Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

location. He’ll risk his life in these endeavors, to both rival thief guilds as well as the Trifect’s men. Coin, time, and manpower, all wasted because you couldn’t do one simple job.”
    Aaron kept his eyes down, accepting his father’s rebuke.
    “I understand,” he said.
    “Good.” Thren turned to Dustin. “Her last name is Eschaton, daughter of a priest who died earlier today. Find and kill her.”
    “Am I allowed to have any fun with her beforehand?” asked Dustin.
    “I want my message hammered home,” Thren said. “Do as you please. Make sure she dies afterward.”
    Dustin’s grin was ear-to-ear.
    “Be a pleasure. I’ll leave her bits on Ashhur’s temple door.”
    Aaron felt his neck flush. He desperately hoped his father wouldn’t notice. But of course he did.
    “You have plenty of growing up to do,” Thren said to him. “You wanted to be at my side, and now you are. Start living up to your expectations.”
    “Yes, Father,” said Aaron.
    “Begone,” Thren said, waving a dismissive hand.
    Aaron didn’t go to his room. Instead he went to Robert Haern’s.
    “Come in,” the old man said after Aaron knocked. The boy crept the door open, slipped inside, and then shut it. When he turned around, Robert was staring at him.
    “What troubles you?” Robert asked.
    Aaron bit his lower lip. He so badly wanted to ask a question, but he knew the potential danger. What he wanted to know, his father would disagree with. But he had to know. It would just eat at him for months if he didn’t find out.
    “I saw a priest today,” he said. “He wore a symbol, like this, around his neck.”
    Aaron drew a single line in the air with his finger. It looked like an
M
with one side much higher and sharper than the other. Robert picked up his cane and walked over to his desk.
    “Did it look something like … this?”
    Robert opened a drawer and pulled out a gold medallion hanging from a silver chain. It also had the strange line. Aaron nodded.
    “That line is the Golden Mountain,” Robert explained. “It has two peaks. The lower one represents Dezrel, and the height we can ascend to in our lives. The higher one represents the Golden Eternity. As you can see, nothing in this world can ever make one rise as high as in the afterlife.”
    “Who is Ashhur? And why do people pray to him?”
    Robert raised an eyebrow.
    “Where have you heard people praying to Ashhur?” he asked.
    A brief memory flashed before Aaron’s eyes, that of the red-haired girl sobbing in front of him as she called out to Ashhur.
    “Nowhere,” he said.
    “Hrmph. Ashhur is brother to Karak, who I’m sure you know a little bit more about, considering who your friends and associates are. Ashhur represents justice, mercy, grace … things that most would consider the finer parts of mankind. That is why someone would pray to him. They seek comfort, or forgiveness, or protection.”
    Robert went to put the amulet back into the drawer, then paused. He saw how Aaron was looking at it, and the old man bit his lip.
    “What is going on, boy?” he asked. “Why do you come in here asking about gods?”
    Aaron didn’t want to answer, but Robert was his teacher. If he refused, then the next time he came in asking questions, he might get only silence.
    “Kayla killed a priest of Ashhur today. I was ordered to kill his daughter, but I failed.”
    “Failed?” asked Robert. It was as if he could see right through him. “Or refused?”
    Aaron felt his cheeks flush. If his father had read him as clearly, then their conversation might have taken a very different turn when Thren was scolding him for his failure.
    “She was crying,” he whispered. “She didn’t even know I was there. Her father, killed right in front of her. I’ve killed before, I’ve, but she’s not like us, not like, not…”
    Tears swelled in his eyes. Aaron couldn’t believe it. He wiped them away, the blush in his cheeks fierce. He felt so stupid, so young.
    “I’m an embarrassment,” he said.
    “No,” Robert said, putting his hands on Aaron’s shoulders. His beard wasn’t tied behind his head like normal, and it reached down to his waist. It made him look older, less controlled and more grandfatherly. His whole face seemed to sag a little, as if he had dropped a layer of armor from his flesh.
    “Listen to me, Aaron,” he said. “Your father is raising you to be something terrible. He’ll deny you everything, even his love, to make you into what he