Masquerades h-10

by Kate Novak

  "And why," Durgar said, climbing the stairs to the dais, "did he turn over all the Night Masters' books to me and dispel all their magic yesterday?"

  Victor glared up at the assassin standing beside Jamal. "You will pay for your treachery!" he screamed. Pointing a ringed finger at the assassin, he snarled, "Kreggarish."

  Kimbel grabbed the sides of his enchanted mask, screaming as Mehnan had when he had been branded.

  "Enough," Alias commanded, smacking at the nobleman's hand with the tip of her blade, leaving a crimson streak across his fingers. Victor whimpered like a child, but a moment later he laughed at the assassin. "The brand is permanent Kimbel. You'll never be rid of it. You shall always feel the pain," the vanquished Faceless gloated.

  Kimbel tossed aside the white mask with a hearty chuckle. His face was untouched. "Sorry, old boy," he said, "but not only do you have the wrong man-" Kimbel's figure began to glow and shimmer as Winterhart's had when she had transformed into Alias, and in a moment he reappeared as none other than Mintassan the Sage. "-but a magic ring like that hasn't held power over me for decades." "If you're not Kimbel," Olive asked, "who is?"

  "Why Kimbel is, of course," Mintassan replied. "Though at the moment he's chained in the dungeon of Castle Dhostar and looks like a feeble-minded sage named Mintassan." "And where's Dragonbait?" Olive demanded.

  Alias looked up at Mintassan. "Where is Dragonbait?" she asked.

  In the swordswoman's moment of distraction, Victor Dhostar slid his wounded hand deep into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out a twisted glass vial. He smashed the vial against the floor.

  Quicksilver dribbled from the broken glassware. The liquid metal glowed white-hot until it bathed Victor Dhostar in a glaring light. When the light faded a moment later, Victor Dhostar had vanished.

  "What was that?" Jamal asked, blinking away the spots on her eyes.

  "He's slid through a dimension door. He cannot have gotten far," Mintassan explained.

  "Spread out," Durgar ordered a patrol of his men. "Search the entire castle."

  "I'll check the lair, in case he tries to escape by one of the portal mirrors," Mintassan said. "Silver path, Face-less's lair," the sage murmured, then vanished.

  "Thistle!" Olive cried. "He would go after Thistle and try to snatch something from Verovan's hoard. Mist said she's-"

  "At the top of the south tower," Alias shouted. The swordswoman dashed from the hall with Olive and Jamal at her heels.

  Twenty-Four

  Verovan's Hoard

  Thistle Thalavar paced anxiously on the roof of the southern tower of Castle I Vhammos. Her heart was heavy, her mind uneasy. The evening was not turning out as she had imagined it would. In the daydreams she indulged in all day, Victor had been amazed when she proved she really did know how to reach Verovan's treasure. He had recognized how clever she was and had considered her his equal. He had made her his confidant on all matters of state. Once again he had declared his love. In her fantasy, they had spent the rest of the evening in one another's arms.

  In reality, when Thistle had used her grandmother's feather brooch to open the magical portal into the treasure hoard, Victor, although pleased, had not seemed particularly amazed. He had accepted the feather brooch as her token with a warm kiss, but he had been unable to hide his annoyance when he discovered he himself could not use the token to open the hoard. When Thistle explained that only someone of Verovan's bloodline could use the brooch, the croamarkh had bristled.

  Thistle realized with sickening dread that Victor was sensitive to the fact that she was descended of royalty and he was only a noble. Even worse, no matter how loyal and loving she was, the nobleman did not like having to rely on her to reach the treasure.

  The final disappointment came when, instead of spending the rest of the evening alone with her, the croamarkh had asked her to wait on the tower while he assembled his forces to help clear out the treasure.

  Now Thistle waited alone, trying to convince herself that Victor was still worthy of the treasure because he would use it to make Westgate a city of beauty and justice, admired by all. She suspected, however, that he was not the lover she had dreamed of.

