Masquerades

by Kate Novak

  Alias’s jaw dropped open, and she stood momentarily stunned.

  “Well, hello, Alias!” the halfling Olive Ruskettle shouted over the din and their locked blades. “I’d been hoping we’d have a chance to cross swords again.”

  Six

  Alliances

  As Alias struggled to overcome the surprise of meeting Olive Ruskettle, and the shock of discovering that the halfling had pulled a blade on her, Olive took advantage of her. The halfling bard, with a practiced up-and-down jerk of her wrist, was able to bring her short blade to the outside of the human woman’s sword, and with a quick push downward, strengthened by her own weight, was able to smash Alias’s hand and blade into the top of the crate. Pain shot down Alias’s arm, and she jerked backward.

  “Olive! What do you think you are doing?” Alias growled as she swung with the flat of her blade, trying to swat the halfling on her legs.

  “Same as you, I should think,” the halfling replied, parrying Alias’s blow and delivering a quick, shallow thrust. “Fighting for the good guys!”

  Alias extended her sword and lunged, startling Olive into a step backward. Alias leaped onto the top of the stack of crates. “Have you gone crazy?” she upbraided the halfling. “Suppose someone sees you’ve pulled out live steel and decides to follow your example? You want the pier bathed in blood?”

  “I hadn’t thought of that,” Olive said, looking momentarily repentant, but then she shrugged. “No. Everyone else is still going at it with fisticuffs. The only person paying any attention to us is that cute Dhostar lackey in the riding boots.”

  Alias half turned her head and caught a glimpse of Victor, standing back from the fray. With Alias’s attention distracted, Olive smacked the swordswoman on the shoulder with the flat of her blade.

  “Verily, a touch,” the halfling squealed.

  Alias whirled around, furious. Her chain mail had absorbed most of the blow, but she was sure to have a bruise. “That is quite enough,” she snapped. She slid her blade back down along the halfling’s until they were once again hilt to hilt. With her left hand she grabbed Olive’s wrist and squeezed.

  “Hey, that hurts,” the halfling complained.

  “Release your weapon,” Alias demanded.

  “Well, since you feel so strongly about it,” Olive replied, and she opened the hand that held the hilt of her sword.

  Alias grabbed the shorter blade with her left hand and turned the blade’s tip on the owner’s throat. “Now, you’re going to behave,” she ordered “until this thing is sorted out.”

  “Okay,” the halfling replied with a meek smile, but a moment later she added, “Oops, too late. Fight’s over.”

  Behind her Alias heard a high-pitched whistle that she recognized as Dragonbait’s. Alias turned to find the saurial, his scales glistening with water, standing on the pier beside the halfling who had fallen into the harbor. The small servant was sodden, but uninjured.

  The others on the pier had also turned at Dragonbait’s bidding, pausing for just a moment from their aggressions.

  That pause was all Victor needed. The merchant strode to the wet halfling’s side, shouting, “Please, stop fighting. This gentle being has rescued House Thalavar’s shipping clerk. Should you continue this pointless brawl, we will have to call out the watch.”

  The combatants remained frozen, certain that they did not want to be hauled in by the watch, but uncertain that they should abandon the fight just yet. All halfling eyes were on the Thalavar family’s shipping clerk.

  The wet halfling glared up at the Dhostar heir. “What about my ruined clothes?” he demanded, indicating his soaked velvet tabard and breeches.

  “I will be glad to make reparations,” Victor replied, “once you’ve apologized for insulting my family’s ship.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize it was your ship, milord. I can see now it’s a bonny little craft,” the halfling replied cheerfully. Then he added, “But our ship still beat it into the harbor and was at this pier first.”

  “Agreed,” Victor said.

  The Thalavar shipping clerk smiled broadly. Then he turned angrily on his own workers and shouted at them like a drill sergeant. “What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t hire any of you to brawl on the docks! You’re supposed to be hauling crates to the deck!”

  The halflings scurried back aboard their ship. Two of Dhostar’s men helped Brunner to his feet. The big man was quite disheveled, and his nose was bleeding, but then several of the halflings sported black eyes and bleeding noses.

