Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

for mercy, muddy dress and all.
    Alyssa looked back once, saw Zusa watching her from atop the hill, and swore.
    Whatever distance she’d made suddenly seemed irrelevant. Her legs pumped as she flew across the grasslands, but she’d already tried fleeing them once. The faceless were bizarre creatures, impossibly fast. Her only hope would be to lose her, but how? All around were grass and gently sloped hills. There were no trees, no buildings, no real way to hide. Her teeth clenched, she choked down her scream. Why did she have to remain? Why did the woman have to lurk and watch and ruin whatever hope she had of escape?
    Barely visible in the distance she saw the Kinel River, and she wondered if she might be able to use its current to float away. Its waters would be ice, though, and she wondered if she could endure it for any length of time. Her feet, caked with mud, already were turning numb. Her breath burned in her lungs, and she ran and ran, but it did not matter. Hands touched her shoulders, a foot slipped beneath hers, and then she tumbled. She rolled along the grass, which was wet and loose from proximity to the river. Zusa followed, collapsing atop her as she sank into the cold ground.
    “Why?” she nearly screamed at Zusa. “Why couldn’t you just let me go?”
    Zusa grabbed her shoulders and twisted, forcing Alyssa to look at her as she pinned her to the ground. As Alyssa watched, she tore off the thin white cloth to reveal her piercing green eyes.
    “Because I would have you
face
this,” Zusa said. “You will not run. Running gets you a knife in the back. But a lord’s daughter stands tall, dagger in hand.”
    “And dies stabbed in the chest,” Alyssa said, feeling tears slide down the sides of her face.
    “Never. No matter what happens, no matter whose bed you sleep in or what your family name becomes, I will not allow it.”
    Alyssa felt a lump in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down.
    “Why?” she asked. “Why would you do that for me?”
    Zusa stood, then offered her a hand.
    “Men have twisted you, treated you as a piece in a game or a toy for a bed. I understand this far more than you can understand, Alyssa. But it will not repeat itself, not this time. Not when I have the strength to prevent it.”
    It took all her strength, but Alyssa reached out and accepted that hand. Pulled back to her feet, she looked about, feeling lost and dazed. What did this mean? What did it change?
    “Come,” Zusa said, still holding her hand. “Back to the camp, before they notice your absence.”
    Alyssa remained silent, daring in her heart to trust the strange woman. Upon their reaching the camp, one of the guards noticed the mud on her dress but said nothing. He might normally have asked questions, but Zusa’s presence stilled his tongue. Toward Yoren’s tent they went, Zusa with no apparent desire to leave Alyssa. Alyssa hoped to change clothes before Yoren returned, but instead they found him already there, sitting before a bonfire in the center of the camp. Before him was a large rabbit, its fur already peeled back.
    “My dear?” Yoren said, looking up and noticing the mud and the tearing of her clothes. Alyssa thought for an answer, but was not given time.
    “She slipped near the stream,” Zusa said. “But do not worry, she is strong as ever.” Eyes still uncovered, she looked Alyssa’s way. “Isn’t she?”
    “Yes,” Alyssa said, praying it was true, yet not willing to believe it.
    Her fingers touched the dagger in her dress as Yoren resumed skinning the rabbit.
    Not yet.

CHAPTER
22
    T hren hadn’t felt this good in ages. So far two riots had broken out in southern Veldaren. The king’s advisor had done his work well. With soldiers arresting dozens of prominent merchants, goods had been left unprotected as taxes were collected. Those who were released found their stalls and warehouses ransacked. Thren had personally burned down several. The price of the remaining goods and, most important, food, doubled and then tripled. Mercenaries flooding into the city in anticipation of the Kensgold found their employers unable to pay them. Some went away, while others…
    Thren laughed. Others had eagerly joined his own guild to ensure their work with a blade received adequate pay. Those who hadn’t taken up with the guild, well, they died easily enough. Given the hunger, the frustration, the gouging of customers, the poor southern section of Veldaren was all too eager to let its