  The interdimensional portal to Verovan's treasure hung twenty feet from the edge of the tower. By stroking the spine of her feather brooch Thistle could cause the portal to open just a crack. First a section of the sky would ripple, causing the stars to shimmer. Then a searing white light would flash out from the eldritch rent in the planar fabric. As soon as the girl removed her hand from the brooch, the portal snapped shut, leaving her standing in the dark, beneath the starlit sky. If she held the pin long enough, the portal grew into an oval eight feet across by twelve feet high. Once the portal was completely opened, it sent out a dark, arcing bridge to the edge of the tower.

  Thistle stroked the feather brooch, causing the sky to flash as if with heat lightning. Something hissed in the darkness behind her, and Thistle turned around slowly, more curious than startled.

  Dragonbait stepped out of the shadow of the tower battlement. He had been hiding there since Thistle and Victor had arrived at the castle. He had seen how Victor had played on Thistle's affections and had watched as she had demonstrated how to use the feather brooch to reach Verovan's hold. Thistle had arrived with Victor giddy and carefree, but now she was solemn and melancholy. The saurial hoped that meant he could now convince her to come away from the tower-for he was growing nervous for her safety-for the safety of all of Westgate.

  Each time Thistle stroked the feather brooch, cracking open the portal, the paladin's shen sight sensed a bolt of lightning and went momentarily blind, leaving him with a stabbing pain in the back of his head and a throbbing sensation in his teeth. His shen sight was being overloaded by some great evil that lay beyond the portal- within Verovan's hoard. Whatever it was, Dragonbait did not want to risk its release over the city.

  The paladin motioned for Thistle to come away from the battlement and go with him down the tower stairs.

  "I can't," Thistle replied. "I promised Victor that I would wait here for his return."

  Dragonbait made the sign for danger in the thieves' hand cant.

  "I know all about the dangers," the girl said. "Grandmother first told me the tale of Verovan's hoard when I was six, just in case she died suddenly and I became the keeper of the key."

  Thistle turned away to look over the tower battlement as she explained the history of the key to the paladin. "King Verovan's greed is legend," she said. "He was so obsessed with hanging on to his treasure that he exchanged a piece, of his soul with a lord of the Abyss to create a planar pocket to hold his treasure hoard. When Verovan died, thejord of the Abyss ordered his minions to loot the king's hoard. Their lord gave them the piece of Verovan's soul encased in amber so they could use it with the key to open the portal.

  "My grandmother's grandfather, Gen, was the king's third cousin. Gen was an adventurer, a paladin, like you. Luckily, he was in Westgate when Verovan died. He sensed the evil things swarming to the royal castle and followed them. He waited until they had opened the portal and had rushed inside. The minions of the Abyss left the key and the piece of Verovan's soul on the battlement with a single guard, a true tanar'ri. Gen battled the tanar'ri and destroyed it. Then he smashed the amber, freeing the piece of his cousin Verovan's soul, but the piece of soul flew to what it loved most-the treasure. Once the soul was separated from the key, the portal closed. Gen fashioned the key into a brooch, hiding it in plain sight, making a green feather the trading badge of our family's house."

  Dragonbait shook his head at the girl's foolishness. If her ancestor had seen fit to leave the portal closed, why couldn't she do likewise. A lifetime of city dwelling, even in so dangerous a city as Westgate, had left Thistle innocent of the greater powers of evil.

  "Grandmother warned that the treasure might not be worth the price to be paid for opening the portal, but I believe Victor should have the treasure. He will do good things with it," Thistle
insisted.

  Dragonbait shook his head again and wished this girl understood Saurial, so that he could lecture her on Victor Dhostar. He considered dragging her from the tower, but with the battle raging downstairs, the noblewoman was probably safer up here.

  Thistle stroked the feather brooch again, releasing a streak of light from the portal and delivering another momentarily blinding blow to the paladin's shen sight. The saurial snatched Thistle's hand and pulled it away from the brooch.

  The girl looked puzzled. She hadn't a clue as to the — source of the paladin's anxiety.

  There was nothing left to do, Dragonbait realized, but guard Thistle until Alias came to the roof. The swordswoman could tell Thistle about Victor's crimes. He leaned back against the battlement and waited patiently.

  The paladin was taken unawares by the sudden appearance of Victor Dhostar. The nobleman manifested on the roof with some magical spell. His robes were torn, and he was bruised and bleeding.

