by Kate Novak
"I wish to return home to CopperBloom and my family. I don't expect you to feel obligated to return with me, and I don't want you to feel you cannot stay without me. You have many friends here already. I will stay with you for ten days, whether you choose to work for the croamarkh or not. But / will not work for him." "Because of Kimbel?" Alias asked. "Kimbel is part of it, yes. More importantly, I don't think the croamarkh is worthy of my services. I will serve you, though, as best I can, while I am still here."
Alias sniffed the air about them. Dragonbait's emotions had perfumed it heavily with the smell of lemons and roses. "You're both happy and sad," she laughed.
"Parents always feel that way when they kick their children out of the nest," Dragonbait explained. "Dhostar's son is returning."
Brushing a tear from her eye, Alias turned about in time to see Victor running down the gangplank of the Dhostar ship. His momentum carried him nearly into Alias. He stopped inches away from her. He stood looking down at her for a moment before he stepped back with a flush on his face. Running his fingers through his hair to brush it off his face, he made an embarrassed apology for nearly running her down.
"I don't fall down so easily, Lord Victor," Alias replied with a grin. "Shall we continue our stroll? Dragonbait and I were both enjoying it."
"Yes," Victor replied. "We should make for the Harbor Tower. There's a spectacular view of the city from the top."
Alias nodded, and the three left the pier and set out for the lighthouse that marked the harbor entrance. Looking south, across the harbor, the city lay spread out before them, rising from the water to the high wall. Alias could not remember seeing any other city with so magnificent a view of itself as Westgate.
"So," Victor began, "what can I tell you to convince you to join us in our fight against the Night Masks?"
"You should tell me the truth, whether it convinces me or not," Alias replied. With an ever so slightly flirtatious grin, she asked, "If I accept this post, will you continue to be my liaison to the Croamarkh?"
"Oh, yes," Victor said. "I'll be the man to handle any problems for you. Father would hardly delegate this matter to Kimbel." "Tell me about Kimbel," Alias said. "Um, well." Victor flushed. "Kimbel is-not very nice." "That was our impression," Alias said, not yet prepared to explain about the saurial paladin's shen sight. "Tell me more about him."
"When Kimbel first came to Westgate, he called himself an adventurer. He wasn't the sort that kills monsters in their lairs, though. He was the sort that breaks into castles and tries to kill croamarkhs."
"He tried to kill your father?" Alias asked with astonishment.
"Yes. Poisoned all the watchdogs and got as far as father's bedroom door, but he got unlucky and tripped on a cat. He killed eight men before the rest of the guards managed to bring him down. He claims he was hired by the Night Masks, but he didn't know enough about them to betray them. Father decided he was too useful to waste with an execution. We had a geas cast on him. He's magically compelled to serve our family and constrained from harming anyone ^vith Dhostar blood or in Dhostar employ. Father expects him to complete the terms of service due us by the eight men he killed, such terms to be served consecutively."
Victor scooped up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them in the water. "It sounds awfully creepy, I know. It is awfully creepy. He can't break the geas, but still, he's a killer. And there's nothing in the geas to protect people who aren't part of our trading house. Who knows what he does when he's out of sight? Father says Kimbel serves as a good warning to others, though I suspect Father also keeps him near to show people he's not afraid of assassins. I wish he wouldn't." Victor tossed the rest of the stones in the water all at once.
Dragonbait had been right. Alias realized. Victor was like her. He defended the croamarkh just as she had once defended Finder, defying his reason to quell his heart. She knew exactly how Victor felt, and she found herself sympathizing with the young merchant despite her dislike of his father.
They came to the end of the peninsula, which ended in a knob-shaped quay of stonework. Beneath the harbor lighthouse, guards in Westgate's insignia patrolled the flagstone plaza in rigid geometric formations. The lighthouse was an ancient, conical tower built of mortared stone with an external staircase spiraling up its side. Sailors called it the Westlight, and "seen the Westlight" was used throughout the Inner Sea nations to mean that a person had reached land or safety.
