Кейт Новак - Masquerades

Victor was stunned into a momentary silence. When he spoke again, though, his tone was fervent. “You’re wrong. Father cares very much for the people of Westgate, as do I. He just has a hard time showing it.”

“Very diplomatic,” Dragonbait chided Alias in Saurial. “You’ve just insulted your new employer to his son.”

Alias closed her eyes and stated the now obvious, “You’re his son.”

The young man bowed low. “Victor Dhostar, scion of House Dhostar, heir to Croamarkh Luer Dhostar, bane-in-training of the dance floor and the dessert table, at your service.”

Alias felt a paralyzing blush climb to her face.

Dragonbait gave her an order in Saurial.

“How do you do, Your Lordship?” Alias said, repeating, like a puppet, the phrases the paladin fed to her. “I’m Alias, and this is my companion, Dragonbait. Dragonbait begs that you forget this swordswoman’s foolish gaff.”

“What gaff?” Victor asked with a smile. Then he was serious once again. “It is true, some of what you say. We are concerned with our books’ balances, and Father does like to show off, but we merchants aren’t all heartless. Just as I’m sure there are some compassionate sell-swords.”

“Touché,” Alias conceded the young merchant the point.

“It is true that the merchant families have tolerated the Night Masks too long,” Victor said with an apologetic tone. “Some of the families, or to be more accurate, some members of some families, find organized criminals useful. Sort of a shadow government that keeps the more powerful families in check and allows the lesser merchants a leg up with illegal business dealings. All the families use them to handle business they would rather not sully their hands with, or pay to keep them away from their doors.”

“Does that include House Dhostar?” Alias asked.

“Hardly,” Victor laughed. “The first time the Night Masks demanded protection money from House Dhostar—that would have been at least fourteen years ago, when Father was serving his first term as croamarkh—well, Father threatened all-out war in the streets. To hear Father tell it, he was prepared to torch his warehouses rather than pay any tribute. They have stayed away from most of House Dhostar’s concerns.”

“I see,” said Alias. “Is no one else in Westgate as brave and virtuous as your father?”

“Well, I doubt Lady Nettel of House Thalavar has any dealings with them,” Victor replied. “She keeps a lot of halflings on retainer, though, and some people call them the economy Night Masks. I don’t suppose that’s any more fair than assuming all merchants are heartless. It’s my suspicion that House Urdo and House Ssemm are up to their eyeballs in dealings with the Night Masks. Possibly they even serve as members to the Faceless’s inner circle, the Night Masters. The other houses, I suppose, just pay them protection and only hire them on special occasions.”

“You mentioned the Faceless? Who’s he?” Alias asked.

“The Faceless is the Night Masks’ supposed lord. There’s a lot of speculation about him. Some say he’s a powerful spellcaster, others that he’s not even human. A few people insist he does not exist.”

“So, without denying that your father may care about the people of Westgate, tell me: Why has he waited until his fourth term of office to hire me to take care of them? And why hire me of all people?”

“Well, as to the first, I suppose during his first three terms he didn’t take the Night Masks very seriously. Because he faced them down, he presumed they weren’t bothering anyone else. He does tend to be removed from the problems of the common people. When he lost the office of croamarkh to Lansdal Ssemm, the Night Masks’ activities got much more aggressive and Father began to reevaluate their threat. I suppose I can take some credit for his new outlook. Since I turned thirty he’s begun to take me more seriously, too. And I think something must be done about the Night Masks. I really believe the people should have justice.

“As for why you, well, Father’s been looking for the right person since he was reelected this spring, and you appeared. If Westgate were a theocracy, you would be seen as a sign from the gods. To a businessman like my father, you’re the knock of opportunity. From what we heard of your exploits of last night, you have the skills and the momentum. Businessmen do not slam the door in the face of opportunity. And speaking of business, please excuse me for a moment, I need to attend to something.”

Alias nodded and stood beside Dragonbait as Victor walked down a pier to speak with another man wearing a family Dhostar trading badge.

“Well, what insights into the Dhostar heir?” Alias asked.

“He is all he appears,” the paladin replied with satisfaction, delighted to have found another pure soul of sky blue in this city of vice.

“What, another puppy-lover?” Alias asked.

“Why must you joke about it?” Dragonbait asked. “I do not tease you for your virtue.”

Alias flushed again. She was never comfortable when the paladin reminded her that he perceived virtue in her. She harbored a secret fear that he saw what he wanted to see in her, and should the veil ever be lifted from his eyes … Alias didn’t like to think about that. She diverted the conversation back to Luer Dhostar. “Whatever Victor may say, you aren’t convincing me that the croamarkh isn’t motivated by his vanity and love of power.”

“No,” the saurial agreed. “The elder Dhostar is not all his son contends. Victor sees him with the eyes of a loving son, and he defends him as a loyal son would. He reminds me of you, the way you always defended Finder Wyvernspur, despite his many flaws.”

Alias, determined not to be drawn into an argument about the man she’d thought of as a father, returned her attention to Victor Dhostar.

The young man appeared to be trying to negotiate an argument between the servant of his own house and a halfling dressed in the green livery of House Thalavar, who stood on top of a stack of crates. Despite Victor’s efforts, both servants had gone beyond the stage of arguing rationally and had begun screaming at one another at the top of their lungs, each waving a bill of lading in the other’s face.

Behind the halfling servant was a Thalavar ship crewed by halflings, and behind the human servant was a Dhostar vessel crewed by humans. The crews of both ships had also turned their attention to the dispute and had begun to scramble off their ships onto the pier to back up the servant of their respective house.

Alias began moving down the pier, against her better judgment, but knowing she would feel bad if something happened to the young Dhostar. Victor managed to talk his family’s servant into walking away from the halfling, and it seemed as if a brawl had just been averted, until the halfling called out, “That tub shouldn’t just be hauling garbage, it ought to be hauled away as garbage.”

The Dhostar servant whirled around, bellowing with rage, and lunged toward the Thalavar servant. Victor shouted, “Brunner, no!” but it was too late. Drawing back instinctively from the charging human, the Thalavar servant apparently forgot his footing, for he took one step too many off the stack of crates and tumbled from the pier. There was a short, high-pitched shriek and a splash as he hit the water.

Everyone froze, including Victor, for the space of a heartbeat, then, spurred by an anonymous shout of, “Get ’im!” a wall of halflings rushed the Dhostar servant Brunner. Brunner tried to swat them away, but there were far too many, and within moments he’d disappeared beneath a pile of green-liveried halflings.

Victor moved toward the pile, but Alias reached his side and pulled him back. “This could be messy, milord,” she said. “Please, leave it to the professionals.”