  “They got here first only because they cut our ship off in the channel,” Brunner growled.

  Victor replied with an insistent patience, “But they did get here first. They have first access to the inspector.” There was a hint of warning in his tone.

  Brunner scowled and shook off the two men who’d helped him rise.

  “Is that understood, Brunner?” Victor asked.

  “Yes, milord,” the human servant replied grudgingly. He turned and stomped back aboard his ship.

  “Is that what this is all about? Who’s next in line?” Alias hissed to Olive, astonished at the nonsensical reasons people chose to fight one another.

  “Yeah,” Olive whispered back. “Thalavar’s ship had right of way, but Dhostar wouldn’t yield. Thalavar’s sails stole Dhostar’s wind, though, and went whipping past. Dhostar nearly grounded out on a sandbar. They just can’t stand giving up anything to a halfling.”

  “That doesn’t explain why in the Gray Waste you pulled a sword on me,” Alias growled.

  The halfling took her sword from Alias and sheathed it. “It was all for show. The Dumpster’s—excuse me, the Dhostar’s—minions have to be shown they can’t go around stepping on Thalavar halfling toes whenever they want. I had to draw you off before you kicked the Thalavar halflings’ butts. And now Dhostar’s people’ll remember there was a Thalavar halfling who took on Alias the Sell-Sword. They won’t remember which halfling, since they can’t seem to tell us apart, so they’ll have to be more cautious around all of us.”

  Alias continued to glare at Olive as she sheathed her own weapon.

  “Honestly, you shouldn’t take it so personally,” Olive insisted. “I swung high. I used the flat of my blade. You know I could have hit you if I’d been meaning to.”

  Alias harrumphed, but then, with a grin creeping onto her face, she replied, “It’s true, Olive. You never missed a target with its back turned to you.” She sat down, slid off the crates to the pier, and turned about to give Olive a hand down. The halfling took her hand and jumped down.

  “Thank you,” the halfling said as she fussily rearranged her cloak.

  “You didn’t used to be so gracious about accepting help,” Alias recalled.

  “The knees are getting old, my dear,” the bard replied.

  Victor finished making financial arrangements with the Thalavar shipping clerk, then he and Dragonbait joined the two women.

  Victor bowed to Olive. “Mistress Ruskettle, I’m Victor Dhostar. Thalavar’s shipping clerk just told me who you were. I’m so pleased to meet you. Please, excuse this unpleasantness. Brunner and his people tend to be …” Victor searched for the words.

  “Less polite to people who aren’t like them,” Olive supplied.

  Victor nodded with a sad smile. “Very provincial, I’m afraid. I hope Lady Nettel will forgive this unfortunate incident.”

  “I’m sure she wouldn’t hold you responsible, Lord Victor,” Olive replied with a gracious smile. “And may I say, I’m pleased to meet you as well. It’s so refreshing to meet someone whose attitudes are more cosmopolitan.”

  Victor smiled and said, “I’d appreciate any help in making sure that relationships between the Thalavars and Dhostars and their peoples run smoothly. If you have any other problems, please feel free to contact me.” He held out a hand.

  Olive shook the merchant’s hand briefly.

  “Well, now. I’m afraid I must ask you to excuse me. There is s
ome paperwork I must examine aboard my ship.” He turned to Alias. “I should only be a few minutes,” he explained.

  Alias nodded. “We’ll wait,” she said.

  “He’s not only cute, he’s quite a charmer,” Olive said once Victor was out of earshot. “If he could bottle that, he could double his family’s fortune.”

  “Yes, he is charming,” Alias agreed. “But enough about him,” she snapped. “You still haven’t told me what you’re doing in Westgate.”

  “Hello, Dragonbait,” the halfling greeted the saurial. “You’re looking well. How’re CopperBloom and the hatchlings?”

  Dragonbait signed in the thieves’ hand cant, Very well, thank you. It’s always a surprise to see you. What are you doing in Westgate?

