Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

funniest thing he’d ever heard. Senke shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable.
    “A good laugh is priceless, but my information is not,” said Gileas. “Where is my pay?”
    Senke reached into a pocket of his long gray cloak and pulled out a small bag of coin. He tossed it onto the table.
    “You’ll get the second half when the information pans out,” Senke said. Gileas snorted.
    “Keep the other half for yourself, or donate it to some orphans. What I have is all I need to leave for a more, hrm, friendly environment? Once a few certain people are dead, I’m sure I’ll come back to sell you the rest of my little secrets.”
    Senke shrugged.
    “Your loss. I’ll find some orphanage suitably run-down to match your charming personality.”
    Gileas laughed.
    “To think I’ll miss your wit,” he said.
    “And to think I’ll miss your lies.”
    Senke tugged at his hood in a mock salute, then left the tavern. Gileas nibbled on the ends of his fingers, waiting a minute or two to make sure Senke wouldn’t see him leave. He heard the door creak. He looked up. No one was there.
    “Hrmph,” he said.
    A dagger plunged into his back. He shrieked. The lovers in the corner dashed out the door, the guy struggling to pull up his pants and looking damn foolish doing so. The wench shouted something about no blades, but Gileas didn’t hear it. He twisted to one side, hoping to keep the blade from pushing in farther, but then a hand grabbed his head and slammed it against the table. Stars swam before his eyes.
    Someone yanked the dagger out. Gileas clutched his arms against his chest, rocking back and forth as pain shot through his body. Warm blood ran down his spine.
    “Hello, Vel,” he said as Veliana sat down opposite him. Twirling in her left hand was a bloody dagger, flecks splattering across the table. The tavern owner neared and started to speak, but a single glare from Veliana shut him up.
    “This is guild business,” she said. That was all the tavern keeper needed to hear.
    “I just saw a Spider Guild officer leaving the bar,” she said when the man was gone. “What did you sell him, Worm?”
    “Nothing,” he said. “Only lies and promises and empty air.”
    She grabbed his hand and thrust the dagger through his palm. To his credit, he didn’t scream.
    “Try again,” she said.
    “You’re a fool,” he said. “I wouldn’t have killed you. I never would have. So angry…”
    “Look at me!” she shouted. She jammed a finger toward her scarred eye. “Look!”
    The pupil was milky white, the outer edges bloody. From her forehead to her cheek, the inflamed scar overwhelmed whatever beauty she might have had.
    “You think I give a rat’s ass if you meant to kill me or not?” she asked.
    Gileas coughed. He felt like his back was on fire. With how wet his cough sounded, he knew she’d pierced his lung. It wasn’t fatal, not yet…
    “I can pay you, enough for a healer. There’s a chance they can heal your eye. Not enough to see, I doubt, but at least it won’t be so ugly.”
    Veliana yanked the dagger out and then rammed it back downward, this time penetrating his wrist. He screamed.
    “What’d you sell him?” she asked. “You already sold me out to Thren. Who else did you ruin? What remains of my Ash Guild?”
    Gileas laughed in spite of the pain it caused him.
    “They’re hiding, Vel. Hiding. But worms crawl everywhere. Thren knows where they are now. He knows, and you’ll all die. He’ll have his plan, his stupid, doomed plan. Oh, how I cannot wait to see the Kensgold as it unfolds, and the chaos it will unleash.”
    Realization hit Veliana like a cold fist in her gut.
    “You told Gerand the truth,” she said. “Not that all the guildleaders would be massing at Thren’s hideout tomorrow. You told the king’s advisor the goddamn truth.”
    Gileas’s black-toothed grin was all the answer she needed.
    “You son of a bitch,” she said, her voice seething with rage. “The king’s soldiers were going to save us all from that overconfident bastard and his war!”
    “Who knows who Gerand’s told?” Gileas said. He coughed, and blood spilled across his lips. “Who knows what plans they’ve spun? The Kensgold will be a fun night. So much fun…”
    “You’ll watch nothing,” Veliana said. “You’re going to do Dezrel a favor and fucking die.”
    She yanked her dagger out and thrust for his chest. The dagger punched through his clothes but pierced no flesh. They were