Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

not even the sneakiest of thieves can get you. Your father was well respected by the priests of Ashhur. I’m sure if I asked, they would accept you into their care. Once inside their white walls, you’ll be dead to the world for as long as you’re there.”
    Delysia sniffed.
    “But what about Tarlak? Will I ever see him again?”
    Gran pulled her close and kissed her cheek. “I’m sure you will. Your brother’s off safe with that wizard teacher of his. Now we need to make sure you stay safe, otherwise he might find me and turn me into a mudskipper for letting something happen to his dear little sister.”
    “I don’t want to leave you,” she said. Gran gently shook her head.
    “I don’t want to leave you either, but I’ve already lost my son. I couldn’t bear to see Dezrel lose you as well. I’m old, and you’ve got no mother to watch after you. The priests and priestesses will give you a good home. I promise.”
    Delysia returned the kiss, then turned. There was no one there, just a half-closed pantry door. Haern was gone.
    “An odd boy,” Gran said. “I hope he keeps his mouth shut about where you’re going.”
    “I trust him,” Delysia insisted.
    “Trust him? Hah.” Gran laughed until she coughed. “You probably love him too. Dashing, mysterious boy in a mask. Every damsel wants one of them to come sneaking in through their bedchamber window.”
    Delysia scrunched her face and poked Gran in the side. When Gran poked back, they both broke into laughs.
    “It’s good to see you smile,” Gran said. “I’ll have that one last laugh to keep with me for the end of my days. Now go pack up your things. Not much, now, just what you can carry. I dare not wait a minute longer before bringing you to the temple.”
    Gran watched her hurry back into their bedroom. Gran’s face became a sorrowful mask, her lip quivering and her eyes wet. When Delysia returned, her arms full of dresses, Gran smiled away her tears, hid them with a laugh, and then led her granddaughter out the door and away.
    Pelarak was furious. For two days he had waited for Zusa and her faceless to return with Alyssa, and for two days he had not heard a word. He hurried through his morning sermon. He never lost his place or misquoted a scripture, but his mind was elsewhere and his faithful knew it. Anger crept into his words, and his call for penance and the destruction of chaos was particularly moving. Afterward he knelt before the great statue of Karak, letting the purple light bathe him.
    “Something troubles you,” said a man as he joined him on his knees.
    “The world is a troublesome place,” said Pelarak. He opened his eyes, and then smiled when he realized who was with him.
    “Ethric, so good to see you!” Pelarak stood and hugged the man. “Your arrival here is so well-timed Karak himself must have had a hand in it.”
    Ethric smiled. He was a tall man, and the only reason Pelarak could throw his arms around his shoulders was that Ethric had remained on his knees. He still wore his dark black plate mail, having arrived so recently he’d had no time to remove it. A two-handed blade hung from a sheath on his back. He was completely shaven. Across his bald head and face were a myriad of tattoos dyed in a dark purple ink. They looped and curled in an ill pattern.
    “Your priests make their way to Ker less and less,” said Ethric. His voice was rich and pleasant to the ear. “Carden hurried me off to see how things were going. The troubles between the Trifect and the guilds have lasted so long we’ve heard of it all the way across the rivers.”
    “Come,” Pelarak said. “Are you hungry? Join me in a meal.”
    Deep in the recesses of the temple was a rectangular room bare of decorations. A long table stretched along the center with wooden stools for seats. A mere look from Pelarak sent the staff running, young priests still in training in their devotion to Karak.
    “It is hard remembering you were such as these boys,” Pelarak said. “I’ve seen so many grow up and take their armor or their robes. Many aspire to greatness, but so few reach it.”
    “I wonder which I will be,” said Ethric as he sat opposite him at the table.
    “A dark paladin every pup of Ashhur learns to fear, if Karak is kind,” Pelarak said.
    Children surrounded them, carrying bowls, spoons, and a large pot of soup. Once they were served, both bowed their heads and prayed silently for near a minute. Ethric dug in afterward with a