Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

past, no doubt searching for Aaron. He held manacles in one hand and a naked sword in the other.
    “Does the king request my tutelage?” Robert asked, chuckling darkly.
    Gerand stepped in beside him, hand wrapped in a cloth to soak up the blood. A bruise was already growing on his forehead.
    “Stupid old man,” the advisor muttered, and he nodded to the soldier.
    Robert closed his eyes, not wanting to see the butt of the sword as it came crashing down on his forehead, knocking him out cold.

CHAPTER
2
    I nformation meant wealth, and Kayla loved both. She was not the quietest thief, and unlike many in her line of work, she did not take to the shadows as fish took to water. Her fingers lacked the dexterity for caressing locks into opening. But her ears were always listening, and her eyes sharp. Throughout her rough life she had learned that dealing with information could net her coin and safety … although it could just as easily earn her death. Sometimes secrets were too dangerous to sell.
    Watching the soldiers surround the home, Kayla debated the value of what she saw. Clearly the king, or at least one of his minions, was interfering with the shadowy war being waged between the Trifect and the guilds. She shifted her weight from leg to leg, trying to make sure neither fell asleep. She lay atop a nearby home, having stalked the troops ever since they left the castle grounds by following along the rooftops.
    She could barely see the front door, but she had long learned to analyze everything about a man. What a man wore, and the way he walked, could identify him no matter how dark the night, no matter how well he hid his face. Kayla needed little of that skill, though, for when the man stepped out of the door, his hood flapped in the wind, revealing the scarred face of Gerand Crold. He held a hand against his forehead as if he had been wounded. Suddenly he realized the mishap with his cloak, glanced about as if worried, and then pulled it back over his face.
    Good luck finding me
, she thought.
    Kayla smiled. Now this was something she could sell. Every week she met with a squat little man named Undry who ran a shop specializing in perfumes. She would whisper to him what she knew, and then he would give her a garish oversize bottle of what looked like perfume, except filled with silver and gold coin. From there the information traveled upward until it reached Laurie Keenan, the wealthiest of the three lords of the Trifect.
    Kayla heard shouting. Shifting her weight, she watched as a boy leaped through a window, hit the ground with a roll, and then darted away. A single soldier was in sight, startled by the broken glass and sudden burst of movement mere feet away.
    Before she knew she had reached a decision, Kayla was already moving. Her hand slipped into her belt, where dozens of slender daggers were clipped tight, designed more for throwing than for wielding in melee. Based on the shouts and frantic searching of the soldiers, they clearly wanted the boy. Whoever he was, he was valuable, and Kayla would not let such easy money slip through her fingers. If Undry would pay for rumors of newly hired mercenaries and extra-large shipments, how much might he pay for the blood relative of a Trifect, or perhaps one of the many guildleaders?
    She threw her dagger. The shadows might not be a second skin to her, and silence only a loose friend, but when it came to throwing the blade, she knew of no one better. Before the soldier could give chase, a wickedly sharp point pierced the side of his neck and ruptured his windpipe. He collapsed, unable to cry out to the others. Sheathing the second dagger she had grabbed in case she missed, she looked for the boy.
    Damn, he’s fast
, she thought, sprinting after. If the boy hadn’t been so panicked, he easily would have heard her clattering across the rooftops. He darted through alleys, cutting back and forth as if to lose a pursuer. His path remained steadily eastward, regardless of how crooked and curved. Once she realized this, Kayla began to shrink the distance by taking a more direct route.
    Where are you taking me?
she wondered. A great cry rose up all around her. She stopped and crouched, feeling a bit of worry crawl up her chest. It seemed the soldiers had given chase after all, but not just the few that had surrounded the home. Hundreds rushed up and down the streets in small groups.
    “The boy!” they shouted. “Hand us over the boy!”
    They pressed into homes,