by Kate Novak
Just before the golem struck the desk with his remaining hand, crushing it to splinters, Olive Ruskettle and Thistle Thalavar dashed out from beneath the tenuous cover. They ran toward another desk, with the creature plodding after them. When it had them against the wall, Olive Ruskettle whirled about, her sword raised, in a hopeless effort to ward off the creature's blow.
Alias released the peace knot tying her sword to her scabbard and drew her weapon. The swordswoman leaped from the stairs onto the golem just as it raised its remaining fist. Her sword connected with the golem's dragon-shaped head, sending sparks flying as the steel of her magical blade cleaved through the iron skull.
The beast spun about and seemed to examine Alias for a moment. Then it turned again, pivoting slowly, stopping when it finally faced Olive and Thistle. Alias realized she was being ignored for a target of higher priority-either Olive or Thistle. Yanking free the tablecloth from the smashed desk, Alias whirled it like a net over the golem's head.
"Olive, Thistle, quick! Hide," the swordswoman shouted as she slashed at the creature's leg with her sword. Then stay very still."
Olive dragged Thistle down behind the remains of a deceased noble, pulling the dead" man's cloak over their bodies. Thistle started to argue, but the halfling stifled her protest with a quick elbow in the ribs.
Alias slashed into the golem's leg, and the monster turned toward her as it tugged the tablecloth off its head. Upon spying the swordswoman, however, the golem once again ignored her fin favor of scanning the room for its previous prey.
From the staircase, Victor looked on the carnage in shock and muttered, "Sweet Mystra," an oath to the goddess of magic. Hearing the nobleman, the golem turned toward the stair.
"Victor, get back up the stairs and stay there!" Alias ordered, shifting so that she stood between the monster and the staircase. "It seems to be interested only in the nobles."
Alias couldn't tell if the nobleman obeyed her, but the golem spun about, once more checking for targets. Then it turned again. Finding no more nobility to smite, it made its way for the exit.
A rust monster, bloated from gorging on more iron than it usually ate in a year, made a halfhearted wave at the retreating golem with an antenna, but did not bother to pursue the iron creature. The golem passed beneath the portcullis and trundled from the Tower.
Durgar, who knelt beside a bloodied but still breathing member of House Athagdal, looked up at Alias. "Follow the golem," he ordered her. "I will follow when I can. Go with Alias," he instructed three of his watchmen, who stood by uncertainly.
Alias dashed from the Tower with the watch behind her.
The injured golem was halfway down the Tower hill, moving northwest. Alias had no trouble keeping up with the monster, which even at top speed was ponderously slow. The swordswoman remained behind it and instructed the watch to do likewise. With mounting excitement, she realized the golem may actually lead her back to its point of origin-the Faceless's new lair.
Alias was just wondering what had happened to Drag-onbait when Victor ran up beside her, sword in hand. "You shouldn't be here," she said vehemently.
"I have to see where the golem goes. As long as I don't let myself get cornered, I can always outrun it," the nobleman argued.
Alias nodded, unable to counter Victor's logic or his desire to see this through to the end.
The golem moved through the streets without incident. Any nobles that were left in the city were no doubt at home piling furniture in front of the doors, and no one else in the streets was so foolish as to challenge the monster.
Finally the golem halted before a ramshackle warehouse near the House Urdo docks. It banged once on the door, which swung open, bathing the golem in a yellow glow. The monster disappeared inside.
Alias ordered Victor and the watchmen to remain at the warehouse gate as she crept up to the door. The golem stood just inside, unmoving, as if awaiting instructions. Alias slipped past the creature, turned about, and tapped on its chest with the tip of her sword. The creature loomed over her, but remained perfectly still.
The swordswoman waved for the others to join her. Alias kept an eye on the golem as Victor entered the room, but the noble's appearance did not reactivate the monster. Its killing spree was over for the time being.
