The harbor was a tapestry of sails attached to ships from all over the Sea of Fallen Stars, cogs from Aglarond and Thesk, red cedar galleys from Thay, caravels from the Living City and the Vilhon Reach, strangely carved crafts from Mulhorand and Chondath, and carracks from nearby Cormyr and Sembia. Westgate was a major port on the Inner Sea. It stood at the entrance to both the Neck, the channel leading to the Lake of Dragons, and the northernmost caravan route to the west. It was also one of the few cities that did not belong to a larger kingdom, so there were no national politics influencing the city's trade with the outside world. Trade was the city's reason for being.
The carriage followed the road down the peninsula that sheltered the western half of the harbor from the bay and pulled to a stop at the end of the Watch Dock. The driver hopped down, unfolded the stairs, and opened the door.
Kimbel hopped over the stairs, displaying a liveliness Alias suspected was meant to impress his master, then offered his hand to his charges. Alias accepted the servant's help without thinking about what she knew of him, but Dragonbait hissed him back and hopped over the stairs unassisted.
A great canopy had been erected before the Watch Dock warehouse, and a pole planted before it displayed the banners of those officials currently engaged in business there: the harbor watch's, the customs inspector's and, at the top, the croamarkh's.
Alias and Dragonbait followed Kimbel into the shade beneath the canopy. Rows of tables were set up beneath to process the paperwork required of anyone coming into or out of the city via the harbor. In one line stood ships' officers with bills of lading, in another, servants of various merchant houses with petitions to release seized' goods, and in a third, private passengers with their baggage. Alias and Dragonbait had come through this last line the evening before. This morning there was a noticeable improvement in the efficiency of customs personnel.
Alias could pick out with ease the inspiration of the efficiency-a large, solidly muscled man with a stonily impassive face, who hovered behind the customs officials seated at the tables. Each time the man moved to stand behind some worker, the worker wriggled nervously and concentrated with fervor on the work before him. The reaction was so pronounced that even were the man not wearing the chain of office about his neck, Alias would have guessed he was Croamarkh Luer Dhostar. His mantle of snow-white hair was swept back and held in place with a gold headband. The long, sleeveless robe he wore over his silk shirt and velvet trousers was made of the most elaborate brocade Alias had ever seen. Every finger sported a ring set with a stone worth a princess's ransom.
As Kimbel and the adventurers approached him, the croamarkh was leaning over the table beside one worker who perused a document handed to him by a servant wearing the trading badge of the Urdo family. The croamarkh leaned forward and drummed his fingers on the table beside the worker as he read the document over the worker's shoulder. One might have thought the servant would have appreciated the extra attention his paperwork was getting, but instead he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other and bit his lower lip repeatedly.
Kimbel brought their presence to the croamarkh's attention with a simple, "Milord," but the older man motioned him to silence.
Alias noted Kimbel's jaw tighten, and was pleased to learn the servant did on occasion betray his feelings.
The Croamarkh pulled a document out from beneath the worker's elbow and chastised him. "If you would keep abreast of the documents sent from the council, you would realize that this shipment was cleared last week." He pointed out the relevant lines to the worker. Flushed with red, the worker,whispered a terrified, "Yes, sir," and stamped the servant's release papers.
The servant from,the house of Urdo reached for the papers, but Luer Dhostar grabbed his wrist. "You tell your master," he said to the servant, "that this document releases only the statuary, not the ten pounds of smoke powder we found hidden inside. He will also be charged with the time it took our men to drill out the bottoms of each statue and empty them of the proscribed substance." With that, he pushed-the servant's hand away.
The servant fled from the scene like a game bird released from a trap.
Only then did Dhostar turn his attention to the newcomers. "Well?" he addressed Kimbel.
Kimbel smiled pleasantly despite his lord's glare. He stepped forward and gave the croamarkh a half bow. "Milord," he said, "may I present Alias and Dragonbait?"
Lord Dhostar stepped out from behind the table and inspected the adventurers with the appraising look he might give a shipment of goods. He dispensed with pleasantry and preamble and addressed the pair directly. "It's been brought to my attention that the pair of you interrupted a number of Night Mask activities last night."
Alias could tell by his tone that he did not require an affirmation on their part, though he made the statement sound so much like an accusation that she wondered if he was expecting her to make a denial. Alias remained silent beneath the croamarkh's gaze, but kept her eyes locked on his.
The croamarkh raised his eyebrows in appreciation of the woman's nerve. He continued. "Common tongues are always quick to wag about heroes. Wiser tongues question. So-whom do you serve?"
It was hardly the question Alias expected, so she was for a moment confused by it. She shot a look at Dragonbait, who she could see was studying the croamarkh with his shen sight. As the paladin did not seem to be exhibiting the same violent reaction he'd had to Kimbel, the swordswoman relaxed and answered the question simply. "No one." Then she decided she'd better rephrase that. "I sell my sword as I choose," she said. "At the moment, it's available.
"So you are not an agent, representative, or servant of another house?" Lord Dhostar queried sharply.
"I'm not working for anyone in Westgate," the swordswoman responded, her brow knitting in irritation with the cross-examination.
Lord Dhostar frowned, apparently unable to believe that she was truly free of allegiances. He stared hard at her, trying to assess her truthfulness. As he did so, another man wearing the trading badge of the Dhostar family approached. He was dressed less fashionably than Kimbel, in a simple white shirt, dusty brown breeches, and muddy riding boots, but from the way he took a place at the croamarkh's right hand. Alias presumed he was a servant of higher rank. He was tall and handsome, with wavy brown hair and bright blue eyes, and although he looked only thirty-some years old, he was more self-assured in the croamarkh's presence than anyone else Alias had seen. He held a packet of letters up, and, as he stood waiting patiently for Dhostar to finish his business with the swordswoman and take the packet, the younger man grinned and winked at Alias.
Finally, the croamarkh harrumphed and said, "We have a watch in this city. It keeps the common people orderly. The Night Masks, however, are a lawless bunch.
I want someone to deal exclusively with them. I want them knocked down every time they have the arrogance to rise. I want them to start fearing the consequences of crossing me. I'm prepared to pay you a retainer of one thousand gold coins. After a ten-day trial, I'll evaluate what I think your continued service would be worth and we can negotiate your pay."
"Ill need more information and some time to consider your offer," Alias replied.
The croamarkh raised his eyebrows again. No doubt it had been a long time since he'd offered someone that much money and been told he must wait for a reply. "Fine," he replied sharply. "Victor, here," and he jerked his head in the direction of the new arrival who'd winked at Alias, "will be yomv liaison. You can ask him your questions and let him know your answer by this evening."
"So, Your Lordship," Victor asked the croamarkh, "are you going to authorize the hiring of more staff for customs inspection?"