Free A Dance of Death by David Dalglish Page A

hours, and I come to ask permission for her and her escort to enter within your walls.”
    “Wait one moment,” Yor interrupted. “How large an escort?”
    “Large,” said Graeven. “Along with Sildur Kinstel, Maradun Fae, and their escorts as well. Surely you understand, given our concerns for safety.”
    Ingram felt ready to explode. That damn Wraith had killed the last ambassador, and while he’d been amused at first, now he wished to throttle the strange assassin. To have someone as important as Laryssa within his grasp could mean everything, but to invite that many bodyguards, all on high alert, sickened him. Elves walking freely within his walls, doing untold damage with their blades, bows, and poisons. Gods, what if they spent their seed among the loose women and whores about the docks? What bastard children might one day inhabit his city?
    “Can you swear to the safety of my people?” he asked, but the words felt hollow. Like the promises of an elf meant anything.
    “I can promise nothing,” Graeven said. “Only that they are here for protection, and nothing more. I do not want to imagine the consequences if something should happen to one of our wise leaders.”
    “Where is it you will stay?”
    “We have been graciously offered a place by one of your city’s fine men. I assume this will be no problem?”
    “Of course,” said Ingram. Despite the bad taste it left in his mouth, he smiled and bowed once more. “Let us resume talks tomorrow. Make sure you send someone to let us know where you will be staying, so I might send servants to let you know when we will convene. We’ll meet here, your representatives, mine, and the Merchant Lords.”
    Graeven spun on his heels and headed for the door. When it closed, Ingram stalked back to his throne, sat upon it, and shouted for a drink.
    “Hardly the angry display I was told to expect,” Egar said, unable to conceal his sarcasm.
    “Shut up, you fool,” Ingram said, gulping down the wine. “This changes everything. Laryssa did not come here without reason. Ceredon is playing games, and we must discover his aims. I’ll save my anger for the morrow, when they are together. Besides, if something should happen to her, something no fault of our own…but enough of that. Send word to your camps, both of you. I want their forests crawling with men. I don’t care how many die, so long as they learn that we will never, ever stop. Oh, and find out who that damn traitor is that’s willing to house the elves.”
    The two lords bowed, and Ingram dismissed them with a wave. It wasn’t until they were gone that Ingram realized Graeven had not bowed before his exit. Such disrespect left him calling for more wine and wishing he had loosed his temper on the ambassador after all.

    T hat same morning, Haern joined Alyssa and Zusa as they walked amid the hundreds of shops lining the roads just north of the docks.
    “I’d prefer the few extra hours of sleep,” Haern said as they looked at a strange assortment of dresses whose cost he couldn’t even begin to guess. Forget cost, thought Haern, he couldn’t even decide which was the front and which was the back. Never before had he been so keenly aware of how secluded a life he’d led. Here in Angelport he saw styles from all four nations, tattoos drawn in bright colors, and animals in cages he had only heard of in passing. All his life he’d danced in the underworld of Veldaren, oblivious to the greater world beyond its walls.
    Still, that didn’t change the fact he’d rather be sleeping than keeping up his facade of being newlyweds with Zusa.
    “Come, husband,” she said, flashing him a smile, looking beautiful in a red dress that left her shoulders naked. “You treat me so distantly. Has our passion already faded?”
    Haern hurried past a merchant selling a brightly colored bird with a silver beak.
    “I can’t imagine so. Ours was a marriage made for the ages.”
    She snickered, then grabbed his