The room was a cavernous vault. In the center stood a great table of ebony stone glittering with veins of gold, a twin to the one in the Night Masters' last conference room. Most of the ten chairs surrounding it were pushed out, a few overturned, but the tenth chair remained against the table. What appeared to be a man was slumped in the chair. The man's face was obscured by some strange magic, which blurred its features like rain damages a chalk portrait. A bloodstain clotted his robes. He was as immobile as the golem.
On the table before the figure lay a sheet of paper. Scrawled in blood was the message, "Death to all who betray and defy our will, noble or common, Night Mask or outsider. So say the Night Masters."
As Alias was examining the sheet of paper, Durgar entered. He had battled the golems until they were no longer a threat, then spent his last remaining energies casting magical curative spells on the wounded. The old priest looked drained, but he would not, Alias realized, forsake what he perceived to be his duty.
Durgar stepped forward and took the paper from Alias's hand. He scowled angrily at the words. Without ceremony, his face as emotionless as the golems', the priest ran his han4 down the dead figure's face. A jingling mask of threaded coins came away in his hand.
The illusory blur of the Faceless became the features of Croamarkh Luer Dhostar.
Alias reached out to steady Victor, who swayed in shock and gasped, "Sweet Mystra! It can't really be true."
Durgar collapsed into the nearest empty chair, dropping the mask onto the table and cradling his head in his hands. "The croamarkh in league with the Night Masks. I can't believe it," the old priest whispered.
"It's true, Your Reverence," Alias said. "We have other evidence linking him to them. No doubt they turned on him for some perceived betrayal. Perhaps they decided to turn their golems loose against the nobles, but Lord Luer fought against them. Perhaps the golems perceived he was a noble and turned on him first. Perhaps-"
"Perhaps once I have recovered my powers I should cast a spell to speak with Luer's dead spirit," the priest said gravely. "Then we will get to the heart of the matter. There will be no- Look out!" Durgar shouted suddenly.
Alias spun about, her sword at the ready, just in time to see the golem bat away the watchmen who stood guard over its form. The swordswoman threw herself in front of Victor before the monster could harm the nobleman, but instead the creature strode toward the dead body of the croamarkh.
Durgar rose, drawing his mace, but, with its remaining hand, the golem flipped the table onto the priest. Then the creature hefted Luer Dhostar's body over its shoulder like a sack of potatoes and began plodding toward the door. Alias was prepared to follow, to battle the golem for the croamarkh'8 corpse, but Victor held her back.
"Durgar will be crushed!" he exclaimed. "We have to get this table off him."
Alias nodded. Victor was right. The priest's life had to take priority. She laid down her weapon and helped Victor heft the table'from Durgar's pale form. Durgar groaned, but he still breathed.
The golem had left the warehouse. Alias could hear members of the watch shouting and banging on the monster with their useless weapons. She retrieved her sword and rose to leave, but Victor grabbed her gown. "Where's Dragonbait?" he asked. "We need him to heal Durgar."
"I don't know," Alias said. "Victor, I have to go after the golem."
"Why?" he demanded. "Why risk your life for my father's body?"
"Without it, Durgar can't speak with his dead spirit. We might never learn the truth," she replied.
"I've seen enough. I don't think I want to learn any more," the merchant lord declared. "There's no guarantee my father will answer in death any questions he would not answer in life."
&
nbsp; Gently Alias took Victor's hand from her gown and gave it a sympathetic squeeze. "We still have to try," she said. Then she raced off after the iron monster.
By the time Alias caught up with the fleeing golem, it stood at the edge of the harbor, teetering on the thick wooden pylons that protected the shore. The watch soldiers had the monster cornered. Alias shouted for them to get a rope on it, but she was too late. Ponderously the creature rocked back, then forward, pitching headlong into the water with a tremendous splash. The ripples spread outward until they hit the pier and bounced back. The moon was nearly full, but Alias could detect no bubbles or turbulence in the dark water below. She returned to the ramshackle warehouse. Victor was ordering one of the watchmen to fetch a priest for Dur-gar. The old man lay on the floor of the warehouse, his breathing strained and shallow, his complexion turning gray.