Victor nodded to the captain of the guard, and the three were allowed to approach the lighthouse without challenge. Feeling suddenly lighthearted, Alias dashed up the structure's stairs without stop until she reached the walkway at the top. She looked first out to the sea, letting the breeze ruffle her hair until Victor and Dragonbait finished the climb.
"Are you always so energetic?" the merchant lord asked as he stood clutching his side and gasping for breath.
Abas smiled, but did not reply. She studied the light in the center of the walkway-a polished brass framework surrounding a floating marble sphere, which, even in the daylight, shone brightly enough to be noticed far out to sea. "There's a continual light spell cast on the marble?" the swordswoman asked.
Victor nodded. There are also protections to keep the magic from being dispelled by accident or to keep others from destroying it. The bronze frame can be used to hold up colored screens so we can send coded messages to ships at sea-fire, plague, send help, and so on."
Alias nodded and turned to look back out across the harbor and the city. Victor moved to stand beside her. "There's no better place to start to get oriented." He pointed leftward, out across the bay at various landmarks. "There's the River Thunn. Between the river's east bank and the city wall is Castle Malavhan. Just across the river from that is Castle Vhammos. It was once the royal castle. Those four clustered due south of us are Castles Guldar, Athagdal, Thorsar and Urdo. They were all built at the same time by rival architects from different nations.
"The building in the center of the market is called the Tower. It serves as the city's registry and headquarters for the watch. The jail is in the dungeon beneath the Tower. Against the western wall is Castle Ssemm. South of that is Castle Thalavar. In the northeast corner, by the sea, is the Temple to Talos, and to the west of the Tower is the Temple to Mask. At the base of the harbor's arm are the temples to Loviatar and Gond, and just west of them is the Temple to nmater."
"You've pointed out the castles of all the merchant families but your own," Alias noted.
"Castle Dhostar isn't in the city. We're latecomers to the city, here for only three generations. When Father decided to build our family's castle, he decided it was more important to use the land we owned in the city for our warehouses. So we built out to the west. You can see how the city's starting to expand in that direction beyond the walls." "Can you see your castle from here?" Alias asked.
Victor put his hands on Alias's shoulders and turned her to face westward. Dragonbait's tail twitched nervously. Alias did not like being touched by strangers. To the paladin's surprise and relief, she did not shake off the young man's hands or growl at him.
Victor stood directly behind her and pointed over her shoulder. Alias looked out with attentive interest. "Follow that line of islands there, to that forested bluff. Just behind that is Castle Dhostar." "Yes, I can see it," Alias said.
"I often come up here to think," the merchant lord said. "Well, really, to dream."
Alias leaned her head back against Victor's chest to look up at his face. "What do you dream about?" she asked with a smile.
Victor gave a small, self-deprecating laugh. "I dream about what I'll do should I find Verovan's treasure hoard." "Verovan's treasure?" Alias asked with a teasing laugh.
"Yes. About a hundred twenty years ago, Westgate was a monarchy ruled by an incompetent tyrant, King Verovan. He nearly bankrupted the city with his excesses and destroyed it with his intrigues. He fancied himself a great boatman, and challenged the other rulers of the coastal cities to a race. The city coffe
rs couldn't cover the cost of hiring the boat and team Verovan wanted-a windjammer with blood-red sails, crewed by Turmish-men. So Verovan passed a grain tax, clinching his unpopularity with everyone. On the day of the race-"
"On the day of the race," Alias interrupted, "Verovan's crew set a course for a rocky shoal, then teleported away, leaving Verovan to fend for himself. He couldn't. The boat was wrecked on the shoals, and Verovan was presumed drowned. Some people speculated that the Turmishmen' were really Red Wizards of Thay who avenged themselves on the tyrant for his intrigues against their nation. The city's leading merchants led a revolt before Verovan's son could be crowned. A mob stripped the royal castle bare. The patriarch of the merchant house of Vhammos moved his family into the castle, and he and the other merchants took charge of governing the city." Victor gave the swordswoman a puzzled look.
"I was born in Westgate," Alias explained with a sideways look at Dragonbait. The saurial was enjoying the view, watching a round ship from Sembia, riding low in the water, try to maneuver into a dock across the way. "I know all about Verovan. He was real. His treasure, though, is a fable, like the stories about the liches that live in Westgate's sewers or the sea serpent that lives in its harbor."
