Masquerades h-10

by Kate Novak

  "Well, you're shaking, for one thing," Victor replied as he placed his warm hands on her shoulders. "And, well, with your complexion, you do tend to color when you're angry. Even your shoulders are red. Perhaps we should talk in private. Come upstairs with me."

  The white-caped guards on the stairs parted for the son of Luer Dhostar and his guest. Halfway up the stairs, Alias shot a glance down at the dance floor. Dragonbait was acquitting himself admirably, keeping up with Thistle's steps, but the swordswoman could tell his heart was not in the motions.

  Victor hesitated before opening the door to the conference suite. "I need to explain something. I was planning on asking you up here to-to talk. I realize maybe this is a bad time for it, so please don't misunderstand."

  He swung open the door, and Alias felt her heart melting despite her anger. The drab conference room had been transformed into a romantic faerie realm. The large table was glittering from lit tapers of perfumed wax. Bolts of silk fabric and oversized pillows covered the floor between the table and the hearth, where a fire blazed and crackled. A bottle of Evermead, two glasses, and a platter of fruits and cheeses sat on a tray beside the hearth.

  "We can just sit at the table, if it will make you more comfortable," Victor said.

  Alias stepped into the room, and Victor followed, pushing the door closed behind them. Feeling a little foolish, she walked past the table and sat down on one of the pillows. She inspected the bottle of Evermead. It was more than a hundred years old.

  "Now, tell me what's wrong," Victor insisted, sinking onto a cushion beside her.

  Alias shook her head. "It's nothing, Victor… really. Drag-onbait and I just had an argument. He can be so-so-Oh! It just doesn't make any-sense! Victor, have you been telling me the truth about your father?" she demanded.

  Victor looked into the flames of the fire. "No," he admitted softly.

  Alias removed her mask, then reached up and untied the strings of the fabric covering Victor's eyes and pulled it away. She laid both masks down on the pillow beside her. Then she said, "Victor, you have to tell me everything you know."

  "You have to understand," Victor said, looking her in the eye. "I love my father. I'm sure he thinks somehow what he's doing is right. He's not an evil man, Alias. He's just-well, he's just so certain that he's always right" "You know he's involved with the Night Masks?"

  "I've suspected it for some time. There hasn't been any money missing, but I guess he's been making some other kind of payments. He's in charge of all the smoke powder the city confiscates. There's a lot of it. It isn't all in the warehouse where the books say it should be. When I told | him I'd found the key, I also told him I'd discovered about I the smoke powder. He seemed pretty shaken. He asked me to cover for him, to give him time to take care of some personal matters. He promised me, though, that he would come here tonight and explain things to you and Durgar."

  The young man looked away, and Alias could see there were tears in his eyes. "It doesn't look good, does it?" he asked. "No. It doesn't," Alias agreed.

  "You'd better go back downstairs," Victor said. "It would be better for you if you weren't seen with me, I think." "Why not?" Alias demanded.

  "My father is going to be the center of a scandal, Alias. He could be involved with the Night Masks. Gods! He might even be the Faceless. I have to stand beside him, but there's no reason for you to be involved."

  "Victor, no," Alias said, feeling her heart breaking for the young man's pain. "Look. I can't approve of your father, but I love you. I'm not going to abandon you because of something your father did."

  "I love you" Victor replied, "which is why I can't allow you to stay. I don't want your name dragged down with ours."

  "If you love me," Alias whispered vehemently, "you'll let me stay."

  Victor smiled sadly. He ran his finger across her cheek, then down her neck and along her shoulder. "You are so very beautiful," he whispered. "You made me feel so lucky."

  Alias put her hand behind the nobleman's neck and pulled his face close to her own. "I am not leaving you. You say you love me. Prove it," she demanded, and she threw her arms about his neck and pressed her lips against his own.

  Lord Victor slid one hand about the swordswoman's waist to pull her closer as his other hand rested over Alias's porcelain mask, covering its eyes completely.

  Below, in the main room of the Tower, the interminably long quadrille had ended and Dragonbait excused himself from Thistle Thalavar's company as quickly as good manners allowed. Now he scanned the crowded room for either Alias or Victor. In the end, it was Olive who found him. She tugged anxiously on the hem of his tunic. Where is she? he signed surreptitiously.

