“You spied on our proceedings,” his father said.
“It is what you train me for.”
“You misdirect me with your answer,” Thren said, his eyes narrowing. “Trained or not, that does not explain your actions. Why did you listen in? Is it because of Robert? You were with him only a day. He cannot mean enough to risk my wrath.”
“I want to know,” Aaron blurted, his voice no longer a whisper. He pressed on before he lost his nerve. “What we do, what we are. I train and train, but I am still treated as a child. I know so little of the city, and if it weren’t for Kayla, I’d be in a dungeon, or dead, father.”
“That still does not give you permission to spy on my activities!”
Thren expected his son to cower. Grown men felt the pale touch of death when he shouted in his full anger. Aaron blinked, tilted his head, and then spoke so softly.
“But spying on you is how I saved your life.”
The battle-hardened guildmaster was struck by the simple pronouncement. He looked at the young man before him and remembered when he had been just a child, a child that could stab a man with a dagger to protect his father.
He killed so young, Thren thought. Yet I coddle him from the bloodshed raging around us. I fear for his safety, yet he is fearless before death, before injury, before even me…
“Though you disappoint me with your trespass, perhaps part of the blame is mine,” the elder Felhorn said. “From now on, you will be at my side at all times. My life is not safe, Aaron, and you will soon know that. But know that regardless the risk, I will bring you with me.”
“I’m not scared,” Aaron said.
“A foolish boast. Even I am sometimes afraid, as will you often be.”
The boy let a smile creep at the corners of his mouth.
“Scared or not,” he said, “I’ll never show it.”
Thren believed him.
7
V eliana stormed toward the back of the tavern, so mad she didn’t care if anyone saw her. An unmarked door suffered her wrath as she kicked it open. Inside, several men sat around a badly worn table. Two jumped at her entrance, simple thugs playing at guardsmen. When they reached for their blades, another of the men shook his head and slapped an open palm atop the table.
“No bloodshed,” the man said. “Put your swords away. Veliana did not come here to slit our throats.”
He saw the rage burning in her eyes and thought perhaps he was wrong, but he would not admit so openly. His thugs sat down, their hands lingering on their hilts. Veliana remained standing, though she at least had the decency to close the door behind her before she continued talking.
“What game do you play, hawk?” she asked him.
Kadish Vel, master of the Hawk Guild, smiled at the question. It was no secret he liked games; he would let the puppet of the Ash Guild explain further lest he reveal more than what she already knew. When he smiled, his teeth flashed red in the dim light. His underlings claimed it was from the blood of women he dined upon in the waning hours, though the rest of the city knew it was from his addiction to chewing crimleaf.
“I play many games,” Kadish said, winking. Veliana slammed a fist atop his table, scattering dice to the floor.
“Though you seem distraught,” he said, ignoring the outburst. “Did you lose? I must say, I don’t remember playing with you, and that is a game I feel I would remember.”
Veliana glared. Kadish had a narrow face and elongated nose. He wore an eyepatch over his right eye, though she was certain it was only for looks. The guildmaster seemed to feel himself the dashing sort, though in her opinion he looked more the castle mummer than a city pirate.
“I play no games with you,” Veliana said. “Your men have pushed into our territory. Everything south of Iron Road is ours, yet daily I find the bird’s eye scrawled over our ash.”
“You know the manner of guilds,” Kadish said, waving a dismissive hand. “The strong take from the weak. If you are so worried about the lost homes and bazaars then defend them.”
“Not here,” he added when he saw her reach for her daggers.
“That’s the game,” Veliana said. “You aren’t the stronger. We could bury you in days if war broke out between us. Why the sudden confidence? You’re as spineless as a snake. Where did this newfound courage come from?”
Veliana expected the insults to rankle the proud man, but instead he laughed as if she had tickled him.
“Courage is a funny thing,” he said. “What you see as courage I see as wisdom. You aren’t as strong as you once were. James Beren’s ego has defeated you. You would not storm in here red with rage if this were just a simple loss of a few pitiful homes and merchants. But wait! Don’t tell me, otherwise you spoil the game. The Serpents have moved in as well, haven’t they? And I bet the symbol of the wolf covers plenty of your ash in the east.”
“Every one of them is a lie,” Veliana said, her voice calming. A deadly seriousness had replaced her anger. “Soon all symbols will be the spider. You know that, don’t you?”
“You know nothing,” Kadish said, scratching the skin below his eyepatch. “And you can’t see the future. I, however, am smart enough to view the present. As long as you hold out on Thren and his Spider Guild, you are lost. We’ll take your members, your streets, and if we must, your lives. We all want this war to end; we will not suffer Beren to keep us from that finality. Tell him if he wants to have a guild by the end of the month, he needs to pledge his men to Thren Felhorn.”
“You know,” one of the men beside Kadish said, an ugly brute with scarred lips and a missing ear. “Perhaps James might be more willing if we had his pretty lady here for ransom.”
This time Veliana did draw her daggers but Kadish stood and glared at his men.
“This meeting is done,” he said to all of them. “We will not debase ourselves with such talk. The Ash Guild will see wisdom. Good day, Veliana.”
The woman spun and left, slamming the door behind her. When she was gone, Kadish rubbed his chin as his underlings snickered and made lewd comments.
“They’re vulnerable,” he said. “Rasta, take a few of your boys and have them scour the Ash Guild’s streets. Find out just how badly they’ve been pressed.”
“Planning something big?” the earless man said.
“Keep your mouths shut for now,” the guildmaster told him. “But if James has lost more than we anticipated…”
He let the threat hang in the air. Rasta stood and left while the earless brute recovered the dice from the floor, shook them in his hands, and rolled.
A aron winced as he walked down the hall, his shoulder throbbing from where Senke had struck him. Ever since the meeting, and Thren’s promise to include him in all things, his father had made him spend hours training. Most often Senke was his trainer, the wiry rogue second to only Thren in skill with a blade.
“Are you ready?” Senke had asked when they first closed the door to the large, open room. Aaron had nodded but held his tongue.
“Good. Let us dance.”
And so they had danced, blunted practice swords whirling and clanging as they parried, riposted, and blocked. Of all his teachers of combat, Senke was by far the best as well as the most enjoyable to be with. He laughed, he joked, he said things about women that made Aaron blush. When it came to swordplay, though, he took the dance seriously. The joy would fade from his eyes, like a fire buried in dirt, and then he would explain an error, or detail improved reactions. Most often he smacked Aaron with his sword and let the pain do the teaching.
That day Senke had been determined to hone Aaron’s dodging abilities. The sword struck too quickly, and Aaron’s initial reaction was always to block or parry, not dodge. Other teachers might have taken away his sword, but Senke would have none of it. His student would learn to control his instincts, otherwise they would control him.
