Kate Novak - Masquerades

Westgate was ablaze with lights that rivaled the stars above: the lighthouse, the streetlights, the campfires on the shore.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Victor said, regarding the city. "Lit up on a clear night like this, it looks every bit as magical as Evermeet, as exotic as Kara-Tur, as wealthy as Zakhara. Like a place of make-believe, a place where legends can be born."

Alias made an agreeable and noncommittal, "Mmmm," unable to put out of her mind the Night Mask rot at the city's heart.

As if he could read her thoughts, Victor added, "If only we could excise the Night Masks without damaging the city."

"Well, we may be another step closer," Alias said. "I've traced a protection racket from the Shore back to a wealthy vintner in the city. His name's Melman. I wanted to be sure he wasn't some noble's cousin or brother-in-law."

Victor furrowed his brow in thought. "Melman. My father and I have exported some of his wine. No, he's not related to any of the noble houses."

"Good. Гт hoping he's a high-ranking Night Mask or will lead us to one."

"I've heard some stories. His house has an evil reputation," Victor said. "Promise me you won't go there alone."

Alias nodded. She didn't mention she knew the house well, or that she planned to visit it later this very night. There was no sense worrying the young nobleman.

"Better still, why not just have Durgar arrest the man?" Victor asked. Alias shook her head. "Jamal," she said, "has suggested that if we can just find the Faceless's treasury, we should be able to capture the artifact that keeps him and the Night Masters magically sheltered from scrying and divinations. I'm hoping Melman might lead me to the Night Masters' lair. He's not going to cooperate, locked in a cell in the Tower." "How does Jamal know all this?" Victor asked.

"She has a network of her own informants," Alias answered.

"I realize she must be a friend, but, well, she seems to know so much. Are you certain-do you think it's possible that all this theater against the Night Masks is maybe a smoke screen? She could be one herself. She could be the Faceless, for all we know."

Alias shook her head with a scowl. "That's no more. likely than your father being the Faceless." "Father! That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You said he refuses to pay the Night Masks protection, yet the Night Masks haven't wreaked their revenge on your operations as they have on House Thalavar."

That's because they're afraid that Father would make good on his threat to start a war in the streets."

"Or they have orders not to harm your oper-" Alias halted, struck by a sudden idea. "What is it?" Victor asked.

"Or they've been geased not to harm your family. Kim-bel would certainly make an excellent candidate."

Victor shook his head. "I keep an eye on Kimbel. If he were running a thieves guild on the side, I would know. But I'm also sure the Faceless is not Father." "So am I," Alias agreed. "But you just said-"

"I was just pointing out that there are some inconsistencies. I suspect your father pays the Night Masks, but is too proud to admit it. He's simply not a logical candidate. He has more money than an ancient dragon and the most powerful position in the whole city. He has no reason to belong to the Night Masks." Victor remained silent for too long.

"What's wrong?" Alias asked.

"Nothing," Victor assured her, shaking himself. "I was just thinking about how much my father wants to be croamarkh. You might almost say he covets the post. After his first two terms, I was sure he'd recommend me, but then he insisted the time was wrong for a new man and he offered himself for the third term. Then, after Lansdal Ssemm made such a mess of his four years, father told me he had to take up the next term, so I wasn't blamed for any problems Ssemm left behind. I know I'd make a good croamarkh, but I need father's support to be elected." "I know you'd make a good one, too," Alias said. "I have such plans." "I know. You told, me about them the day we met."

"Those are just the plans if I find Verovan's treasure. I have others I'd start without it. Build a navy to protect our trading ships'from pirates, for one, and train an army of Westgate citizens, not mercenaries, to protect our caravans from brigands, for another. I've even begun to toy with your idea of offering more people a vote in the council. Not everyone, like you said. That would be chaos. But smaller merchants and important artisans and craftsman. Bring in some new blood, like my father said about you."

"You should be croamarkh," Alias said. "Don't wait for your father anymore. When his term is up, tell him you're running with or without his support." "I don't think I'd have enough support to defy him."

"You might be surprised," Alias said. "Lady Thalavar thinks highly of you. She said everyone knows The Glea-son was your victory. If I've managed to bring in the Faceless by then, everyone who stands against the Night Masks will support you, too."

Victor turned toward her, his face only inches from her own. "And you? Would I have the support of one clever, beautiful warrior?"

"Of course," Alias replied, "though I don't think my support means much in this city." "With you by my side I feel like I could conquer the world. What-why are you laughing?"

Alias worked hard at stifling a giggle. "I'm sorry. You just sounded for a moment like the hero in an opera."

"Opera's drawn from real life, after all," Victor replied. "Maybe if you close your eyes and listen hard you'll hear music, too."

Alias closed her eyes. She felt Victor's lips brush against hers.

"I do hear that music," the swordswoman whispered as she slid her arms around the nobleman's waist. "It sounds very far off, though. We need to bring it closer." She pulled Victor toward her and pressed her lips against his.

At the base of the Westlight, Kimbel checked his hourglass, then nodded to the waiting servants. With smoldering sticks the servants began lighting the fuses of the smoke powder novelties imported from Kara-Tur. They spiraled up into the darkness on columns of sparks, finally exploding in flowerlike bursts of light. The sky above flashed with color, reflected in the bay below. A few citizens of the city, those who'd actually witnessed magical fireball attacks, were bemused by this new toy of the wealthy. The less experienced, especially the children, were delighted with a spectacle they could share for free. Aboard The Gleason, although they were careful not to indicate how impressed they were by the display, the nobles all agreed it was a fitting signal for the end of the ship's maiden voyage.

"Ooh, that's a pretty one," Jamal exclaimed as a golden marigold blossomed on the horizon. Mintassan har-rumphed politely.

When the first explosions sounded | Jamal had insisted they run up to Mintassan's aerie-a balcony reached frem a window of his attic. The sage's home was far enough up the hill for them to have a clear view of the fireworks blossoming over the bay.

The sage and the actress reclined in heavy iron garden chairs which, after years of exposure to the elements, looked as if they'd been gnawed upon by rust monsters. Kel, newly scrubbed and dressed in some old clothes of the sage's, leaned out over the balcony railing with all the disdain for personal safety a teenaged boy could muster. Fireworks were still so rare an occurrence that the young thief was unable to hide his pleasure beneath his usual veneer of apathy. From his shouts and applause it was obvious he preferred the noisier explosions to the more visually elaborate ones.

Jamal rearranged the faded, mildew-ridden cushion at her back and took another sip of her wine. "Ever think of getting some new furniture out here?" she asked the sage.