"It's just cracked ribs," Durgar assured Alias. "After years of combat wounds, I can tell,"'he added with a grim smile.
Alias reported on the fate of the iron golem and Luer Dhostar's body.
"Damnation," Durgar growled with annoyance. "It could walk across the bottom of the bay and be halfway to the Pirate Isles before it corrodes. We'll never get Luer's body back now."
The watchman Victor had sent out returned with a stern-faced young man in white robes, a follower of Ilmater, god of suffering. The others maintained a respectful silence as he knelt beside the elderly priest and began intoning a curative chant, his hands hovering over Durgar's chest. When the young man had finished, Durgar took a deep breath, then another, and his complexion began to grow rosier.'
"I just can't believe it," Durgar said as Victor helped him to sit up. "I've known Luer for years. I can't believe he was-he was… Victor, I'm so sorry," he concluded, patting the merchant lord's hand.
"It's all right," Victor said softly. "He hid it well. I couldn't believe it either, at first."
"But your father lived for this city and for his business!" the old priest insisted. He picked up the Faceless's coin mask and sighed. "Luer's greatest pleasure was going over his books," he said, still unable to grasp his friend's treachery. "We used to work together in the Tower for company's sake, me with my arrest records, he with his account books. Not two nights ago-no, three- he spent the whole evening tracking down an error in bookkeeping that proved one of his ship captains was skimming off his shipments. He used to say it was easier to catch a thief with an accounting ledger and an abacus than it was with a sword. It was nearly dawn before he found what he was looking for, but when he did, he was elated. Of course, it didn't last. Ssentar Urdo came in to holler about Haztor's arrest. Still, for those few moments, he was so happy. You can't imagine a man's a scheming criminal when he's that happy doing his work."
Durgar got wearily to his feet. Td best be getting back to the Tower to see what assistance I can give the survivors." His shoulders were bowed-the weight not of his responsibilities, Alias knew, but of his grief. Magical spells could cure broken ribs, but not spirits. Victor walked the priest to the door, speaking to him in a hushed whisper. The noble returned to the swordswoman's side as all the watchmen followed behind. their leader.
"I should return to the Tower, too," Alias said to Victor. "I have to find Dragonbait. I haven't seen him since we left the ball."
"I did, just after you left to chase the golem. He was behind the stair, healing an injured member of the watch." "Then he was all right?"
"Looked all right to me, though I'm no expert on how saurials are supposed to look," Victor said. "I guess there's really nothing more I can do until morning. All the nobles who were still able ran off to bolt their castle doors. Durgar's seeing to the injured."
The young man looked back down at the chair where his father's corpse had been. "I don't know if I want to be alone right now. Would you come back to Castle Dhostar with me?"
Alias hesitated. It was hardly an invitation Victor could have made were his father still alive, she knew. It was bound to cause talk. Victor could use her support, though, especially after all he'd been through. There was really nothing else she could do tonight, either, and she was beginning to feel weary. She nodded her consent.
They walked back to the market green, where Victor found his carriage, attended by his driver. He dismissed the driver and took up the reins himself.
The drive from the city was quiet and uneventful. They leaned on each other, but neither spoke much. No one greeted them at the door, and Victor explained that, save for Kimbel and his carriage driver, the servants had all been given the evening off in honor of the ball.
Victor ushered Alias down the hallways and into the library, where Kimbel was tending a blazing fire in the hearth. After all the violence and.the chill of the night air, the room seemed blissfully warm and peaceful, in spite of the malignant servant. Kimbel bowed and left the room without a word. Alias noticed that there was another bottle of Evermead on the table, with two glasses.
"Were you expecting me to return with you?" Alias asked.
Victor shook his head. "The other glass would be for my father. I just realized, Kimbel probably doesn't know yet that Father is-is dead." He sighed. "I suppose I can wait until morning to tell him, if he hasn't picked it up in the servant hall by then."
The nobleman poured them each a glass of Evermead as Alias wondered if the Dhostars ever drank less expensive wines. "You look lovely," he said as he handed her a glass.