  Catching sight of him, Thistle ran to his side before Dragonbait could hold her back. "Victor, you're hurt!" the girl exclaimed. "What happened?" she asked as she tenderly touched a bruise on his face.

  "There's a battle going on downstairs," the nobleman explained. "Night Masks and Durgar's men. Kimbel has framed me. You must open the portal so I can hide from my enemies."

  "Victor, you did not give me a chance to explain fully before. There are evil things trapped inside with Verovan's treasure."

  "Thistle, there are evil things in the castle down below, coming after me. If you loved me, you would not argue. Now open the bloody portal!"

  Dragonbait stepped forward and hissed, but Victor had grabbed Thistle by the waist and aimed a dagger at her belly. "Don't try anything foolish, lizardman," the nobleman said. "Open the portal, Thistle, quickly."

  Thistle's face colored with anger, and for a moment Dragonbait thought she might argue with Victor. The moment passed. Thistle collected what was left of her dignity. Giving the nobleman a chill look of disdain, she touched her hand to her brooch. Light spilled out on the tower as the portal grew. A crystal bridge, as dark as the sky, arced over the battlement.

  Victor clasped his hand about Thistle's so that she could not remove it from the brooch. "You first," the nobleman ordered Dragonbait.

  The paladin looked aghast at the portal. The waves of evil spilling out sickened him, but now he sensed something worse. Hunger. Something within Verovan's hoard was eager to devour whatever came its way.

  "Move it!" Victor screamed, poking his dagger into Thistle's side until she whimpered. "I haven't got anything to lose by killing her," he snarled.

  Dragonbait climbed up the bridge and made his way toward the portal. Victor followed, dragging Thistle after him. Just as he reached the other side of the bridge, the paladin drew his sword. He was not going to be devoured without a fight. Victor did not seem to object. The nobleman's eyes had the look of frightened prey, and his mind seemed to be occupied with other thoughts.

  Alias dashed up the stairs three at a time and burst out on the roof of the tower just in time to see Victor pull Thistle into a magical portal hanging in the sky beside the tower. The swordswoman leaped up on the battlement and stepped onto the bridge leading to the portal. At that moment the bridge began to retract, knocking Alias from her feet. She grabbed hold of the end of the bridge and hung on for dear life, knowing better than to look at the ground hundreds of feet down.

  When the end of the bridge came within a yard of the portal, Alias swung herself backward into the planar pocket with only moments to spare before the bridge vanished. The portal snapped shut behind her tumbling form.

  The swordswoman gasped and choked as she breathed in the mists drifting along the floor. The vapors shone with a yellow radiance and smelled like sulfur. They swirled so thickly, they obscured the floor. Alias could see no walls, and overhead there was only darkness.

  A few feet away, Dragonbait stood as alert as a hunting cat. The tip of his tail and the tip of his sword twitched in nervous apprehension. Alias noticed that the mists, which swirled about her legs, seemed to swerve away from the paladin.

  Victor, clutching Thistle about the waist, stood off to one side of the portal. He tore the feather brooch frdm Thistle's gown and slid it into a pocket of his robe. Alias stumbled to her feet and moved toward the girl, but she halted when she saw the dagger Victor pointed at Thistle's throat. "Where is the treasure?" the croamarkh demanded.

  "What difference does it make, Victor?" Alias snapped. "You're never getting away with it."

  Victor smiled slyly at the swordswoman. "No one knows where I am. No one saw us enter here. In a few hours they'll have given up the search, and I can leave with Thistle. "You and Dragonbait, though, will have to remain within. Might as well get used to it."

  Alias glared at the nobleman, desiring vengeance more than ever. The man had tried to take her life only hours after proffering his love. If not for Mintassan, she and Dragonbait would both have been dead. Mintassan and Dragonbait had counseled her against killing the noble, and she had agreed to turn Victor over to Durgar. Now, however, seeing him threaten yet one more innocent, Alias wanted to tear the nobleman's heart out. Yet she realized she had to remain cool.

  "Why don't you let Thistle go?" the swordswoman suggested. "You don't need a hostage now that you've escaped." "But I need to keep you and your lizard friend in check," he argued, pulling the girl closer to him.

