Masquerades

Fifteen

The fog that had drifted through Westgate's streets the night before now climbed as high as the city's wall and poured into the outlying countryside. The midday sun, covered with layer after layer of clouds, was powerless to burn off the mists. From the top floor of the Tower Alias surveyed the few islands of solid matter high enough to poke above the gray shroud: the towers of the merchant nobles' castles, the heaven-aimed spire of the Temple to Ilmater, the Westlight, and the Tower, where she stood.

She'd come to the Tower to see Durgar, but he'd gone out to investigate the remains of last night's mysterious fire. Taking one last look at the covered city, Alias hurried back downstairs to meet Dragonbait and Olive, who had waited for her in the reception hall below.

The halfling, who had regained consciousness soon after they'd left the secret tu

"Looks like we go alone," Alias said after explaining Dur-gar's absence. "The watch captain on duty says he doesn't have the authority to send a patrol out to investigate unless the peace is being disturbed."

The three adventurers do

The sound of their footsteps was muffled by the water in the air so that the adventurers appeared to be three wraiths gliding along the streets. Dragonbait squinted, concentrating on using his shen sight so that they wouldn't be surprised by anything coming out of the fog. They strode due east on Silverpiece Way to the bridge that crossed the River Thu

Five stone archSs supported the River Bridge, and the road across it was wide enough for two large wagons and several extra pedestrians to use at once. The bridge was not only a masterful feat of engineering but a dumping ground for stone carvings looted from King Verovan's castle when he had died. Brooding gargoyles held out stone braziers flickering with oil flames, which pushed ineffectually at the foggy darkness. Curling sea serpents made up the bridge's railings. The statues of ancient historical figures lined the center, dividing it into two distinct lanes.

At high tide, the river below would slam into the rising waters of the sea, creating a surging wave that ran the width of the river just downstream from the bridge. Now, at low tide, the two bodies of water collided near the mouth of the bay, no more than a mere rill on the water's surface. The river level also dropped down a few feet, uncovering a wide expanse of muddy sandbank beneath the bridge. The adventurers veered from the bridge and made their way down to the sandbank.

"This must be a good place to dig for clams," Alias noted. Olive shook her head. "According to the halqings in the Thalavar household, there's some sea serpent called the quelzarn that lurks in these waters. People who come down here tend to disappear.

"Disappearances no doubt arranged by the Faceless to conceal his lair," Alias guessed. She pulled Melman's key from her pocket, and, holding the key loop up to her eye, sca

Olive peered through the key loop. It was like looking through a soap bubble. Rainbows of color swirled before her eye, but when she looked toward the spot where Alias pointed, a hot white light shone before her eye. She offered the key to Dragonbait, but the saurial declined to use the magic item, disdainful of handling any Night Mask magic unless absolutely necessary. Out of habit, Olive ran her finger down the teeth of the key, registering its shape, before returning it to the swordswoman.

Once more Alias held the key up to her eye. She strode purposefully toward the stone embankment. Olive could detect only slight, irregular frost cracks in the rock. Abas reached out with her hand and touched a spot on the rock. "There's some sort of keyhole here," she said. Then she guided the key to the hand she held on the wall like a woman trying to unlock a door in the dark.

The key slid smoothly into the rock; Alias twisted it, and from beneath the ground came the sound of a huge bolt being thrown.

The erratic pattern of cracks joined in the shape of a rough-hewn door some three feet across by five feet high. The door popped a few inches out of the wall. Dragonbait grasped its edge and muscled it open.

Behind the entrance lay a tu

There was a ring attached to the back of the door. Alias gave it a tug, pulling the door nearly closed so that it did not attract visitors behind them, but leaving enough of a gap that they could flee the tu

Thirty feet down, the passage emptied into a larger tu

Finally the passage widened slightly. On one side were ten empty sconces, 'and on the other, ten empty pegs.

"At last we've found the cloak room of the Faceless," Olive joked.

Another ten feet ahead, the passage spilled out into a large vault cut out of the solid stone. The walls were bare, and the furnishing was sparse but impressive: a massive obsidian table streaked with veins of gold, polished to a liquidlike luster. Ten large wooden chairs, five to a side, stood about the table, and at the head, on a raised dais, stood a throne of the same black-and-gold material as the table. On the table sat a brass brazier, unlit but stoked with fresh charcoal. Beside the brazier lay a black cloth covering a small object.

Alias lifted the black cloth. Beneath it was a white porcelain mask, a domino mask painted about the eyes and a glyph on the forehead. The mark for Gateside," Alias noted. "Melman's district."

Olive proceeded around the room, tapping the walls and looking for secret access ways.

"Is the Faceless simply letting the others know of Melman's death or informing them that he himself was responsible?" the paladin mused. Alias shrugged and laid the black cloth back over the mask.