Alias laughed. "My hair's a rat's nest, I've torn my gown, and I'm covered with iron golem rust."
"You look lovely to me. He sat down at the desk, but Alias stood warming herself before the fire.
"I spoke with Durgar before he left us," Victor said. "He agreed to call a meeting for tomorrow morning of all the surviving heads of the noble merchant families. It doesn't look good, I'm afraid. From what I could see of the casualties, most of the noble merchant houses are going to end up in the hands of third children or second cousins. Do you think it's possible what you said, that the Night Masters killed my father for opposing the use of the golems on the nobles?"
"It makes a certain amount of sense. But then, so do a lot of other scenarios," Alias said as she laid another log on the fire. "Your father might have wanted to use the golems on the nobles to consolidate his grip as croa-markh. The Night Masters might have realized he was using them, and fearing he would betray them, destroyed him. What I can't figure out is why the Night Masters went to so much trouble to be sure we found your father's body but then made sure the golem took it away from us. I'm surprised they left his coin mask, too. A piece of magic that powerful-why didn't they take it from him after they killed him?"
Victor reached calmly into one of the desk drawers and pulled out an ornate ring, set with a huge black opal. Pushing a tiny nub forced the opal to slide aside, revealing a needle tipped with poison. Alias, staring thoughtfully into the fire, did not notice the merchant lord's actions.
"It was as if they wanted us to discover that your father was the Faceless. Did they think I would stop hunting for them if they slew their leader? Unless-"
"Unless what?" Victor prompted as he leaned back in his chair.
"Unless he really wasn't the Faceless, and the real Faceless wanted to pin it on him," Alias said excitedly. "Surely the real Faceless couldn't have been killed so easily. He could have them all on the floor in agony with just a spell word. It was one of the Faceless's powers. He used it just two, no, three nights ago… but- Victor, that's it! You're father is innocent! They did set him up! They probably planted the key as well!"
Alias turned suddenly from the fire and looked down at the young nobleman. Victor stood suddenly. "You can't be serious," he said.
Alias paced before the fire. "Durgar said three nights ago he and your father sat up all night balancing their accounts and going over records, right?" Victor nodded.
"Until dawn, when Ssentar Urdo came by," Alias continued as she swung about. "But, according to Melman, the Faceless wa3 attending a meeting that night with
all the Night Masters."
Victor seemed to be scowling, unable to understand what she was saying.
"Don't you see? Your father could not be the Faceless or even a Night Master," Alias explained, "because he was not at that meeting. He was with Durgar."
"Are you sure of the night of the meeting?" Victor said with an anxious tone. "Melman could have lied about the night, or you might have misheard him."
"No problem," Alias said. "We'll get Durgar to do a detect lie spell and ask him again."
"Ask-" Victor gasped. "Ask him? He's alive? You've captured one of the Night Masters alive?"
"Yes," Alias said. "I told you I got the key to the Face-less's last lair from him."
Victor looked aghast. "I thought you'd stolen it- I mean that that naming Ruskettle acquired it for you. Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.
Alias sighed. "W$en we talked about it before," she explained, "I was afntid your father was a Night Master, maybe even the Faceless, and I thought you might be passing information on to him-innocently of course. Then, too, I knew you might not approve of the arrangement I'd made with Melman. I agreed to let him go, providing he told me everything he could, and providing he wasn't lying." Victor looked stricken. "So where is Melman now?"
Alias looked slightly guilty. "He told me all he knew, and it checked out. By now he's on a boat bound for Cormyr. But we could have Mintassan meet him in Cormyr and bring him back for something as important as clearing your father's name."
Victor nodded thoughtfully. "It shouldn't be too hard to find a branded Night Master," he mused aloud.
Alias nodded in agreement, then paused. "How did you know Melman was branded?"
Victor opened his mouth and closed it. "Didn't you mention it?" he asked, perplexed.
Alias frowned, reviewing in her perfect memory every conversation she'd had with Victor concerning Melman. She'd said the Faceless had branded someone, but not who. "No, I'm certain I didn't," she said.
