A Dance of Cloaks by David Dalglish

power and fear would be lost forever.
    “I’ll go,” she said. “I’ll most likely die, but I’ll go.”
    “That’s my girl,” Senke said with a wink. Will only grunted.
    Knowing the dungeon could be the death of the old man at any time, they made their plans for that night. Many hours later, a new collection of daggers clipped to her belt, Kayla met the others in the deep recesses of the safehouse.
    “Thren’s built tunnels leading out to a couple different homes and alleys,” Senke said as he adjusted his gray cloak, cinching it tighter about his body. Kayla caught sight of a long dirk tucked into his belt, its sides painted red. The blade curved up and down like waves of the ocean, and she shuddered at the thought of it piercing her flesh.
    “No one sees us,” Will said. “Not going. Not coming. You understand?”
    “I’m no child,” Kayla said. Will had painted his face gray to match the color of his cloak, and when he smiled at her he seemed like a graveyard wight come to feed.
    “Maybe,” Will said. “But when blood gets spilled, we’ll see if you cry like one.”
    “A silver tongue you have, my friend,” Senke said, slapping Will on the back. “It is a wonder you must pay the ladies to stay in your presence. I would think they would be paying you.”
    “After they see what I have, they do,” Will said. He glanced at Kayla, as if expecting her to blush, but she only rolled her eyes and gestured for them to move on ahead.
    “The tunnels are waiting,” she said.
    “Be serious if you must,” Senke said, “but remember to smile. It lights your face up so beautifully when you do.”
    This time she did blush, and when she noticed the begrudging annoyance on Will’s face, she let it bloom full red.
    Senke pulled up a few boards underneath a painting of a broken castle. Cut into the packed dirt was a hole curving deeper underneath the house, like some oversized rabbit hole.
    “There will be no light,” Senke said. “I’ll go first. Try to crawl slow and steady, and under no circumstances panic. If you get too close to me, I might kick you in the face, and I’d feel just horrible. It might feel tight at times, but keep crawling, and remember that if Will can fit, you surely can.”
    “I’ve never had a problem with enclosed spaces,” Kayla said.
    “What about the dark?” Will asked.
    “I said I’ll be fine.”
    Senke winked at her.
    “I hope you are. Count to five, then follow.”
    Head first, the rogue climbed into the hole and was gone. After a count of five, Kayla followed. At first she could see, but when the tunnel curled lower the light of the mansion faded, and she stared into what looked like the gullet of some enormous monster. Her heart fluttered, but she imagined the jokes Senke might make of her, as well as what would happen when Will bumped into her from behind. Most likely push her on, she realized. Hand after hand, she crawled into the darkness.
    Gradually the tunnel narrowed. Instead of crawling on her hands and knees, she fell to her stomach and pulled herself along. So much work just to keep one safehouse secret, she thought with some annoyance.
    “How long did it take?” she asked, and was startled by how loud her voice sounded. Some part of her seemed to think the darkness would swallow her words, smothering them in the void.
    “Take to do what?” she heard Will ask from further back in the tunnel. His deep voice rumbled in the dark, and she held in a curse as her head thumped the roof of the tunnel. She felt like a skittish rabbit.
    “To dig all this,” she said, hoping her nervousness wasn’t too obvious in her voice.
    “Two weeks,” Will said. “All day. All night. Two died in this tunnel alone.”
    Kayla shuddered. She decided not to ask how many died digging the rest of the tunnels that no doubt snaked out in all directions from the mansion. Occasionally her fingers would brush against wood supports, and each time her heart was thankful. Any sense of