  The halfling jerked her finger in the direction of the stairway. "With Lord Victor," she growled. "Didn't you talk to her?"

  Dragonbait cursed in Saurial and began pushing his way through the crowd, toward the stairs. He managed to climb four steps before his way was blocked by a wall of leather armor and white plumes.

  Dragonbait hesitated, considering whether he should fetch Olive to translate his need to the guard or whether he should just shove his way past them. He had just decided on the more forceful option when the screaming began.

  The paladin wheeled just in time to see a huge figure leap down from one-of the mirrors mounted on the wall and land with a great thoom on the stone floor. The creature was twice the size of a human, kettle black, with a head shaped like a dragon's. An identical creature had already landed on a young noble, who screamed as his legs were crushed beneath the monster's weight. The saurial recognized the figures as iron golems from the lair of the Faceless. A third appeared in the mirror, pausing only for the first two to move out of the way before it, too, leaped down onto the floor.

  The crowd was already panicking, driving like a herd of cattle for the entrance, only to find that the portcullis to the entrance had been lowered. Those in the rear were being decapitated by blows from the iron golems' fists, while those in the front were being crushed by their fellow guests.

  A fourth and a fifth golem emerged from the mirror before the guardsmen poured off the stairs to meet the assault.

  Dragonbait hovered uncertainly. He could search upstairs for Alias or battle the creatures. As a sixth golem appeared in the mirror, he knew he must act. With a sharpened claw, he cut the peace-bonded cord from his weapon and drew his blade. Then he launched himself at the magical mirror, swinging his sword.

  The mirror shattered in a burst of light. Glass rained on the guests, but if there were any other golems, they would not be entering the Tower as easily as the first six had.

  The paladin crunched broken glass beneath his feet as he landed. He turned in time to witness Haztor Urdo, with his sword drawn, run toward the sixth golem. The nobleman feinted to the right, then struck the creature on the opposite leg, but his blade broke on the monster's iron surface. The golem grabbed the youth by the arm, slammed him hard against the wall, then released him. Haztor's body slid down the wall, leaving a long, bloody smear, his Captain Crocodile mask still smiling.

  With a snarl, the paladin leaped onto the shoulder of one of the creatures. He knew heat helped such creatures repair themselves, so he did not ignite his sword. Fortunately, the weapon carried other powerful enchantments, so the blade bit deep into the side of the creature's face, parting it like butter.

  The golem reached up to grab the saurial, but the ornate dragon head prevented it from reaching its assailant. Dragonbait struck again and again with his sword, reducing the golem to spinning around in place while swatting ineffectually at the saurial.

  The other five golems were not so distracted. The swords of the watch did not carry the necessary enchantments to slice through magically enlivened iron, and the monsters carved a wide swath through watchmen and party-goers alike. The frightened nobles' only hope was to dodge between the beasts.

  Durgar's voice rose above the din, and Dragonbait caught a glimpse of the old priest, his mace glowing with its own eld
ritch power, smashing huge dents into one of the iron creatures. The golem was swift enough to grab Durgar by the arm, however, and it tossed the old man aside easily and moved back into the crowd, punching and crushing anyone in its path. The priest of Tyr landed heavily, but he rose, albeit unsteadily, and returned to the fray.

  A smattering of magic missiles plinked without effect on a golem's surface, indicating a few nobles were not above learning the Art. At least one mage must have had some advanced training, for he sent a lightning bolt arcing across the room. The bolt struck two golems and a handful of nobles. The humans collapsed to the ground, but the golems were slowed.

  The situation was deteriorating quickly. With the golem beneath him cracking along its entire length and breadth, Dragonbait leaped clear and vaulted up the stairs, three at a time. Alias could help turn the tide of the battle, if he could only find her.

  Kimbel stood waiting at the first landing, with a double-loaded drow crossbow aimed at the paladin. Dragonbait could smell as well as see the resinous putty smeared on the bmts' tips, but he wasn't quick enough to dodge the missile". The first caught the saurial in the shoulder, the second in the chest. Dragonbait hissed and lunged in an attempt to skewer the assassin, but he fell short and crumpled into a heap on the stairs.

