"Oh, we've already thought of that," the Master Grafter said. "There are a handful of vital clues that we are watching out for. If a player with one of those clues faults out of the Game, we will reintroduce his clue by secretly reassigning it to a randomly determined player who is still in the Game. Never fear, my lady Crane; we'll make sure that a solution is possible for any who still choose to play." He guided them over to the elegant doors leading into the ballroom and bowed. "The Red Lord's Revel awaits, my lady!"
"Thank you," Illyth murmured. She took Jack's arm, and together they descended the small flight of steps leading down and into the grand room. Figures merry and fierce thronged the floor, bears and leopards, dragons and serpents, falcons and sparrows and gulls. Some danced, while others conversed gaily, and still more sampled the various hors d'oeuvres spread out along the shining side table. Striding through the center of the throng, the Red Lord moved with grace, confidence, and an air of subtle cruelty, a tall man (or woman?) in a scarlet robe and a seamless, eyeless hood of the same color.
"Lord Fox, Lady Crane," said a grinning satyr at Jack's elbow. "I see that you have just arrived. Perhaps you might consent to an exchange of information in order to begin the evening's riddle."
Illyth shrugged. "It seems as good a place as any to start." She started to hand her token over, but Jack deftly caught her hand.
"A moment," he said with a smile. He winked at her and turned to the satyr. "Your strategy, sir, is simple. You wait here near the place where newcomers enter, and offer them a fair trade-your clue for theirs. Thus you gain dozens of clues at the expense of one."
The satyr-masked man laughed. "I see you have no small instinct for gamesmanship. Well? How about it?"
"We would be parting with the entirety of our knowledge in exchange for a twentieth, perhaps a thirtieth, of yours," Illyth said, catching Jack's eye. "That doesn't seem quite so fair."
"I can hardly be held responsible for your late start," said the satyr. "Do you want my clue, or not?"
"We'll show you our token if you show yours, and tell us three other things you have learned," said Jack.
"My clue, plus one more," the satyr said.
"Make it two, and you'll have a deal," said Illyth.
The man grimaced-a difficult expression through the horned mask-and agreed with a nod. "Very well, then." They exchanged tokens; the satyr's read The Black Lord is the brother of Geciras. "Here are two clues more that I have learned: Alcantar does not dwell in Septun, and the Blue Lord does not dwell in Dues." He offered a shallow bow and moved on into the party.
"This is going to be very difficult to keep straight," Illyth said quietly to Jack. "I should have brought a journal and a pen."
"A sound idea. We'll do so next time, although I suspect that everyone else will have the same idea. In the meantime, I suggest this division of labor: You commit the confirmed clues to memory, while I'll memorize the unreliable ones."
"Confirmed and unreliable?"
"Clue tokens we have seen, and clue tokens we have heard about secondhand. I don't doubt that our satyr friend made up the two clues he told us, but on occasion, someone may deal with us in good faith. And if we have unreliable clues that don't contradict each other, there's a chance they might be the truth."
"Do you think that he was really lying to us?"
Jack simply laughed. "I would have, had I been him. Come on-let's see what clues we can learn and what deceits we can spread." Arm in arm, they moved on into the Game of Masks.
By the time midnight drew near, Jack had learned three important things.
First of all, he'd learned that many of the players were not interested in rushing willy-nilly toward the collection of every clue at hand. In fact, there weren't more than a dozen or so serious competitors who were trying to hound out clues as quickly as possible. For the majority of the Game players, the entertainment of the evening lay not in solving the puzzle but in playing the Game itself. It boggled Jack. Many players made small talk or thought up stories to tell about other players or the Red Lord, weaving a complex plot around the rather trite story that the Game coordinators had invented to justify the riddle. Players refused to trade clues, offered to trade clues if Illyth and he would do something to forward their own little plots and efforts, or just casually dismissed Lord Fox and Lady Crane outright, telling them to come back later.
Secondly, Jack learned that it was possible to deftly pickpocket clue-tokens from passersby, especially on the crowded dance floor. He managed to pull off the feat three times during the course of the night. Of course, he couldn't figure out how to let Illyth know that these clues were reliable, but he figured that he'd solve that problem later.
Finally, Jack learned that it was extremely inadvisable to be caught at filching tokens. Near the end of the evening, Jack found himself standing near a man concealed beneath a panther mask as black as coal. The fellow was engaged in a conversation with a pretty serving girl next to the buffet sideboard. Jack sidled up behind him, filled a plate with food, and casually bumped the man as if by accident. The panther jumped and whirled on him, at which point Jack "accidentally" spilled his plate.
"Oh, please excuse me," Jack said. "How clumsy of me."
"No apology needed," the panther said, examining his clothes to see if any food had been spilled on him. He swayed a little, apparently a little in his cups. "No harm done-here, what's this?" Quicker than Jack would have believed, the drunken man reached out to seize his wrist with the abrupt celerity that strong wine sometimes imparts. Lord Panther twisted Jack's wrist, staring at his own clue token. "Huh? In a hurry to see my clue, eh?"
Jack winced. He shouldn't have pressed his luck-a good pickpocket worked with an accessory or two to help pass off loot quickly, just so this sort of thing didn't happen. "Ah, I'll agree that this looks bad," he said. "I assure you, sir, that this is completely accidental, a freakish coincidence. I would never deliberately stoop to such a crass tactic." He began to gain confidence in his bluster. "In fact, your accusation is unjust and undeserved. The Red Lord's vintages have fuddled your wits."
"How dare you deny your guilt when my token is in your hands!" Lord Panther growled. He seemed to be sobering quickly.
At that moment, Illyth disentangled herself from a nearby conversation and made her way over. "Hello, Jack. What's the trouble?"
"Ah, my Lady Crane. I sincerely hope that you adhere to higher standards than your companion here, or do you intend to seduce me in order to gain access to my token?"
Illyth stiffened. "I intend nothing of the sort. In fact, I don't much care for your words, sir."
"And I don't much care for finding this guttersnipe's hands in my pockets," Lord Panther said. "You should be more careful in choosing your associates, my lady."
"The lady has nothing to do with this," Jack said. "Listen, I am a reasonable man. Although I am under no compunction to do so, I'll show you my token by way of negotiating a mutually acceptable solution to our disagreement."
Lord Panther pried his token out of Jack's hand. Then he shoved the rogue hard with his free hand. Jack kept his feet but knocked over a side table in doing so. A chorus of breaking dishes drew the attention of everyone nearby.
"I have no wish to settle anything, you cutpurse," Panther said. "Acknowledge your guilt and apologize this instant, or leave this Game at once."