Kate Novak - Masquerades

"Like your tattoo?" Thistle asked, her words starting to spill over each other. "You chose that. Did it hurt? Do you regret itr "Thistle," Lady Nettel spoke in a warning tone. "How else will I know?" Thistle insisted.

Lady Nettel sighed. "Please excuse her. We had an argument that had nothing to do with you."

"That's all right," Alias said. She turned to Thistle. "My tattoo was nojt really my choice. Someone branded me when I was a captive. It didn't hurt, because I was unconscious at the^time. It's not a regular tattoo, though, but magical. I canriot regret it, since I had no choice in its existence, but it cari'be very tiresome. It is not something one can remove like a drees or jewelry. It is always there, the same design, the same color. Once I hated it, but no longer. It reminds me of a special time in my life and of the bonds I share with my brother and my sisters and with my father."

"I see," Thistle said, more thoughtful. "Thank you for telling me."

Lady Nettel raised her glass to someone behind Alias. A moment later, Alias felt a hand on her shoulder as Victor Dhostar took a position beside her.

"Lady Nettel," Victor greeted the elderly noblewoman, adding a deep bow. He winked at Thistle and asked, "How are you, Dervish?"

Thistle colored deeply at the nickname and tried unsuccessfully to appear too haughty to notice the young Dhostar.

Lady Nettel chuckled. "Congratulations on your new vessel, Lord Victor," she said. "It hasn't sunk yet under the weight of Westgate's pride. It must be well-constructed." "I'll pass your compliments on to father," Victor answered.

"Hah!" Lady Nettel replied. "If those compliments belong to anyone, they're yours. For all his meddling, Luer hasn't peeked in a shipyard for six years. Can't take the dust. This is your victory, young man, and everyone knows it." Victor bowed his head wordlessly.

"Well, I'll let you steal away with your guest," Lady Nettel said. "I'm sure she's not here to entertain me." With that, she moved off with Thistle, followed by a wake of other guests all vying for the Thalavar matriarch's attention.

Alias offered Victor some cheese from her plate. The ship was rounding the harbor entrance now, and everything on the ship cast two shadows, one from the stern light, the other from the lighthouse. Looking across to the Westlight plaza, Alias saw a group of people scurrying around in the twilight, setting up some sort of display on the northern shore of the peninsula. "What's going on out there?" she asked Victor.

"Ah, well, that's a surprise. You'll just have to wait and see," the nobleman said.

Alias nodded. "I shouldn't ask, but how did your business go with young Urdo?" the swordswoman queried.

Victor grinned conspiratorially. "We discussed how easy it was to make an apology. Taking my cue from my father, who apologized for his arrest, I thought I might just apologize in advance in case Haztor happens to fall overboard and no one notices. Should he falter in his attempt to swim ashore or, gods forbid, should the quelzarn happen to devour him, I assured him that my apologies to his family would be profuse if not sincere."

"There isn't really a quelzarn, is there?" Alias asked, knowing that such giant sea serpents were reputed to be very rare.

"Of course there is," Victor insisted. "What do you think eats all the garbage tossed into the bay?"

Alias gave the nobleman a suspicious look. "Have you ever seen this quelzarn?" she demanded. "Many times," he replied, then added, "though only on foggy nights, when I'm alone, without, alas, any witnesses to back up my story." Alias laughed. "So where is Haztor now?" she asked.

Victor looked around the deck, then shrugged. "I've no idea," he answered, raising his eyebrows theatrically.

"Victor, you wouldn't-" Alias looked around the deck uncertainly.

The young nobleman chuckled. "He's over there, hugging the mainmast. I don't imagine he'll go anywhere near the rails this evening. He's not a strong swimmer."

Alias looked in the direction Victor had nodded. Haztor Urdo was surrounded by several young men and women who chatted with him amicably, but he was indeed keeping the mainmast at his back.

"I haven't seen Ssentar Urdo," Alias noted. "Wasn't he mvited?"

"Each noble house is invited, and each sends at least one representative во the rest of the houses cannot gossip freely about it. Sseritar Urdo, however, is prey to seasickness. Ordinarily Ssentar would send his oldest son, Mar-don, and Mardon'8 wife. By sending Haztor in his stead, his father is showing Haztor his support. Haztor, despite the scandal of being arrested as a Night Mask, will remain a power. Consequently, sycophants will flock about him, seizing this opportunity to offer their support. Such people are liable to snub you, given a chance. They aren't worth worrying about."

"Considering the company I'm in, I doubt I should notice them," Alias replied. She set aside her empty plate and glass. "Shall we continue our tour?"

Victor smiled, took her arm, and steered her aft. "The masts and keel," he explained, "were fashioned from redwood logged in the far north, around Hartsvale, land of giants and giant trees."

"And where do you get the oarsmen?" Alias asked, "Sentenced criminals?"

"Sometimes," responded Victor. "This particular crew, however, is made up of shareholders." "Shareholders?" Victor nodded, "Of course. You didn't think we'd risk all the heads of Westgate in a boat with a crew of criminals, did you? People work better when they have a stake in the outcome. In this case, fight better and row better. They get a small portion of the profits this ship will make for House Dhostar. Any who agreed to serve for this frivolous maiden voyage gets a double share of the first venture. We have no trouble finding rowers."

At the deck level, the stern castle was open to the fore. In the rear, two sailors manned the tiller, but the rest of the area was taken up by tables for the guests. Luer Dhostar and most of the noble clan elders sat at a table in the front of the sterncastle, drinking, playing dice, and telling sea stories from their past. The croamarkh nodded briefly at his son. He gave no indication of noticing Alias. Durgar, who sat on the croamarkh's right, smiled ever so slightly at the swordswoman, but then turned his attention back to some elderly noble describing a run-in he'd had with pirates back when the world was young.

Victor led Alias past the tables to the stairs in the back. "Up or down?" Alias asked.

"Up," said the young noble. "Down is storage and berths for the crew."

Alias climbed the steep stairs and paused at the first level. Victor gave her a peek into the officers' and guests' quarters. All but the captain's cabin looked cramped, but l all were snug and smelled pleasantly of fresh pine.

They climbed another set of steep stairs and stood alone on the roof of the sterncastle. There was no one else up there. They could look down on the party below, but when they turned their backs, it seemed to disappear. Alias looked up into the darkness overhead, but due to the glare of the stern light, the lighthouse, and the waxing moon, she could pick out only the brightest stars. Victor strolled to the stern railing, and Alias drifted behind him.

For the first time Alias felt as if they were truly at sea, and not just because they'd left the bay. A stiff breeze shot across the port side. Alias shivered in the wind. "I forgot I might need a cloak out here," she said.

"In the interest of chivalry, I feel obliged to offer you an arm around your shoulder," Victor said.

"In the interest of encouraging chivalry wherever I find it, I feel obliged to accept," Alias replied.

Victor slid his arm around her back, and Alias leaned against his side. The wide sleeve of his tunic served well as a shawl, and the warmth of his hand on her shoulder was wonderfully pleasant.