by Kate Novak
Victor crossed to where Alias stood and laid a warm hand on her shoulder. "My love, I have my own sources."
"What sources?" Alias demanded. "Victor, I have to know. You can't keep hiding things from me."
"Alias, I have other friends besides you who have been investigating the Night Masters for me, but I can't reveal their names. You have to trust me. You do trust me, don't you?"
Alias was about to assure him that she did when she looked up into his eyes. There was something calculating there, and the words died in her throat. Dragonbait's warnings came back to her immediately. She thought, too, of Kimbel. The former assassin had been at the ball, but had avoided the golem rampages, then returned to the castle and sat quietly at the fireside, prepared for Victor's return, unruffled by the affairs of the evening.
She was suddenly overly conscious of Westgate's reputation for intrigue and betrayal. "Of course I trust you," she managed to say, but she knew her voice sounded hollow.
Victor took her glass of Evermead from her hands and sipped at it. "We need to be careful in the next few days," the noble said, his eyes pinning her in place. "After all that has happened, the city is going to be full of rumors and unrest. I think we should tell the people that we've found the Faceless, that he's dead. It will help settle things down more quickly."
There was something hypnotic about Victor's voice, and Alias had to shake herself to throw off its influence. She raised a hand to touch Victor's cheek, trying to reassure him of her loyalty even as she argued with herself. "Victor, a lie like that is a two-edged sword. It can help you at first, but in the end it can cut you in half. We have to tell the truth, that we found your father murdered wearing the Faceless's regalia, but that the Faceless may still be at large."
"As you wish," Victor purred. He bent his face down and pressed his lips against her own, but there was nothing gentle or warm in his kiss. It was indifferent and brief-a farewell kiss to a dismissed lover.
Alias grabbed at the nobleman's sleeve. "Now is the time to pursue the Faceless even harder," she said, still anxiously trying to convince him she was right. "He must think he's safe, having framed someone else. He's likely to get careless-"
Victor slashed the back of his hand across her face, tearing at her flesh with a spiked ring much like the one sported by the extortionist Littleboy. Alias gasped as a searing pain streaked down her left cheek.
The adventuress jerked away from the nobleman and tried to draw her sword from its scabbard, but her muscles failed her. The sword felt as heavy as lead, and her hand spasmed uncontrollably, so she could not grip the hilt. The poison on/the ring was quick-acting. Her face, her throat, and her arm burned with an inner fire.
The room seemed to sway like the deck of a tempest-tossed ship. Alias tried to focus on Victor, who stood there sipping the Evermead from her glass. Despite her swollen tongue, she managed to slur out the words, "Victor, why?"
Victor laughed harshly as he set down her emptied glass. "I gave you the chance to lie for me, but you could not do so, could you, my darling? It's just as well. You make a better legend than a lover. Besides, I really don't feel like sharing my city with anyone."
Victor chuckled some more, amused by her feeble, jerking steps in his direction. When her knees gave out beneath her, the nobleman stepped forward to catch her, his eyes sparkling with a sick delight. "You poor dear," he said, looking into her wildly dilated eyes. "You served me so well, but I'm going to have to let you go. Still, I ought to thank you properly for all your help."
He kissed her with a cruel passion, ignoring the way her body twitched and spasmed from the poison running through her veins. He was possessed with a feeling of absolute power. Like a vampire in a bloodlust, he didn't pull away from her until he felt sated-sated on the control he'd taken of her emotions, of her actions, of her very life. By then, although the swordswoman was still twitching slightly, her breathing was shallow and irregular. It was only a matter of time before the poison reached her heart and stilled it in an icy grip.
Victor lifted the swordswoman, a little surprised at how heavy her dead weight was. He carried her from the library, through the main hall, then down a narrow spiral stairs to the wine cellar. He pushed on a bottle of wine, and a section of wall slid away, revealing a hidden passage. At the other end of the passage was a secret room.
Kimbel was waiting there, in the company of two prisoners shackled at.the neck, wrists, and ankles to a thick iron post in the center of the room-Dragonbait and Mintassan. The saurial had been muzzled. The sage wore a disjointed, idiot's expression on his face, and his tongue lolled out of the side of his mouth.
