Free A Dance of Death by David Dalglish Page B

hand.
    “For show,” she said, winking. Haern shook his head and laughed.
    “You’re lucky you’re beautiful,” he said.
    Zusa’s smile lost its joy, and he saw her exchange a look with Alyssa. He understood none of it, though, so he tried to push his mind to other things. Watching for thieves kept most of his attention. They were everywhere, lurking in corners, doorways, and the sides of stalls. They had a look to them, a wariness they could not hide from someone so familiar with their ways as Haern. Twice he’d caught a man sliding through the crowd, spotted the mark, and then put himself in the way. The first one he’d asked for directions, letting the noble lady move on to a much more occupied booth. The second time, he only grabbed the man’s arm and smiled.
    “Lay off,” the thief said, yanking free.
    “Pardon me,” Haern said, grinning while still blocking his way. “I thought you were someone else.”
    By the time he let the thief free, the mark was gone. Zusa chided him for being childish.
    “You cannot stop every crime,” she said, squeezing his hand. “The world is bigger than you.”
    “I can at least stop the ones I see.”
    “Even that will one day kill you. We are not in Veldaren, and right now, you are not the Watcher. Relax. We’re supposed to be in love, remember?”
    He chuckled, and he felt his neck flush despite himself.
    “Right,” he said. “How could I forget?”
    They rejoined Alyssa’s side and continued browsing the selection. At one stall Haern finally found something that caught his interest: a wide variety of swords, all exquisitely made. He was holding one, examining its hilt, when he heard a loud cry from the guards.
    “What was that?” Haern asked the shopkeeper.
    “Sounds like a hanging,” the burly smith said. “You look new here, so go have a look. Shame I’ll miss the fun, selling wares and all.”
    Haern replaced the sword, tilted his head in a manner of respect Alyssa had showed him, then returned to Zusa’s side. They were already making their way north, toward a large open square.
    “You hear it too?” she asked him.
    “Partly.”
    Zusa shot him a glance.
    “They’re calling for the Watcher.”
    Alyssa crossed her arms, and she leaned closer to them so she might not be overheard among the din.
    “Do nothing,” she said. “Watch, and watch only. If either of you are revealed, the blame is mine. I have no intention of spending my stay here in a dungeon. Let’s go.”
    “Watcher!” the city guard cried again, a single man bellowing above the crowd. He stood atop a wooden platform, with five nooses hanging behind him. Haern felt his mouth go dry as a row of dirty, malnourished men ascended the stairs, their arms tied behind their backs. “Watcher of Veldaren, come forth!”
    “What’s going on here?” Haern asked.
    “Isn’t it obvious?” Zusa whispered.
    Perhaps it was, but Haern didn’t want to believe it. The crowd quieted as the guard began crying out anew. Worse was the tattoo he saw on the city guard’s face, the same tattoo many of the city guard wore: a sword across the eye.
    “Murderer, coward, and butcher known as Veldaren’s Watcher, know that Angelport is no place for you. We will not accept your presence. Last night, you slew two of our city guard and harmed a third. For every innocent man you attack, ten from our dungeons shall hang. So saith Lord Ingram Murband.”
    The crowd let up a cheer at the hooded executioner’s arrival. As he slipped noose after noose over the heads of prisoners, Haern felt his hands shake.
    “How dare they?” he whispered.
    Zusa squeezed his hand tight.
    “Criminals,” she said. “Outlaws. Their lives are nothing.”
    Once bags were over their heads, the executioner stepped down and circled around to the back of the platform. Hanging underneath were ropes attached to thick planks of wood. With a pull on a rope, it’d drop open, allowing the man or woman above to fall. Meanwhile, the city