"You forget you're dealing with a merchant," Victor said. "The books, you see, do not balance. The sum total of everything removed from the royal castle does not even approach the vast amounts of wealth that ever went in. Verovan skimmed a share of every fee and tax the city ever collected, and he bought valuable pieces of magic and art that disappeared into the castle. He never purchased anything with his own money, but with the city's, and he left scores of debts for things he'd 'purchased.'" "So, you believe in the magic door?" Alias teased. "What door?" Dragonbait asked.
Alias turned her attention to the saurial, who had not seemed to be paying attention to the conversation.
"There's supposed to be an invisible bridge leading away from one of the castle's towers," the swordswoman explained to the saurial. "On the other side of the invisible bridge, there's supposed to be to an invisible portal. Verovan's hoard is supposed to be behind that portal." With a darker tone, Alias concluded, "Guarded by fearsome monsters. No sage, mage, or priest has been able to find it, though it's said that the Watch has on occasion found a body lying at the base of one or other of the castle's towers."
"ГЦ remember, when I find the treasure, that you were a disbeliever," Victor threatened with a grin.
Alias laughed again. "So, in your daydreams, what do you do with this hoard of wealth when you find it?"
Victor turned away and looked back across the city. "I make Westgate the greatest city in the Realms," he answered with vehemence. "Greater even than Water-deep. Clear out the Night Masks so people can stroll the streets at night. Build a second city wall farther out so people can expand their businesses and households. Build a navy so we can protect our ships from pirates. Build a library so scholars would come here to live, and an opera house to bring in bards and musicians. Run irrigation to the lands south of the city, with water from the River Redden, so we never have to worry about droughts." "They all sound like good plans," Alias said.
"Yes." Then he looked back at her with a sly smile and said, "Of course, if a certain someone, who was, after all, born in Westgate, would agree to help my father and me, I wouldn't have to discover Verovan's treasure first to get rid of the Night Masks."
Alias chuckled at the smooth way the merchant had shifted the conversation back to his father's offer of employment. "Well, since a certain someone doesn't think you'll be finding that treasure anytime soon," Alias replied, "and does think you should do something about the Night Masks in the meantime, I guess that someone had better agree to help out."
Victor turned about and grasped both of Alias's hands in his own. "You'll help, then? That's wonderful. Father will be so pleased. He won't show it, but he will be pleased."
"And you, Lord Victor?" Alias asked. "Are you pleased?"
"Oh, yes. Of course." The young merchant squeezed her hands to emphasize his point, then released them suddenly, flushing with the realization of the liberty he'd taken. "And Dragonbait?" he asked suddenly, turning to the saurial. "You'll help, too?" "Tell him what we agreed," the paladin said to Alias.
"Dragonbait must return north soon," Alias explained. "He won't be working for the croamarkh, but he will help me until he goes."
"I see, " Victor replied. "Well, I'm grateful for all the time you can give us," the merchant said to the saurial. Dragonbait nodded politely.
A shiver ran down Alias's back. Even though, as Dragonbait had pointed out, she had other friends here, in her whole life she had never been long separated from the paladin. She studied Victor's face as he took one last look over the city, and felt slightly reassured. With the earnest, handsome merchant lord as one of those friends, Westgate might not only be less lonely but more exciting. Still, a sense of dread lingered in the pit of her stomach. In her first year of life, she'd defeated many powerful and evil beings, yet Dragonbait had always been there to back her up. Now, she realized, she had just possibly committed herself to battling the Night Masks alone.
Seven
Street Theater
The adventurers and their new ally climbed back down the lighthouse. In j the plaza stood an open, two-wheeled j carriage pulled by two yellow mares. j An old man, dressed in the black and j tawny parti-colored livery of House Dhostar, held the halter of one of the horses. Although the Dhostar trading insignia emblazoned the side of the small black carriage, the insignia was tawny like the horses, not gilded.
"It's not as showy as my father's," Victor pointed out, "so perhaps you wouldn't mind allowing me to drive you back to your inn?"
