Kate Novak - Masquerades

"I have not been neglecting my duties," Victor snapped in a low growl. "There isn't a single obligation to you, the family business, or Westgate that I have not fulfilled."

Luer Dhostar drummed his fingers on his desktop. "First you champion her acting friends in front of the rabble," he accused his son. "Then you spend last night's cruise almost exclusively in her company, time you might have spent with your peers, men and women of your own rank. Now I find you've been diving into sewers with her. That is not the life of a Dhostar."

"No, the life of a Dhostar is all cold figures and hard cash. There's no room in it for honor or courage," Victor taunted, stepping forward and wringing his shirt sleeve out on the accounting books spread out before his father, leaving puddles in the blue ink.'

Lord Luer turned several shades of red, though Olive couldn't be sure whether he was more angered by his son's words or his reckless disregard for bookkeeping. For a moment it seemed as if Victor, faced with his father's apoplectic wrath, showed a moment of fear, a recognition that he had gone too far, for he backed away suddenly from his father. In the next moment, however, the young man's back stiffened, and he stood his ground.

Several moments of icy silenced followed, then Victor said, "I've issued Alias and her companion an invitation to the masquerade ball."

"And you expect the other noble families to accept her because you keep dragging her into their presence?" Luer said with a laugh.

"I don't care about the other families. I expect you to honor her for the service she's done us. She's discovered the Faceless's lair for you. Within a few days she may have his identity."

"That's what I've paid her for. I am not required to reward her success with invitations to socialize with her betters," Luer growled. "Since you have so injudiciously invited her, I suppose there is nothing I can do. Welcome her to the ball, introduce her as your guest, dance with her. I will not be there. I will not watch my son cavorting with a common adventuress or seem to give my approval with my presence."

"Father, you cannot mean that. You are blowing this all out of proportion. I haven't forgotten my rank or hers. I am simply extending a courtesy to a very useful employee. I assure you I have no intentions of forming an alliance beneath my station.''

Funny you forgot to mention that to Alias, Olive thought.

"Your lack of propriety is not my concern," Luer replied to his son. "It is the appearance of impropriety I cannot tolerate. If that girl is there, I will not attend the ball."

Someone rapped at the door frame, and Luer barked, "Enter."

Kimbel stepped into the room. "Excuse me, Lord Luer," the assassin-turned-servant begged. "Lord Orgule has sent his son with a message. He awaits your reply in the hall." Kimbel proffered a scrap of parchment.

Luer read the message and cursed softly. "Orgule could foul up a one-horse parade," he muttered, pushing himself out of his chair. "I'll speak with the boy myself," he said as he stalked over to the door. Just before he stepped out of the room, he whirled about to address Victor once more. "Get into some dry things," he ordered, "before you ruin the carpets."

When the croamarkh had gone, Kimbel closed the door softly behind him. Victor flopped into his father's chair and propped his feet up on the desk. "He is a fool, you know," the young lord said.

"So you have informed me," Kimbel replied without a trace of irony or humor. "He refuses to see how useful Alias is," Victor steamed.

Useful! Olive thought angrily. Is that all you have to say about a girl who's welcomed you with her arms and lips and given you a token of her regard? You Westgate nobles are so romantic.

"The rabble is rather taken with her, thanks to Jamal," Kimbel noted, "but, aside from House Thalavar, the noble families are cool."

"Short-sighted fools," Victor muttered. Olive could see his jaw clenched in irritation.

"It's hardly surprising," Kimbel pointed out. "Every one of them has some involvement with the Night Masks, which they wish to remain hidden. They do not perceive this Alias as an ally. You do not want to offend them. After all, it is still the noble families who choose the croamarkh."

"Hah!" Victor laughed, and there was a bully-like tone to his amusement. "Imagine how they'll all look when they discover that their very own croamarkh is the leader of the Night Masks." Olive almost gasped with surprise. "It should leave them in a decided quandary, sir," Kimbel replied as calmly as if he and the merchant lord were discussing the price increase of Selgaunt marble. Victor laughed the same unpleasant laugh again.

"They'll be no better off than the rabble they consider their inferiors. The only way they'll manage to hold on to their power is by choosing a popular candidate-the one wearing the token of Alias of the Inner Sea-the woman who freed them from the yoke of the Night Masks." Victor took a small c^se from his tunic, opened it, and displayed the braid of hair that Alias had cut off and given him. It was now,fastened to a pin. "If the nobles are frightened enough by the Faceless's plot to destroy them all, they may evenЪе convinced that it is time to restore a monarchy, return Westgate to the status of a kingdom." "Is it certain then that the croamarkh will be revealed as the Faceless?" Kimbel asked. "Alias and her companions stumbled upon me investigating the Faceless's lair. I got in with this key," Victor said, holding up the key he'd shown Olive earlier. "Unfortunately, like a fool, I touched off a water trap and we were all washed out to the sewer, where we barely escaped the quelzam. I had to admit to Alias that I found the key in my father's desk. She has given me time to ask him to explain the key. I do not think he will do so." "No," Kimbel agreed.

"Alias should be with Durgar now, planning to check out this lair at the next low tide. In the meantime, you and I both have lots to do," the noble said, rising to his t: feet. "Come along."

Victor strode to the door. He passed so close to the mounted displacer beast Olive hid behind that the halfling could feel the breeze of his passing. Olive held her breath as the nobleman exited the room. Kimbel paused for a moment by the doorway, and the former assassin's eyes narrowed, much the same way, Olive thought, as Dragonbait's did when the paladin was using his sken sight. Kimbel stared directly at the displacer beast. Olive knew he could not possibly see into the dark shadows of the ill-lit room, but she grew acutely aware of the sound of her heart pounding in her chest, and if she could have stopped it from beating at that moment, she would have. Her fingers tightened about the hilt of her sword, prepared to draw it in a hurry.

"Kimbel!" Victor called from down the hall. "We haven't got time to waste!"

The geased servant's head snapped back at an unnatural angle as if against his will. He turned to the door and exited the room without looking back.

Olive breathed as silently as she could. She did not move from her hiding place until the sound of Kimbel's footsteps had faded into nothingness.

When Alias and Dragonbait returned to the Tower, Durgar was still out sifting through the ashes of Mel-man's home, no doubt making sure the treasure found in the basement was thoroughly catalogued before it could be looted. The two adventurers left a message for the priest and hurried to Mintassan's.

There they found Jamal in the middle of a lesson with Kel. The boy seemed much more subdued. Apparently the young Night Mask had gotten a look at Melman's branded face when he had brought the former Night Master his lunch, and now he was seriously rethinking his original career choice.

Mintassan sent Kel off to study on his own. Once the boy was gone. Alias told the actress and the sage of the afternoon's adventure just as she intended to relate it to Durgar-not mentioning Victor's second key. She felt just a hint of guilt deceiving Jamal, but the alternative, she knew, was to have the key and the croamarkh's reputation called into question in Jamal's very next street performance.