The lizard paladin lunged toward Victor, hissing — through his iron muzzle, but he was halted by the iron collar around his throat. The sage fixed Victor with a desperate look and gibbered in a high voice.
Kimbel lifted an eyebrow at the appearance of the noble's burden. "Is she dead?" he asked, curious.
"Not yet," Victor replied as he laid the swordswoman down on a worktable. He smiled gleefully as Alias shuddered. "To what do we owe the honor of Mintassan's company?" he asked.
"He spotted me carrying off the saurial," the assassin explained, "but he fumbled his ambush attempt. I had someone from the Temple of Mask place him under a feeblemind spell until you decide what to do with him."
The sage gibbered hysterically, beseeching the nobleman with his clouded eyes. Victor turned from the figure in cold disgust. "You'll have to kill him. You can destroy the lizard, too, now that we are finished using his mistress. Make sure none of the bodies are found."
"No one is going to believe all three just left town," Kimbel pointed out.
Victor peered down at Alias. He stroked the tattoo on her sword arm. "Have her lovely arm wash ashore at low tide, clutching a domino mask. Nice and ambiguous. The Faceless can reassure the Night Masters that he was responsible for the death of their foe, and Lord Victor can tell his people that a victory has been struck against the Night Masks, albeit at a great cost-the death of his love, the hero Alias. I won't need to keep up the worried lover act. I can go straight to being the mourning lover-so much more sympathetic. See to the details."
"Yes, milord," Kimbel replied. "This one may last a while yet," he noted, staring down at Alias, who still drew gasping breaths.
"Well, I've dismissed her. She's no longer in House Dhostar's employ, so she's yours to play with," Victor said. "Just not here. Be a good flunky and make sure she expires someplace where her vengeful spirit can't haunt me. When you're finished taking care of the bodiee, loot the sage's workshop. Do it legally' Kick Jamal out on the street. With Mintas*an gone, we can take care of her at our leisure." "And what will you, be doing, milord?"
Til be sleeping. Pm worn out from my battles at the ball," Victor said with an evil chuckle. He left Kimbel alone in the workshop with the prisoners.
The assassin could hear his master's voice drift down the spiral staircase. The merchant lord was singing the jaunty tune he'd learned from Alias:
"For all of their dancing, Posturing, prancing, They'll fight with their backs to the wall. Till then they are eating And drinking and meeting; Their battles are fought at the ball."
Twenty
Stirring the Ashes
The next afternoon found Olive Rus-kettle slipping through the alleys of Westgate, her spirit deeply troubled. The light of day and the official proclamations from the Tower had done little i to clear her confusion. She needed to speak with Jamal; the actress often helped her get her thoughts straight even as she was plying the halfling for information.
Olive was about to step out on the main road and cross the street to Mintassan's house when she spotted the symbols on the cobblestone. There were two of them, scrawled in charcoal, in a most inexpert manner, but there was no doubt about their meaning. The first symbol was used by Harpers to mean danger. The second symbol was used by thieves to mean danger. Both were aligned to indicate Mintassan's.
Olive stood in the shadow of the alley, studying a
ll the approaches to the sage's house. In a few moments, she spotted Kel, lurking in a doorway down the street. The halfling moved out into the main street, striding in the boy's direction, without looking at him. She stopped by the door, pretending to study a slip of paper for an address.
"You put out those symbols, Kel?" she asked, without looking at the boy. "Yeah. Jamal taught me to write 'em. Did it right, didn't I?" "Did it fine," the halfling assured him. "What's up?" "Supposed to warn Jamal's friends not to come by. Dhostar's spider Kimbel's taken over the house, tossed Jamal and me out. Jamal's up at Blais House."
"Thanks. Keep up the good work," the halfling said. She kept going, then slipped down the next alley to make her way to Blais House.
At the hostel, Mercy escorted her two flights up to a guest room far smaller than Alias's and Dragonbait's suite. The room was cluttered with Jamal's costume wardrobe, puppets, and theater props. Jamal was seated at a table, scribbling furiously in a small black book. "I was hoping you'd come by," the actress said. "What is going on?" Olive demanded.
