a short white beard and a shaved head. His eyebrows she especially remembered. He had shaved them regularly, and as a little girl she had been fascinated by the strange way it made his face look.
Eliora bobbed her head up and down, looking like a strange doll with its head off-balance.
“Will you hurt him?” Alyssa asked when done.
“No,” Eliora said. “Now I know, I will let him live. The elder man is the key to your takeover. To the common worker and guard, there is little difference when the figurehead changes names so long as their immediate master stays the same.”
The faceless woman stopped at another hallway and glanced both directions.
“Which way to your father’s bedroom?” she asked.
Alyssa thought for a moment.
“Left,” she said. “Not far from my own.”
“Stay here, and stay silent,” Eliora said. “There will be guards.”
The shadow cloak swirled about her body, her limbs and head fading away into a shapeless blob of black and gray. Only the serrated dagger shone bright and true in her violet hand. Alyssa glanced behind her every few moments, feeling almost certain a guard would find her alone and helpless. She had turned down numerous offers for training (the Pensleys had been particularly adamant that she spar daily with their weaponsmaster, an ex-knight named Durg who reeked more of wine than honor). As she stood there, she wished she had taken up those offers. She would gladly endure Durg’s drunken glances if it meant holding a blade without fear of the shouts she heard throughout the mansion.
The core of anger hidden in her breast flared. She had strode into her father’s house as cocksure as any other man might have. Had the chill of the cells stolen that away from her? She was the rightful heir, and after the embarrassment of five years worth of secret warfare against an inferior opponent, most members of her household would certainly be glad of a stronger, smarter leader. If any guard appeared, she would demand the loyalty of his sword.
The sounds of a scuffle reached her ears, coupled with a single, pained scream that was cut off halfway through. She was afraid to look around the corner to see, but did so anyway. She saw several bodies lying in a bloody path that ended at another corner. She thought to give chase when a dagger pressed against her neck.
“Where is my sister?” she heard a voice ask.
“Are you Nava?” Alyssa asked, trying her hardest not to sound afraid. Her voice came out sounding weak but annoyed. Given the circumstances, she thought that was acceptable. The dagger shifted against her skin, and from the brief pause, she figured the woman surprised.
“Not Nava,” she whispered. “Zusa. Now where is my sister?”
“Eliora went ahead,” Alyssa said, telling no more than what was asked. She tried to remind herself that this was her home, and that she should ask the questions, but her logic was weak against the serrated edge pressed against her soft skin.
“Little woman better not lie,” Zusa said. “False tongues are often split.”
The dagger scraped across her neck. Alyssa was certain blood would run down her back, but none did.
“No lie,” she said. “Now remove that blade. I am Alyssa Gemcroft, and it was your task to free me from my prison. Threaten harm upon me, and you risk the boon you were promised for this affair.”
The dagger left her neck. At first, Alyssa felt pride at her handling the situation, but when she turned she saw that another of the faceless women had joined them. Disguised in their black and purple cloth, she had not a clue who it might be, but then she heard the soft whisper and knew.
“Maynard is not in his room,” Eliora said. “Something is amiss.”
“Find him quick,” Zusa said. “Time is our enemy.”
The dogs howled louder as both faceless women turned to Alyssa.
“Where is your father?” they demanded.
“I don’t know,” she said, taken aback. “The hour is late; he should be in bed. Maybe something needed his attention, or his sleep was troubled and he took to wandering…”
“Or he was waiting for us,” Eliora said. “May Karak damn them all. Move, while Nava still buys us time outside.”
They hurried down the hall, Alyssa’s mind racing. She wondered if her father had any hidden rooms or safe places tucked away in corners of the estate, but she remembered none. She had been a rambunctious girl, and curious, too. If there had been any, she would have known.