  "Looking for your mistress?" Kimbel taunted, lowering the crossbow. "I'm sorry, but she's occupied right now." He motioned for two men in guardsmen uniforms to collect the saurial's body.

  On the main floor, a tight knot of halflings surrounded Lady Nettel as Olive Ruskettle tried with limited success to keep any approaching golems from turning their attention on the matriarch. Lady Nettel was leaning heavily on a spear, which she had plucked from a fallen guardsmen. Just when it seemed as if Olive had managed to send one golem off to seek easier prey, Lady Nettel shrieked, "Thistle!"

  Olive spotted the young noblewoman collapsed on the floor with a golem hovering uncertainly over her.

  Olive dashed forward, but Lady Nettel was faster. The head of House Thalavar barged through her ring of bodyguards and stepped right between the iron colossus and her granddaughter. The old lady swung her spear to ward off the monster, but the shaft snapped like a twig against the creature's iron arms. As Olive dragged Thistle back to the uncertain safety of the ring of halfling bodyguards, the golem lifted Lady Nettel in both arms and squeezed. Even above the din, Olive swore she could hear the sound of the old woman's back breaking. Then the monster, disinterested in the dead, dropped Nettel Thalavar's crushed, mangled body and wandered off.

  Olive dashed over to Lady Nettel's broken form; Thistle followed directly behind her, ignoring the bodyguards who tried to hold her back by tugging on the skirt of her gown. Astonishingly, the old woman still breathed, but she was twisted in an odd, inhuman fashion, and Olive could tell she was fading before their eyes. The dying woman called for Thistle.

  Thistle bent close to her grandmother's face. "You are… my heir," Nettel Thalavar wheezed. "Take… the feather pin."

  Thistle began to cry, but Lady Nettel pushed her aside and grabbed Olive by the tabard. She gasped once, then whispered vehemently, "Protect… my… granddaughter!" The noblewoman never drew another breath. Her face spasmed into a contortion that looked anything but peaceful and froze.

  Thistle Thalavar, new leader of House Thalavar, gently unpinned her grandmother's copper brooch. As her tears splashed on her grandmother's corpse, she fastened the brooch to her own gown. Then she and Olive fled to the halflings' last defensive position, under a buffet table.

  Nineteen

  The Unmasking

  Ultimately it was a mild-mannered gate crasher who managed to turn the j tide. Yielding to Dragonbait's request,) Mintassan had been keeping an eye on the proceedings at the ball. Cloaked in an invisibility spell, he had slipped past the seneschal and stood quietly in the corner, wearing the mask of a bearded, graying wizard witn pipe clenched between his teeth. The paladin had not been able to even guess what might go wrong at the ball, but once the golems had arrived, the sage knew exactly how to bring the situation under control.

  Magic being nearly useless against such monsters, Mintassan teleported back to his home. There, on his desk, tucked in box full of straw, was the remedy for iron golems. He had prepared it this morning after realizing the Faceless still controlled a troop of the creatures. Arriving in the back of his workroom, the sage dashed to his desk, prepared to scoop up his secret weapons and teleport back immediately. He halted before the desk and nearly froze in panic. The objects he sought were missing.

  Fortunately, Mintassan was far more levelheaded than his reputation credited him. He also was not so old that he could not remember being a boy and the sorts of things boys enjoyed doing.

  "Kel!" he hollered, dashing up the stairs two at a time. He threw open the door to the boy's room and gave a great sigh of relief. The box lay on the bed, three glass globes packed within. Kel sat on the floor, waving a nail in front of a fourth glass globe. Within the globe a tiny insectlike creature pawed frantically at the glass ball, causing it to roll after the nail almost as if the ball were magnetically attracted to the iron. "I was just playing," the boy insisted.

  Mintassan snatched up the box and the fourth globe and hissed, "Silver path, tower stair." Before Kel's astonished eyes, the sage vanished.