"I thought you could tell me," the actress said in exasperation. She blotted the ink in her book and slipped it back into the bottom of her jewelry box. "That worm Kimbel came by Mintassan's this morning with an officious-looking scroll claiming House Dhostar is supposed to oversee Mintassan's estate in the sage's absence. It had Mintassan's seal on it, and Kimbel had seven large Dhostar guards with him, so I wasn't in a position to keep myself from being thrown out on the street. I left Kel to warn off my friends. I don't want all my contacts running into Kimbel or vice versa. The manager of Blais House is willing to let me stay here for a while." "Where are Alias and Dragonbait?" Olive asked.
Jamal shrugged. "No one saw Alias and Dragonbait return last night, but Mercy says Alias's armor is missing. I guess Alias came back for it before going back out to hunt more Night Masks. I'm used to Mintassan disappearing into the night for weeks on end, but 111 confess I'm getting a little nervous that Alias and Dragonbait haven't returned. What happened at the meeting of the merchant nobles this morning?"
"Durgar recapped the events of last evening, giving us the final tally of the dead," Olive reported. "The heads of Houses Guldar, Ssemm, Thalavar, Urdo, and Vhammos were killed by the Night Masks' iron golems. Houses Ssemm, Urdo, and Vhammos also lost their recognized heirs. The croamarkh wasn't at the ball, but Durgar claims that a golem got him anyway and carried his body into the sea. Then Lord Victor says that his hireling Alias, with her companions Dragonbait and Mintassan, found a clue last night that led them into the sewers to search for the Faceless. Finally, at Durgar's suggestion, the heads of the merchant houses-mostly inexperienced cousins and youths-unanimously voted Victor Dhostar in as interim croamarkh. They're supposed to make an official proclamation tomorrow, after the funerals." "Durgar said a golem killed Luer Dhostar?" Jamal Olive nodded.'"Ґes. Why?"
"I think it's time we throw all our cards on the table and see if we come up with a full deck," Jamal suggested. "I've got a source in the watch who says they found the Faceless dead, stabbed in the ribs. Durgar unmasked him, and it was Luer Dhostar, but Durgar has ordered the watch to keep mum about it."
Olive laughed. "Making all Lord Victor's hard work in vain. Victor Dhostar knew his father was the Faceless. He's been feeding Alias clues, hoping she'd unmask Luer for him. Then the nobles would be disgraced by the knowledge that the Faceless turned out to be their own elected croamarkh, and they'd have to pick a candidate popular with the people." "Alias?" Jamal asked in astonishment.
"No," Olive corrected, "the noble responsible for hiring her-the noble who's wearing her token-Victor Dhostar."
"Well, that's how it ended up, anyway," the actress said.
"Not exactly," the halfling replied. "The nobles haven't been disgraced, and they've only made Lord Victor interim croamarkh. If anything, the Night Masks' attack last night has made people feel more sympathy for the nobles."
"No kidding," Jamal said. "I tried a puppet show this morning portraying the nobles as sheep running from the wolf. It was not well received."
"You should have known better than to kick a dog when it's down," Olive retorted. "Even I make mistakes," the actress replied with a shrug. "So, Lord Victor was planning to turn on his own kind and reveal all, but Durgar stopped him. If we could get him out from under Durgar's influence, he might prove useful-a noble who cares what the people think."
"The only one Victor Dhostar cares about is Victor Dhostar," Olive snapped. "He was manipulating Alias into uncovering the Faceless, he manipulated Durgar into proposing him as the new croamarkh, and, given half a chance, he'll manipulate you and anyone else in Westgate fool enough to support him. He doesn't just want to be croamarkh. He waints to be king" elamal raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Never happen," she replied. "Not in Westgate. Not after Verovan. No one will ever go for it. Not the merchant lords, and certainly not the people."
"Wrong," Olive retorted. "If the people start clamoring for it and the merchant lords are weakened, they might have no choice."
"The people don't want a king. They want to rule themselves," Jamal argued.
