Dance of the Puppets

And I remained invisible, shrouded in shadow, eating, practicing, bathing, and resting.

I didn't sleep that night. I couldn’t return to the Drowned Drow Inn. No, I rested within myself, just as the Third had taught me—completely empty, detached from my flesh.

There I was, sitting on Strandburgh’s beach among the fishing boats, wrapped in thick wool.

The flow of time slipped away from me. Each time, just as in the past, it frightened me at first, and just before I let go, I snapped back.

But finally, I was able to break free from the spinning of the wheel.

The images were no longer flowing by. They were all happening at once. The present had dissolved.

When I became aware of my body again, I felt a sense of clarity, was acutely aware of everything, but had a goal that transcended my past shortcomings.

Nothing but salt and morning dew clung to me.

Forward. Always.

I arrived at the warehouse where Fion had taken me two days ago. The guards were already waiting for me and led me back up to the alderman.

“You're early. Very good. Can I offer you some refreshments? What would you like to have before a fight? Food? Drink? Women? Or would you rather get to know my guards and their skills?”

“How many men will the fleetmaster bring?”

“He usually brings four of them with him—his personal guard, so to speak.”

“And those are his best?”

“Swordsmen? Yes.”

“How many of your men are at my disposal?”

“Fourteen. nine men with blades and clubs, five archers.”

“Have them stay back. At my signal, the archers will fire a volley at the leader. He should be their only target.”

“The other nine are supposed to do nothing?”

“Yes. But when you see this signal from me, they should attack. And when they see that signal, the archers must also throw themselves into the fray.”

“Anything else?”

“Can you get me some cider?”

“Sure. From where?”

“Aur?”

The alderman's eyes widened.

“You have exquisite taste, don't you? And expensive… oh well.”

With a wave of Zalta’s hand, one of the guards left the room.

Moments later, with my drink in hand, I looked around the hall.

The archers had already taken up their positions, and the alderman and the rest of the guards followed me everywhere I went.

“Will he come in through the side door just like I did?”

“No, no. We always meet down here on the grounds. Edo likes to strut through the gate here with his men.”

“Good.”

“All right. Like I said, on my signal.”

I stood there with my legs apart, waiting. The other guards were a good distance behind me.

Zalta had taken up a position above us with the archers. At least he was present. This moment would likely decide his fate as well, and he was prepared to face the consequences. That spoke in the trader’s favor.

Finally, there was a rattling at the gate, and the two unlocked panels swung open.

Eight men entered in a line. Behind them were the fleetmaster and four more.

The light from the sun, still low in the sky, streamed into the hall.

“This feels familiar, boy! You've divided our great hansa, haven't you?! Bo! Where are you?!” Atten shouted, his arms spread wide.

Silence.

I felt a buzzing in the air. There was that shimmer again, but it spread more intensely than ever before, engulfing everything around us. I could feel the tension in the air. Sweat ran down our foreheads, our eyes were wide open, our veins bulged, our faces flushed red, and our hearts pounded wildly.

Everyone knew how this would end. Red and flowing.

An arrow whizzed past me and lodged itself in the shoulder of one of the intruders.

“Kill them all!” no one—and everyone at the same time—shouted.

Everything spiraled out of control. I held my position, but more arrows rained down—not just from above, but also from the rear ranks of the enemy. The swordsmen and club-wielders charged.

That's when I saw it slicing through the air. That wooden thing. Covered in runes and with six arms. A moronic grin painted on its face. As simple as a child's doll and as grotesque as a mad man’s nightmare.

It dissolved into the air once more, melted into emotions, tangible in images, shaking me to the core.

Hatred.

What could I possibly do about something like that? Right now, I guess all I could do was play along.

Several men had already fallen. Six of us, six of them.

I gave the signal for our archers to join in and rushed past our three remaining front-line fighters and lunged at the fleemaster, who was just about to slay the seventh of us with his saber.

The Seatish swordsman skillfully swerved out of the way, while cutting down my ally. His archers now drew their blades as well.

That nerve-wracking shimmer had faded again.

I still had seven people on my side. Atten had six. We still outnumbered them.

“Atten! Let's settle this! One-on-one!”

“You're a nobody, boy! And I'm not a lorthane of Fald from some tale of old! Kill! Them! All!”

I let the void wash over me, let time dissolve again. I severed limbs and pierced flesh. My allies fell, and so did my enemies, in a storm of dripping red and slashing silver.

Only the fleetmaster and I were left. Just as a good story should go.

“So you're getting your way again, boy!”

Atten ran his hand along his blade. Sparks began to dance around the saber. This had to be a lightning rune.

I hurled my dagger upward from far below, aiming for his skull.

He swung his blade downward and managed to parry the projectile.

From high above, I thrust my sword downward toward his neck.

Atten could only step back. He lost his balance. I rained down a flurry of blows on him from left and right, pushing him further and further back until he finally took a long leap and crashed into a crate.

I couldn't let the fleetmaster go on the offensive, so I rushed after him. He no longer tried to block, but also slashed forward.

Our blades clashed. I felt the lightning flow through me, burning my nerves. I let him slide to the left, exposing my right flank, and just as he was about to deliver the final blow, my left fist struck him squarely in the liver with full force. I followed up with my right elbow and felt his nose break; as my right arm swung back, I delivered a heavy blow to his temple with the pommel of my sword.

My last opponent collapsed, and with a clean blow, I finished him off.

When I came to, I heard the groans. Not everyone had fallen; some were only wounded.

I picked up my dagger and wiped both blades on the fabric of Attens's clothes.

“You did it! Haha! You did it! Yes! Yes!”

The alderman had now joined us on the ground as well and was in high spirits.

“Have the coins and the recommendation brought to my inn. The witch would make a fine messenger. You'd better take care of these men. Be better than Atten and stop the bleeding.”

“The witch? Why? She is expensive.”

“Deduct it from my pay. Now tell me about the steel.”

"Oh, you remembered that?"

I looked at the trader with obvious displeasure.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm keeping my promise. We delivered it to Pixthed. That's where the handoff took place, but that's all I know—except that a beadle vouched for those guys. Of course, we weren't going to pass up that deal."

"Which beadle?"

"Gommond of Cray."

One problem was solved. Zalta provided me with a tub that was far too fancy, and after I had cleaned myself up, it was time for my final destination: Gommond’s hideout in Pixthed.

Who cared about the Churls anyway? Their leaders had already given up on Funa. The headmen of the Golden and the Beadle were the only loose ends for the time being. And after they had been tied up, I would take the first step toward my goal.