The lizard paladin lunged toward Victor, hissing through his iron muzzle, but he was halted by the iron collar around his throat. The sage fixed Victor with a desperate look and gibbered in a high voice.
Kimbel lifted an eyebrow at the appearance of the noble’s burden. “Is she dead?” he asked, curious.
“Not yet,” Victor replied as he laid the swordswoman down on a worktable. He smiled gleefully as Alias shuddered. “To what do we owe the honor of Mintassan’s company?” he asked.
“He spotted me carrying off the saurial,” the assassin explained, “but he fumbled his ambush attempt. I had someone from the Temple of Mask place him under a feeblemind spell until you decide what to do with him.”
The sage gibbered hysterically, beseeching the nobleman with his clouded eyes. Victor turned from the figure in cold disgust. “You’ll have to kill him. You can destroy the lizard, too, now that we are finished using his mistress. Make sure none of the bodies are found.”
“No one is going to believe all three just left town,” Kimbel pointed out.
Victor peered down at Alias. He stroked the tattoo on her sword arm. “Have her lovely arm wash ashore at low tide, clutching a domino mask. Nice and ambiguous. The Faceless can reassure the Night Masters that he was responsible for the death of their foe, and Lord Victor can tell his people that a victory has been struck against the Night Masks, albeit at a great cost—the death of his love, the hero Alias. I won’t need to keep up the worried lover act. I can go straight to being the mourning lover—so much more sympathetic. See to the details.”
“Yes, milord,” Kimbel replied. “This one may last a while yet,” he noted, staring down at Alias, who still drew gasping breaths.
“Well, I’ve dismissed her. She’s no longer in House Dhostar’s employ, so she’s yours to play with,” Victor said. “Just not here. Be a good flunky and make sure she expires someplace where her vengeful spirit can’t haunt me. When you’re finished taking care of the bodies, loot the sage’s workshop. Do it ‘legally.’ Kick Jamal out on the street. With Mintassan gone, we can take care of her at our leisure.”
“And what will you be doing, milord?”
“I’ll be sleeping. I’m worn out from my battles at the ball,” Victor said with an evil chuckle. He left Kimbel alone in the workshop with the prisoners.
The assassin could hear his master’s voice drift down the spiral staircase. The merchant lord was singing the jaunty tune he’d learned from Alias:
Twenty
Stirring the Ashes
The next afternoon found Olive Ruskettle slipping through the alleys of Westgate, her spirit deeply troubled. The light of day and the official proclamations from the Tower had done little to clear her confusion. She needed to speak with Jamal; the actress often helped her get her thoughts straight even as she was plying the halfling for information.
Olive was about to step out on the main road and cross the street to Mintassan’s house when she spotted the symbols on the cobblestone. There were two of them, scrawled in charcoal, in a most inexpert manner, but there was no doubt about their meaning. The first symbol was used by Harpers to mean danger. The second symbol was used by thieves to mean danger. Both were aligned to indicate Mintassan’s.
Olive stood in the shadow of the alley, studying all the approaches to the sage’s house. In a few moments, she spotted Kel, lurking in a doorway down the street. The halfling moved out into the main street, striding in the boy’s direction, without looking at him. She stopped by the door, pretending to study a slip of paper for an address.
“You put out those symbols, Kel?” she asked, without looking at the boy.
“Yeah. Jamal taught me to write ’em. Did it right, didn’t I?”
“Did it fine,” the halfling assured him. “What’s up?”
“Supposed to warn Jamal’s friends not to come by.
Dhostar’s spider Kimbel’s taken over the house, tossed Jamal and me out. Jamal’s up at Blais House.”
“Thanks. Keep up the good work,” the halfling said. She kept going, then slipped down the next alley to make her way to Blais House.
At the hostel, Mercy escorted her two flights up to a guest room far smaller than Alias’s and Dragonbait’s suite. The room was cluttered with Jamal’s costume wardrobe, puppets, and theater props. Jamal was seated at a table, scribbling furiously in a small black book. “I was hoping you’d come by,” the actress said.
“What is going on?” Olive demanded.
“I thought you could tell me,” the actress said in exasperation. She blotted the ink in her book and slipped it back into the bottom of her jewelry box. “That worm Kimbel came by Mintassan’s this morning with an officious-looking scroll claiming House Dhostar is supposed to oversee Mintassan’s estate in the sage’s absence. It had Mintassan’s seal on it, and Kimbel had seven large Dhostar guards with him, so I wasn’t in a position to keep myself from being thrown out on the street. I left Kel to warn off my friends. I don’t want all my contacts running into Kimbel or vice versa. The manager of Blais House is willing to let me stay here for a while.”
“Where are Alias and Dragonbait?” Olive asked.
Jamal shrugged. “No one saw Alias and Dragonbait return last night, but Mercy says Alias’s armor is missing. I guess Alias came back for it before going back out to hunt more Night Masks. I’m used to Mintassan disappearing into the night for weeks on end, but I’ll confess I’m getting a little nervous that Alias and Dragonbait haven’t returned. What happened at the meeting of the merchant nobles this morning?”
“Durgar recapped the events of last evening, giving us the final tally of the dead,” Olive reported. “The heads of Houses Guldar, Ssemm, Thalavar, Urdo, and Vhammos were killed by the Night Masks’ iron golems. Houses Ssemm, Urdo, and Vhammos also lost their recognized heirs. The croamarkh wasn’t at the ball, but Durgar claims that a golem got him anyway and carried his body into the sea. Then Lord Victor says that his hireling Alias, with her companions Dragonbait and Mintassan, found a clue last night that led them into the sewers to search for the Faceless. Finally, at Durgar’s suggestion, the heads of the merchant houses—mostly inexperienced cousins and youths—unanimously voted Victor Dhostar in as interim croamarkh. They’re supposed to make an official proclamation tomorrow, after the funerals.”
“Durgar said a golem killed Luer Dhostar?” Jamal asked.
Olive nodded. “Yes. Why?”
“I think it’s time we throw all our cards on the table and see if we come up with a full deck,” Jamal suggested. “I’ve got a source in the watch who says they found the Faceless dead, stabbed in the ribs. Durgar unmasked him, and it was Luer Dhostar, but Durgar has ordered the watch to keep mum about it.”
Olive laughed. “Making all Lord Victor’s hard work in vain. Victor Dhostar knew his father was the Faceless. He’s been feeding Alias clues, hoping she’d unmask Luer for him. Then the nobles would be disgraced by the knowledge that the Faceless turned out to be their own elected croamarkh, and they’d have to pick a candidate popular with the people.”
“Alias?” Jamal asked in astonishment.
“No,” Olive corrected, “the noble responsible for hiring her—the noble who’s wearing her token—Victor Dhostar.”
“Well, that’s how it ended up, anyway,” the actress said.
“Not exactly,” the halfling replied. “The nobles haven’t been disgraced, and they’ve only made Lord Victor interim croamarkh. If anything, the Night Masks’ attack last night has made people feel more sympathy for the nobles.”