"So Karm's pride was in tatters, and his fear-of a master risen and implacable as a terrifying, undying thing-ruled him. He wanted to keep his Molthuni riches, so he staged his own glorious battle-death, going down fighting in a blaze of spells.
"A year or two later, a nameless backchambers wizard quietly surfaced in Braganza, casting spells in private for those who could afford them. He later hired a particular thief, a far-traveled loner, to carry out an, ah, acquisition for him-but really to be blamed for something else."
"And would this particular thief have enjoyed the name Armistrade?"
"Among others. In my profession, changes of name are a frequent necessity. So is travel. I've been…traveling a fair while."
The halfling gave a wave that said she was aware of such things, and asked, "And so?"
"And so, not finding the taste of a wizard's betrayal any more to his liking than any other betrayal, Armistrade decided to get even by learning the wizard's true name and story and stealing Karm's most precious possession: this mask."
"And that was your big mistake."
"You know scripts frighteningly well, Tantaerra Loroeva Klazra." He sighed, then leaned close and muttered, "I'm a prisoner of this thing. What happens to it, happens to me-and though I can wear a mask under or over the mask, or take it off when the need arises, it has to be on my face a lot of the time, or else I sicken. If I hire a wizard to cast an illusion on me or on the mask, it soon melts that illusion away. It eats any undermasks faster than I can afford to have them made. And it has some connection to the Tomb. I think it was made there-and I'm hoping it can get unmade there, or else its hold over me weakened, or something of the sort. I'm sorry to be so mysterious-I feel more about the mask than I really know. It's not as if it's ever come with instructions-though I suspect Voyvik knows something."
"Voyvik!" Tantaerra exclaimed. "Where does he come into this?"
"Karm hired him to hunt me down," The Masked replied. "Or so Voyvik hinted."
"Voyvik told you that? When?"
"Hinted, I said. Gloatingly, over crossed swords, as we fought in an alley a year or so back, long before I met you. He said someone I'd stolen from had hired him to see that I went to where I was supposed to. He's been shadowing me across Molthune-but could have trapped me long ago, and hasn't. There's more to him than a wizard's hireling. Even a crazed hireling-and he's definitely that. Wanting us to trust him, yet attacking us whenever he thinks he has a good chance. He delights in acting mysterious-cold and calculating one moment, then manic the next. I doubt he's entirely sane." He shook his head. "Wizards' meddling, perhaps …yet I feel there's something more to him, too."
"So his patriotism," Tantaerra asked. "It's an act?"
The Masked shook his head again. "No, I believe that's genuine enough. If the rumors are true, then he certainly did much for Nirmathas, before he ever came after me. Perhaps his goals are tied into this whole business somehow. But if so, I haven't unraveled yet."
"And if you don't unravel it before we get to the Shattered Tomb?"
He shrugged. "We'll most probably die."
"Well, that's cheerful." Tantaerra frowned. "So all this time, you've known who he is, and you were heading for this Shattered Tomb eventually, anyway. And you said not a word about either to me."
"I didn't want to scare you off accompanying me."
Tantaerra's eyes widened. "Scare? Scare?"
"Dissuade, if you prefer. Adventures are better shared …and I've discovered I like sharing them with you. Sharp tongue and ten silver weights and all."
Tantaerra's expression didn't change. "So you thought you'd lie to me. That's how you treat those you like."
The Masked sat up sharply, as if struck. "It's not like that."
"Oh? Isn't it?" She stood. "I trusted you, Tarram. I should have known better. You're no different than your friend Voyvik." She began to make her way down to the woods.
"Tantaerra! Princess!" The Masked rose hurriedly to his own feet. "Where are you going?"
"To the Shattered Tomb," she spat. "You said we needed to move after your story, so I'm moving. Let's get this over with."
Sighing, The Masked slid down off the rock and followed her into the trees.
The gods take women, he thought. Of all sizes.
∗ ∗ ∗
He'd lied to her.
After all they'd been through, all the trust they'd built, he'd turned out just the same as every other human-too wrapped up in his own affairs to think about anybody else. How could she possibly have been so stupid as to think that he was different?
Tantaerra stormed through the bushes in silence, purposefully choosing a route that led her under low branch after low branch, forcing The Masked to scramble over or under them to keep up. He'd quit trying to talk to her, which was a plus, and now saved his breath for grunts and quiet curses as he thrashed his way through brambles and dense thickets that were only mild inconveniences for someone her size.
It wasn't that he had secrets-everyone had secrets. It was that he'd deliberately misled her. She'd thought them both prisoners of circumstance, caught up together out of coincidence and doing the best they could to muddle through. And now she discovered that he'd been working toward this the whole time. He wasn't her partner-he was using her.
And yet…
Even as she reminded herself of these things, fanning the flames of her anger ever hotter, she found herself remembering the river. The way he'd put himself between her and the charging Nirmathi. That couldn't have been part of his plan-in fact, it was counterintuitive. Why risk himself like that for a companion of convenience? In fact, why help her in the first place? It wasn't for the ten silver weights, that was sure. And if he'd wanted someone to help him break into this tomb, surely he could have hired or conscripted someone more capable than an undersized halfling. And one who had something of a temper, at that.
She looked back at him again. He had to be as tired as she was of this whole stupid quest, yet he wasn't complaining. Instead, he was tearing his cloak and applying a fresh coat of mud to his knees in order to follow her wherever she went.
Follow her.
The fire in Tantaerra's chest cooled.
Yes, he'd lied to her. He'd misled her. But what had his options really been? If he'd told her he was being hunted by this Voyvik, and maybe a mad wizard in the bargain, would she have gone along with him? Probably not, she admitted. By waiting, he'd given himself time to get past first impressions and prove himself. To her.
So had he?
Tantaerra reached up and grabbed the branch she was walking underneath, then stepped to the side, pulling it out of the way.
The Masked looked up in surprise. He turned to gaze at her warily, as if expecting her to let the bough spring back to whip him as he passed. She waved him through.
"Thank you," he said, when he was safely past her.
"Don't mention it," she replied, letting go of the branch and falling back into step beside him. "After all, it's not your fault you're big and awkward."
∗ ∗ ∗
Their journey was unusually peaceful. This stretch of Nirmathas seemed to be far more forest than people. Yet the woods were studded with clearings enough-places where huge old dead trees had, when their time was done, crashed down and taken smaller trees to the ground with them. From these, The Masked could catch sight of the landmarks he'd spotted up on that height, and so keep heading for Hurlandrun.
Tantaerra-who'd spontaneously decided to start speaking to him again, just as suddenly as she'd stopped-told him they needed to concoct a fictitious past for her to share with any Nirmathi who wanted to talk before loosing arrows, thanks to certain less fictitious things she'd done in the past.