Poison Dance

Chapter One: Scene 2

Bacchus wore a wide grin when James returned to the table. “Not bad. Though I didn't get a good look at her.” His cheeks were red over his thick black beard.

“Couldn't, with that flour sack she was wearing,” said Rand, scowling at his mug. While Bacchus could forget his troubles as soon as he entered a tavern, Rand didn’t have that gift. And with rumors of the guildleader's death flying around, they'd had plenty to worry about.

“It was the redheaded dancer. The one who performed earlier today,” said James.

Bacchus raised his eyebrows and peered over the crowd. “That was her? Lass must be blind. Or have a fancy for scarecrows.” He gestured dismissively with a brawny arm toward James's lean form. James didn't bother to reply. Bacchus knew well enough that James could outfight him two times out of three.

“She told me Clevon’s dead,” said James.

That sobered even Bacchus up. “How does she know?”

“Says she overheard some men talking. Didn’t know their names, but from her descriptions, it sounded like Gerred’s crew.”

Rand whistled darkly. “There’ll be trouble if she’s right.”

The last time a guildleader had died was twenty years ago. Then, a much younger Clevon had fought his way to the top, leaving much of the existing Guild dead. It had been before James's time, but nothing he’d heard made him wish he'd been there. Across the table, Bacchus shifted, reaching for his weapons as if he expected assassins to materialize out of the walls.

James remained still, though it took some effort to suppress that same instinct to arm himself. “Gerred’s firmly Clevon’s second. Mayhap he’ll keep a hold on everyone this time.”

Rand snorted. “Mayhap Gerred’ll hand out sweet buns, kiss us each atop our foreheads, and nurse us each to sleep upon his ample bosom.” He pushed a carrot-colored strand of hair away from his eyes. “But I’ll not be closing my eyes while he’s around.”

“You know . . .” Bacchus lowered his voice below his usual bellow. “When Clevon took over the Guild, he was about the same age we are now.”

They’d all been thinking the same thing, but leave it to Bacchus to voice it. James scanned his peripheral vision to see if anybody could overhear them. By his companions’ silence, he could tell they were doing the same. Thankfully, the minstrel's singing kept their voices from traveling far. “I’ve no interest in being guildleader,” he finally said. “It’s like fighting to rule a privy. Ending up on top just puts you first to be pissed on.”

Bacchus roared in approval. “But the wallhuggers piss gold. Comes in helpful, even if it stinks.” The city’s noblemen, called such because they lived so close to the Palace wall, had recently begun to notice the Guild’s potential usefulness. More than one of the Guild’s senior men were in the noblemen’s pockets.

Rand cleared his throat. “We can argue all night about whether the headship is worth the fight, but we might not have a choice. Especially you.” He jerked his head in James’s direction. “You think Gerred’ll just take you at your word, that you’ll be a good obedient lad?”

Bacchus nodded in slow agreement, and James didn’t contradict them. He’d long been at odds with Gerred.

“There’s one more thing the lass overheard,” said James. “She also said that someone will flip my quarters tomorrow while me and Bacchus run the job.”

“Really?” The scowl dropped from Rand's face. “We can check that, at least.”

“You working tomorrow?” asked James.

Rand downed the rest of his ale. “I am now.”

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Thank you for reading!  The entire Poison Dance novella is available for purchase in ebook and paperback at all major vendors. 

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Poison Dance is a prequel to my novel Midnight Thief, coming in July 2014 from Disney Hyperion.  Learn more and preorder here: http://liviablackburne.com/midnight-thief/