"Well, I suppose," Alias agreed with a feigned reluctance. She allowed the merchant to hand her up to the single seat. Victor got in on the other side, and Drag-onbait squeezed in beside Alias.
The old man released the horses as Victor snapped the reins. The carriage started down the street at a brisk pace. Although they were crowded and the ride was somewhat bumpier than the one they'd experienced in the croamarkh's carriage, the adventurers felt much more relaxed in Victor's company, and therefore cheerier. "I have other duties I must return to soon, but perhaps, if you haven't made other plans," Victor said, as cautious as a man creeping up on a sleeping beholder, "we could have dinner together." "Dinner? What sort of dinner?" Alias asked. "Nothing formal like a banquet or anything," Victor explained. "Just soup and sandwiches while we discussed strategy. You, me, and Dragonbait if you wish. We can talk about where to start making your assault on the Night Masks. I've been keeping track of some of their crimes, the ones that are reported, anyway. They hardly ever hit near the market surrounding the Tower, for fear, I presume, of the watch, but I've noticed of late they've been preying more heavily on the Gateside district. Whoa!" Victor pulled the horses up sharply as he turned the curve onto Westgate Market Street.
A crowd of people jammed the street. People on foot could negotiate through, but not the carriage. There were already two closed carriages and a dragon cart loaded with kegs of ale stopped in the traffic as the high-strung carriage horses and huge-but-gentle draft horses balked at pressing further into the mass of people. As Victor began backing the carriage so that he could take it down. a side street, Alias and Dragonbait peered ahead to discover the reason for the gathering.
The crowd, it turned out, was an audience. In the plaza in front of the House of the Wheel, the local temple of Gond, was a street theater troupe performing atop the temple stairs. "It's Jamal's troupe," the paladin said. "Are you sure?" Alias asked. "I don't see her." Dragonbait nodded.
Alias laid her hand on Victor's arm. "I know you have to get back to your business, but do you mind very much if we stay and watch this?"
"There's a novel idea," the young merchant said with amusement. He eased the horses forward, nudging people aside until the carriage was only thirty feet from the stairs. Dragonbait stood on the carriage st
ep and Abas and Victor made themselves comfortable. Looming over the heads of the other spectators, the three had an excellent view cf the performance.
The performers included actors and puppeteers and musicians. At center stage stood an actor in a black cloak and a floppy black hat with a veil of coins hanging from the hat's brim. All about the actor puppeteers pushed and pulled on sticks to manipulate the limbs and heads of life-sized puppets. In the eastern style of puppeteering,the puppeteers wore white garbs and hoods and remained on the stage with their charges. A man seated to one side strummed on a yarting. He was accompanied by three youths, two boys and a girl, with a collection of percussion instruments and noisemakers.
A hawk puppet made of black felt, with a droopy beak and sad, bloodshot eyes, fluttered to center stage and perched in a nest mounted on the shoulder of one of the puppeteers. The coin-veiled actor held out a hand in.front of the hawk. The puppet coughed, and coins popped out of its mouth into the actor's waiting hand. When the coins stopped coming, the actor rapped the hawk puppet with a wooden stick. The stick was split at one end so it would make a satisfying whack without really dealing any damage. The hawk puppet's eyes rolled about in its head to the sound of the yarting being struck on the side. Then the hawk began coughing up more coins. Each time it stopped, the actor rapped it and its eyes rolled and the yarting thrummed. The crowd burst out in laughter and hooting jibes.
"I don't understand," Alias said as Victor chuckled beside her.
"The actor in the coin hat," Victor whispered, "represents the Faceless-"
"The Night Masks' leader," Alias added, remembering their discussion at the Watch Dock.
Victor nodded. "The black hawk is the symbol of House Guldar. Their patriarch, Lord Dathguld, has bloodshot eyes. He's supposed to be paying through the nose for protection."
Two more puppets, guided by their puppeteers, joined the hawk puppet. One puppet was a giant blue hand festooned with mealy corn cobs-representing the trading badge of the merchant family Thorear. The other puppet was a cyclops head with a yellow eye-like the trading badge of family Urdo. Three black-cloaked actors pushed themselves between the puppets. These actors wore domino masks to signify they were agents of the Night Masks.