  Alias noted that at least now there was nothing in Thistle's eyes but contempt for the nobleman. The girl maintained a dignified silence.

  Dragonbait began moving deeper into the planar pocket. "Where are you going?" Alias asked.

  "I sense evil everywhere," the paladin explained in Saurial, "but there is a stronger mass in this direction."

  "Don't we want to stay away from anything like that?" Alias demanded.

  "There is not much point to that now that we are in this place," the paladin replied solemnly. He continued onward.

  Alias followed after the saurial. Behind her she heard Victor ask again, "Where is the treasure?"

  "Maybe there isn't any, Victor," Alias taunted. "Perhaps the Thalavar clan frittered it away over the past century."

  "No, Grandmother said no one had ever touched it," Thistle replied. "It must be here."

  Alias rolled her eyes, wishing the girl had been savvy enough to agree, or at least say nothing. Then the swordswoman halted in her tracks. She had come upon an island in the sea of mists, a great glowing yellow sphere, larger than a man. Just beneath the surface of the sphere, misty shapes writhed and flowed. The swordswoman reached out and touched the sphere's surface. It was as smooth as glass and warm to the touch. "It's a giant pearl," Thistle whispered.

  Dragonbait stepped out from behind the sphere. He spoke to Alias in Saurial. "At its core I sense great greed." "The piece of Verovan's soul?" Alias guessed. "Probably," the paladin replied. "What's surrounding it?" the swordswoman asked.

  Dragonbait pointed to the mist on the floor. "A pearl might actually be a good analogy," he said. "The soul shard is like a piece of grit in an oyster. These creatures have coalesced around it to soothe the irritation it causes them," Dragonbait replied.

  Alias looked down at the mist. "You mean this mist stuff is living creatures?" "Unformed manes," the paladin whispered.

  Alias swallowed hard. She would have leaped above the mist if there had been anywhere to leap to. "Manes? Are you sure?" she asked in Common.

  Dragonbait gave her an aggrieved look. To remind her that he was an authority on evil would be to state the obvious. "Manes?" Victor asked. "What's a mane?"

  "They're what the lord of the Abyss sent to loot Verovan's treasure," Thistle explained. "But what are they?" Victor growled.

  "The form the dead take in the Abyss," Alias explained. "Dragonbait says the mist is unformed manes."

  Victor whirled about, dragging Thistle with him, as if he could shake the mist away. Alias noted there was considerably m
ore of it drifting about the nobleman than around herself.

  "Why so uncomfortable, Victor? That's what you'll end up as when you die," Alias declared. Dragonbait made some comments in Saurial, and the swordswoman chuckled. "Pardon me, Victor," she said. "Dragonbait says you are not chaotic enough to end as a mane in the Abyss. More likely, you will be a lemure in Baator, though it is possible you will become a larva, since your selfishness is so great."

  "Why are the manes unformed?" Thistle asked in an anxious whisper.

  Alias listened to Dragonbait's reply in Saurial, then translated. "They have existed in this place for over a century with nothing but a bit of Verovan's soul to gnaw on. So they've gone misty to conserve their energy. As soon as they sense there's something here to devour, they'll begin to take shape."

  "They'll eat us?" Thistle asked with a whine in her voice, her sophistication finally crumbling beneath the weight of her fear.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Victor snapped. "She is making all this up. Trying to get me to leave so I can be captured.

  I want to know what's happened to the treasure," he demanded. The saurial tapped his sword on the floor.

  "Dragonbait says we're standing on it," Alias explained. Curiously, she knelt beside the saurial, where the mists were thinner, and examined the floor. "He's right," she replied. With her dagger she pried up a brick of solid gold and held it out for the others to see. "The floor's paved with these, and there's another layer beneath this one. I wonder how many layers."

  Victor motioned Alias and Dragonbait to move back. Dragging Thistle down with him, he knelt on the floor and investigated for himself. He pulled up a second brick of gold and stuffed it into a pocket of his robe. He smiled coldly as he stood un. Bits of mane mist clung to his back and swirled now as high as his hips, but the nobleman did not seem to notice.

  Alias exchanged'a look with the paladin. She was tempted to say nothing, but Thistle was still the nobleman's hostage, and what endangered him endangered her.