A Dance of Chaos: Book 6 of Shadowdance Read Free Page B

the city. The tail, a younger man lurking on the rooftops, had to abandon stealth to maintain the chase, making it easy for Haern to get a look at the man’s chest, and the four-pointed star sewn across it.
    Will Muzien make his move against me already?
Haern wondered, suddenly cutting right, his first deviation in several minutes. So far he’d had no interaction with the mysterious elf since returning from his trek west to infiltrate the Stronghold. A quick glance behind showed the tail grabbing the side of a rooftop and using it to swing down to the ground. Vanishing into an alley out of the man’s sight, Haern turned, drew his swords, and began counting. At four he rushed forward, perfectly timing the man’s arrival into the alley. Before he could even ready a dagger, Haern’s sabers were at his throat.
    “I pray you were hoping to talk,” Haern said as the young man’s eyes widened. “Because anything else is suicide.”
    “No, not, no…” the man said, and he looked ready to piss his pants. “Tracking your movements, that’s all, I swear.”
    “That’s right,” said a voice behind Haern. “I’m the one actually looking for a fight.”
    Haern kneed the first man in the stomach, then kicked him to the ground before spinning to face his boastful challenger. Approaching from the other end of the alley, two long dirks drawn and twirling in hand, was a dark-skinned man with the Sun Guild’s emblem sewn onto his shirt. The man’s hair was long, and braided in a fashion Haern recognized as more common to the distant land of Ker.
    “You should have used what little surprise you had,” Haern said, settling into a stance, gaze flicking to the rooftops in case there were more ambushers. So far he saw none, but when it came to the Sun Guild, Haern had learned to expect the worst possible scenario.
    “I don’t want anyone claiming I was lucky instead of skilled,” said the challenger. “You’re a fool and a fake, Watcher. Whatever reputation you had, it’s about to be mine.”
    With a sudden cry the man charged, dirks pulled back for a thrust. Haern dashed to meet him, easily recognizing an overinflated ego when he saw it. He’d grown up in Thren Felhorn’s shadow, after all. Such an attitude meant overzealous aggression, and the easiest path to victory was to crush it immediately. The man thrust his dirks with admirable speed, but the placement was exactly where Haern had expected. Parrying both with a swipe of his left hand, Haern continued forward, lashing out with his right hand while twirling to deftly avoid the man’s desperate charge. His saber found flesh, the man let out a gargle, and then he collapsed, a tangle of limbs and leaking blood.
    Haern shook the blood off his saber and looked back to the man who’d first been tailing him. Instead of running, he stood in the alleyway, arms crossed.
    “Shouldn’t you have fled?” Haern asked.
    “Why?”
    The confidence with which he spoke alerted all of Haern’s senses. Glancing back to the rooftops, he saw that this time he was not alone. Four men lurked at the edges, crossbows in hand. He spun to find four more emerge at the other end of the alley, blocking it off. Joining the first man were three more members of the Sun Guild, and they too held either daggers or small crossbows. The ambushers said nothing, and other than sealing the exits, they remained still, crossbows pointed but not fired, swords drawn but held low. There was something eerie about how silent they remained, these ghostly specters. Had Muzien ordered them to remain quiet? Haern had a feeling that was the case.
    And then the wall of men parted before him, and in stepped Muzien the Darkhand. He was taller than Haern had expected, his thin body draped with a black coat. The front of his dark-umber hair was carefully braided and then tied behind his head, so not a strand dared interfere with his vision. His long ears ended at abrupt scars instead of upturned points, and true to