  Mintassan reappeared in the Tower on one of the staircases. Grimly he assessed the battlefield. Only one golem had actually been felled, lying in two twitching halves on the floor. Durgar was hammering on a second golem's legs with such determination that the creature was limping noticeably, but then so was the old priest.

  With an uncanny aim, Mintassan threw one ball each at the remaining four unscathed golems. The glass smashed against the iron monsters, releasing the tiny creatures within. They grew as they fell, so that by the time they hit the floor they were five feet in length, each sporting four insectlike legs, an armor-plated back, a long, bony tail with a paddle-shaped tip, and, most importantly, long mobile antennae. They were easily recognizable by the few experienced adventurers present as rust monsters-normally docile animals with a voracious appetite for all things iron.

  The first freed rust monster struck its antennae against the legs of the iron golem looming over it. The golem's legs turned brown and crumbled beneath it, so that it toppled to the floor, crippled.

  The second rust monster took a moment longer to get its bearings, giving the golem beside it time to reach down and grab it-a serious error on the golem's part. The rust monster's antennae wrapped around both arms like whips. The golem's arms crumbled to rust, freeing the rust monster it had just grasped. The golem stumbled off as the rust monster chomped on the rusted remains of its arms. Though able to move, the golem was now unable to continue grappling or punching at the guests, though it continued to chase them.

  One rust monster was slain by a powerful strike of a golem's fist, but as the iron behemoth pulled away, it lost its hand at the wrist, struck by one of the dying animal's antennae. The fourth and final rust monster scrambled on top of its golem, rusting it from the head down to the shoulders and arms, through the torso, and down to the knees. The ferrous-loving animal rolled about in the huge pile of rust as it chomped on it like a cat in a field of catnip.

  Having thrown all his weapons, Mintassan looked about for Dragonbait. Just before he'd teleported to his workshop to fetch the rust monsters, the sage had seen the paladin slashing at one of the golems. Now, however, the saurial was nowhere to be seen. There had to be nearly fifty people dead and dying on the Tower floor, but the saurial was not among them.

  As the watch, under Durgar's direction, dragged a rust monster in the direction of one of the remaining mobile golems, some other members of Durgar's forces had man-aged to raise the portcullis to the outside. Nobles streamed out of the Tower like ants from a flooded nest. The sage was just about to teleport to the temple of Ilmater to fetch some priests to heal the wounded, when he spied Kimbel exiting through the portcullis.

 
; The Dhostar manservant looked not only uninjured, but completely unruffled, as did the two guards in Dhostar livery who followed him carrying a lumpy, rolled up tapestry. With a suspicious frown, the sage reached in his pocket for a spell component and whispered, "Light-pass." His large form went translucent, then transparent, then invisible. Once transformed, the mage hurried after the former assassin, his minions, and whatever it was they found necessary to cart off.

  Upstairs, isolated from the noise of the attack by the massiveness of the Tower's construction, Alias lay with Victor Dhostar before the fireplace of the conference room. Shaking off the elegant torpor that enthralled her, she raised her head from Victor's chest and looked up at him. "I love you," she whispered. "I love you, too," the nobleman replied, "but now that you have your proof of that, we really should be getting back to the ball."

  Alias nodded. She rose to her feet and shook out the wrinkles in the skirt of her gown. Victor handed her her baldric and sword. She slipped the decorative belt over her head.

  As soon as Victor opened the heavy oaken door, Alias heard disturbing sounds coming from the hall below. The thunderous crash of something heavy falling to the floor echoed up the Tower. When she reached the stairs, Alias could hear people screaming and moaning. She raced down the stairs. Halfway down, she spied Mintassan in front of her, but he vanished before her eyes. When she reached the spot where the sage had stood, she was aghast at the destruction she witnessed.

  Members of the watch were pulling on a rope wrapped about the legs of an armless iron golem in an effort to topple the monster. Several other bits of iron golem lay strewn about the floor, surrounded by dead and wounded nobles. One last golem, missing only a hand, was hovering over a desk that was serving as a buffet. The monster looked as if it were trying to decide what to eat, but Alias spied something rustling beneath the tablecloth and realized the golem was deciding how to get at whomever hid below.