  “I’ve agreed to help out Lady Nettel of House Thalavar,” the halfling replied. “Lady Nettel does a lot of trading with the halflings of the Shining South and hires a lot of them to run her business. She tends to trust halflings since the Night Masks don’t accept us in their guild. Lady Nettel won’t have anything to do with the Night Masks, and since she refuses to pay protection, her ships and warehouses get robbed or vandalized more than anyone else’s, and a lot of her halfling workers are getting hurt in the process.”

  “So you came here as a hired sword?” Alias asked.

  Olive shook her head. “I started out teaching music to Her Ladyship’s granddaughter. I’ve sort of moved into an advisory position, trying to keep security tight enough so no more halflings get hurt, and so the Masks will decide we’re too difficult a target and leave us be. Of course, I still keep my sword ready at all times. We’ll probably be working together now that you’re going after the Masks.”

  Alias’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Lord Dhostar made me a job offer only an hour ago. How did you find out?”

  “Picked it up on the street,” Olive said.

  “Mistress Ruskettle!” the Thalavar shipping clerk called out.

  “Just a minute, Drew,” she responded. “Look, I have to attend to some things. You can reach me at House Thalavar.”

  Olive joined the Thalavar shipping clerk, and the pair escorted the customs inspector aboard the Thalavar ship.

  Alias gave a mock shudder. “Olive as a respectable member of the community. The Time of Troubles was less confusing.”

  “Aye,” Dragonbait agreed.

  “So, what do you think?” Alias asked the paladin.

  “About what?”

  “Should we accept Dhostar’s offer?”

  Dragonbait sighed. He ran his fingertips down the tattoo on her right arm, the tattoo that had first bound them together. “Alias, you must make this decision for yourself,” he said. “You have many reasons to remain. Although you did not really grow up here, Finder put it in your heart to feel it was home. You still need to try to discover why he choose Jamal’s face as that of your memory mother. Olive is here. You could sing together again. And, of course, I know you would thrive on challenging the Night Masks.”

  Alias bit her lower lip and fought back a wave of sadness. Dragonbait had been her companion from the day she’d been created. He was more a father to her than Finder had been. “But you’re leaving Westgate, aren’t you?” she asked.

  “I wish to return home to CopperBloom and my family. I don’t expect you to feel obligated to return with me, and I don’t want you to feel you cannot stay without me. You have many friends here already. I will stay with you for ten days, whether you choose to work for the croamarkh or not. But I will not work for him.”

  “Because of Kimbel?” Alias asked.

  “Kimbel is part of it, yes. More importantly, I don’t think the croamarkh is worthy of my services. I will serve you, though, as best I can, while I am still here.”

  Alias sniffed the air about them. Dragonbait’s emotions had perfumed it heavily with the smell of lemons and roses. “You’re both happy and sad,” she laughed.

  “Parents always feel that way when they kick their children out of the nest,” Dragonbait explained. “Dhostar’s son is returning.”

  Brushing a tear from her eye, Alias turned about in time to see Victor running down the gangplank of the Dhostar ship. His momentum carried him nearly into Alias. He stopped inches away from her. He stood looking down at her for a moment before he stepped back with a flush on his face. Running his fingers through his hair to brush it off his face, he made an embarrassed apology for nearly running her down.

  “I don’t fall down so easily, Lord Victor,” Alias replied with a grin. “Shall we continue our stroll? Dragonbait and I were both enjoying it.”

  “Yes,” Victor replied. “We should make for the Harbor Tower. There’s a spectacular view of the city from the top.”

  Alias nodded, and the three left the pier and set out for the lighthouse that marked the harbor entrance. Looking south, across the harbor, the city lay spread out before them, rising from the water to the high wall. Alias could not remember seeing any other city with so magnificent a view of itself as Westgate.

  “So,” Victor began, “what can I tell you to convince you to join us in our fight against the Night Masks?”

  “You should tell me the truth, whether it convinces me or not,” Alias replied. With an ever so slightly flirtatious grin, she asked, “If I accept this post, will you continue to be my liaison to the croamarkh?”

  “Oh, yes,” Victor said. “I’ll be the man to handle any problems for you. Father would hardly delegate this matter to Kimbel.”

