A Dance of Cloaks - By Dalglish, David Page 0,99
he asked. He ripped the silks from the man’s tunic and held them aloft. “You parade before a blind man in wealth that could feed him for years while tossing him a pittance you will never miss. That is not piety. That is disgusting.”
He turned and rammed the silk into the blind man’s pot. The merchant stood with his hands shaking, his eyes torn between the dark paladin and the silk.
“No fighting, have mercy. A kindness is a kindness no matter the size,” the blind man said, trying to defuse the situation. Ethric only smiled and gestured to the pot. His sword still burned with fire.
“What is more important to you?” he asked. “Your wealth, or your supposed bribes to the fates?”
When the merchant reached down for the silk, Ethric cut him down. With two vicious hacks, he separated the head and dumped it atop the pot. The blood poured freely, ruining the silk and drenching the few coins within.
“Gifts are always repaid in blood,” Ethric said to the blind man. “Mercy is a delusion. Grace is weakness masked in lies.”
By now a crowd had surrounded him, shouting and pointing angrily. The dark paladin smiled, and when he stretched out his sword, the people made him a path. With so many swarming the streets, it took a good while for the city guard to arrive. The guards, hearing his description, put up only a token search before returning to their patrols. They would cross no swords with a dark paladin of Karak, not without an army at their back.
Despite the delay, Ethric’s mood remained good. He had very little to work with in his search for the faceless women, but Pelarak had given him one tangible lead. On the inside of the wall, about half a mile north of the western gate, Pelarak had told him of a crack. It was wide, running perpendicular to the stones of the wall like a lone bolt of lightning. If he ever needed to contact the faceless women in urgency, he would have an apprentice leave a note in the crack while the stars were bright. By morning, it’d be gone.
Ethric found the crack, looking exactly as it’d been described to him. The street was quiet, modest homes with immodest fences on either side. They appeared new, most likely built after Thren’s little war had started. He removed his glove and put his hand against the deepest part of the crack.
A smile lit up his face. His lengthy training had taught his body to become attuned to all things magical, both clerical and wizardly in nature. Deep inside the crack was a simple alert spell, one that would send warning to the caster whenever the ward was tripped. The faceless women would never need to check, yet would always know when they had a message and could retrieve it before the dawn. Seeing such beauty in its simplicity, Ethric reminded himself to treat his foes with greater respect.
Deciding to treat simplicity with simplicity, he found a large rock and shoved it into the crack, tripping the ward. Now the only question that remained was how long it’d take one of the women to arrive. Since he’d placed the ‘message’ in the middle of the day, they’d certainly know something was amiss.
“Patience serves the wise,” Ethric said, finding himself a seat beside a fence. He leaned his back against the bars. He was out of sight from any travelers on the road, and he doubted the owner of the home would be stupid enough to call him out from his position. All he had to do was watch and wait.
Thren led the way, the rest of his guild following, minus Aaron and Senke who were still busy cleaning blood off the floor. They weaved through the Merchant Way, for once their hands staying out of foreign pockets. The riots would soon be there. Thren had personally started two fires, and his men had started three more. They did not burn homes. They torched the storehouses, rendering food all the more precious. Butcher after butcher retreated into his shop, persuaded through either coin or dagger. Bakers fared no better. They either shut their ovens down for a day, or shut them down forever.
“The tradesmen will point their finger at you once this day is done,” Kayla said as she traveled beside him. Thren only laughed.
“After this day is done, I don’t care. Today we need hunger and riots.”
With quick hand gestures, Thren positioned his men