Кейт Новак - Masquerades

Most of the Night Masters believed the mask also altered the Faceless’s voice, for the sound of his speech was grating and metallic, though still able to convey emotions as subtle as annoyance or displeasure.

None of the assembled Night Masters knew the Faceless’s identity. They could tell he was tall and male (unless other magic disguised his physical appearance further), and they suspected he was human. Anything else concerning their lord’s identity was pure speculation. The rewards for serving as a Night Master were great, and the members chose not to risk their positions by angering the Faceless with curiosity. If they suspected who their master was, they did not share it with each other. None of them knew the extent or nature of the Faceless’s networks of informants. They did know that those who lied in this chamber rarely made it out again.

One of the more portly Night Masters, the glyph on his mask identifying him as the manager of the Gateside district, stood before his fellows and his lord, prompting himself from a list on a sheet of yellow paper. “The insurance money paid by the Gateside festhalls has increased to ninety percent, up from seventy-two percent, no doubt owing to the recent fires that have plagued nonpaying elements in the Outside district.”

The Gateside manager’s tone was flat and emotionless, like the singsong of a sergeant-at-arms reading the charges of the hundredth petty pickpocket of the day. “The Ssemm supplies discussed two nights ago have been acquired and moved through a third party to Elturel, where the Vhammos family will purchase it in the name of the Free Traders. The indoctrination of young Haztor Urdo continues. He believes it’s all an exciting game, and doesn’t suspect we know his identity. We continue to experience difficulties from halfling agents throughout Gateside (similar to those experienced and reported by Harborside), most of which can be traced back to Lady Nettel’s employment of inordinate numbers of these vermin.” Gateside halted, double-checked his list, then offered the paper to the brazier, which greedily consumed it.

Throughout the report, the Faceless sat in repose, white-gloved hands resting comfortably on the sides of his throne. After the portly Night Master finished, there was a short silence, as there always was. Then the Faceless’s metallic voice rasped across the table. “Are all these reports accurate?”

Ten masks bobbed around the table, and ten voices replied in varying tones, “Yes, milord.”

The Faceless drummed his fingers on the slick obsidian of his throne’s armrest. “What of the matter of Jamal the Thespian?” he growled.

“Still …” Gateside hesitated, as if his words had caught on something, “under review,” he finished. It was apparent that he’d been hoping this matter would not come up. “Her home was set afire,” he reported, “and the clothing merchant who not only rented her a room but refused our protection was killed as a warning. We have yet to discover if she survived the blaze.”

“She survived,” the Faceless intoned.

Gateside held hands out, protesting, “We are as yet unaware—”

“I said, ‘She survived,’ ” the Faceless repeated, raising his voice just a fraction, silencing Gateside. “She was rescued by a red-haired swordswoman, who was aided by a lizardlike creature with a staff. Jamal fled the burning building for the quarters of an ally, the sage Mintassan, whom we are unwilling to directly confront. The red-haired woman and the lizardman joined Jamal at Mintassan’s.”

Gateside tried to interrupt, saying, “We had no knowledge of—”

“If you had followed procedure,” the Faceless reprimanded, “and confirmed both the burning and casualties by posting eyes, you would have known. Instead you waited for the watch’s report to be smuggled to you, as you have done in the past. Had you posted eyes, your man might have been able to finish off the woman as she fled. I requested her tongue be silenced. As it stands, the wretched banshee is still loose, unharmed, as is her tongue and her annoying troupe of ragtag performers.”

Gateside, his eyes now fixed on the tabletop, replied, “I apologize for my carelessness.”

“On a related matter,” the Faceless continued, turning to face the Night Master in charge of Enforcement, “What news is there of our naked assassins?” Gateside exhaled slowly in relief while Enforcement pursed his lips until they nearly disappeared.

The other nine Night Masters looked puzzled. The Faceless nodded in Enforcement’s direction to indicate he should explain.

“External Revenue’s people requested the elimination of two out-of-towners,” Enforcement reported. “External Revenue’s people failed to inform my people that these out-of-towners were heavily armed. Consequently the team who took the assignment was overpowered. The targets stripped my agents naked and forced them to run through a street fair.”

There was an uneasy shifting of the other Night Masters. None were amused by the embarrassment suffered by the agents; the cost to the brethren’s reputation was too high.

“And these targets,” the Faceless prompted, “which gave External Revenue’s people trouble and then gave you such trouble … describe them.”

“Well,” Enforcement replied, “one was a red-haired woman, the other was a—” Enforcement paused as he realized his description was about to match the one given of the pair who’d interfered with Gateside’s hit on Jamal, “—um, it was a lizardman, carrying a staff.”

“I see,” said the Faceless calmly. “And you did not think this was an important enough matter to bring to our attention?”

“I hesitated to broach the matter, since External Revenue did not include the pair in her report,” Enforcement explained.

The Night Master who managed External Revenue spun in her seat and gave Enforcement a hard glare. Despite her mask, it was clear that she gave her companion a warning.

“External Revenue,” the Faceless said, “Enforcement chose not to mention this pair in deference to your silence. Why didn’t you bring them to our attention?”

External Revenue rose to her feet, “It is not uncommon for out-of-towners, especially of the adventuring sort, to resist the import agents. Once an elimination is called for, the victims’ revenue becomes the purview of Enforcement. I left it for him to report the pair. I was unaware that the Enforcement people had mishandled the contract.” Here she shot a stern glance at her comrade. “That Enforcement’s people did not succeed seems to indicate they were more cocky than competent.”

The Faceless motioned for External Revenue to be seated. He sat back and addressed the whole assembly. “Well, there are a number of swordswomen in Westgate, some with red hair, but not, I think, more than one who travels in the company of a lizardman. Here we have a pair of adventurers making trouble for three separate departments, yet not one department reported on the pair, even though they cost us revenue, shamed us, and interfered with our plans. Just coincidence, you may think. Well, such coincidences interfere with the smooth working of our operation. We live by fear and intimidation, by making individuals perform our bidding out of consideration of the consequences. When an operation fails, when it publicly fails, then we lose our effectiveness, and we pay the price in revenue. Enforcement, I trust you have plans to avenge this humiliation. Where are the swordswoman and lizardman now?

“We, uh, don’t know,” Enforcement said, visibly nervous. “She seems to elude all our eyes.”

“Even the magical ones?” the Faceless pressed.

“Even the magical ones.” Enforcement took a deep breath. “Especially the magical ones. We think she may have fled the city.”