Kate Novak - Masquerades

"Not much reason to sit out here anymore," Mintassan grumbled. "Since they added that blasted magical light to the harbor tower, the sky's too bright. Can't see the stars I chose to observe for my treatise on astronomy."

Jamal looked up at the sky. "The ones you can still see are lovely enough."

"I suppose," the sage said with a shrug. He was eyeing Kel nervously, certain that the boy would flip over the railing any minute, requiring a magical flying spell for his rescue.

The sage leaned nearer the actress and murmured softly, "He-" Mintassan indicated Kel with a jerk of his head "-was looking over the silver tea set, estimating its resale value. He could calculate a twenty-seven percent cut in his head, but he can't read. He said he doesn't need to learn to read. How can he say that? How can he think that?"

"No one's given him reason enough," Jamal replied. "Although I'm sure a clever man like yourself can find some motivation for him." "Me? Why me?"

"Well, it's not likely he'd want to imitate an old lady with modest thespian skills. Boys need to look up to men."

"Because I'm a man my home has become a shelter for homeless actresses and underage rogues?"

"More likely because you're a powerful mage, remember?" Jamal retorted.

Mintassan shrugged off the comment. "I'm beginning to dread it when Alias goes out after Night Masks. Who knows what shell bring back next?"

"Maybe she'll bring back young Victor Dhostar," Jamal suggested.

Mintassan scowled. "I'm not taking him in. I don't even know why I agreed to take Kel," he complained.

"Because Alias asked you, and she's a clever, pretty woman," Jamal stated.

Mintassan flushed ever so slightly. "I'm simply extending her a courtesy because she's a friend of Grypht's," he argued. "Is that what Victor Dhostar is doing by inviting her to his posh party-simply extending a courtesy?" Jamal asked, peering with concern at a firework that exploded a little too low on the horizon. "I don't imagine he's failed to notice how attractive she is." "I noticed she was pretty. Said so the first night she came in here. I can't understand why she would have anything to do with Victor Dhostar, though. She's a bright, experienced adventurer. He's a puffed-up greengrocer," Mintassan declared, using the adventurers' term for a merchant.

"Well, when he's not standing in his father's shadow, people seem to think he's pretty capable," Jamal remarked. "If Luer were to die this millennium, Victor might take his place as croamarkh."

"Croamarkh. Oh, that's different," Mintassan said contemptuously, his face illuminated by the light from a distant skyrocket. "King of the greengrocers." "And he and Alias do have something in common."

"What? What do they have in common?" Mintassan demanded. "A desire to rid the city of the Night Masks."

"I don't especially like them either," the sage pointed out. "But you don't care much about Westgate."

"That's not true. Г grew up in this city, the same as you."

"And you left it just as soon as you could to go gadding about the planes and other bizarre places. You only think of this city as a convenient place to store all the junk you bring back from adventuring."

Mintassan paused thoughtfully, then shrugged. "All right, I admit it. I find cities boring, full of boring people, present company excepted, of course. Alias wasn't interested in Westgate either when she first came. Dragonbait and you talked her into this job."

"I think Victor Dhostar had more to do with it than we did," Jamal replied. "Sure. Rub it in," Mintassan grumbled into his wine.

"Still, as you pointed out, Victor Dhostar's just a greengrocer. He really can't do too much to protect her. It wouldn't hurt to have a wizard watching her back." "She can't be scried, remember?"

"You don't get close to a person by watching her through a crystal ball. I was thinking you might involve yourself in a more active role. Offer to go with her the next time you have a chance," Jamal suggested.

"I think behind this request to look out for your cheap hero is an ulterior motive-playing matchmaker," the sage noted.

"I'm too busy to worry about nonsense like that. My ulterior motive is to unnerve the Faceless," Jamal replied. "He relies on the neutrality of people like you, Mintassan. I'm hoping hell grow anxious and careless if he perceives the balance shifting against him."

"You're bringing out all your reserves for this battle, Jamal. So certain you can end the war this season?" Mintassan asked.

The actress sighed. "Not really, but the fight is beginning to wear me down. I'm giving it all I've got before I get another year older."

The horizon lit up with the firework's finale, a shower of multiple bursts that raced along the length of the peninsula. Scattered applause broke out from watchers in the street.

Kel climbed down from the balcony railing, his eyes wide and alert. "Did you enjoy the fireworks?" Jamal prodded him.

The youth's eyes took on a wariness common to all young people when called upon to pass judgment on adult endeavors. "It was all right," he allowed with a shrug. He was too excited to remain indifferent for long. "I want to be able to do that some day," he admitted.

"You want to work with fireworks?" Mintassan queried, bemused.

"No," the boy corrected, shooting Mintassan a look suggesting the sage was as dumb as a rock. "I want to be a great thief, like the Faceless, or an important merchant, like one of the Dhostars, so I can afford to have fireworks every night. Then Fd get some serious respect."

Mintassan looked down at the youth with astonishment. It took him more than a moment to recover and ask, "You think their wealth is something to respect?" "Sure," Kel answered. "What could be better?"

The sage harrumphed and rose to his feet. "How "bout this?" he responded. Pointing to the iron chair he'd just vacated, he intoned, "Quesarius Amano Illusar Jho!"

A miniature sphere of orange-and-white flame formed at his fingertip, then streaked toward chair, emitting an ear-splitting shriek. A second and a third sphere formed and sped after the first. As the flaming orbs hurtled passed, Kel could see on their surfaces tiny faces with howling mouths.

The fiery spheres orbited around the iron chair, faster and faster, spinning a cocoon of white light. The cocoon began to stretch and deform as something within grew and pushed outward. An iron claw slashed through the cocoon, and an iron muzzle poked out. With the sound of shattering glass, the cocoon dissipated into myriad light motes, which sparkled and vanished to reveal a miniature iron dragon. The wyrm flapped its wings, arched its neck, and gave a low roar. Smoke, smelling like burning mildewy cushions" streamed from the creatures' nostrils. Then the beast settled back on its rear haunches, folded its wings, and became still.

Kel, his eyes as wide as saucers, reached out gingerly and touched the transmutated iron chair, now an immobile sculpture of ornate detail and great beauty.

Holding Kel in place with a hand on his shoulder, Mintassan lifted the boy's chin so that their eyes met. "Knowledge is better than wealth," the sage said. "It cannot be stolen. It cannot be bought. Once you possess it, it is yours for life. You can accumulate knowledge by observing, listening, and questioning. The truly wise can do so by reading and writing as well."

Kel squinted with a doubtful look, trying to analyze the truth of Mintassan's arguments. "If I learn to read, can I do that?" he asked, pointing at the iron dragon.

Mintassan snorted derisively. "Reading isn't a skill you acquire to learn parlor tricks. Reading lights the pathways to all knowledge. The ability to travel each pathway varies with the individual, but reading makes the journey easier."

The expression on Kel's face indicated he was struggling to understand the sage's metaphor. He glanced back at the iron dragon as if it could offer him illumination. Then he looked back at the sage. "So, how do I learn this stuff?" he asked.