Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

said Gran. “Maybe if I were twenty years younger I’d have sent his brains flying out his ear, but looks like I just rung his bell a little.”
    “What do we do?” asked Delysia. “Tie him up?”
    “Don’t have the rope for that. Here, help me drag him into the pantry. We’ll just lock him up in there for now.”
    She stepped around and grabbed the boy’s feet.
    “Ugh,” she said. “Blood all over the carpet.”
    “Gran!”
    The old lady looked up at her granddaughter.
    “What?” she asked.
    Delysia’s face was pale, and with a limp hand she pointed to Dustin’s lifeless body. Gran, whose real name she hadn’t gone by for at least fifteen years, turned around and looked.
    “Keep forgetting how sheltered you’ve been,” Gran said. “Delius did a good job of that, at least. If he had let you go to market on your own once in a while you’d have seen plenty sights worse than this lying in the gutters.”
    Delysia’s eyes teared up at her father’s name. Gran saw this and quietly muttered a curse to herself.
    “I’m sorry, girl. It’s been a rough day, and this ugly business is so much more than you deserve. Your father was a good man, and I’m sure he was doing what he thought was best for you.”
    Delysia nodded and wiped away some of her tears. Trying to be brave, she grabbed the boy’s hands and helped lift him off the floor. They dragged him to the pantry door, then dropped him so Gran could remove the dagger from his belt.
    “Most likely we’ll let the guards have him,” Gran said as she put the dagger on one of the tables.
    The pantry was large enough for three people standing side by side, so one unconscious young man easily fit. Gran dropped her end unceremoniously on the floor. Delysia lowered hers a bit more gently, not wanting to hurt his head. They shut the door, leaving him sprawled across the floor.
    “Bring the candle closer so I can see,” Gran said. Delysia promptly obeyed. They had two candles lit, one for each of them from when they had sneaked out of their bedroom to see what was going on. Delysia put one on the counter next to the pantry and left the other one on the table beside the dagger.
    “Need a lock,” Gran said as she examined the pantry door. “Give me that chair. No, darling, the other one, the one that didn’t cost your father ten farms’ worth of dairy milk.”
    The pantry had a slot for a lock in case the servants’ fingers got too sticky when they were cooking and cleaning. It was up high, far beyond reach of Gran’s stooped shoulders.
    “Hold it steady for me,” said Gran after returning to the table and grabbing the dagger.
    “Yes, Gran,” said Delysia.
    Gran climbed up, putting both feet on the cushion.
    “You want me to split my head open like a watermelon?” Gran snapped. “Hold that blasted thing still!”
    Delysia clutched the chair tighter, doing her best to keep it from rocking. She wondered what might happen if the thief inside woke up and tried to open the door. Gran would go sprawling, perhaps even taking Delysia down with her. She prayed he stayed unconscious.
    “Hope this’ll fit,” Gran said as she pushed the dagger into the hole intended for a lock’s latch. It slid in about a third of the way before catching. Gran grunted and pushed harder, but the dagger wasn’t budging.
    “We’ll have to hope it holds,” Gran said. “I’m coming back down now.”
    She stepped off, looking very relieved when her feet touched solid floor. Her wrinkled hands clutched the back of the chair as she regained her breath.
    “Was a time I could go leaping tree to tree without a care,” Gran grumbled. “What I’d give to be
that
crazy gal again.”
    “Do you want me to fetch the guards?” Delysia asked.
    “You?” asked Gran. She looked at the young girl as if she’d asked to drink hard liquor and then run naked through Merchant Way. “Don’t be daft. Two men snuck in with aims to rob and kill you. I’m not letting you run about on your own.”
    “We have to get someone,” Delysia insisted. “What if more come? I want the guards, Gran. Can’t you go get the guards?”
    Gran’s whole face turned sour.
    “Of course I want the guards. Something needs to be done about this, a dead body and a locked-up young man. But by Ashhur’s beard, I’m not letting you out at night. Gods damn it, I should have had one of the servants stay overnight. Thought you could use some quiet time to grieve, but what do I know?”
    Delysia