Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

so the father and son were left alone to wander.
    “What if you demand I speak?” Aaron asked. Thren glanced back at him, looking bewildered.
    “Why would I?” he asked.
    Aaron nodded, his face flushed red.
    They continued down the streets, which Thren named off as they passed, as well as what guild lay claim to them.
    “Our territory is never something to give up lightly,” Thren told him. “Every home, every run-down business, brings us profit. The businesses pay us protection money so we will not rob their stores. The street women give us coin for the privilege of using our streets. The people buy our drugs, supply us with recruits, and provide simple prey for our younger members in training. Every thief guild in Veldaren is trying to build an empire, and the one thing an empire needs more than anything else is land.”
    “You talk as if we’re at war with the other guilds. I thought the Trifect was our enemy?”
    Thren crossed his arms, his look hardening.
    “In time we’ll crush the leaders of the Trifect. We’ll scatter their wealth to the four winds, and a dozen other lords and ladies will scramble like dogs to pick up the pieces. In that chaos there will be so much for us to take, so much profit to be made. Aaron, who do you think will be competing with us for that wealth?”
    Aaron looked away, embarrassed.
    “The other guilds.”
    “That’s right, my son. They are not our friends. No thief guild, not the Hawks, the Ash, the Serpents, the Wolves … not a one is to be trusted. They are allies now, united only by a common foe. When that foe dies, every truce is broken. A new war will be upon us, and it will be one we must win, no different from the one we face now. Never stop looking to the future, nor forget the past. The other guilds were our enemies. They will be our enemies again.”
    They continued as the moon faded, the morning sun fast approaching. Before a large building marked with a sign painted entirely red, Thren paused and put a hand on Aaron’s shoulder.
    “We approach a brothel. Do you know what is done there?”
    When he nodded, a small frown tugged at the corner of Thren’s mouth.
    “I’ll assume Senke is to blame. Remember, women are a weakness to you. I want you pure, Aaron. I want you perfect. No strong drink will touch your lips. No womanly flesh will your hands caress. No priest will sway your heart. Power is all that matters, power and the skill to keep it. You have so much to learn, but once you are older, you will learn directly from me. Men fear my name, Aaron, but they will fear yours a hundred times more.”
    With morning close, the brothel was mostly empty. The women had slipped into more comfortable clothing. No men lingered drinking or chatting with the women before heading up to the more comfortable private rooms. The few who did remain were fast asleep. When the sun rose over the walls of the city, the ladies would prod them awake and usher them home to their wives, children, or professions.
    “Welcome, Thren,” said a middle-aged woman with flaming red hair and matching lipstick. “You have not graced us with your presence in far too long.”
    When she noticed Aaron, she smiled.
    “Is this the young Felhorn? He looks so much like his father, he does. You brought him to the right place, Thren. I have some younger girls, and they know how to be gentle so that…”
    “Enough.”
    His word struck her like a slap. Her lips closed, and the joy left her eyes, replaced with a cool, calculated gaze.
    “Very well. Why are you here?”
    Thren pointedly ignored her. He glanced at his son to ensure he had his attention and then began lecturing.
    “This is Red. She is in charge of the women here. It helps to have a woman deal with the younger girls, plus her experience makes sure that they know how to do their jobs properly. Every brothel has someone like her. They are never fools, and they are always dangerous. They hear more than anyone else in this city. Men are stupid when in bed.”
    “Sometimes out of bed too,” Red said.
    Thren flashed her a dangerous smile.
    “Where is Billy Price?” he asked. Red gestured toward a flight of stairs leading to an enclosed balcony.
    “Leave your swords here,” she said. “You don’t need them if you’re on business.”
    That dangerous smile on Thren’s face never changed.
    “You are not one to give orders to me,” he said. “And death by the sword is
always
my business.”
    Aaron was surprised by how calm Red