the priests of Ashhur and Karak, the streets would soon be cluttered with the dead.
    Maynard Gemcroft, in disguise and escorted by two of his most trusted guards, arrived at a building that looked nothing like the temple. Instead it looked like a large though plain mansion, with hardly a light lit within.
    “I see you for the truth you are,” Maynard said, putting his hand upon the gate, and then the image changed, the vision broken to reveal the temple in all its ominous glory. When he lifted his hand, the gate opened, and inside they went.
    “Pelarak will see you shortly, Maynard,” one of the younger priests said to them as he opened the double doors leading into the temple. Maynard did not respond. A bit of annoyance at not being called
Lord
in such a formal setting rumbled in his chest, but Pelarak had explained long ago that the priests would refer to no one as
Lord
other than Karak.
    The hour was late, but inside the temple, routines went on as if it were midday. Younger men, boys really, traveled from corner to corner, lighting candles with thin, long punks. Purple curtains were draped across hidden windows. Following their guide, Maynard and his guards stepped into the great congregation room. Maynard had never considered himself a religious man, but the statue of Karak always made a deeply buried part of his mind wonder if he was in error.
    Chiseled in ancient stone, the statue towered over those bowed before it. Its image was of a beautiful man with long hair, battle-scarred armor, and blood-soaked greaves. The idol held a serrated sword in one hand, the other clenched into a fist that shook toward the heavens. Twin altars churned violet flame at his feet, yet they produced no smoke.
    Many men knelt at the foot of the purple flames, crying out heartfelt prayers for forgiveness. At any other time Maynard would have found the noise annoying and somewhat embarrassing to the wailer, but before that statue it seemed perfectly natural. In awe as he was, he was glad when Pelarak approached from the middle aisle and shook his hand. With his attention diverted, the statue seemed to lose a bit of its power.
    “Welcome, friend,” Pelarak said, smiling.
    “After last night, it is good to hear you call me friend,” Maynard said. He didn’t know what to make of Pelarak’s puzzled expression. Perhaps it was an act, but he didn’t think so. If he was right, then everything he’d hoped for was true. The actions of the faceless women were unknown to Pelarak.
    Surprise is on my side
, Maynard thought.
I had best use it wisely.
    “I’m not sure what else you would be,” Pelarak said as he led them off to the side of the aisles, where his own private room was attached. “If anyone should be worried about our loss of friendship, I should think it us. A man’s heart and his gold sleep in