"Jamal, I've studied you humans for years. Humans don't want to rule themselves. Only a few humans want to bother with the mess it takes to rule themselves. The rest want to be left alone. Your average Westgate citizen wants the Night Masks taken care of, but for over fifteen years they've been waiting for the merchant nobles to handle it. Some of them look at a nation like Cormyr, with a king who's managed to purge the land of assassins and who exiles convicted thieves, and they think maybe the gods favor monarchies. Should a popular candidate come along, some of them might start dusting off Verovan's regalia," the halfling concluded.
Jamal looked for a moment as if she might explode. Olive knew she'd just called into question a basic tenet of the actress's beliefs. A moment later, though, Jamal sighed. "Just because people won't take charge of their own lives doesn't mean they can't," she argued. "I'm not saying that," Olive replied.
"Well, you may be right about the king thing," the actress conceded. "I have heard people talking about Azoun of Cormyr as if he were the gods' gift to the people. Are you sure about Victor Dhostar, though? Alias seemed to think he was ail right."
"Even Alias makes mistakes, something I intend to correct just as soon as she and Dragonbait get back from the sewers," Olive said. "In the meantime, Lady Nettel's dying request was that I protect her granddaughter. House Thalavar lost three halfling bodyguards to the golems last night, so I've spent the last twelve hours not letting Thistle — Thalavar out of my sight. I think the girl was getting tired of me. After making all the arrangements for her grandmother's funeral, she locked herself in the study to go over House Thalavar's account books and Lady Nettel's personal journal. I should be getting back to Castle Thalavar to keep an eye on visitors offering their condolences. When Alias gets back-" "You'll hear from me," Jamal promised.
It was nightfall before the actress sent Kel around with a message for the halfling, but all the note said was that Alias had not returned, and neither had Dragonbait nor Mintassan. Olive penned a reply that Jamal should sit tight. The sewers were vast. It might take a little more time to explore them. The halfling did her best to keep from sounding worried when she handed the message to Kel.
Thistle finally came out of her grandmother's study for supper. Olive pressed her for permission to hire more bodyguards. The young girl fingered her grandmother's brooch like an amulet, then nodded her agreement.
The next morning brought a similar note from Jamal. Alias had not returned, but a fisherman had relayed a rumor that Alias was seen battling a fire elemental in the plaza around the Westlight. Jamal had checked with the watch stationed around the lighthouse, only to learn that some itinerant wanderer had started a trash fire by the water to keep herself company. That afternoon, after Lady Nettel's funeral, one of the Thalavar halflings returned to the castle with the rumor that the Faceless was holding court in a tavern in Gate-side. With
Thistle again locked in the study with her account books, Olive hurried down to the tavern in question, but discovered only an outlander in a heavy cloak. He was not holding court, only recruiting bodyguards for a caravan going south, and he kept his face covered with the hood of his cloak to hide a particularly ugly scar received from brigands.
Olive spent the afternoon interviewing halflings to serve as guards for the castle, for the warehouses, and, most especially, for Thistle. While she found several sturdy, sensible recruits worth training, no one with any real combat experience came forward.
By evening, Jamal sent another negative note. The adventurers had not returned. A beachcomber down by the river claimed t% have seen Dragonbait battling the quelzarn in the water below the bridge. After interviewing the witness, Jamal had concluded he was into his third tankard of ale and was seeing anything the actress could suggest to his vivid imagination and besotted brain.
The third morning after the ball brought a new rumor to the servants' quarters of Castle Thalavar: the Faceless was dead. Night Mask activity was so low for the past two days, people had begun to believe that perhaps the Night Masks were in mourning for their leader. Speculation was rife that perhaps one of the deceased nobles had been the lord of the Night Masters. Olive wondered if Victor had had a hand in spreading the rumor.
Kel appeared at the Thalavar castle gate right after breakfast. Olive realized he brought something more than rumor. The boy had been crying. This time he hadn't brought a note. "Jamal's at the Old Beard," he reported. "She says come now." Still crying, Kel ran off.
Olive arrived at the tavern near the river just as House Dhostar" s massive carriage was pulling away. People were pouring out of the tavern. Olive hurried inside. Jamal was sitting at a table, looking pale and shaken. "What is it?" the halfling asked. "A fisherman found it near the Athagdal docks," Jamal explained, "where the Thunn runs into the harbor." "Found what?" Olive demanded.