  “Tell me about Kimbel,” Alias said.

  “Um, well.” Victor flushed. “Kimbel is—not very nice.”

  “That was our impression,” Alias said, not yet prepared to explain about the saurial paladin’s shen sight. “Tell me more about him.”

  “When Kimbel first came to Westgate, he called himself an adventurer. He wasn’t the sort that kills monsters in their lairs, though. He was the sort that breaks into castles and tries to kill croamarkhs.”

  “He tried to kill your father?” Alias asked with astonishment.

  “Yes. Poisoned all the watchdogs and got as far as father’s bedroom door, but he got unlucky and tripped on a cat. He killed eight men before the rest of the guards managed to bring him down. He claims he was hired by the Night Masks, but he didn’t know enough about them to betray them. Father decided he was too useful to waste with an execution. We had a geas cast on him. He’s magically compelled to serve our family and constrained from harming anyone with Dhostar blood or in Dhostar employ. Father expects him to complete the terms of service due us by the eight men he killed, such terms to be served consecutively.”

  Victor scooped up a handful of pebbles and began tossing them in the water. “It sounds awfully creepy, I know. It is awfully creepy. He can’t break the geas, but still, he’s a killer. And there’s nothing in the geas to protect people who aren’t part of our trading house. Who knows what he does when he’s out of sight? Father says Kimbel serves as a good warning to others, though I suspect Father also keeps him near to show people he’s not afraid of assassins. I wish he wouldn’t.” Victor tossed the rest of the stones in the water all at once.

  Dragonbait had been right, Alias realized. Victor was like her. He defended the croamarkh just as she had once defended Finder, defying his reason to quell his heart. She knew exactly how Victor felt, and she found herself sympathizing with the young merchant despite her dislike of his father.

  They came to the end of the peninsula, which ended in a knob-shaped quay of stonework. Beneath the harbor lighthouse, guards in Westgate’s insignia patrolled the flagstone plaza in rigid geometric formations. The lighthouse was an ancient, conical tower built of mortared stone with an external staircase spiraling up its side. Sailors called it the Westlight, and “seen the Westlight” was used throughout the Inner Sea nations to mean that a person had reached land or safety.

  Victor nodded to the captain of the guard, and the three were allowed to approach the lighthouse without challenge. Feeling s
uddenly lighthearted, Alias dashed up the structure’s stairs without stop until she reached the walkway at the top. She looked first out to the sea, letting the breeze ruffle her hair until Victor and Dragonbait finished the climb.

  “Are you always so energetic?” the merchant lord asked as he stood clutching his side and gasping for breath.

  Alias smiled, but did not reply. She studied the light in the center of the walkway—a polished brass framework surrounding a floating marble sphere, which, even in the daylight, shone brightly enough to be noticed far out to sea. “There’s a continual light spell cast on the marble?” the swordswoman asked.

  Victor nodded. “There are also protections to keep the magic from being dispelled by accident or to keep others from destroying it. The bronze frame can be used to hold up colored screens so we can send coded messages to ships at sea—fire, plague, send help, and so on.”

  Alias nodded and turned to look back out across the harbor and the city. Victor moved to stand beside her. “There’s no better place to start to get oriented.” He pointed leftward, out across the bay at various landmarks. “There’s the River Thunn. Between the river’s east bank and the city wall is Castle Malavhan. Just across the river from that is Castle Vhammos. It was once the royal castle. Those four clustered due south of us are Castles Guldar, Athagdal, Thorsar and Urdo. They were all built at the same time by rival architects from different nations.

  “The building in the center of the market is called the Tower. It serves as the city’s registry and headquarters for the watch. The jail is in the dungeon beneath the Tower. Against the western wall is Castle Ssemm. South of that is Castle Thalavar. In the northeast corner, by the sea, is the Temple to Talos, and to the west of the Tower is the Temple to Mask. At the base of the harbor’s arm are the temples to Loviatar and Gond, and just west of them is the Temple to Ilmater.”

  “You’ve pointed out the castles of all the merchant families but your own,” Alias noted.